The Spectator, Volume 2. by Joseph Addison
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| Table of Contents | |
| Section | Page |
| Start of eBook | 1 |
| VOL. II. | 1 |
| GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED | 1 |
| C. | 3 |
| L. | 9 |
| L. | 9 |
| T. | 12 |
| L. | 15 |
| T. | 18 |
| L. | 21 |
| Z. | 23 |
| L. | 26 |
| T. | 28 |
| L. | 31 |
| C. | 36 |
| T. | 38 |
| X. | 41 |
| C. | 45 |
| T. | 47 |
| C. | 50 |
| T. | 53 |
| C. | 55 |
| C. | 62 |
| T. | 64 |
| ADVERTIsem*nT. | 65 |
| C. | 68 |
| C. | 73 |
| T. | 76 |
| C. | 78 |
| C. | 84 |
| C. | 89 |
| No. 236. Friday, November 30, 1711. Steele | 90 |
| T. | 98 |
| C. | 100 |
| T. | 103 |
| C. | 105 |
| T. | 108 |
| C. | 110 |
| T. | 112 |
| C. | 115 |
| No. 246. Wednesday, December 12, 1711. Steele | 115 |
| C. | 121 |
| C. | 125 |
| Q. | 128 |
| TO THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. [1] | 131 |
| T. | 136 |
| C. | 146 |
| C. | 150 |
| C. | 153 |
| T. | 161 |
| C. | 165 |
| T. | 169 |
| T. | 172 |
| C. [4] | 175 |
| L. | 182 |
| T. | 189 |
| L. | 191 |
| L. | 196 |
| L. | 201 |
| T. | 205 |
| L. | 207 |
| T. | 210 |
| X. | 212 |
| I. | 218 |
| L. | 224 |
| T. | 226 |
| X. | 229 |
| T. | 232 |
| L. | 235 |
| T. [2] | 239 |
| L. | 242 |
| No. 288. Wednesday, January 30, 1712. Steele | 242 |
| T. | 245 |
| L. | 248 |
| T. | 250 |
| L. | 253 |
| Z. | 256 |
| L. | 259 |
| L. | 265 |
| T. | 266 |
| No. 297. Saturday, February 9, 1712. Addison | 267 |
| L. | 271 |
| T. | 274 |
| L. | 277 |
| T. | 279 |
| X. | 282 |
| T. | 285 |
| L. | 291 |
| L. | 297 |
| T. | 299 |
| X. | 303 |
| L. | 310 |
| L. | 315 |
| T. | 317 |
| X. | 320 |
| T. | 323 |
| ADVERTIsem*nT. | 323 |
| L. | 328 |
| Z. | 331 |
| L. | 334 |
| T. | 336 |
| X. | 338 |
| T. | 342 |
| L. | 347 |
| TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THOMAS EARL OF WHARTON.[1] | 348 |
| No. 325. Thursday, March 13, 1712. Budgell | 357 |
| X. | 359 |
| T. | 361 |
| L. | 366 |
| R. | 368 |
| L. | 371 |
| L. | 373 |
| T. | 376 |
| X. | 378 |
| L. | 385 |
| No. 334. Monday, March 24, 1712. Steele | 385 |
| T. | 388 |
| L. | 391 |
| T. | 393 |
| X. | 397 |
| No. 339 Saturday, March 29, 1712. Addison | 399 |
| L. | 404 |
| X. | 410 |
| T | 412 |
| L. | 415 |
| L. | 423 |
| X. | 428 |
| T. | 430 |
| L. | 432 |
| X. | 444 |
| T. | 447 |
| L. | 450 |
| L. | 459 |
| X. | 465 |
| T. | 467 |
| T. | 472 |
| L. | 478 |
| T. | 481 |
| X. | 484 |
| T. | 486 |
| L. | 489 |
| L. | 496 |
| I. | 501 |
| T. | 503 |
| X. | 505 |
| T. | 507 |
| I. | 514 |
| MESSIAH. | 514 |
| T. | 517 |
| X. | 520 |
| No. 380. Friday, May 16, 1712. Steele | 520 |
| I. | 525 |
| X. | 536 |
| L. | 541 |
| X. | 545 |
| I. | 551 |
| I. | 555 |
| TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES EARL OF SUNDERLAND [1] | 557 |
| X. | 560 |
| Robin ran back, with | 568 |
| L. | 570 |
| X. | 574 |
| T. | 577 |
| No. 403. Thursday, June 12, 1712. Addison | 577 |
| L. | 579 |
| No. 404. Friday, June 13, 1712. Budgell | 579 |
| T. | 586 |
| Z. | 590 |
| T. | 596 |
VOL. II.
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED
Broadway, Ludgate hill
Glasgow, Manchester and new york
1891
No. 203. Tuesday, October 23,1711. Addison.
Phoebe pater, si das hujus mihi nominisusum,
Nec falsa Clymene culpam sub imagine celat;
Pignora da, Genitor
Ov. Met.
There is a loose Tribe of Men whom I have not yettaken Notice of, that ramble into all the Cornersof this great City, in order to seduce such unfortunateFemales as fall into their Walks. These abandonedProfligates raise up Issue in every Quarter of theTown, and very often, for a valuable Consideration,father it upon the Church-warden. By this meansthere are several Married Men who have a little Familyin most of the Parishes of London and Westminster,and several Batchelors who are undone by a Chargeof Children.
When a Man once gives himself this Liberty of preyingat large, and living upon the Common, he finds somuch Game in a populous City, that it is surprisingto consider the Numbers which he sometimes propagates.We see many a young Fellow who is scarce of Age, thatcould lay his Claim to the Jus trium Liberorum, orthe Privileges which were granted by the Roman Lawsto all such as were Fathers of three Children:Nay, I have heard a Rake [who [1]] was not quite fiveand twenty, declare himself the Father of a seventhSon, and very prudently determine to breed him upa Physician. In short, the Town is full of theseyoung Patriarchs, not to mention several batter’dBeaus, who, like heedless Spendthrifts that squanderaway their Estates before they are Masters of them,have raised up their whole Stock of Children beforeMarriage.
I must not here omit the particular Whim of an ImpudentLibertine, that had a little Smattering of Heraldry;and observing how the Genealogies of great Familieswere often drawn up in the Shape of Trees, had takena Fancy to dispose of his own illegitimate Issue ina Figure of the same kind.
—Nec longum tempus et ingens
Exiit ad coelum ramis felicibus arbos,
Miraturque novas frondes, et non sua poma.
Virg. [2]
The Trunk of the Tree was mark’d with his ownName, Will Maple. Out of the Side of it grewa large barren Branch, Inscribed Mary Maple, the Nameof his unhappy Wife. The Head was adorned withfive huge Boughs. On the Bottom of the firstwas written in Capital Characters Kate Cole, who branchedout into three Sprigs, viz. William, Richard,and Rebecca. Sal Twiford gave Birth to anotherBough, that shot up into Sarah, Tom, Will, and Frank.The third Arm of the Tree had only a single Infantin it, with a Space left for a second, the Parent fromwhom it sprung being near her Time when the Authortook this Ingenious Device into his Head. Thetwo other great Boughs were very plentifully loadenwith Fruit of the same kind; besides which there weremany Ornamental Branches that did not bear. Inshort, a more flourishing Tree never came out of theHeralds Office.
What makes this Generation of Vermin so very prolifick,is the indefatigable Diligence with which they applythemselves to their Business. A Man does notundergo more Watchings and Fatigues in a Campaign,than in the Course of a vicious Amour. As it issaid of some Men, that they make their Business theirPleasure, these Sons of Darkness may be said to maketheir Pleasure their Business. They might conquertheir corrupt Inclinations with half the Pains theyare at in gratifying them.
Nor is the Invention of these Men less to be admiredthan their Industry or Vigilance. There is aFragment of Apollodorus the Comick Poet (who was Contemporarywith Menander) which is full of Humour as follows:Thou mayest shut up thy Doors, says he, with Bars andBolts: It will be impossible for the Blacksmithto make them so fast, but a Cat and a whor*masterwill find a Way through them. In a word, thereis no Head so full of Stratagems as that of a LibidinousMan.
Were I to propose a Punishment for this infamous Raceof Propagators, it should be to send them, after thesecond or third Offence, into our American Colonies,in order to people those Parts of her Majesty’sDominions where there is a want of Inhabitants, andin the Phrase of Diogenes, to Plant Men. SomeCountries punish this Crime with Death; but I thinksuch a Banishment would be sufficient, and might turnthis generative Faculty to the Advantage of the Publick.
In the mean time, till these Gentlemen may be thusdisposed of, I would earnestly exhort them to takeCare of those unfortunate Creatures whom they havebrought into the World by these indirect Methods, andto give their spurious Children such an Educationas may render them more virtuous than their Parents.This is the best Atonement they can make for theirown Crimes, and indeed the only Method that is leftthem to repair their past Mis-carriages.
I would likewise desire them to consider, whetherthey are not bound in common Humanity, as well asby all the Obligations of Religion and Nature, tomake some Provision for those whom they have not onlygiven Life to, but entail’d upon them, [thovery unreasonably, a Degree of] Shame and [Disgrace.[3]] And here I cannot but take notice of those depravedNotions which prevail among us, and which must havetaken rise from our natural Inclination to favoura Vice to which we are so very prone, namely, thatBastardy and Cuckoldom should be look’d uponas Reproaches, and that the [Ignominy [4]] which isonly due to Lewdness and Falsehood, should fall inso unreasonable a manner upon the Persons who [are[5]] innocent.
I have been insensibly drawn into this Discourse bythe following Letter, which is drawn up with sucha Spirit of Sincerity, that I question not but theWriter of it has represented his Case in a true andgenuine Light.
Sir,
I am one of those People who by the generalOpinion of the World are
counted both Infamous and Unhappy.
My Father is a very eminent Man in thisKingdom, and one who bears considerable Officesin it. I am his Son, but my Misfortune is, ThatI dare not call him Father, nor he without Shameown me as his Issue, I being illegitimate, and thereforedeprived of that endearing Tenderness and unparallel’dSatisfaction which a good Man finds in the Loveand Conversation of a Parent: Neither have I theOpportunities to render him the Duties of a Son,he having always carried himself at so vast a Distance,and with such Superiority towards me, that by longUse I have contracted a Timorousness when beforehim, which hinders me from declaring my own Necessities,and giving him to understand the InconvenienciesI undergo.
It is my Misfortune to have been neitherbred a Scholar, [a Soldier,] nor to [any kind of]Business, which renders me Entirely uncapable of makingProvision for my self without his Assistance; and thiscreates a continual Uneasiness in my Mind, fearingI shall in Time want Bread; my Father, if I mayso call him, giving me but very faint Assurances ofdoing any thing for me.
I have hitherto lived somewhat like aGentleman, and it would be very hard for me to labourfor my Living. I am in continual Anxiety for myfuture Fortune, and under a great Unhappiness inlosing the sweet Conversation and friendly Adviceof my Parents; so that I cannot look upon my selfotherwise than as a Monster, strangely sprung up inNature, which every one is ashamed to own.
I am thought to be a Man of some naturalParts, and by the continual Reading what you haveoffered the World, become an Admirer thereof, whichhas drawn me to make this Confession; at the same timehoping, if any thing herein shall touch you witha Sense of Pity, you would then allow me the Favourof your Opinion thereupon; as also what Part I,being unlawfully born, may claim of the Man’sAffection who begot me, and how far in your OpinionI am to be thought his Son, or he acknowledged asmy Father. Your Sentiments and Advice herein willbe a great Consolation and Satisfaction to, sir,Your Admirer and Humble Servant, W. B.
[Footnote 1: that]
[Footnote 2: Georg. II. v. 89.]
[Footnote 3: Infamy.]
[Footnote 4: Shame]
[Footnote 5: suffer and are]
C.
* * * * *
No. 204. Wednesday, October 24,1711. Steele.
Urit grata protervitas,
Et vultus nimium lubricus aspici.
Hor.
I am not at all displeased that I am become the Courierof Love, and that the Distressed in that Passion conveytheir Complaints to each other by my Means. Thefollowing Letters have lately come to my hands, andshall have their Place with great Willingness.As to the Readers Entertainment, he will, I hope,forgive the inserting such Particulars as to him mayperhaps seem frivolous, but are to the Persons whowrote them of the highest Consequence. I shallnot trouble you with the Prefaces, Compliments, andApologies made to me before each Epistle when it wasdesired to be inserted; but in general they tell me,that the Persons to whom they are addressed have Intimations,by Phrases and Allusions in them, from whence theycame.
To the Sothades [1].
“The Word, by which I address you,gives you, who understand Portuguese, a livelyImage of the tender Regard I have for you. Thespectator’s late Letter from Statiragave me the Hint to use the same Method of explainingmy self to you. I am not affronted at the Designyour late Behaviour discovered you had in your Addressesto me; but I impute it to the Degeneracy of theAge, rather than your particular Fault. AsI aim at nothing more than being yours, I am willingto be a Stranger to your Name, your Fortune, or anyFigure which your Wife might expect to make in theWorld, provided my Commerce with you is not to bea guilty one. I resign gay Dress, the Pleasureof Visits, Equipage, Plays, Balls, and Operas, forthat one Satisfaction of having you for ever mine.I am willing you shall industriously conceal theonly Cause of Triumph which I can know in this Life.I wish only to have it my Duty, as well as my Inclination,to study your Happiness. If this has not theEffect this Letter seems to aim at, you are to understandthat I had a mind to be rid of you, and took thereadiest Way to pall you with an Offer of what youwould never desist pursuing while you received illUsage. Be a true Man; be my Slave while youdoubt me, and neglect me when you think I love you.I defy you to find out what is your present Circ*mstancewith me; but I know while I can keep this Suspence.
I am your admired Belinda.”
Madam,
“It is a strange State of Mind aMan is in, when the very Imperfections of a Womanhe loves turn into Excellencies and Advantages.I do assure you, I am very much afraid of venturingupon you. I now like you in spite of my Reason,and think it an ill Circ*mstance to owe ones Happinessto nothing but Infatuation. I can see you ogleall the young Fellows who look at you, and observeyour Eye wander after new Conquests every Momentyou are in a publick Place; and yet there is sucha Beauty in all your Looks and Gestures, that Icannot but admire you in the very Act of endeavouringto gain the Hearts of others. My Conditionis the same with that of the Lover in the Wayof the World, [2] I have studied your Faults solong, that they are become as familiar to me, andI like them as well as I do my own. Look toit, Madam, and consider whether you think this gayBehaviour will appear to me as amiable when an Husband,as it does now to me a Lover. Things are sofar advanced, that we must proceed; and I hope youwill lay it to Heart, that it will be becoming in meto appear still your Lover, but not in you to bestill my Mistress. Gaiety in the MatrimonialLife is graceful in one Sex, but exceptionable inthe other. As you improve these little Hints,you will ascertain the Happiness or Uneasiness of,Madam, Your most obedient, Most humble Servant,T.D.”
SIR, When I sat at the Window,and you at the other End of the Room by my Cousin,I saw you catch me looking at you. Since you havethe Secret at last, which I am sure you should neverhave known but by Inadvertency, what my Eyes saidwas true. But it is too soon to confirm itwith my Hand, therefore shall not subscribe my Name.
SIR, There were other Gentlemennearer, and I know no Necessity you were under totake up that flippant Creatures Fan last Night; butyou shall never touch a Stick of mine more, that’spos. Phillis.
To Colonel R——s [3]in Spain.
Before this can reach the best of Husbandsand the fondest Lover, those tender Names will beno more of Concern to me. The Indisposition inwhich you, to obey the Dictates of your Honour andDuty, left me, has increased upon me; and I am acquaintedby my Physicians I cannot live a Week longer.At this time my Spirits fail me; and it is the ardentLove I have for you that carries me beyond my Strength,and enables me to tell you, the most painful Thingin the Prospect of Death, is, that I must part withyou. But let it be a Comfort to you, that Ihave no Guilt hangs upon me, no unrepented Folly thatretards me; but I pass away my last Hours in Reflectionupon the Happiness we have lived in together, andin Sorrow that it is so soon to have an End.This is a Frailty which I hope is so far from criminal,that methinks there is a kind of Piety in beingso unwilling to be separated from a State whichis the Institution of Heaven, and in which we havelived according to its Laws. As we know no moreof the next Life, but that it will be an happy oneto the Good, and miserable to the Wicked, why maywe not please ourselves at least, to alleviate theDifficulty of resigning this Being, in imagining thatwe shall have a Sense of what passes below, andmay possibly be employed in guiding the Steps ofthose with whom we walked with Innocence when mortal?Why may not I hope to go on in my usual Work, and,tho unknown to you, be assistant in all the Conflictsof your Mind? Give me leave to say to you,O best of Men, that I cannot figure to myself agreater Happiness than in such an Employment:To be present at all the Adventures to which humanLife is exposed, to administer Slumber to thy Eyelidsin the Agonies of a Fever, to cover thy beloved Facein the Day of Battle, to go with thee a GuardianAngel incapable of Wound or Pain, where I have longedto attend thee when a weak, a fearful Woman:These, my Dear, are the Thoughts with which I warmmy poor languid Heart; but indeed I am not capableunder my present Weakness of bearing the strongAgonies of Mind I fall into, when I form to myselfthe Grief you will be in upon your first hearing ofmy Departure. I will not dwell upon this, becauseyour kind and generous Heart will be but the moreafflicted, the more the Person for whom you lamentoffers you Consolation. My last Breath will, ifI am my self, expire in a Prayer for you. Ishall never see thy Face again.
Farewell for ever. T.
[Footnote 1: Saudades. To have saudadesof anything is to yearn with desire towards it.Saudades da Patria is home sickness. To say TenhoSaudades without naming an object would be taken tomean I am all yearning to call a certain gentlemanor lady mine.]
[Footnote 2: In Act I. sc. 3, of Congreve’sWay of the World, Mirabell says of Millamant,
I like her with all her faults, nay, likeher for her faults. Her follies are so natural,or so artful, that they become her; and those affectationswhich in another woman would be odious, serve but tomake her more agreeable. Ill tell thee, Fainall,she once used me with that insolence, that in revengeI took her to pieces, sifted her, and separatedher failings; I studied em and got em by rote.The Catalogue was so large, that I was not withouthopes one day or other to hate her heartily:to which end I so used myself to think of em, thatat length, contrary to my design and expectation, theygave me every hour less and less disturbance; tillin a few days it became habitual to me to rememberem without being displeased. They are now grownas familiar to me as my own frailties; and, in allprobability, in a little time longer I shall likeem as well.]
[Footnote 3: The name was commonly believed tobe Rivers, when this Paper was published.]
* * * * *
No. 205. Thursday, October 25, 1711. Addison.
Decipimur specie recti
Hor.
When I meet with any vicious Character that is notgenerally known, in order to prevent its doing Mischief,I draw it at length, and set it up as a Scarecrow;by which means I do not only make an Example of thePerson to whom it belongs, but give Warning to allHer Majesty’s Subjects, that they may not sufferby it. Thus, to change the [Allusion,[1]] I havemarked out several of the Shoals and Quicksands ofLife, and am continually employed in discovering those[which [2]] are still concealed, in order to keepthe Ignorant and Unwary from running upon them.It is with this Intention that I publish the followingLetter, which brings to light some Secrets of thisNature.
Mr. Spectator,
There are none of your Speculations whichI read over with greater Delight, than those whichare designed for the Improvement of our Sex.You have endeavoured to correct our unreasonableFears and Superstitions, in your Seventh and TwelfthPapers; our Fancy for Equipage, in your Fifteenth;our Love of Puppet-Shows, in your Thirty-First;our Notions of Beauty, in your Thirty-Third; our Inclinationfor Romances, in your Thirty-Seventh; our Passion forFrench Fopperies, in your Forty-Fifth; ourManhood and Party-zeal, in your Fifty-Seventh; ourAbuse of Dancing, in your Sixty-Sixth and Sixty-Seventh;our Levity, in your Hundred and Twenty-Eighth; ourLove of Coxcombs, in your Hundred and Fifty-Fourth,and Hundred and Fifty-Seventh; our Tyranny overthe Henpeckt, in your Hundred and Seventy-Sixth.You have described the Pict in your Forty-first;the Idol, in your Seventy-Third; the Demurrer, inyour Eighty-Ninth; the Salamander, in your Hundredand Ninety-Eighth. You have likewise taken topieces our Dress, and represented to us the Extravagancieswe are often guilty of in that Particular.You have fallen upon our Patches, in your Fiftiethand Eighty-First; our Commodes, in your Ninety-Eighth;our Fans in your Hundred and Second; our Riding Habitsin your Hundred and Fourth; our Hoop-petticoats,in your Hundred and Twenty-Seventh; besides a greatmany little Blemishes which you have touched uponin your several other Papers, and in those many Lettersthat are scattered up and down your Works. Atthe same Time we must own, that the Complimentsyou pay our Sex are innumerable, and that thosevery Faults which you represent in us, are neitherblack in themselves nor, as you own, universal amongus. But, Sir, it is plain that these your Discoursesare calculated for none but the fashionable Partof Womankind, and for the Use of those who are ratherindiscreet than vicious. But, Sir, there isa Sort of Prostitutes in the lower Part of our Sex,who are a Scandal to us, and very well deserve tofall under your Censure. I know it would debaseyour Paper too much to enter into the Behaviourof these Female Libertines; but as your Remarkson some Part of it would be a doing of Justice to severalWomen of Virtue and Honour, whose Reputations sufferby it, I hope you will not think it improper togive the Publick some Accounts of this Nature.You must know, Sir, I am provoked to write you thisLetter by the Behaviour of an infamous Woman, whohaving passed her Youth in a most shameless Stateof Prostitution, is now one of those who gain theirLivelihood by seducing others, that are younger thanthemselves, and by establishing a criminal Commercebetween the two Sexes. Among several of herArtifices to get Money, she frequently perswades avain young Fellow, that such a Woman of Quality,or such a celebrated Toast, entertains a secretPassion for him, and wants nothing but an Opportunityof revealing it: Nay, she has gone so far as towrite Letters in the Name of a Woman of Figure,to borrow Money of one of these foolish Roderigos,[3] which she has afterwards appropriated to herown Use. In the mean time, the Person who haslent the Money, has thought a Lady under Obligationsto him, who scarce knew his Name; and wondered ather Ingratitude when he has been with her, that shehas not owned the Favour, though at the same timehe was too much a Man of Honour to put her in mindof it.
When this abandoned Baggage meets witha Man who has Vanity enough to give Credit to Relationsof this nature, she turns him to very good Account,by repeating Praises that were never uttered, and deliveringMessages that were never sent. As the Houseof this shameless Creature is frequented by severalForeigners, I have heard of another Artifice, outof which she often raises Money. The Foreignersighs after some British Beauty, whom heonly knows by Fame: Upon which she promises,if he can be secret, to procure him a Meeting.The Stranger, ravished at his good Fortune, givesher a Present, and in a little time is introducedto some imaginary Title; for you must know that thiscunning Purveyor has her Representatives upon thisOccasion, of some of the finest Ladies in the Kingdom.By this Means, as I am informed, it is usual enoughto meet with a German Count in foreign Countries,that shall make his Boasts of Favours he has receivedfrom Women of the highest Ranks, and the most unblemishedCharacters. Now, Sir, what Safety is therefor a Woman’s Reputation, when a Lady may bethus prostituted as it were by Proxy, and be reputedan unchaste Woman; as the Hero in the ninth Bookof Dryden’s Virgil is looked upon as aCoward, because the Phantom which appeared in hisLikeness ran away from Turnus? You may dependupon what I relate to you to be Matter of Fact,and the Practice of more than one of these female Pandars.If you print this Letter, I may give you some furtherAccounts of this vicious Race of Women. Yourhumble Servant, BELVIDERA.
I shall add two other Letters on different Subjectsto fill up my Paper.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a Country Clergyman, and hope youwill lend me your Assistance
in ridiculing some little Indecencieswhich cannot so properly be
exposed from the Pulpit.
A Widow Lady, who straggled this Summerfrom London into my Parish for the Benefitof the Air, as she says, appears every Sundayat Church with many fashionable Extravagancies,to the great Astonishment of my Congregation.
But what gives us the most Offence isher theatrical Manner of Singing the Psalms.She introduces above fifty Italian Airs intothe hundredth Psalm, and whilst we begin AllPeople in the old solemn Tune of our Forefathers,she in a quite different Key runs Divisions on theVowels, and adorns them with the Graces of Nicolini;if she meets with Eke or Aye, which are frequentin the Metre of Hopkins and Sternhold,[4]we are certain to hear her quavering them half a Minuteafter us to some sprightly Airs of the Opera.
I am very far from being an Enemy to ChurchMusick; but fear this Abuse of it may make my Parishridiculous, who already look on the Singing Psalmsas an Entertainment, and no Part of their Devotion:Besides, I am apprehensive that the Infection mayspread, for Squire Squeekum, who by his Voiceseems (if I may use the Expression) to be cut outfor an Italian Singer, was last Sundaypractising the same Airs.
I know the Lady’s Principles, andthat she will plead the Toleration, which (as shefancies) allows her Non-Conformity in this Particular;but I beg you to acquaint her, That Singing the Psalmsin a different Tune from the rest of the Congregation,is a Sort of Schism not tolerated by that Act.
I am, SIR, Your very humble Servant,R. S.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
In your Paper upon Temperance, you prescribeto us a Rule of drinking, out of Sir WilliamTemple, in the following Words; The firstGlass for myself, the second for my Friends, the thirdfor Good-humour, and the fourth for mine Enemies.Now, Sir, you must know, that I have read this yourSpectator, in a Club whereof I am a Member;when our President told us, there was certainly anError in the Print, and that the Word Glassshould be Bottle; and therefore has orderedme to inform you of this Mistake, and to desire youto publish the following Errata: In the Paperof Saturday, Octob. 13, Col. 3. Line11, for Glass read Bottle.
Yours, Robin Good-fellow.
L.
[Footnote 1: Metaphor,]
[Footnote 2: that]
[Footnote 3: As the Roderigo whose money Iagoused.]
[Footnote 4: Thomas Sternhold who joined Hopkins,Norton, and others in translation of the Psalms, wasgroom of the robes to Henry VIII. and Edward VI.]
L.
* * * * *
No. 206. Friday, October 26, 1711. Steele.
Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit,
A Diis plura feret—
Hor.
There is a Call upon Mankind to value and esteem thosewho set a moderate Price upon their own Merit; andSelf-denial is frequently attended with unexpectedBlessings, which in the End abundantly recompensesuch Losses as the Modest seem to suffer in the ordinaryOccurrences of Life. The Curious tell us, a Determinationin our Favour or to our Disadvantage is made uponour first Appearance, even before they know any thing
of our Characters, but from the Intimations Men gatherfrom our Aspect. A Man, they say, wears the Pictureof his Mind in his Countenance; and one Man’sEyes are Spectacles to his who looks at him to readhis Heart. But tho that Way of raising an Opinionof those we behold in Publick is very fallacious,certain it is, that those, who by their Words andActions take as much upon themselves, as they canbut barely demand in the strict Scrutiny of their Deserts,will find their Account lessen every Day. A modestMan preserves his Character, as a frugal Man doeshis Fortune; if either of them live to the Heightof either, one will find Losses, the other Errors,which he has not Stock by him to make up. Itwere therefore a just Rule, to keep your Desires,your Words and Actions, within the Regard you observeyour Friends have for you; and never, if it were ina Man’s Power, to take as much as he possiblymight either in Preferment or Reputation. My Walkshave lately been among the mercantile Part of the World;and one gets Phrases naturally from those with whom*one converses: I say then, he that in his Air,his Treatment of others, or an habitual Arrogance tohimself, gives himself Credit for the least Articleof more Wit, Wisdom, Goodness, or Valour than he canpossibly produce if he is called upon, will find theWorld break in upon him, and consider him as one whohas cheated them of all the Esteem they had beforeallowed him. This brings a Commission of Bankruptcyupon him; and he that might have gone on to his LifesEnd in a prosperous Way, by aiming at more than heshould, is no longer Proprietor of what he reallyhad before, but his Pretensions fare as all Thingsdo which are torn instead of being divided.There is no one living would deny Cinna theApplause of an agreeable and facetious Wit; or couldpossibly pretend that there is not something inimitablyunforced and diverting in his Manner of deliveringall his Sentiments in Conversation, if he were ableto conceal the strong Desire of Applause which hebetrays in every Syllable he utters. But theywho converse with him, see that all the Civilitiesthey could do to him, or the kind Things they couldsay to him, would fall short of what he expects; andtherefore instead of shewing him the Esteem they havefor his Merit, their Reflections turn only upon thatthey observe he has of it himself.
If you go among the Women, and behold Glorianatrip into a Room with that theatrical Ostentationof her Charms, Mirtilla with that soft Regularityin her Motion, Chloe with such an indifferentFamiliarity, Corinna with such a fond Approach,and Roxana with such a Demand of Respect inthe great Gravity of her Entrance; you find all theSex, who understand themselves and act naturally,wait only for their Absence, to tell you that allthese Ladies would impose themselves upon you; andeach of them carry in their Behaviour a Consciousnessof so much more than they should pretend to, thatthey lose what would otherwise be given them.
I remember the last time I saw Macbeth, I waswonderfully taken with the Skill of the Poet, in makingthe Murderer form Fears to himself from the Moderationof the Prince whose Life he was going to take away.He says of the King, He bore his Faculties so meekly;and justly inferred from thence, That all divine andhuman Power would join to avenge his Death, who hadmade such an abstinent Use of Dominion. All thatis in a Man’s Power to do to advance his ownPomp and Glory, and forbears, is so much laid up againstthe Day of Distress; and Pity will always be his Portionin Adversity, who acted with Gentleness in Prosperity.
The great Officer who foregoes the Advantages he mighttake to himself, and renounces all prudential Regardsto his own Person in Danger, has so far the Meritof a Volunteer; and all his Honours and Glories areunenvied, for sharing the common Fate with the sameFrankness as they do who have no such endearing Circ*mstancesto part with. But if there were no such Considerationsas the good Effect which Self-denial has upon theSense of other Men towards us, it is of all Qualitiesthe most desirable for the agreeable Disposition inwhich it places our own Minds. I cannot tellwhat better to say of it, than that it is the veryContrary of Ambition; and that Modesty allays allthose Passions and Inquietudes to which that Viceexposes us. He that is moderate in his Wishesfrom Reason and Choice, and not resigned from Sourness,Distaste, or Disappointment, doubles all the Pleasuresof his Life. The Air, the Season, a [Sun-shiny[1]] Day, or a fair Prospect, are Instances of Happiness,and that which he enjoys in common with all the World,(by his Exemption from the Enchantments by which allthe World are bewitched) are to him uncommon Benefitsand new Acquisitions. Health is not eaten upwith Care, nor Pleasure interrupted by Envy. Itis not to him of any Consequence what this Man isfamed for, or for what the other is preferred.He knows there is in such a Place an uninterruptedWalk; he can meet in such a Company an agreeable Conversation:He has no Emulation, he is no Man’s Rival, butevery Man’s Well-wisher; can look at a prosperousMan, with a Pleasure in reflecting that he hopes heis as happy as himself; and has his Mind and his Fortune(as far as Prudence will allow) open to the Unhappyand to the Stranger.
Lucceius has Learning, Wit, Humour, Eloquence,but no ambitious Prospects to pursue with these Advantages;therefore to the ordinary World he is perhaps thoughtto want Spirit, but known among his Friends to havea Mind of the most consummate Greatness. He wantsno Man’s Admiration, is in no Need of Pomp.His Cloaths please him if they are fashionable andwarm; his Companions are agreeable if they are civiland well-natured. There is with him no Occasionfor Superfluity at Meals, for Jollity in Company,in a word, for any thing extraordinary to administerDelight to him. Want of Prejudice and Commandof Appetite are the Companions which make his Journeyof Life so easy, that he in all Places meets withmore Wit, more good Cheer and more good Humour, thanis necessary to make him enjoy himself with Pleasureand Satisfaction.
[Footnote 1: [Sun-shine], and in the first reprint.]
T.
* * * * *
No. 207. Saturday, October 27, 1711. Addison.
Omnibus in terris, quoe sunt a Gadibususque
Auroram et Gangem, pauci dignoscere possunt
Vera bona, atque illis multum diversa,remota
Erroris nebula—
Juv.
In my last Saturdays Paper I laid down someThoughts upon Devotion in general, and shall hereshew what were the Notions of the most refined Heathenson this Subject, as they are represented in Plato’sDialogue upon Prayer, entitled, Alcibiades theSecond, which doubtless gave Occasion to Juvenal’stenth Satire, and to the second Satire of Persius;as the last of these Authors has almost transcribedthe preceding Dialogue, entitled Alcibiades theFirst, in his Fourth Satire.
The Speakers in this Dialogue upon Prayer, are Socratesand Alcibiades; and the Substance of it (whendrawn together out of the Intricacies and Digressions)as follows.
Socrates meeting his Pupil Alcibiades,as he was going to his Devotions, and observing hisEyes to be fixed upon the Earth with great Seriousnessand Attention, tells him, that he had reason to bethoughtful on that Occasion, since it was possiblefor a Man to bring down Evils upon himself by hisown Prayers, and that those things, which the Godssend him in Answer to his Petitions, might turn tohis Destruction: This, says he, may not onlyhappen when a Man prays for what he knows is mischievousin its own Nature, as OEdipus implored theGods to sow Dissension between his Sons; but when heprays for what he believes would be for his Good,and against what he believes would be to his Detriment.This the Philosopher shews must necessarily happenamong us, since most Men are blinded with Ignorance,Prejudice, or Passion, which hinder them from seeingsuch things as are really beneficial to them.For an Instance, he asks Alcibiades, Whetherhe would not be thoroughly pleased and satisfied ifthat God, to whom he was going to address himself,should promise to make him the Sovereign of the wholeEarth? Alcibiades answers, That he should doubtlesslook upon such a Promise as the greatest Favour thathe could bestow upon him. Socrates then askshim, If after [receiving [1]] this great Favour hewould be content[ed] to lose his Life? or if he wouldreceive it though he was sure he should make an illUse of it? To both which Questions Alcibiadesanswers in the Negative. Socrates then shews him,from the Examples of others, how these might very probablybe the Effects of such a Blessing. He then adds,That other reputed Pieces of Good-fortune, as thatof having a Son, or procuring the highest Post ina Government, are subject to the like fatal Consequences;
which nevertheless, says he, Men ardently desire,and would not fail to pray for, if they thought theirPrayers might be effectual for the obtaining of them.Having established this great Point, That all the mostapparent Blessings in this Life are obnoxious to suchdreadful Consequences, and that no Man knows whatin its Events would prove to him a Blessing or a Curse,he teaches Alcibiades after what manner he oughtto pray.In the first Place, he recommends to him, as the Modelof his Devotions, a short Prayer, which a GreekPoet composed for the Use of his Friends, in the followingWords; O Jupiter, give us those Things whichare good for us, whether they are such Things as wepray for, or such Things as we do not pray for:and remove from us those Things which are hurtful,though they are such Things as we pray for.
In the second Place, that his Disciple may ask suchThings as are expedient for him, he shews him, thatit is absolutely necessary to apply himself to theStudy of true Wisdom, and to the Knowledge of thatwhich is his chief Good, and the most suitable to theExcellency of his Nature.
In the third and last Place he informs him, that thebest Method he could make use of to draw down Blessingsupon himself, and to render his Prayers acceptable,would be to live in a constant Practice of his Dutytowards the Gods, and towards Men. Under thisHead he very much recommends a Form of Prayer theLacedemonians made use of, in which they petitionthe Gods, to give them all good Things so long asthey were virtuous. Under this Head likewisehe gives a very remarkable Account of an Oracle tothe following Purpose.
When the Athenians in the War with the Lacedemoniansreceived many Defeats both by Sea and Land, they senta Message to the Oracle of Jupiter Ammon, toask the Reason why they who erected so many Templesto the Gods, and adorned them with such costly Offerings;why they who had instituted so many Festivals, andaccompanied them with such Pomps and Ceremonies; inshort, why they who had slain so many Hecatombs attheir Altars, should be less successful than the Lacedemonians,who fell so short of them in all these Particulars.To this, says he, the Oracle made the following Reply;I am better pleased with the Prayer of theLacedemonians, than with all the Oblations of theGreeks. As this Prayer implied and encouragedVirtue in those who made it, the Philosopher proceedsto shew how the most vicious Man might be devout,so far as Victims could make him, but that his Offeringswere regarded by the Gods as Bribes, and his Petitionsas Blasphemies. He likewise quotes on this Occasiontwo Verses out of Homer, [2] in which the Poetsays, That the Scent of the Trojan Sacrificeswas carried up to Heaven by the Winds; but that itwas not acceptable to the Gods, who were displeasedwith Priam and all his People.
The Conclusion of this Dialogue is very remarkable.Socrates having deterred Alcibiadesfrom the Prayers and Sacrifice which he was goingto offer, by setting forth the above-mentioned Difficultiesof performing that Duty as he ought, adds these Words,We must therefore wait till such Time as we maylearn how we ought to behave ourselves towards theGods, and towards Men. But when will thatTime come, says Alcibiades, and who is it thatwill instruct us? For I would fain see this Man,whoever he is. It is one, says Socrates,who takes care of you; but as Homer tells us,[3] that Minerva removed the Mist from Diomedeshis Eyes, that he might plainly discover both Godsand Men; so the Darkness that hangs upon your Mindmust be removed before you are able to discern whatis Good and what is Evil. Let him remove frommy Mind, says Alcibiades, the Darkness, andwhat else he pleases, I am determined to refuse nothinghe shall order me, whoever he is, so that I may becomethe better Man by it. The remaining Part of thisDialogue is very obscure: There is somethingin it that would make us think Socrates hintedat himself, when he spoke of this Divine Teacher whowas to come into the World, did not he own that hehimself was in this respect as much at a Loss, andin as great Distress as the rest of Mankind.
Some learned Men look upon this Conclusion as a Predictionof our Saviour, or at least that Socrates, like theHigh-Priest, [4] prophesied unknowingly, and pointedat that Divine Teacher who was to come into the Worldsome Ages after him. However that may be, we findthat this great Philosopher saw, by the Light of Reason,that it was suitable to the Goodness of the DivineNature, to send a Person into the World who shouldinstruct Mankind in the Duties of Religion, and, inparticular, teach them how to Pray.
Whoever reads this Abstract of Plato’sDiscourse on Prayer, will, I believe, naturally makethis Reflection, That the great Founder of our Religion,as well by his own Example, as in the Form of Prayerwhich he taught his Disciples, did not only keep upto those Rules which the Light of Nature had suggestedto this great Philosopher, but instructed his Disciplesin the whole Extent of this Duty, as well as of allothers. He directed them to the proper Objectof Adoration, and taught them, according to the thirdRule above-mentioned, to apply themselves to him intheir Closets, without Show or Ostentation, and toworship him in Spirit and in Truth. As the Lacedemoniansin their Form of Prayer implored the Gods in generalto give them all good things so long as they werevirtuous, we ask in particular that our Offencesmay be forgiven, as we forgive those of others.If we look into the second Rule which Socrateshas prescribed, namely, That we should apply ourselvesto the Knowledge of such Things as are best for us,
this too is explain’d at large in the Doctrinesof the Gospel, where we are taught in several Instancesto regard those things as Curses, which appear asBlessings in the Eye of the World; and on the contrary,to esteem those things as Blessings, which to theGenerality of Mankind appear as Curses. Thusin the Form which is prescribed to us we only prayfor that Happiness which is our chief Good, and thegreat End of our Existence, when we petition the SupremeBeing for the coming of his Kingdom, being solicitousfor no other temporal Blessings but our daily Sustenance.On the other side, We pray against nothing but Sin,and against Evil in general, leaving it withOmniscience to determine what is really such.If we look into the first of Socrates his Rulesof Prayer, in which he recommends the above-mentionedForm of the ancient Poet, we find that Form not onlycomprehended, but very much improved in the Petition,wherein we pray to the Supreme Being that his Willmay be done: which is of the same Force with thatForm which our Saviour used, when he prayed againstthe most painful and most ignominious of Deaths, Neverthelessnot my Will, but thine be done. This comprehensivePetition is the most humble, as well as the most prudent,that can be offered up from the Creature to his Creator,as it supposes the Supreme Being wills nothing butwhat is for our Good, and that he knows better thanourselves what is so.L.
[Footnote 1: [having received], and in firstreprint.]
[Footnote 2: Iliad, viii. 548, 9.]
[Footnote 3: Iliad, v. 127.]
[Footnote 4: John xi. 49.]
* * * * *
No. 208. Monday, October 29, 1711. Steele.
—Veniunt spectentur ut ipsae.
Ov.[1]
I have several Letters of People of good Sense, wholament the Depravity or Poverty of Taste the Townis fallen into with relation to Plays and publickSpectacles. A Lady in particular observes, thatthere is such a Levity in the Minds of her own Sex,that they seldom attend any thing but Impertinences.It is indeed prodigious to observe how little Noticeis taken of the most exalted Parts of the best Tragediesin Shakespear; nay, it is not only visiblethat Sensuality has devoured all Greatness of Soul,but the Under-Passion (as I may so call it) of a nobleSpirit, Pity, seems to be a Stranger to the Generalityof an Audience. The Minds of Men are indeed verydifferently disposed; and the Reliefs from Care andAttention are of one Sort in a great Spirit, and ofanother in an ordinary one. The Man of a greatHeart and a serious Complexion, is more pleased withInstances of Generosity and Pity, than the light andludicrous Spirit can possibly be with the highest Strainsof Mirth and Laughter: It is therefore a melancholyProspect when we see a numerous Assembly lost to all
serious Entertainments, and such Incidents, as shouldmove one sort of Concern, excite in them a quite contraryone. In the Tragedy of Macbeth, the otherNight, [2] when the Lady who is conscious of the Crimeof murdering the King, seems utterly astonished atthe News, and makes an Exclamation at it, instead ofthe Indignation which is natural to the Occasion,that Expression is received with a loud Laugh:They were as merry when a Criminal was stabbed.It is certainly an Occasion of rejoycing when the Wickedare seized in their Designs; but I think it is notsuch a Triumph as is exerted by Laughter.You may generally observe, that the Appetites aresooner moved than the Passions: A sly Expressionwhich alludes to Bawdry, puts a whole Row into a pleasingSmirk; when a good Sentence that describes an inwardSentiment of the Soul, is received with the greatestColdness and Indifference. A Correspondent ofmine, upon this Subject, has divided the Female Partof the Audience, and accounts for their Prepossessionagainst this reasonable Delight in the following Manner.The Prude, says he, as she acts always in Contradiction,so she is gravely sullen at a Comedy, and extravagantlygay at a Tragedy. The Coquette is so much takenup with throwing her Eyes around the Audience, andconsidering the Effect of them, that she cannot beexpected to observe the Actors but as they are herRivals, and take off the Observation of the Men fromher self. Besides these Species of Women, thereare the Examples, or the first of the Mode:These are to be supposed too well acquainted withwhat the Actor was going to say to be moved at it.After these one might mention a certain flippant Setof Females who are Mimicks, and are wonderfully divertedwith the Conduct of all the People around them, andare Spectators only of the Audience. But whatis of all the most to be lamented, is the Loss ofa Party whom it would be worth preserving in theirright Senses upon all Occasions, and these are thosewhom we may indifferently call the Innocent or theUnaffected. You may sometimes see one of thesesensibly touched with a well-wrought Incident; butthen she is immediately so impertinently observedby the Men, and frowned at by some insensible Superiorof her own Sex, that she is ashamed, and loses theEnjoyment of the most laudable Concern, Pity.Thus the whole Audience is afraid of letting falla Tear, and shun as a Weakness the best and worthiestPart of our Sense.
[Sidenote: Pray settlewhat is to be a proper Notification of a
Persons being in Town, andhow that differs according to Peoples
Quality.]
SIR,
As you are one that doth not only pretendto reform, but effects it amongst People of anySense; makes me (who are one of the greatest of yourAdmirers) give you this Trouble to desire you willsettle the Method of us Females knowing when oneanother is in Town: For they have now got aTrick of never sending to their Acquaintance when theyfirst come; and if one does not visit them withinthe Week which they stay at home, it is a mortalQuarrel. Now, dear Mr. SPEC, either commandthem to put it in the Advertisem*nt of your Paper,which is generally read by our Sex, or else orderthem to breathe their saucy Footmen (who are goodfor nothing else) by sending them to tell all theirAcquaintance. If you think to print this, prayput it into a better Style as to the spelling Part.The Town is now filling every Day, and it cannotbe deferred, because People take Advantage of oneanother by this Means and break off Acquaintance,and are rude: Therefore pray put this in yourPaper as soon as you can possibly, to prevent anyfuture Miscarriages of this Nature. I am, as Iever shall be,
Dear SPEC, Your most obedient HumbleServant, Mary Meanwell.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
October the 20th.
I have been out of Town, so did not meetwith your Paper dated September the 28th,wherein you, to my Hearts Desire, expose that cursedVice of ensnaring poor young Girls, and drawing themfrom their Friends. I assure you without Flatteryit has saved a Prentice of mine from Ruin; and inToken of Gratitude as well as for the Benefit of myFamily, I have put it in a Frame and Glass, and hungit behind my Counter. I shall take Care tomake my young ones read it every Morning, to fortifythem against such pernicious Rascals. I know notwhether what you writ was Matter of Fact, or yourown Invention; but this I will take my Oath on,the first Part is so exactly like what happenedto my Prentice, that had I read your Paper then, Ishould have taken your Method to have secured aVillain. Go on and prosper.
Your most obliged Humble Servant,
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Without Raillery, I desire you to insertthis Word for Word in your next, as you value aLovers Prayers. You see it is an Hue and Cryafter a stray Heart (with the Marks and Blemishesunderwritten) which whoever shall bring to you,shall receive Satisfaction. Let me beg of younot to fail, as you remember the Passion you had forher to whom you lately ended a Paper.
Noble, Generous, Great, andGood,
But never to be understood;
Fickle as the Wind, stillchanging,
After every Female ranging,
Panting, trembling, sighing,dying,
But addicted much to Lying:
When the Siren Songs repeats,
Equal Measures still it beats;
Who-e’er shall wearit, it will smart her,
And who-e’er takes it,takes a Tartar.
T.
[Footnote 1: Spectaret Populum ludis attentiusipsis.-Hor.]
[Footnote 2: Acted Saturday, October 20.]
* * * * *
No. 209. Tuesday, October 30, 1711. Addison.
[Greek: Gynaikos oudi chraem anaerlaeizetai
Esthlaes ameinon, oude rhigion kakaes.]
Simonides.
There are no Authors I am more pleased with than thosewho shew human Nature in a Variety of Views, and describethe several Ages of the World in their different Manners.A Reader cannot be more rationally entertained, thanby comparing the Virtues and Vices of his own Timeswith those which prevailed in the Times of his Forefathers;and drawing a Parallel in his Mind between his ownprivate Character, and that of other Persons, whetherof his own Age, or of the Ages that went before him.The Contemplation of Mankind under these changeableColours, is apt to shame us out of any particularVice, or animate us to any particular Virtue, to makeus pleased or displeased with our selves in the mostproper Points, to clear our Minds of Prejudice andPrepossession, and rectify that Narrowness of Temperwhich inclines us to think amiss of those who differfrom our selves.
If we look into the Manners of the most remote Agesof the World, we discover human Nature in her Simplicity;and the more we come downwards towards our own Times,may observe her hiding herself in Artifices and Refinements,Polished insensibly out of her Original Plainness,and at length entirely lost under Form and Ceremony,and (what we call) good Breeding. Read the Accountsof Men and Women as they are given us by the mostancient Writers, both Sacred and Prophane, and youwould think you were reading the History of anotherSpecies.
Among the Writers of Antiquity, there are none whoinstruct us more openly in the Manners of their respectiveTimes in which they lived, than those who have employedthemselves in Satyr, under what Dress soever it mayappear; as there are no other Authors whose Provinceit is to enter so directly into the Ways of Men, andset their Miscarriages in so strong a Light.
Simonides,[1] a Poet famous in his Generation,is, I think, Author of the oldest Satyr that is nowextant; and, as some say, of the first that was everwritten. This Poet flourished about four hundredYears after the Siege of Troy; and shews, byhis way of Writing, the Simplicity, or rather Coarseness,of the Age in which he lived. I have taken notice,in my Hundred and sixty first Speculation, that theRule of observing what the French call thebienseance, in an Allusion, has been foundout of later Years; and that the Ancients, providedthere was a Likeness in their Similitudes, did notmuch trouble themselves about the Decency of the Comparison.The Satyr or Iambicks of Simonides, with which
I shall entertain my Readers in the present Paper,are a remarkable Instance of what I formerly advanced.The Subject of this Satyr is Woman. He describesthe Sex in their several Characters, which he derivesto them from a fanciful Supposition raised upon theDoctrine of Praeexistence. He tells us, Thatthe Gods formed the Souls of Women out of those Seedsand Principles which compose several Kinds of Animalsand Elements; and that their Good or Bad Dispositionsarise in them according as such and such Seeds andPrinciples predominate in their Constitutions.I have translated the Author very faithfully, and ifnot Word for Word (which our Language would not bear)at least so as to comprehend every one of his Sentiments,without adding any thing of my own. I have alreadyapologized for this Authors Want of Delicacy, andmust further premise, That the following Satyr affectsonly some of the lower part of the Sex, and not thosewho have been refined by a Polite Education, whichwas not so common in the Age of this Poet.In the Beginning God made the Soulsof Womankind out of different
Materials, and in a separate State fromtheir Bodies.
The Souls of one Kind of Women wereformed out of those Ingredients which compose aSwine. A Woman of this Make is a slu*t in her Houseand a Glutton at her Table. She is uncleanlyin her Person, a Slattern in her Dress, and herFamily is no better than a Dunghill.
A Second Sort of Female Soul was formedout of the same Materials that enter into the Compositionof a Fox. Such an one is what we call a notablediscerning Woman, who has an Insight into every thing,whether it be good or bad. In this Species ofFemales there are some Virtuous and some Vicious.
A Third Kind of Women were made upof Canine Particles. These are what we commonlycall Scolds, who imitate the Animals of whichthey were taken, that are always busy and barking,that snarl at every one who comes in their Way,and live in perpetual Clamour.
The Fourth Kind of Women were madeout of the Earth. These are your Sluggards,who pass away their Time in Indolence and Ignorance,hover over the Fire a whole Winter, and apply themselveswith Alacrity to no kind of Business but Eating.
The Fifth Species of Females were madeout of the Sea. These are Women of variableuneven Tempers, sometimes all Storm and Tempest, sometimesall Calm and Sunshine. The Stranger who sees oneof these in her Smiles and Smoothness would cryher up for a Miracle of good Humour; but on a suddenher Looks and her Words are changed, she is nothingbut Fury and Outrage, Noise and Hurricane.
The Sixth Species were made up of theIngredients which compose an Ass, or a Beast ofBurden. These are naturally exceeding slothful,but, upon the Husbands exerting his Authority, willlive upon hard Fare, and do every thing to pleasehim. They are however far from being averseto Venereal Pleasure, and seldom refuse a Male Companion.
The Cat furnished Materials for a SeventhSpecies of Women, who are of a melancholy, froward,unamiable Nature, and so repugnant to the Offersof Love, that they fly in the Face of their Husbandwhen he approaches them with conjugal Endearments.This Species of Women are likewise subject to littleThefts, Cheats and Pilferings.
The Mare with a flowing Mane, whichwas never broke to any servile Toil and Labour,composed an Eighth Species of Women. These arethey who have little Regard for their Husbands,who pass away their Time in Dressing, Bathing, andPerfuming; who throw their Hair into the nicest Curls,and trick it up with the fairest Flowers and Garlands.A Woman of this Species is a very pretty Thing fora Stranger to look upon, but very detrimental tothe Owner, unless it be a King or Prince who takesa Fancy to such a Toy.
The Ninth Species of Females were takenout of the Ape. These are such as are bothugly and ill-natured, who have nothing beautiful inthemselves, and endeavour to detract from or ridiculeevery thing which appears so in others.
The Tenth and last Species of Womenwere made out of the Bee; and happy is the Man whogets such an one for his Wife. She is altogetherfaultless and unblameable; her Family flourishesand improves by her good Management. She lovesher Husband, and is beloved by him. She bringshim a Race of beautiful and virtuous Children.She distinguishes her self among her Sex. Sheis surrounded with Graces. She never sits amongthe loose Tribe of Women, nor passes away her Timewith them in wanton Discourses. She is full ofVirtue and Prudence, and is the best Wife thatJupiter can bestow on Man.
I shall conclude these Iambicks with the Motto ofthis Paper, which is a Fragment of the same Author:A Man cannot possess any Thing that is better thana good Woman, nor any thing that is worse than a badone.
As the Poet has shewn a great Penetration in thisDiversity of Female Characters, he has avoided theFault which Juvenal and Monsieur Boileauare guilty of, the former in his sixth, and the otherin his last Satyr, where they have endeavoured toexpose the Sex in general, without doing Justice tothe valuable Part of it. Such levelling Satyrsare of no Use to the World, and for this Reason I haveoften wondered how the French Author above-mentioned,who was a Man of exquisite Judgment, and a Lover ofVirtue, could think human Nature a proper Subjectfor Satyr in another of his celebrated Pieces, whichis called The Satyr upon Man. What Viceor Frailty can a Discourse correct, which censuresthe whole Species alike, and endeavours to shew bysome Superficial Strokes of Wit, that Brutes are themore excellent Creatures of the two? A Satyrshould expose nothing but what is corrigible, andmake a due Discrimination between those who are, andthose who are not the proper Objects of it.
L.
[Footnote 1: Of the poems of Simonides, contemporaryof AEschylus, only fragments remain. He diedabout 467 B.C.]
* * * * *
No. 210. Wednesday, Oct. 31, 1711. John Hughes.
Nescio quomodo inhaeret in mentibus quasiseculorum quoddam augurium
futurorum; idque in maximis ingeniis altissimisqueanimis et existit
maxime et apparet facillime.
Cic. Tusc. Quaest.
To the SPECTATOR.
SIR,
I am fully persuaded that one of the bestSprings of generous and worthy Actions, is the havinggenerous and worthy Thoughts of our selves.Whoever has a mean Opinion of the Dignity of his Nature,will act in no higher a Rank than he has allottedhimself in his own Estimation. If he considershis Being as circ*mscribed by the uncertain Termof a few Years, his Designs will be contracted intothe same narrow Span he imagines is to bound hisExistence. How can he exalt his Thoughts toany thing great and noble, who only believes that,after a short Turn on the Stage of this World, he isto sink into Oblivion, and to lose his Consciousnessfor ever?
For this Reason I am of Opinion, thatso useful and elevated a Contemplation as that ofthe Souls Immortality cannot be resumed toooften. There is not a more improving Exerciseto the human Mind, than to be frequently reviewingits own great Privileges and Endowments; nor a moreeffectual Means to awaken in us an Ambition raisedabove low Objects and little Pursuits, than to valueour selves as Heirs of Eternity.
It is a very great Satisfaction to considerthe best and wisest of Mankind in all Nations andAges, asserting, as with one Voice, this their Birthright,and to find it ratify’d by an express Revelation.At the same time if we turn our Thoughts inwardupon our selves, we may meet with a kind of secretSense concurring with the Proofs of our own Immortality.
You have, in my Opinion, raised a goodpresumptive Argument from the increasing Appetitethe Mind has to Knowledge, and to the extending itsown Faculties, which cannot be accomplished, as themore restrained Perfection of lower Creatures may,in the Limits of a short Life. I think anotherprobable Conjecture may be raised from our Appetiteto Duration it self, and from a Reflection on our Progressthrough the several Stages of it: We arecomplaining, as you observe in a former Speculation,of the Shortness of Life, and yet are perpetuallyhurrying over the Parts of it, to arrive at certainlittle Settlements, or imaginary Points of Rest,which are dispersed up and down in it.
Now let us consider what happens to uswhen we arrive at these imaginary Points of Rest:Do we stop our Motion, and sit down satisfied inthe Settlement we have gain’d? or are we notremoving the Boundary, and marking out new Pointsof Rest, to which we press forward with the likeEagerness, and which cease to be such as fast as weattain them? Our Case is like that of a Travellerupon the Alps, who should fancy that theTop of the next Hill must end his Journey, becauseit terminates his Prospect; but he no sooner arrivesas it, than he sees new Ground and other Hills beyondit, and continues to travel on as before. [1]
This is so plainly every Man’s Conditionin Life, that there is no one who has observed anything, but may observe, that as fast as his Timewears away, his Appetite to something future remains.The Use therefore I would make of it is this, Thatsince Nature (as some love to express it) does nothingin vain, or, to speak properly, since the Authorof our Being has planted no wandering Passion in it,no Desire which has not its Object, Futurity isthe proper Object of the Passion so constantly exercis’dabout it; and this Restlessness in the present,this assigning our selves over to further Stages ofDuration, this successive grasping at somewhat stillto come, appears to me (whatever it may to others)as a kind of Instinct or natural Symptom which theMind of Man has of its own Immortality.
I take it at the same time for granted,that the Immortality of the Soul is sufficientlyestablished by other Arguments: And if so, thisAppetite, which otherwise would be very unaccountableand absurd, seems very reasonable, and adds Strengthto the Conclusion. But I am amazed when I considerthere are Creatures capable of Thought, who, in spiteof every Argument, can form to themselves a sullenSatisfaction in thinking otherwise. There issomething so pitifully mean in the inverted Ambitionof that Man who can hope for Annihilation, and pleasehimself to think that his whole Fabrick shall one Daycrumble into Dust, and mix with the Mass of inanimateBeings, that it equally deserves our Admirationand Pity. The Mystery of such Mens Unbelief isnot hard to be penetrated; and indeed amounts tonothing more than a sordid Hope that they shallnot be immortal, because they dare not be so.
This brings me back to my first Observation,and gives me Occasion to say further, That as worthyActions spring from worthy Thoughts, so worthy Thoughtsare likewise the Consequence of worthy Actions:But the Wretch who has degraded himself below theCharacter of Immortality, is very willing to resignhis Pretensions to it, and to substitute in itsRoom a dark negative Happiness in the Extinction ofhis Being.
The admirable Shakespear has givenus a strong Image of the unsupported Condition ofsuch a Person in his last Minutes, in the secondPart of King Henry the Sixth, where CardinalBeaufort, who had been concerned in the Murderof the good Duke Humphrey, is representedon his Death-bed. After some short confused Speecheswhich shew an Imagination disturbed with Guilt,just as he is expiring, King Henry standingby him full of Compassion, says,
Lord Cardinal! if thouthinkst on Heavens Bliss,
Hold up thy Hand, make Signalof that Hope!
He dies, and makes no Sign!—
The Despair which is here shewn, withouta Word or Action on the Part
of the dying Person, is beyond what couldbe painted by the most
forcible Expressions whatever.
I shall not pursue this Thought further,but only add, That as Annihilation is not to behad with a Wish, so it is the most abject Thingin the World to wish it. What are Honour, Fame,Wealth, or Power when compared with the generousExpectation of a Being without End, and a Happinessadequate to that Being?
I shall trouble you no further; but witha certain Gravity which these Thoughts have givenme, I reflect upon some Things People say of you,(as they will of Men who distinguish themselves) whichI hope are not true; and wish you as good a Manas you are an Author.
I am, SIR, Your most obedient humbleServant, T. D.
Z.
[Footnote 1:
Hills peep o’er Hills, and Alpson Alps arise.
Popes Essay on Criticism, then newly published.]
* * * * *
No. 211 Thursday, November 1, 1711. Addison.
Fictis meminerit nos jocari Fabulis.
Phaed.
Having lately translated the Fragment of an old Poetwhich describes Womankind under several Characters,and supposes them to have drawn their different Mannersand Dispositions from those Animals and Elements outof which he tells us they were compounded; I had someThoughts of giving the Sex their Revenge, by layingtogether in another Paper the many vicious Characterswhich prevail in the Male World, and shewing the differentIngredients that go to the making up of such differentHumours and Constitutions. Horace has a Thought[1] which is something akin to this, when, in orderto excuse himself to his Mistress, for an Invectivewhich he had written against her, and to account forthat unreasonable Fury with which the Heart of Manis often transported, he tells us that, when Prometheusmade his Man of Clay, in the kneading up of his Heart,he season’d it with some furious Particles ofthe Lion. But upon turning this Plan to and froin my Thoughts, I observed so many unaccountable Humoursin Man, that I did not know out of what Animals tofetch them. Male Souls are diversify’dwith so many Characters, that the World has not Varietyof Materials sufficient to furnish out their differentTempers and Inclinations. The Creation, with allits Animals and Elements, would not be large enoughto supply their several Extravagancies.
Instead therefore of pursuing the Thought of Simonides,I shall observe, that as he has exposed the viciousPart of Women from the Doctrine of Praeexistence,some of the ancient Philosophers have, in a manner,satirized the vicious Part of the human Species ingeneral, from a Notion of the Souls Postexistence,if I may so call it; and that as Simonidesdescribes Brutes entering into the Composition of Women,others have represented human Souls as entering intoBrutes. This is commonly termed the Doctrineof Transmigration, which supposes that human Souls,upon their leaving the Body, become the Souls of suchKinds of Brutes as they most resemble in their Manners;or to give an Account of it as Mr. Dryden hasdescribed it in his Translation of Pythagorashis Speech in the fifteenth Book of Ovid, wherethat Philosopher dissuades his Hearers from eatingFlesh:
Thus all things are but alter’d,nothing dies,
And here and there th’ unbody’dSpirit flies:
By Time, or Force, or Sickness dispossess’d,
And lodges where it lights, in Bird orBeast,
Or hunts without till ready Limbs it find,
And actuates those according to theirKind:
From Tenement to Tenement is toss’d:
The Soul is still the same, the Figureonly lost.
Then let not Piety be putto Flight,
To please the Taste of Glutton-Appetite;
But suffer inmate Souls secure to dwell,
Lest from their Seats your Parents youexpel;
With rabid Hunger feed upon your Kind,
Or from a Beast dislodge a Brothers Mind.
Plato in the Vision of Erus the Armenian,which I may possibly make the Subject of a futureSpeculation, records some beautiful Transmigrations;as that the Soul of Orpheus, who was musical,melancholy, and a Woman-hater, entered into a Swan;the Soul of Ajax, which was all Wrath and Fierceness,into a Lion; the Soul of Agamemnon, that wasrapacious and imperial, into an Eagle; and the Soulof Thersites, who was a Mimick and a Buffoon,into a Monkey. [2]
Mr. Congreve, in a Prologue to one of his Comedies,[3] has touch’d upon this Doctrine with greatHumour.
Thus_ Aristotle’s Soul of oldthat was,
May now be damn’d to animate anAss;
Or in this very House, for ought we know,
Is doing painful Penance in some Beau.
I shall fill up this Paper with some Letters whichmy last Tuesdays Speculation has produced.My following Correspondents will shew, what I thereobserved, that the Speculation of that Day affectsonly the lower Part of the Sex.
From my House in the Strand, October30, 1711.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Upon reading your Tuesdays Paper,I find by several Symptoms in my Constitution thatI am a Bee. My Shop, or, if you please to callit so, my Cell, is in that great Hive of Femaleswhich goes by the Name of The New Exchange;where I am daily employed in gathering together alittle Stock of Gain from the finest Flowers aboutthe Town, I mean the Ladies and the Beaus.I have a numerous Swarm of Children, to whom I givethe best Education I am able: But, Sir, it ismy Misfortune to be married to a Drone, who livesupon what I get, without bringing any thing intothe common Stock. Now, Sir, as on the one handI take care not to behave myself towards him likea Wasp, so likewise I would not have him look uponme as an Humble-Bee; for which Reason I do all I canto put him upon laying up Provisions for a bad Day,and frequently represent to him the fatal Effects[his [4]] Sloth and Negligence may bring upon usin our old Age. I must beg that you will joinwith me in your good Advice upon this Occasion,and you will for ever oblige
Your humble Servant,
MELISSA.
Picadilly, October 31, 1711.
SIR,
I am joined in Wedlock for my Sins toone of those Fillies who are described in the oldPoet with that hard Name you gave us the other Day.She has a flowing Mane, and a Skin as soft as Silk:But, Sir, she passes half her Life at her Glass,and almost ruins me in Ribbons. For my ownpart, I am a plain handicraft Man, and in Danger ofbreaking by her Laziness and Expensiveness.Pray, Master, tell me in your next Paper, whetherI may not expect of her so much Drudgery as to takecare of her Family, and curry her Hide in case ofRefusal.
Your loving Friend,
Barnaby Brittle.
Cheapside, October 30.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am mightily pleased with the Humourof the Cat, be so kind as to
enlarge upon that Subject.
Yours till Death,
Josiah Henpeck.
P.S. You must know I am married toa Grimalkin.
Wapping, October 31, 1711.
SIR,
Ever since your Spectator of Tuesdaylast came into our Family, my Husband is pleasedto call me his Oceana, because the foolish oldPoet that you have translated says, That the Soulsof some Women are made of Sea-Water. This,it seems, has encouraged my Sauce-Box to be wittyupon me. When I am angry, he cries Prythee myDear be calm; when I chide one of my Servants,Prythee Child do not bluster. He hadthe Impudence about an Hour ago to tell me, That hewas a Sea-faring Man, and must expect to dividehis Life between Storm and Sunshine.When I bestir myself with any Spirit in my Family,it is high Sea in his House; and when I sitstill without doing any thing, his Affairs forsoothare Wind-bound. When I ask him whetherit rains, he makes Answer, It is no Matter, so thatit be fair Weather within Doors. Inshort, Sir, I cannot speak my Mind freely to him, butI either swell or rage, or do somethingthat is not fit for a civil Woman to hear.Pray, Mr. SPECTATOR, since you are so sharpupon other Women, let us know what Materials yourWife is made of, if you have one. I supposeyou would make us a Parcel of poor-spirited tameinsipid Creatures; but, Sir, I would have you to know,we have as good Passions in us as your self, andthat a Woman was never designed to be a Milk-Sop.
MARTHA TEMPEST.
L.
[Footnote 1: Odes, I. 16. ]
[Footnote 2: In the Timaeus Plato derives womanand all the animals from man, by successive degradations.Cowardly or unjust men are born again as women.Light, airy, and superficial men, who carried theirminds aloft without the use of reason, are the materialsfor making birds, the hair being transmuted into feathersand wings. From men wholly without philosophy,who never looked heavenward, the more brutal landanimals are derived, losing the round form of the craniumby the slackening and stopping of the rotations ofthe encephalic soul. Feet are given to theseaccording to the degree of their stupidity, to multiplyapproximations to the earth; and the dullest becomereptiles who drag the whole length of their bodieson the ground. Out of the very stupidest of mencome those animals which are not judged worthy to liveat all upon earth and breathe this air, these men becomefishes, and the creatures who breathe nothing butturbid water, fixed at the lowest depths and almostmotionless, among the mud. By such transitions,he says, the different races of animals passed originallyand still pass into each other.]
[Footnote 3: In the Epilogue to Love for Love.]
[Footnote 4: that his]
* * * * *
No. 212. Friday, November 2, 1711. Steele.
—Eripe turpi
Colla jugo, liber, liber dic, sum age—
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I Never look upon my dear Wife, but Ithink of the Happiness Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY enjoys,in having such a Friend as you to expose in properColours the Cruelty and Perverseness of his Mistress.I have very often wished you visited in our Family,and were acquainted with my Spouse; she would affordyou for some Months at least Matter enough for oneSpectator a Week. Since we are not so happyas to be of your Acquaintance, give me leave torepresent to you our present Circ*mstances as wellas I can in Writing. You are to know then thatI am not of a very different Constitution from NathanielHenroost, whom you have lately recorded in yourSpeculations; and have a Wife who makes a more tyrannicalUse of the Knowledge of my easy Temper than thatLady ever pretended to. We had not been a Monthmarried, when she found in me a certain Pain togive Offence, and an Indolence that made me bearlittle Inconveniences rather than dispute about them.From this Observation it soon came to that pass, thatif I offered to go abroad, she would get betweenme and the Door, kiss me, and say she could notpart with me; and then down again I sat. In aDay or two after this first pleasant Step towardsconfining me, she declared to me, that I was allthe World to her, and she thought she ought to beall the World to me. If, she said, my Dear lovesme as much as I love him, he will never be tiredof my Company. This Declaration was followedby my being denied to all my Acquaintance; and itvery soon came to that pass, that to give an Answerat the Door before my Face, the Servants would askher whether I was within or not; and she would answerNo with great Fondness, and tell me I was a goodDear. I will not enumerate more little Circ*mstancesto give you a livelier Sense of my Condition; buttell you in general, that from such Steps as theseat first, I now live the Life of a Prisoner of State;my Letters are opened, and I have not the Use of Pen,Ink and Paper, but in her Presence. I nevergo abroad, except she sometimes takes me with herin her Coach to take the Air, if it may be calledso, when we drive, as we generally do, with the Glassesup. I have overheard my Servants lament myCondition, but they dare not bring me Messages withouther Knowledge, because they doubt my Resolution tostand by em. In the midst of this insipid Wayof Life, an old Acquaintance of mine, Tom Meggot,who is a Favourite with her, and allowed to visitme in her Company because he sings prettily, has rousedme to rebel, and conveyed his Intelligence to me inthe following Manner. My Wife is a great Pretenderto Musick, and very ignorant of it; but far gonein the Italian Taste. Tom goes to Armstrong,the famous fine Writer of Musick, and desires him toput this Sentence of Tully [1] in the Scaleof an Italian Air, and write it out for mySpouse from him. An ille mihi liber cui mulierimperat? Cui leges imponit, praescribit, jubet,vetat quod videtur? Qui nihil imperanti negare,nihil recusare audet? Poscit? dandum est.Vocat? veniendum. Ejicit? abeundum. Minitatur?extimiscendum. Does he live like a Gentlemanwho is commanded by a Woman? He to whom she givesLaw, grants and denies what she pleases? who can neitherdeny her any thing she asks, or refuse to do anything she commands?
To be short, my Wife was extremely pleasedwith it; said the Italian was the only Languagefor Musick; and admired how wonderfully tender theSentiment was, and how pretty the Accent is of thatLanguage, with the rest that is said by Rote on thatOccasion. Mr. Meggot is sent for tosing this Air, which he performs with mighty Applause;and my Wife is in Ecstasy on the Occasion, and gladto find, by my being so much pleased, that I wasat last come into the Notion of the Italian;for, said she, it grows upon one when one once comesto know a little of the Language; and pray, Mr. Meggot,sing again those Notes, Nihil Imperanti negare,nihil recusare. You may believe I was nota little delighted with my Friend Toms Expedientto alarm me, and in Obedience to his Summons I giveall this Story thus at large; and I am resolved,when this appears in the Spectator, to declarefor my self. The manner of the Insurrection Icontrive by your Means, which shall be no other thanthat Tom Meggot, who is at our Tea-tableevery Morning, shall read it to us; and if my Dearcan take the Hint, and say not one Word, but let thisbe the Beginning of a new Life without farther Explanation,it is very well; for as soon as the Spectatoris read out, I shall, without more ado, call forthe Coach, name the Hour when I shall be at home,if I come at all; if I do not, they may go to Dinner.If my Spouse only swells and says nothing, Tomand I go out together, and all is well, as I saidbefore; but if she begins to command or expostulate,you shall in my next to you receive a full Accountof her Resistance and Submission, for submit thedear thing must to,
SIR,
Your most obedient humble Servant,
Anthony Freeman.
P. S. I hope I need not tellyou that I desire this may be in your
very next.
T.
[Footnote 1: Paradox V. on the Thesis that Allwho are wise are Free, and the fools Slaves.]
* * * * *
No. 213. Saturday, November 3,1711. Addison.
—Mens sibi conscia recti.
Virg.
It is the great Art and Secret of Christianity, ifI may use that Phrase, to manage our Actions to thebest Advantage, and direct them in such a manner,that every thing we do may turn to Account at thatgreat Day, when every thing we have done will be setbefore us.
In order to give this Consideration its full Weight,we may cast all our Actions under the Division ofsuch as are in themselves either Good, Evil, or Indifferent.If we divide our Intentions after the same Manner,and consider them with regard to our Actions, we maydiscover that great Art and Secret of Religion whichI have here mentioned.
A good Intention joined to a good Action, gives itit* proper Force and Efficacy; joined to an Evil Action,extenuates its Malignity, and in some Cases may takeit wholly away; and joined to an indifferent Actionturns it to a Virtue, and makes it meritorious as faras human Actions can be so.
In the next Place, to consider in the same mannerthe Influence of an Evil Intention upon our Actions.An Evil Intention perverts the best of Actions, andmakes them in reality, what the Fathers with a wittykind of Zeal have termed the Virtues of the HeathenWorld, so many shining Sins. It destroysthe Innocence of an indifferent Action, and gives anevil Action all possible Blackness and Horror, or inthe emphatical Language of Sacred Writ, makes Sinexceeding sinful. [1]
If, in the last Place, we consider the Nature of anindifferent Intention, we shall find that it destroysthe Merit of a good Action; abates, but never takesaway, the Malignity of an evil Action; and leavesan indifferent Action in its natural State of Indifference.
It is therefore of unspeakable Advantage to possessour Minds with an habitual good Intention, and toaim all our Thoughts, Words, and Actions at some laudableEnd, whether it be the Glory of our Maker, the Goodof Mankind, or the Benefit of our own Souls.
This is a sort of Thrift or Good-Husbandry in moralLife, which does not throw away any single Action,but makes every one go as far as it can. It multipliesthe Means of Salvation, increases the Number of ourVirtues, and diminishes that of our Vices.
There is something very devout, though not solid,in Acosta’s Answer to Limborch,[2] who objects to him the Multiplicity of Ceremoniesin the Jewish Religion, as Washings, Dresses,Meats, Purgations, and the like. The Reply whichthe Jew makes upon this Occasion, is, to thebest of my Remembrance, as follows: There arenot Duties enough (says he) in the essential Partsof the Law for a zealous and active Obedience.Time, Place, and Person are requisite, before you havean Opportunity of putting a Moral Virtue into Practice.We have, therefore, says he, enlarged the Sphere ofour Duty, and made many Things, which are in themselvesindifferent, a Part of our Religion, that we may havemore Occasions of shewing our Love to God, and in allthe Circ*mstances of Life be doing something to pleasehim.
Monsieur St. Evremond has endeavoured to palliatethe Superstitions of the Roman Catholick Religionwith the same kind of Apology, where he pretends toconsider the differing Spirit of the Papists and theCalvinists, as to the great Points wherein they disagree.He tells us, that the former are actuated by Love,and the other by Fear; and that in their Expressionsof Duty and Devotion towards the Supreme Being, theformer seem particularly careful to do every thingwhich may possibly please him, and the other to abstainfrom every thing which may possibly displease him.[3]
But notwithstanding this plausible Reason with whichboth the Jew and the Roman Catholick would excusetheir respective Superstitions, it is certain thereis something in them very pernicious to Mankind, anddestructive to Religion; because the Injunction ofsuperfluous Ceremonies makes such Actions Duties,as were before indifferent, and by that means rendersReligion more burdensome and difficult than it is inits own Nature, betrays many into Sins of Omissionwhich they could not otherwise be guilty of, and fixesthe Minds of the Vulgar to the shadowy unessentialPoints, instead of the more weighty and more importantMatters of the Law.
This zealous and active Obedience however takes placein the great Point we are recommending; for, if, insteadof prescribing to our selves indifferent Actions asDuties, we apply a good Intention to all our mostindifferent Actions, we make our very Existence onecontinued Act of Obedience, we turn our Diversionsand Amusem*nts to our eternal Advantage, and are pleasinghim (whom we are made to please) in all the Circ*mstancesand Occurrences of Life.
It is this excellent Frame of Mind, this holy Officiousness(if I may be allowed to call it such) which is recommendedto us by the Apostle in that uncommon Precept, whereinhe directs us to propose to ourselves the Glory ofour Creator in all our most indifferent Actions, whetherwe eat or drink, or whatsoever we do. [4]
A Person therefore who is possessed with such an habitualgood Intention, as that which I have been here speakingof, enters upon no single Circ*mstance of Life, withoutconsidering it as well-pleasing to the great Authorof his Being, conformable to the Dictates of Reason,suitable to human Nature in general, or to that particularStation in which Providence has placed him. Helives in a perpetual Sense of the Divine Presence,regards himself as acting, in the whole Course of hisExistence, under the Observation and Inspection ofthat Being, who is privy to all his Motions and allhis Thoughts, who knows all his Down-sitting andhis Up-rising, who is about his Path, and about hisBed, and spieth out all his Ways. [5] In a word,he remembers that the Eye of his Judge is always uponhim, and in every Action he reflects that he is doingwhat is commanded or allowed by Him who will hereaftereither reward or punish it. This was the Characterof those holy Men of old, who in that beautiful Phraseof Scripture are said to have walked with God?.[6]
When I employ myself upon a Paper of Morality, I generallyconsider how I may recommend the particular Virtuewhich I treat of, by the Precepts or Examples of theancient Heathens; by that Means, if possible, to shamethose who have greater Advantages of knowing theirDuty, and therefore greater Obligations to performit, into a better Course of Life; Besides that manyamong us are unreasonably disposed to give a fairerhearing to a Pagan Philosopher, than to a ChristianWriter.
I shall therefore produce an Instance of this excellentFrame of Mind in a Speech of Socrates, whichis quoted by Erasmus.
This great Philosopher on the Day of his Execution,a little before the Draught of Poison was broughtto him, entertaining his Friends with a Discourseon the Immortality of the Soul, has these Words:Whether or no God will approve of my Actions, Iknow not; but this I am sure of, that I have at allTimes made it my Endeavour to please him, and I havea good Hope that this my Endeavour will be acceptedby him. We find in these Words of that great Manthe habitual good Intention which I would here inculcate,and with which that divine Philosopher always acted.I shall only add, that Erasmus, who was anunbigotted Roman Catholick, was so much transportedwith this Passage of Socrates, that he couldscarce forbear looking upon him as a Saint, and desiringhim to pray for him; or as that ingenious and learnedWriter has expressed himself in a much more livelymanner: When I reflect on such a Speech pronouncedby such a Person, I can scarce forbear crying out,Sancte Socrates, ora pro nobis: O holy Socrates,pray for us. [7]
L.
[Footnote 1: Rom. vii. 16.]
[Footnote 2: Arnica Collatio de Veritate Relig.Christ. cum Erudito Judaeo, published in 1687, byPhilippe de Limborch, who was eminent as a professorof Theology at Amsterdam from 1667 until his death,in 1712, at the age of 79. But the learned Jewwas the Spanish Physician Isaac Orobio, who was torturedfor three years in the prisons of the Inquisitionon a charge of Judaism. He admitted nothing, wastherefore set free, and left Spain for Toulouse, wherehe practised physic and passed as a Catholic untilhe settled at Amsterdam. There he made professionof the Jewish faith, and died in the year of the publicationof Limborchs friendly discussion with him.
The Uriel Acosta, with whom Addison confounds Orobio,was a gentleman of Oporto who had embraced Judaism,and, leaving Portugal, had also gone to Amsterdam.There he was circumcised, but was persecuted by theJews themselves, and eventually whipped in the synagoguefor attempting reformation of the Jewish usages, inwhich, he said, tradition had departed from the lawof Moses. He took his thirty-nine lashes, recanted,and lay across the threshold of the synagogue for allhis brethren to walk over him. Afterwards heendeavoured to shoot his principal enemy, but hispistol missed fire. He had another about him,and with that he shot himself. This happened aboutthe year 1640, when Limborch was but a child of sixor seven.]
[Footnote 3: Sur la Religion. OEuvres (Ed.1752), Vol. III. pp. 267, 268.]
[Footnote 4: I Cor. x. 31.]
[Footnote 5: Psalm cxxxix. 2, 3.]
[Footnote 6: Genesis v.22; vi. 9]
[Footnote 7: Erasm. Apophthegm. Bk.III.]
* * * * *
No. 214. Monday, November 5,1711. Steele.
Perierunt tempora longi
Servitii
Juv. [1]
I did some time ago lay before the World the unhappyCondition of the trading Part of Mankind, who sufferby want of Punctuality in the Dealings of Personsabove them; but there is a Set of Men who are muchmore the Objects of Compassion than even those, andthese are the Dependants on great Men, whom they arepleased to take under their Protection as such asare to share in their Friendship and Favour. Theseindeed, as well from the Homage that is accepted fromthem, as the hopes which are given to them, are becomea Sort of Creditors; and these Debts, being Debtsof Honour, ought, according to the accustomed Maxim,to be first discharged.
When I speak of Dependants, I would not be understoodto mean those who are worthless in themselves, orwho, without any Call, will press into the Companyof their Betters. Nor, when I speak of Patrons,do I mean those who either have it not in their Power,or have no Obligation to assist their Friends; butI speak of such Leagues where there is Power and Obligationon the one Part, and Merit and Expectation on the other.
The Division of Patron and Client, may, I believe,include a Third of our Nation; the Want of Merit andreal Worth in the Client, will strike out about Ninety-ninein a Hundred of these; and the Want of Ability inPatrons, as many of that Kind. But however, Imust beg leave to say, that he who will take up anothersTime and Fortune in his Service, though he has noProspect of rewarding his Merit towards him, is asunjust in his Dealings as he who takes up Goods ofa Tradesman without Intention or Ability to pay him.Of the few of the Class which I think fit to consider,there are not two in ten who succeed, insomuch thatI know a Man of good Sense who put his Son to a Blacksmith,tho an Offer was made him of his being received asa Page to a Man of Quality.[2] There are not moreCripples come out of the Wars than there are fromthose great Services; some through Discontent losetheir Speech, some their Memories, others their Sensesor their Lives; and I seldom see a Man thoroughlydiscontented, but I conclude he has had the Favourof some great Man. I have known of such as havebeen for twenty Years together within a Month of agood Employment, but never arrived at the Happinessof being possessed of any thing.
There is nothing more ordinary, than that a Man whois got into a considerable Station, shall immediatelyalter his manner of treating all his Friends, andfrom that Moment he is to deal with you as if he wereyour Fate. You are no longer to be consulted,even in Matters which concern your self, but yourPatron is of a Species above you, and a free Communicationwith you is not to be expected. This perhaps maybe your Condition all the while he bears Office, andwhen that is at an End, you are as intimate as everyou were, and he will take it very ill if you keepthe Distance he prescribed you towards him in his Grandeur.One would think this should be a Behaviour a Man couldfall into with the worst Grace imaginable; but theywho know the World have seen it more than once.I have often, with secret Pity, heard the same Manwho has professed his Abhorrence against all Kindof passive Behaviour, lose Minutes, Hours, Days, andYears in a fruitless Attendance on one who had noInclination to befriend him. It is very much tobe regarded, that the Great have one particular Privilegeabove the rest of the World, of being slow in receivingImpressions of Kindness, and quick in taking Offence.The Elevation above the rest of Mankind, except invery great Minds, makes Men so giddy, that they donot see after the same Manner they did before:Thus they despise their old Friends, and strive toextend their Interests to new Pretenders. By thismeans it often happens, that when you come to knowhow you lost such an Employment, you will find theMan who got it never dreamed of it; but, forsooth,he was to be surprized into it, or perhaps sollicitedto receive it. Upon such Occasions as these aMan may perhaps grow out of Humour; and if you areso, all Mankind will fall in with the Patron, and youare an Humourist and untractable if you are capableof being sour at a Disappointment: But it isthe same thing, whether you do or do not resent illUsage, you will be used after the same Manner; assome good Mothers will be sure to whip their Childrentill they cry, and then whip them for crying.
There are but two Ways of doing any thing with greatPeople, and those are by making your self either considerableor agreeable: The former is not to be attainedbut by finding a Way to live without them, or concealingthat you want them; the latter is only by falling intotheir Taste and Pleasures: This is of all theEmployments in the World the most servile, exceptit happens to be of your own natural Humour. Forto be agreeable to another, especially if he be aboveyou, is not to be possessed of such Qualities andAccomplishments as should render you agreeable inyour self, but such as make you agreeable in respectto him. An Imitation of his Faults, or a Compliance,if not Subservience, to his Vices, must be the Measuresof your Conduct. When it comes to that, the unnaturalState a Man lives in, when his Patron pleases, isended; and his Guilt and Complaisance are objectedto him, tho the Man who rejects him for his Viceswas not only his Partner but Seducer. Thus theClient (like a young Woman who has given up the Innocencewhich made her charming) has not only lost his Time,but also the Virtue which could render him capableof resenting the Injury which is done him.
It would be endless to recount the [Tricks[3]] ofturning you off from themselves to Persons who haveless Power to serve you, the Art of being sorry forsuch an unaccountable Accident in your Behaviour, thatsuch a one (who, perhaps, has never heard of you)opposes your Advancement; and if you have any thingmore than ordinary in you, you are flattered witha Whisper, that tis no Wonder People are so slow indoing for a Man of your Talents, and the like.
After all this Treatment, I must still add the pleasantestInsolence of all, which I have once or twice seen;to wit, That when a silly Rogue has thrown away onePart in three of his Life in unprofitable Attendance,it is taken wonderfully ill that he withdraws, andis resolved to employ the rest for himself.
When we consider these things, and reflect upon somany honest Natures (which one who makes Observationof what passes, may have seen) that have miscarriedby such sort of Applications, it is too melancholya Scene to dwell upon; therefore I shall take anotherOpportunity to discourse of good Patrons, and distinguishsuch as have done their Duty to those who have dependedupon them, and were not able to act without theirFavour. Worthy Patrons are like Plato’sGuardian Angels, who are always doing good to theirWards; but negligent Patrons are like Epicurus’sGods, that lie lolling on the Clouds, and instead ofBlessings pour down Storms and Tempests on the Headsof those that are offering Incense to them. [4]
[Footnote 1:
Dulcis inexperta cultura potentis amici,
Expertus metuit
Hor.]
[Footnote 2: A son of one of the inferior gentryreceived as page by a nobleman wore his lords livery,but had it of more costly materials than were usedfor the footmen, and was the immediate attendant ofhis patron, who was expected to give him a reputablestart in life when he came of age. Percy notesthat a lady who described to him the custom not verylong after it had become obsolete, remembered her ownhusbands giving L500 to set up such a page in business.
[Footnote 3: [Trick]]
[Footnote 4: The Daemon or Angel which, in thedoctrine of Immortality according to Socrates or Plato,had the care of each man while alive, and after deathconveyed him to the general place of judgment (Phaedon,p. 130), is more properly described as a Guardian Angelthan the gods of Epicurus can be said to pour stormson the heads of their worshippers. Epicurus onlyrepresented them as inactive and unconcerned with humanaffairs.]
* * * * *
No. 215. Tuesday, November 6, 1711. Addison.
—Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes
Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros.
Ov.
I consider an Human Soul without Education like Marblein the Quarry, which shews none of its inherent Beauties,till the Skill of the Polisher fetches out the Colours,makes the Surface shine, and discovers every ornamentalCloud, Spot, and Vein that runs through the Body ofit. Education, after the same manner, when itworks upon a noble Mind, draws out to View every latentVirtue and Perfection, which without such Helps arenever able to make their Appearance.
If my Reader will give me leave to change the Allusionso soon upon him, I shall make use of the same Instanceto illustrate the Force of Education, which Aristotlehas brought to explain his Doctrine of SubstantialForms, when he tells us that a Statue lies hid in aBlock of Marble; and that the Art of the statuaryonly clears away the superfluous Matter, and removesthe Rubbish. The Figure is in the Stone, theSculptor only finds it. What Sculpture is to aBlock of Marble, Education is to a Human Soul.The Philosopher, the Saint, or the Hero, the Wise,the Good, or the Great Man, very often lie hid andconcealed in a Plebeian, which a proper Educationmight have disinterred, and have brought to Light.I am therefore much delighted with Reading the Accountsof Savage Nations, and with contemplating those Virtueswhich are wild and uncultivated; to see Courage exertingit self in Fierceness, Resolution in Obstinacy, Wisdomin Cunning, Patience in Sullenness and Despair.
Mens Passions operate variously, and appear in differentkinds of Actions, according as they are more or lessrectified and swayed by Reason. When one hearsof Negroes, who upon the Death of their Masters, orupon changing their Service, hang themselves upon thenext Tree, as it frequently happens in our AmericanPlantations, who can forbear admiring their Fidelity,though it expresses it self in so dreadful a manner?What might not that Savage Greatness of Soul whichappears in these poor Wretches on many Occasions,be raised to, were it rightly cultivated? Andwhat Colour of Excuse can there be for the Contemptwith which we treat this Part of our Species; Thatwe should not put them upon the common foot of Humanity,that we should only set an insignificant Fine uponthe Man who murders them; nay, that we should, asmuch as in us lies, cut them off from the Prospectsof Happiness in another World as well as in this,and deny them that which we look upon as the properMeans for attaining it?
Since I am engaged on this Subject, I cannot forbearmentioning a Story which I have lately heard, andwhich is so well attested, that I have no manner ofReason to suspect the Truth of it. I may callit a kind of wild Tragedy that passed about twelveYears ago at St. Christopher’s, one ofour British Leeward Islands. The Negroeswho were the persons concerned in it, were all ofthem the Slaves of a Gentleman who is now in England.
This Gentleman among his Negroes had a young Woman,who was look’d upon as a most extraordinaryBeauty by those of her own Complexion. He hadat the same time two young Fellows who were likewiseNegroes and Slaves, remarkable for the Comelinessof their Persons, and for the Friendship which theybore to one another. It unfortunately happenedthat both of them fell in love with the Female Negroabove mentioned, who would have been very glad tohave taken either of them for her Husband, providedthey could agree between themselves which should bethe Man. But they were both so passionately inLove with her, that neither of them could think ofgiving her up to his Rival; and at the same time wereso true to one another, that neither of them wouldthink of gaining her without his Friends Consent.The Torments of these two Lovers were the Discourseof the Family to which they belonged, who could notforbear observing the strange Complication of Passionswhich perplexed the Hearts of the poor Negroes, thatoften dropped Expressions of the Uneasiness they underwent,and how impossible it was for either of them everto be happy.
After a long Struggle between Love and Friendship,Truth and Jealousy, they one Day took a Walk togetherinto a Wood, carrying their Mistress along with them:Where, after abundance of Lamentations, they stabbedher to the Heart, of which she immediately died.A Slave who was at his Work not far from the Placewhere this astonishing Piece of Cruelty was committed,hearing the Shrieks of the dying Person, ran to seewhat was the Occasion of them. He there discoveredthe Woman lying dead upon the Ground, with the twoNegroes on each side of her, kissing the dead Corps,weeping over it, and beating their Breasts in the utmostAgonies of Grief and Despair. He immediatelyran to the English Family with the News ofwhat he had seen; who upon coming to the Place sawthe Woman dead, and the two Negroes expiring by herwith Wounds they had given themselves.
We see in this amazing Instance of Barbarity, whatstrange Disorders are bred in the minds of those Menwhose Passions are not regulated by Virtue, and disciplinedby Reason. Though the Action which I have recitedis in it self full of Guilt and Horror, it proceededfrom a Temper of Mind which might have produced verynoble Fruits, had it been informed and guided by asuitable Education.
It is therefore an unspeakable Blessing to be bornin those Parts of the World where Wisdom and Knowledgeflourish; tho it must be confest, there are, evenin these Parts, several poor uninstructed Persons,who are but little above the Inhabitants of thoseNations of which I have been here speaking; as thosewho have had the Advantages of a more liberal Education,rise above one another by several different Degreesof Perfection. For to return to our Statue inthe Block of Marble, we see it sometimes only begunto be chipped, sometimes rough-hewn and but just sketchedinto an human Figure; sometimes we see the Man appearingdistinctly in all his Limbs and Features, sometimeswe find the Figure wrought up to a great Elegancy,but seldom meet with any to which the Hand of a Phidiasor Praxiteles could not give several nice Touchesand Finishings.
Discourses of Morality, and Reflections upon humanNature, are the best Means we can make use of to improveour Minds, and gain a true Knowledge of our selves,and consequently to recover our Souls out of the Vice,Ignorance, and Prejudice, which naturally cleave tothem. I have all along profest myself in thisPaper a Promoter of these great Ends; and I flattermy self that I do from Day to Day contribute somethingto the polishing of Mens Minds: at least my Designis laudable, whatever the Execution may be. Imust confess I am not a little encouraged in it bymany Letters, which I receive from unknown Hands, inApprobation of my Endeavours; and must take this Opportunityof returning my Thanks to those who write them, andexcusing my self for not inserting several of themin my Papers, which I am sensible would be a very greatOrnament to them. Should I publish the Praiseswhich are so well penned, they would do Honour tothe Persons who write them; but my publishing of themwould I fear be a sufficient Instance to the Worldthat I did not deserve them.
C.
* * * * *
No. 216. Wednesday, November 7,1711. Steele.
Siquidem hercle possis, nil prius, nequefortius:
Verum si incipies, neque perficies naviter,
Atque ubi pati non poteris, cum nemo expetet,
Infecta pace ultro ad eam venies indicans
Te amare, et ferre non posse: Actumest, ilicet,
Peristi: eludet ubi te victum senserit.
Ter.
To Mr. SPECTATOR,
SIR,
This is to inform you, that Mr. Freeman[1] had no sooner taken Coach, but his Lady wastaken with a terrible Fit of the Vapours, which, ’tisfeared will make her miscarry, if not endanger herLife; therefore, dear Sir, if you know of any Receiptthat is good against this fashionable reigning Distemper,be pleased to communicate it for the Good of thePublick, and you will oblige
Yours,
A. NOEWILL.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
The Uproar was so great as soon as I hadread the Spectator concerning Mrs. Freeman,that after many Revolutions in her Temper, of raging,swooning, railing, fainting, pitying herself, and revilingher Husband, upon an accidental coming in of a neighbouringLady (who says she has writ to you also) she hadnothing left for it but to fall in a Fit. Ihad the Honour to read the Paper to her, and have apretty good Command of my Countenance and Temperon such Occasions; and soon found my historicalName to be Tom Meggot in your Writings, butconcealed my self till I saw how it affected Mrs.Freeman. She looked frequently at her Husband,as often at me; and she did not tremble as she filledTea, till she came to the Circ*mstance of Armstrong’swriting out a Piece of Tully for an OperaTune: Then she burst out, She was exposed,she was deceiv’s, she was wronged and abused.The Tea-cup was thrown in the Fire; and withouttaking Vengeance on her Spouse, she said of me,That I was a pretending Coxcomb, a Medler that knewnot what it was to interpose in so nice an Affair asbetween a Man and his Wife. To which Mr. Freeman;Madam, were I less fond of you than I am, I shouldnot have taken this Way of writing to the SPECTATOR,to inform a Woman whom God and Nature has placed undermy Direction with what I request of her; but sinceyou are so indiscreet as not to take the Hint whichI gave you in that Paper, I must tell you, Madam,in so many Words, that you have for a long and tediousSpace of Time acted a Part unsuitable to the Senseyou ought to have of the Subordination in whichyou are placed. And I must acquaint you oncefor all, that the Fellow without, ha Tom! (herethe Footman entered and answered Madam) Sirrah don’tyou know my Voice; look upon me when I speak toyou: I say, Madam, this Fellow here is to knowof me my self, whether I am at Leisure to see Companyor not. I am from this Hour Master of thisHouse; and my Business in it, and every where else,is to behave my self in such a Manner, as it shallbe hereafter an Honour to you to bear my Name; andyour Pride, that you are the Delight, the Darling,and Ornament of a Man of Honour, useful and esteemedby his Friends; and I no longer one that has buriedsome Merit in the World, in Compliance to a frowardHumour which has grown upon an agreeable Woman byhis Indulgence. Mr. Freeman ended thiswith a Tenderness in his Aspect and a downcast Eye,which shewed he was extremely moved at the Anguishhe saw her in; for she sat swelling with Passion,and her Eyes firmly fixed on the Fire; when I, fearinghe would lose all again, took upon me to provokeher out of that amiable Sorrow she was in, to fallupon me; upon which I said very seasonably for myFriend, That indeed Mr. Freeman was become thecommon Talk of the Town; and that nothing was somuch a Jest, as when it was said in Company Mr.Freeman had promised to come to such a Place.Upon which the good Lady turned her Softness into downrightRage, and threw the scalding Tea-Kettle upon yourhumble Servant; flew into the Middle of the Room,and cried out she was the unfortunatest of all Women:Others kept Family Dissatisfactions for Hours of Privacyand Retirement: No Apology was to be made toher, no Expedient to be found, no previous Mannerof breaking what was amiss in her; but all the Worldwas to be acquainted with her Errors, without the leastAdmonition. Mr. Freeman was going tomake a softning Speech, but I interposed; Look you,Madam, I have nothing to say to this Matter, but youought to consider you are now past a Chicken; thisHumour, which was well enough in a Girl, is insufferablein one of your Motherly Character. With thatshe lost all Patience, and flew directly at her HusbandsPeriwig. I got her in my Arms, and defended myFriend: He making Signs at the same time thatit was too much; I beckoning, nodding, and frowningover her Shoulder, that [he] was lost if he did notpersist. In this manner [we] flew round and roundthe Room in a Moment, till the Lady I spoke of aboveand Servants entered; upon which she fell on a Couchas breathless. I still kept up my Friend; buthe, with a very silly Air, bid them bring the Coachto the Door, and we went off, I forced to bid theCoachman drive on. We were no sooner come tomy Lodgings, but all his Wife’s Relations cameto enquire after him; and Mrs. Freeman’sMother writ a Note, wherein she thought never tohave seen this Day, and so forth.
In a word, Sir, I am afraid we are upona thing we have no Talents for; and I can observealready, my Friend looks upon me rather as a Manthat knows a Weakness of him that he is ashamed of,than one who has rescu’d him from Slavery.Mr. SPECTATOR, I am but a young Fellow, and if Mr.Freeman submits, I shall be looked upon as anIncendiary, and never get a Wife as long as I breathe.He has indeed sent Word home he shall lie at Hampsteadto-night; but I believe Fear of the first Onsetafter this Rupture has too great a Place in this Resolution.Mrs. Freeman has a very pretty Sister; supposeI delivered him up, and articled with the Motherfor her for bringing him home. If he has notCourage to stand it, (you are a great Casuist) isit such an ill thing to bring my self off, as wellas I can? What makes me doubt my Man, is, thatI find he thinks it reasonable to expostulate atleast with her; and Capt. SENTREY will tell you,if you let your Orders be disputed, you are no longera Commander. I wish you could advise me howto get clear of this Business handsomely.
Yours,
Tom Meggot.
T.
[Footnote 1: See No. 212]
[Footnote 2: we]
[Footnote 3: he]
* * * * *
No. 217. Thursday, Nov. 8, 1711. Budgell.
—Tunc foemina simplex,
Et pariter toto repetitur clamor ab antro.
Juv. Sat. 6.
I shall entertain my Reader to-day with some Lettersfrom my Correspondents. The first of them isthe Description of a Club, whether real or imaginaryI cannot determine; but am apt to fancy, that theWriter of it, whoever she is, has formed a kind ofNocturnal Orgie out of her own Fancy: Whetherthis be so or not, her Letter may conduce to the Amendmentof that kind of Persons who are represented in it,and whose Characters are frequent enough in the World.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
In some of your first Papers you werepleased to give the Publick a very diverting Accountof several Clubs and nocturnal Assemblies; but Iam a Member of a Society which has wholly escaped yourNotice, I mean a Club of She-Romps. We takeeach a Hackney-Coach, and meet once a Week in alarge upper Chamber, which we hire by the Year forthat Purpose; our Landlord and his Family, who arequiet People, constantly contriving to be abroadon our Club-Night. We are no sooner come togetherthan we throw off all that Modesty and Reservednesswith which our Sex are obliged to disguise themselvesin publick Places. I am not able to expressthe Pleasure we enjoy from Ten at Night till fourin the Morning, in being as rude as you Men can be,for your Lives. As our Play runs high the Roomis immediately filled with broken Fans, torn Petticoats,Lappets of Head-dresses, Flounces, Furbelows, Garters,and Working-Aprons. I had forgot to tell you atfirst, that besides the Coaches we come in our selves,there is one which stands always empty to carryoff our dead Men, for so we call all thoseFragments and Tatters with which the Room is strewed,and which we pack up together in Bundles and putinto the aforesaid Coach. It is no small Diversionfor us to meet the next Night at some Members Chamber,where every one is to pick out what belonged to herfrom this confused Bundle of Silks, Stuffs, Laces,and Ribbons. I have hitherto given you an Accountof our Diversion on ordinary Club-Nights; but mustacquaint you farther, that once a Month we demolisha Prude, that is, we get some queer formal Creaturein among us, and unrig her in an Instant. Ourlast Months Prude was so armed and fortified inWhalebone and Buckram that we had much ado to comeat her; but you would have died with laughing to haveseen how the sober awkward Thing looked when shewas forced out of her Intrenchments. In short,Sir, ’tis impossible to give you a true Notionof our Sports, unless you would come one Night amongstus; and tho it be directly against the Rules ofour Society to admit a Male Visitant, we reposeso much Confidence in your Silence and Taciturnity,that was agreed by the whole Club, at our last Meeting,to give you Entrance for one Night as a Spectator.
I am, Your Humble Servant,
Kitty Termagant.
P. S. We shall demolish a Prude nextThursday.
Tho I thank Kitty for her kind Offer, I donot at present find in my self any Inclination, toventure my Person with her and her romping Companions.I should regard my self as a second Clodiusintruding on the Mysterious Rites of the Bona Dea,and should apprehend being Demolished as muchas the Prude.
The following Letter comes from a Gentleman, whoseTaste I find is much too delicate to endure the leastAdvance towards Romping. I may perhaps hereafterimprove upon the Hint he has given me, and make itthe Subject of a whole Spectator; in the meantime take it as it follows in his own Words.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
It is my Misfortune to be in Love witha young Creature who is daily committing Faults,which though they give me the utmost Uneasiness, Iknow not how to reprove her for, or even acquainther with. She is pretty, dresses well, is rich,and good-humour’d; but either wholly neglects,or has no Notion of that which Polite People have agreedto distinguish by the Name of Delicacy.After our Return from a Walk the other Day she threwher self into an Elbow-Chair, and professed beforea large Company, that she was all over in a Sweat.She told me this Afternoon that her Stomach aked;and was complaining Yesterday at Dinner of somethingthat stuck in her Teeth. I treated herwith a Basket of Fruit last Summer, which she eat sovery greedily, as almost made me resolve never tosee her more. In short, Sir, I begin to tremblewhenever I see her about to speak or move. Asshe does not want Sense, if she takes these HintsI am happy; if not, I am more than afraid, thatthese Things which shock me even in the Behaviourof a Mistress, will appear insupportable in that ofa Wife.
I am, SIR, Yours, &c.
My next Letter comes from a Correspondent whom I cannotbut very much value, upon the Account which she givesof her self.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am happily arrived at a State of Tranquillity,which few People envy, I mean that of an old Maid;therefore being wholly unconcerned in all that Medleyof Follies which our Sex is apt to contract from theirsilly Fondness of yours, I read your Railleries onus without Provocation. I can say with Hamlet,
—Man delights not me,
Nor Woman neither—
Therefore, dear Sir, as you never spareyour own Sex, do not be afraid
of reproving what is ridiculous in ours,and you will oblige at least
one Woman, who is
Your humble Servant, Susannah Frost.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am Wife to a Clergyman, and cannot helpthinking that in your Tenth
or Tithe-Character of Womankind [1] youmeant my self, therefore I
have no Quarrel against you for the otherNine Characters.
Your humble Servant, A.B.
X.
[Footnote 1: See No. 209.]
* * * * *
No. 218. Friday, November 9,1711. Steele.
Quid de quoque viro et cui dicas saepecaveto.
Hor.
I happened the other Day, as my Way is, to stroleinto a little Coffee-house beyond Aldgate; and asI sat there, two or three very plain sensible Menwere talking of the SPECTATOR. One said, he hadthat Morning drawn the great Benefit Ticket; anotherwished he had; but a third shaked his Head and said,It was pity that the Writer of that Paper was sucha sort of Man, that it was no great Matter whetherhe had it or no. He is, it seems, said the goodMan, the most extravagant Creature in the World; hasrun through vast Sums, and yet been in continual Want;a Man, for all he talks so well of Oeconomy, unfitfor any of the Offices of Life, by reason of his Profuseness.It would be an unhappy thing to be his Wife, his Child,or his Friend; and yet he talks as well of those Dutiesof Life as any one. Much Reflection has broughtme to so easy a Contempt for every thing which is false,that this heavy Accusation gave me no manner of Uneasiness;but at the same Time it threw me into deep Thoughtupon the Subject of Fame in general; and I could notbut pity such as were so weak, as to value what thecommon People say out of their own talkative Temperto the Advantage or Diminution of those whom theymention, without being moved either by Malice or Good-will.It will be too long to expatiate upon the Sense allMankind have of Fame, and the inexpressible Pleasurewhich there is in the Approbation of worthy Men, toall who are capable of worthy Actions; but methinksone may divide the general Word Fame into three differentSpecies, as it regards the different Orders of Mankindwho have any Thing to do with it. Fame thereforemay be divided into Glory, which respects the Hero;Reputation, which is preserved by every Gentleman;and Credit, which must be supported by every Tradesman.These Possessions in Fame are dearer than Life tothese Characters of Men, or rather are the Life ofthose Characters. Glory, while the Hero pursuesgreat and noble Enterprizes, is impregnable; and allthe Assailants of his Renown do but shew their Painand Impatience of its Brightness, without throwingthe least Shade upon it. If the Foundation ofan high Name be Virtue and Service, all that is offeredagainst it is but Rumour, which is too short-liv’dto stand up in Competition with Glory, which is everlasting.
Reputation, which is the Portion of every Man whowould live with the elegant and knowing Part of Mankind,is as stable as Glory, if it be as well founded; andthe common Cause of human Society is thought concernedwhen we hear a Man of good Behaviour calumniated:Besides which, according to a prevailing Custom amongstus, every Man has his Defence in his own Arm; andReproach is soon checked, put out of Countenance,and overtaken by Disgrace.
The most unhappy of all Men, and the most exposedto the Malignity or Wantonness of the common Voice,is the Trader. Credit is undone in Whispers.The Tradesman’s Wound is received from one whois more private and more cruel than the Ruffian withthe Lanthorn and Dagger. The Manner of repeatinga Man’s Name, As; Mr. Cash, Oh!do you leave your Money at his Shop? Why, doyou know Mr. Searoom? He is indeed a generalMerchant. I say, I have seen, from the Iterationof a Man’s Name, hiding one Thought of him,and explaining what you hide by saying something tohis Advantage when you speak, a Merchant hurt in hisCredit; and him who, every Day he lived, literallyadded to the Value of his Native Country, undone byone who was only a Burthen and a Blemish to it.Since every Body who knows the World is sensible ofthis great Evil, how careful ought a Man to be inhis Language of a Merchant? It may possibly bein the Power of a very shallow Creature to lay theRuin of the best Family in the most opulent City;and the more so, the more highly he deserves of hisCountry; that is to say, the farther he places hisWealth out of his Hands, to draw home that of anotherClimate.
In this Case an ill Word may change Plenty into Want,and by a rash Sentence a free and generous Fortunemay in a few Days be reduced to Beggary. Howlittle does a giddy Prater imagine, that an idle Phraseto the Disfavour of a Merchant may be as perniciousin the Consequence, as the Forgery of a Deed to baran Inheritance would be to a Gentleman? Landstands where it did before a Gentleman was calumniated,and the State of a great Action is just as it wasbefore Calumny was offered to diminish it, and thereis Time, Place and Occasion expected to unravel allthat is contrived against those Characters; but theTrader who is ready only for probable Demands uponhim, can have no Armour against the Inquisitive, theMalicious, and the Envious, who are prepared to fillthe Cry to his Dishonour. Fire and Sword are slowEngines of Destruction, in Comparison of the Babblerin the Case of the Merchant.
For this Reason I thought it an imitable Piece ofHumanity of a Gentleman of my Acquaintance, who hadgreat Variety of Affairs, and used to talk with Warmthenough against Gentlemen by whom he thought himselfill dealt with; but he would never let any thing beurged against a Merchant (with whom he had any Difference)except in a Court of Justice. He used to say,that to speak ill of a Merchant, was to begin his Suitwith Judgment and Execution. One cannot, I think,say more on this Occasion, than to repeat, That theMerit of the Merchant is above that of all other Subjects;for while he is untouched in his Credit, his Hand-writingis a more portable Coin for the Service of his Fellow-Citizens,and his Word the Gold of Ophir to the Country whereinhe resides.
T.
* * * * *
No. 219. Saturday, Nov. 10, 1711. Addison.
Vix ea nostra voco—
Ov.
There are but few Men, who are not ambitious of distinguishingthemselves in the Nation or Country where they live,and of growing considerable among those with whomthey converse. There is a kind of Grandeur andRespect, which the meanest and most insignificant Partof Mankind endeavour to procure in the little Circleof their Friends and Acquaintance. The poorestMechanick, nay the Man who lives upon common Alms,gets him his Set of Admirers, and delights in thatSuperiority which he enjoys over those who are insome Respects beneath him. This Ambition, whichis natural to the Soul of Man, might methinks receivea very happy turn; and, if it were rightly directed,contribute as much to a Persons Advantage, as it generallydoes to his Uneasiness and Disquiet.
I shall therefore put together some Thoughts on thisSubject, which I have not met with in other Writers:and shall set them down as they have occurred to me,without being at the Pains to Connect or Methodisethem.
All Superiority and Preeminence that one Man can haveover another, may be reduced to the Notion of Quality,which, considered at large, is either that of Fortune,Body, or Mind. The first is that which consistsin Birth, Title, or Riches, and is the most foreignto our Natures, and what we can the least call ourown of any of the three Kinds of Quality. Inrelation to the Body, Quality arises from Health, Strength,or Beauty, which are nearer to us, and more a Partof our selves than the former. Quality, as itregards the Mind, has its Rise from Knowledge or Virtue;and is that which is more essential to us, and moreintimately united with us than either of the othertwo.
The Quality of Fortune, tho a Man has less Reasonto value himself upon it than on that of the Bodyor Mind, is however the kind of Quality which makesthe most shining Figure in the Eye of the World.
As Virtue is the most reasonable and genuine Sourceof Honour, we generally find in Titles an Imitationof some particular Merit that should recommend Mento the high Stations which they possess. Holinessis ascribed to the Pope; Majesty to Kings; Serenityor Mildness of Temper to Princes; Excellence or Perfectionto Ambassadors; Grace to Archbishops; Honour to Peers;Worship or Venerable Behaviour to Magistrates; andReverence, which is of the same Import as the former,to the inferior Clergy.
In the Founders of great Families, such Attributesof Honour are generally correspondent with the Virtuesof the Person to whom they are applied; but in theDescendants they are too often the Marks rather ofGrandeur than of Merit. The Stamp and Denominationstill continues, but the Intrinsick Value is frequentlylost.
The Death-Bed shews the Emptiness of Titles in a trueLight. A poor dispirited Sinner lies tremblingunder the Apprehensions of the State he is entringon; and is asked by a grave Attendant how his Holinessdoes? Another hears himself addressed to underthe Title of Highness or Excellency, who lies undersuch mean Circ*mstances of Mortality as are the Disgraceof Human Nature. Titles at such a time look ratherlike Insults and Mockery than Respect.
The truth of it is, Honours are in this World underno Regulation; true Quality is neglected, Virtue isoppressed, and Vice triumphant. The last Daywill rectify this Disorder, and assign to every onea Station suitable to the Dignity of his Character;Ranks will be then adjusted, and Precedency set right.
Methinks we should have an Ambition, if not to advanceour selves in another World, at least to preserveour Post in it, and outshine our Inferiors in Virtuehere, that they may not be put above us in a Statewhich is to Settle the Distinction for Eternity.
Men in Scripture are called Strangers and Sojournersupon Earth, and Life a Pilgrimage.Several Heathen, as well as Christian Authors, underthe same kind of Metaphor, have represented the Worldas an Inn, which was only designed to furnish us withAccommodations in this our Passage. It is thereforevery absurd to think of setting up our Rest beforewe come to our Journeys End, and not rather to takecare of the Reception we shall there meet, than tofix our Thoughts on the little Conveniences and Advantageswhich we enjoy one above another in the Way to it.
Epictetus makes use of another kind of Allusion,which is very beautiful, and wonderfully proper toincline us to be satisfied with the Post in whichProvidence has placed us. We are here, says he,as in a Theatre, where every one has a Part allottedto him. The great Duty which lies upon a Manis to act his Part in Perfection. We may indeedsay, that our Part does not suit us, and that we couldact another better. But this (says the Philosopher)is not our Business. All that we are concernedin is to excel in the Part which is given us.If it be an improper one, the Fault is not in us,but in him who has cast our several Parts,and is the great Disposer of the Drama. [1]
The Part that was acted by this Philosopher himselfwas but a very indifferent one, for he lived and dieda Slave. His Motive to Contentment in this Particular,receives a very great Inforcement from the above-mentionedConsideration, if we remember that our Parts in theother World will be new cast, and that Mankind willbe there ranged in different Stations of Superiorityand Praeeminence, in Proportion as they have hereexcelled one another in Virtue, and performed in theirseveral Posts of Life the Duties which belong to them.
There are many beautiful Passages in the little ApocryphalBook, entitled, The Wisdom of Solomon, to setforth the Vanity of Honour, and the like temporalBlessings which are in so great Repute among Men,and to comfort those who have not the Possession ofthem. It represents in very warm and noble Termsthis Advancement of a good Man in the other World,and the great Surprize which it will produce amongthose who are his Superiors in this. Then shallthe righteous Man stand in great Boldness before theFace of such as have afflicted him, and made no Account
of his Labours. When they see it, they shall betroubled with terrible Fear, and shall be amazed atthe Strangeness of his Salvation, so far beyond allthat they looked for. And they repenting and groaningfor Anguish of Spirit, shall say within themselves;This was he whom we had sometime in Derision, anda Proverb of Reproach. We Fools accounted hisLife Madness, and his End to be without Honour.How is he numbered among the Children of God, andhis Lot is among the Saints! [2]If the Reader would see the Description of a Lifethat is passed away in Vanity and among the Shadowsof Pomp and Greatness, he may see it very finely drawnin the same Place. [3] In the mean time, since it isnecessary in the present Constitution of things, thatOrder and Distinction should be kept in the World,we should be happy, if those who enjoy the upper Stationsin it, would endeavour to surpass others in Virtue,as much as in Rank, and by their Humanity and Condescensionmake their Superiority easy and acceptable to thosewho are beneath them: and if, on the contrary,those who are in meaner Posts of Life, would considerhow they may better their Condition hereafter, andby a just Deference and Submission to their Superiors,make them happy in those Blessings with which Providencehas thought fit to distinguish them.
C.
[Footnote 1: Epict. Enchirid. ch. 23.]
[Footnote 2: Wisd., ch. v. 1-5.]
[Footnote 3: Ch. v. 8-14.]
* * * * *
No. 220. Monday, November 12, 1711. Steele.
Rumoresque serit varios
Virg. [1]
SIR,
Why will you apply to my Father for myLove? I cannot help it if he will give youmy Person; but I assure you it is not in his Power,nor even in my own, to give you my Heart. DearSir, do but consider the ill Consequence of sucha Match; you are Fifty-five, I Twenty-one. Youare a Man of Business, and mightily conversant inArithmetick and making Calculations; be pleasedtherefore to consider what Proportion your Spiritsbear to mine; and when you have made a just Estimateof the necessary Decay on one Side, and the Redundanceon the other, you will act accordingly. Thisperhaps is such Language as you may not expect froma young Lady; but my Happiness is at Stake, and I musttalk plainly. I mortally hate you; and so, asyou and my Father agree, you may take me or leaveme: But if you will be so good as never to seeme more, you will for ever oblige,
SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
HENRIETTA.
Mr. SPECTATOR, [2]
There are so many Artifices and Modesof false Wit, and such a Variety of Humour discoversit self among its Votaries, that it would be impossibleto exhaust so fertile a Subject, if you would thinkfit to resume it. The following Instances may,if you think fit, be added by Way of Appendix toyour Discourses on that Subject.
That Feat of Poetical Activity mentionedby Horace, of an Author who could composetwo hundred Verses while he stood upon one Leg, [3]has been imitated (as I have heard) by a modern Writer;who priding himself on the Hurry of his Invention,thought it no small Addition to his Fame to haveeach Piece minuted with the exact Number of Hours orDays it cost him in the Composition. He couldtaste no Praise till he had acquainted you in howshort Space of Time he had deserved it; and wasnot so much led to an Ostentation of his Art, as ofhis Dispatch.
—Accipe si vis,
Accipe jam tabulas; deturnobis locus, hora,
Custodes: videamus uterplus scribere possit.
Hor.
This was the whole of his Ambition; andtherefore I cannot but think the Flights of thisrapid Author very proper to be opposed to those laboriousNothings which you have observed were the Delight ofthe German Wits, and in which they so happilygot rid of such a tedious Quantity of their Time.
I have known a Gentleman of another Turnof Humour, who, despising the Name of an Author,never printed his Works, but contracted his Talent,and by the help of a very fine Diamond which he woreon his little Finger, was a considerable Poet uponGlass. He had a very good Epigrammatick Wit;and there was not a Parlour or Tavern Window wherehe visited or dined for some Years, which did notreceive some Sketches or Memorials of it. Itwas his Misfortune at last to lose his Genius andhis Ring to a Sharper at Play; and he has not attemptedto make a Verse since.
But of all Contractions or Expedientsfor Wit, I admire that of an ingenious Projectorwhose Book I have seen. [4] This Virtuoso being aMathematician, has, according to his Taste, thrownthe Art of Poetry into a short Problem, and contrivedTables by which any one without knowing a Word ofGrammar or Sense, may, to his great Comfort, be ableto compose or rather to erect Latin Verses.His Tables are a kind of Poetical Logarithms, whichbeing divided into several Squares, and all inscribedwith so many incoherent Words, appear to the Eye somewhatlike a Fortune-telling Screen. What a Joy mustit be to the unlearned Operator to find that theseWords, being carefully collected and writ down inOrder according to the Problem, start of themselvesinto Hexameter and Pentameter Verses? A Friendof mine, who is a Student in Astrology, meetingwith this Book, performed the Operation, by the Rulesthere set down; he shewed his Verses to the next ofhis Acquaintance, who happened to understand Latin;and being informed they described a Tempest of Wind,very luckily prefixed them, together with a Translation,to an Almanack he was just then printing, and wassupposed to have foretold the last great Storm. [5]
I think the only Improvement beyond this,would be that which the late Duke of Buckinghammentioned to a stupid Pretender to Poetry, as theProject of a Dutch Mechanick, viz. aMill to make Verses. This being the most compendiousMethod of all which have yet been proposed, maydeserve the Thoughts of our modern Virtuosi who areemployed in new Discoveries for the publick Good:and it may be worth the while to consider, whetherin an Island where few are content without beingthought Wits, it will not be a common Benefit, thatWit as well as Labour should be made cheap.
I am, SIR, Your humble Servant, &c.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I often dine at a Gentleman’s House,where there are two young Ladies, in themselvesvery agreeable, but very cold in their Behaviour,because they understand me for a Person that is tobreak my Mind, as the Phrase is, very suddenly toone of them. But I take this Way to acquaintthem, that I am not in Love with either of them, inHopes they will use me with that agreeable Freedomand Indifference which they do all the rest of theWorld, and not to drink to one another [only,] butsometimes cast a kind Look, with their Service to,
SIR, Your humble Servant.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a young Gentleman, and take it fora Piece of Good-breeding to pull off my Hat whenI see any thing particularly charming in any Woman,whether I know her or not. I take care that thereis nothing ludicrous or arch in my Manner, as ifI were to betray a Woman into a Salutation by Wayof Jest or Humour; and yet except I am acquaintedwith her, I find she ever takes it for a Rule, thatshe is to look upon this Civility and Homage I payto her supposed Merit, as an Impertinence or Forwardnesswhich she is to observe and neglect. I wish,Sir, you would settle the Business of salutation; andplease to inform me how I shall resist the suddenImpulse I have to be civil to what gives an Ideaof Merit; or tell these Creatures how to behave themselvesin Return to the Esteem I have for them. My Affairsare such, that your Decision will be a Favour tome, if it be only to save the unnecessary Expenceof wearing out my Hat so fast as I do at present.
There are some that do know me, and wontbow to me.
I am, SIR,
Yours,
T.D.
T.
[Footnote 1:
—Aliena negotia centum
Per caput, et circa saliunt latus.
Hor.]
[Footnote 2: This letter is by John Hughes.]
[Footnote 3:
—in hora saepe ducentos,
Ut magnum, versus dictabat stans pedein uno.
Sat. I. iv. 10.]
[Footnote 4: A pamphlet by John Peter, ArtificialVersifying, a New Way to make Latin Verses. Lond.1678.]
[Footnote 5: Of Nov. 26, 1703, which destroyedin London alone property worth a million.]
* * * * *
No. 221. Tuesday, November 13, 1711. Addison.
—Ab Ovo
Usque ad Mala—
Hor.
When I have finished any of my Speculations, it ismy Method to consider which of the ancient Authorshave touched upon the Subject that I treat of.By this means I meet with some celebrated Thought uponit, or a Thought of my own expressed in better Words,or some Similitude for the Illustration of my Subject.This is what gives Birth to the Motto of a Speculation,which I rather chuse to take out of the Poets thanthe Prose-writers, as the former generally give afiner Turn to a Thought than the latter, and by couchingit in few Words, and in harmonious Numbers, make itmore portable to the Memory.
My Reader is therefore sure to meet with at leastone good Line in every Paper, and very often findshis Imagination entertained by a Hint that awakensin his Memory some beautiful Passage of a ClassickAuthor.
It was a Saying of an ancient Philosopher, which Ifind some of our Writers have ascribed to Queen Elizabeth,who perhaps might have taken occasion to repeat it,That a good Face is a Letter of Recommendation. [1]It naturally makes the Beholders inquisitive into thePerson who is the Owner of it, and generally prepossessesthem in his Favour. A handsome Motto has thesame Effect. Besides that, it always gives aSupernumerary Beauty to a Paper, and is sometimes ina manner necessary when the Writer is engaged in whatmay appear a Paradox to vulgar Minds, as it shewsthat he is supported by good Authorities, and is notsingular in his Opinion.
I must confess, the Motto is of little Use to an unlearnedReader, for which Reason I consider it only as aWord to the Wise. But as for my unlearnedFriends, if they cannot relish the Motto, I take careto make Provision for them in the Body of my Paper.If they do not understand the Sign that is hung out,they know very well by it, that they may meet withEntertainment in the House; and I think I was neverbetter pleased than with a plain Man’s Compliment,who, upon his Friends telling him that he would likethe Spectator much better if he understood theMotto, replied, That good Wine needs no Bush.
I have heard of a Couple of Preachers in a CountryTown, who endeavoured which should outshine one another,and draw together the greatest Congregation.One of them being well versed in the Fathers, usedto quote every now and then a Latin Sentenceto his illiterate Hearers, who it seems found themselvesso edified by it, that they flocked in greater Numbersto this learned Man than to his Rival. The otherfinding his Congregation mouldering every Sunday,and hearing at length what was the Occasion of it,resolved to give his Parish a little Latin inhis Turn; but being unacquainted with any of the Fathers,he digested into his Sermons the whole Book of QuaeGenus, adding however such Explications to it as hethought might be for the Benefit of his People.He afterwards entered upon As in praesenti,[2] which he converted in the same manner to the Useof his Parishioners. This in a very little timethickned his Audience, filled his Church, and routedhis Antagonist.
The natural Love to Latin which is so prevalentin our common People, makes me think that my Speculationsfare never the worse among them for that little Scrapwhich appears at the Head of them; and what the moreencourages me in the Use of Quotations in an unknownTongue is, that I hear the Ladies, whose ApprobationI value more than that of the whole Learned World,declare themselves in a more particular manner pleasedwith my Greek Mottos.
Designing this Days Work for a Dissertation upon thetwo Extremities of my Paper, and having already dispatch’dmy Motto, I shall, in the next place, discourse uponthose single Capital Letters, which are placed atthe End of it, and which have afforded great Matterof Speculation to the Curious. I have heard variousConjectures upon this Subject. Some tell us thatC is the Mark of those Papers that are written by theClergyman, though others ascribe them to the Club ingeneral: That the Papers marked with R were writtenby my Friend Sir ROGER: That L signifies theLawyer, 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 somefew of my Papers, is that which has puzzled the wholeTown, as they cannot think of any Name which beginswith that Letter, except Xenophon and Xerxes,who can neither of them be supposed to have had anyHand in these Speculations.
In Answer to these inquisitive Gentlemen, who havemany of them made Enquiries of me by Letter, I musttell them the Reply of an ancient Philosopher, whocarried something hidden under his Cloak. A certainAcquaintance desiring him to let him know what it washe covered so carefully; I cover it, says he,on purpose that you should not know. Ihave made use of these obscure Marks for the same Purpose.They are, perhaps, little Amulets or Charms to preservethe Paper against the Fascination and Malice of evilEyes; for which Reason I would not have my Readersurprized, if hereafter he sees any of my Papers markedwith a Q, a Z, a Y, an &c., or with the Word Abracadabra[3]
I shall, however, so far explain my self to the Reader,as to let him know that the Letters, C, L, and X,are Cabalistical, and carry more in them than it isproper for the World to be acquainted with. Thosewho are versed in the Philosophy of Pythagoras, andswear by the Tetrachtys, [4] that is, the NumberFour, will know very well that the Number Ten,which is signified by the Letter X, (and which hasso much perplexed the Town) has in it many particularPowers; that it is called by Platonick Writers theComplete Number; that One, Two, Three and Four puttogether make up the Number Ten; and that Ten is all.But these are not Mysteries for ordinary Readers tobe let into. A Man must have spent many Yearsin hard Study before he can arrive at the Knowledgeof them.
We had a Rabbinical Divine in England, whowas Chaplain to the Earl of Essex in QueenElizabeth’s Time, that had an admirableHead for Secrets of this Nature. Upon his takingthe Doctor of Divinity’s Degree, he preachedbefore the University of Cambridge, upon theFirst Verse of the First Chapter ofthe First Book of Chronicles, in which,says he, you have the three following Words,
Adam, Sheth, Enosh.
He divided this short Text into many Parts, and bydiscovering several Mysteries in each Word, made amost Learned and Elaborate Discourse. The Nameof this profound Preacher was Doctor Alabaster,of whom the Reader may find a more particular Accountin Doctor Fullers Book of English Worthies.[5] This Instance will, I hope, convince my Readersthat there may be a great deal of fine Writing in theCapital 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, Imust refer them to Time, which discovers all things.
C.
[Footnote 1: Diogenes Laertius, Bk. V. ch.I.]
[Footnote 2: Quae Genus and As in Praesenti werethe first words in collections of rules then and untilrecently familiar as part of the standard Latin Grammar,Lilly’s, to which Erasmus and Colet contributed,and of which Wolsey wrote the original Preface.]
[Footnote 3: Abraxas, which in Greek lettersrepresents 365, the number of the deities supposedby the Basilidians to be subordinate to the All RulingOne, was a mystical name for the supreme God, and wasengraved as a charm on stones together with the figureof a human body (Cadaver), with cats head and reptilesfeet. From this the name Abracadabra may havearisen, with a sense of power in it as a charm.Serenus Sammonicus, a celebrated physician who livedabout A.D. 210, who had, it is said, a library of62,000 volumes, and was killed at a banquet by orderof Caracalla, said in an extant Latin poem upon Medicineand Remedies, that fevers were cured by binding tothe body the word Abracadabra written in this fashion:
Abracadabra
Abracadabr
Abracadab
Abracada
and so on, till there remained only the initial A.His word was taken, and this use of the charm waspopular even in the Spectators time. It is describedby Defoe in his History of the Plague.]
[Footnote 4: The number Four was called Tetractysby the Pythagoreans, who accounted it the most powerfulof numbers, because it was the foundation of themall, and as a square it signified solidity. Theysaid it was at the source of Nature, four elements,four seasons, &c., to which later speculators addedthe four rivers of Paradise, four evangelists, andassociation of the number four with God, whose namewas a mystical Tetra grammaton, Jod, He, Vau, He.]
[Footnote 5: Where it is explained that Adammeaning Man; Seth, placed; and Enosh, Misery:the mystic inference is that Man was placed in Misery.]
* * * * *
No. 222. Wednesday, November 14,1711. Steele.
Cur alter fratrum cessare, et ludere,et ungi,
Praeferat Herodis palmetis pinguibus
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
There is one thing I have often look’dfor in your Papers, and have as often wondered tofind my self disappointed; the rather, because I thinkit a Subject every way agreeable to your Design, andby being left unattempted by others, seems reservedas a proper Employment for you; I mean a Disquisition,from whence it proceeds, that Men of the brightestParts, and most comprehensive Genius, compleatly furnishedwith Talents for any Province in humane Affairs;such as by their wise Lessons of Oeconomy to othershave made it evident, that they have the justestNotions of Life and of true Sense in the Conduct ofit—: from what unhappy contradictiousCause it proceeds, that Persons thus finished byNature and by Art, should so often fail in the Managementof that which they so well understand, and want theAddress to make a right Application of their ownRules. This is certainly a prodigious Inconsistencyin Behaviour, and makes much such a Figure in Moralsas a monstrous Birth in Naturals, with this Differenceonly, which greatly aggravates the Wonder, thatit happens much more frequently; and what a Blemishdoes it cast upon Wit and Learning in the generalAccount of the World? And in how disadvantageousa Light does it expose them to the busy Class ofMankind, that there should be so many Instancesof Persons who have so conducted their Lives in spiteof these transcendent Advantages, as neither tobe happy in themselves, nor useful to their Friends;when every Body sees it was entirely in their ownPower to be eminent in both these Characters?For my part, I think there is no Reflection moreastonishing, than to consider one of these Gentlemenspending a fair Fortune, running in every Body’sDebt without the least Apprehension of a futureReckoning, and at last leaving not only his ownChildren, but possibly those of other People, byhis Means, in starving Circ*mstances; while a Fellow,whom one would scarce suspect to have a humane Soul,shall perhaps raise a vast Estate out of Nothing,and be the Founder of a Family capable of being veryconsiderable in their Country, and doing many illustriousServices to it. That this Observation is just,Experience has put beyond all Dispute. Butthough the Fact be so evident and glaring, yet theCauses of it are still in the Dark; which makes mepersuade my self, that it would be no unacceptablePiece of Entertainment to the Town, to inquire intothe hidden Sources of so unaccountable an Evil. Iam, SIR, Your most Humble Servant.
What this Correspondent wonders at, has been Matterof Admiration ever since there was any such thingas humane Life. Horace reflects upon this Inconsistencyvery agreeably in the Character of Tigellius,whom he makes a mighty Pretender to Oeconomy, andtells you, you might one Day hear him speak the mostphilosophick Things imaginable concerning being contentedwith a little, and his Contempt of every thing butmere Necessaries, and in Half a Week after spend athousand Pound. When he says this of him withRelation to Expence, he describes him as unequal tohimself in every other Circ*mstance of Life. Andindeed, if we consider lavish Men carefully, we shallfind it always proceeds from a certain Incapacityof possessing themselves, and finding Enjoyment intheir own Minds. Mr. Dryden has expressedthis very excellently in the Character of Zimri.[1]
A Man so various, that he seem’dto be
Not one, but all Mankind’s Epitome.
Stiff in Opinion, always in the Wrong,
Was every Thing by Starts, and Nothinglong;
But in the Course of one revolving Moon,
Was Chymist, Fidler, Statesman, and Buffoon.
Then all for Women, Painting, Rhiming,Drinking,
Besides ten thousand Freaks that diedin thinking;
Blest Madman, who could every Hour employ
In something new to wish or to enjoy!
In squandering Wealth was his peculiarArt,
Nothing went unrewarded but Desert.
This loose State of the Soul hurries the Extravagantfrom one Pursuit to another; and the Reason that hisExpences are greater than anothers, is, that his Wantsare also more numerous. But what makes so manygo on in this Way to their Lives End, is, that theycertainly do not know how contemptible they are inthe Eyes of the rest of Mankind, or rather, that indeedthey are not so contemptible as they deserve. Tullysays, it is the greatest of Wickedness to lessen yourpaternal Estate. And if a Man would thoroughlyconsider how much worse than Banishment it must beto his Child, to ride by the Estate which should havebeen his had it not been for his Fathers Injusticeto him, he would be smitten with the Reflection moredeeply than can be understood by any but one who isa Father. Sure there can be nothing more afflictingthan to think it had been happier for his Son to havebeen born of any other Man living than himself.
It is not perhaps much thought of, but it is certainlya very important Lesson, to learn how to enjoy ordinaryLife, and to be able to relish your Being withoutthe Transport of some Passion or Gratification ofsome Appetite. For want of this Capacity, theWorld is filled with Whetters, Tipplers, Cutters,Sippers, and all the numerous Train of those who,for want of Thinking, are forced to be ever exercisingtheir Feeling or Tasting. It would be hard onthis Occasion to mention the harmless Smoakers ofTobacco and Takers of Snuff.
The slower Part of Mankind, whom my Correspondentwonders should get Estates, are the more immediatelyformed for that Pursuit: They can expect distantthings without Impatience, because they are not carriedout of their Way either by violent Passion or keenAppetite to any thing. To Men addicted to Delight[s],Business is an Interruption; to such as are cold toDelights, Business is an Entertainment. For whichReason it was said to one who commended a dull Manfor his Application,
No Thanks to him; if he had no Business, he wouldhave nothing to do.
T.
[Footnote 1: i.e. The Duke of Buckingham,in Part I. of ’Absalom and Achitophel’.]
* * * * *
No. 223. Thursday, Nov. 15, 1711. Addison.
O suavis Anima! qualem te dicam bonam
Antehac fuisse, tales cum sint reliquiae!
Phaed.
When I reflect upon the various Fate of those Multitudesof Ancient Writers who flourished in Greeceand Italy, I consider Time as an Immense Ocean,in which many noble Authors are entirely swallowedup, many very much shattered and damaged, some quitedisjointed and broken into pieces, while some havewholly escaped the Common Wreck; but the Number ofthe last is very small.
Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto.
Among the mutilated Poets of Antiquity, there is nonewhose Fragments are so beautiful as those of Sappho.They give us a Taste of her Way of Writing, whichis perfectly conformable with that extraordinary Characterwe find of her, in the Remarks of those great Critickswho were conversant with her Works when they wereentire. One may see by what is left of them,that she followed Nature in all her Thoughts, withoutdescending to those little Points, Conceits, and Turnsof Wit with which many of our modern Lyricks are somiserably infected. Her Soul seems to have beenmade up of Love and Poetry; She felt the Passion inall its Warmth, and described it in all its Symptoms.She is called by ancient Authors the Tenth Muse; andby Plutarch is compared to Cacus theSon of Vulcan, who breathed out nothing butFlame. I do not know, by the Character that isgiven of her Works, whether it is not for the Benefitof Mankind that they are lost. They were filledwith such bewitching Tenderness and Rapture, thatit might have been dangerous to have given them aReading.
An Inconstant Lover, called Phaon, occasionedgreat Calamities to this Poetical Lady. She felldesperately in Love with him, and took a Voyage intoSicily in Pursuit of him, he having withdrawnhimself thither on purpose to avoid her. It wasin that Island, and on this Occasion, she is supposedto have made the Hymn to Venus, with a Translationof which I shall present my Reader. Her Hymnwas ineffectual for the procuring that Happiness whichshe prayed for in it. Phaon was still obdurate,and Sappho so transported with the Violenceof her Passion, that she was resolved to get rid ofit at any Price.
There was a Promontory in Acarnania calledLeucrate [1] on the Top of which was a littleTemple dedicated to Apollo. In this Temple itwas usual for despairing Lovers to make theirVows in secret, and afterwards to fling themselvesfrom the Top of the Precipice into the Sea, wherethey were sometimes taken up alive. This Placewas therefore called, The Lovers Leap; andwhether or no the Fright they had been in, or theResolution that could push them to so dreadful a Remedy,or the Bruises which they often received in theirFall, banished all the tender Sentiments of Love,and gave their Spirits another Turn; those who hadtaken this Leap were observed never to relapse intothat Passion. Sappho tried the Cure, but perishedin the Experiment.
After having given this short Account of Sapphoso far as it regards the following Ode, I shall subjointhe Translation of it as it was sent me by a Friend,whose admirable Pastorals and Winter-Piece havebeen already so well received. [2] The Reader willfind in it that Pathetick Simplicity which is so peculiarto him, and so suitable to the Ode he has here Translated.This Ode in the Greek (besides those Beauties observedby Madam Dacier) has several harmonious Turnsin the Words, which are not lost in the English.I must farther add, that the Translation has preservedevery Image and Sentiment of Sappho, notwithstandingit has all the Ease and Spirit of an Original.In a Word, if the Ladies have a mind to know the Mannerof Writing practised by the so much celebrated Sappho,they may here see it in its genuine and natural Beauty,without any foreign or affected Ornaments.
An HYMN to VENUS.
I. O Venus, Beauty of the Skies,
To whom a ThousandTemples rise,
Gayly false ingentle Smiles,
Full of Lovesperplexing Wiles;
O Goddess! frommy Heart remove
The wasting Caresand Pains of Love.
II. If ever thou hast kindly heard
A Song in softDistress preferr’d,
Propitious tomy tuneful Vow,
O gentle Goddess!hear me now.
Descend, thoubright, immortal Guest,
In all thy radiantCharms confest.
III. Thou once didst leave Almighty Jove,
And all the GoldenRoofs above:
The Carr thy wantonSparrows drew;
Hovring in Airthey lightly flew,
As to my Bowerthey wing’d their Way:
I saw their quivringPinions play.
IV. The Birds dismist (while you remain)
Bore back theirempty Carr again:
Then You, withLooks divinely mild,
In evry heavnlyFeature smil’d,
And ask’dwhat new Complaints I made,
And why I call’dyou to my Aid?
V. What Phrenzy in my Bosom rag’d,
And by what Careto be asswag’d?
What gentle YouthI could allure,
Whom in my artfulToiles secure?
Who does thy tenderHeart subdue,
Tell me, mySappho, tell me Who?
VI. Tho now he Shuns thy longing Arms,
He soon shallcourt thy slighted Charms;
Tho now thy Offringshe despise,
He soon to theeshall Sacrifice;
Tho now he freeze,he soon shall burn,
And be thy Victimin his turn.
VII. Celestial Visitant, once more
Thy needful PresenceI implore!
In Pity come andease my Grief,
Bring my distemper’dSoul Relief;
Favour thy Suppliantshidden Fires,
And give me Allmy Heart desires.
Madam Dacier observes, there is something verypretty in that Circ*mstance of this Ode, wherein Venusis described as sending away her Chariot upon herArrival at Sappho’s Lodgings, to denotethat it was not a short transient Visit which sheintended to make her. This Ode was preservedby an eminent Greek Critick, [3] who insertedit intire in his Works, as a Pattern of Perfectionin the Structure of it.
Longinus has quoted another Ode of this greatPoetess, which is likewise admirable in its Kind,and has been translated by the same Hand with theforegoing one. I shall oblige my Reader with itin another Paper. In the mean while, I cannotbut wonder, that these two finished Pieces have neverbeen attempted before by any of our Countrymen.But the Truth of it is, the Compositions of the Ancients,which have not in them any of those unnatural Witticismsthat are the Delight of ordinary Readers, are extremelydifficult to render into another Tongue, so as theBeauties of the Original may not appear weak and fadedin the Translation.
C.
[Footnote 1: Leucas]
[Footnote 2: Ambrose Philips, whose Winter Pieceappeared in No. 12 of the Tatler, and whosesix Pastorals preceded those of Pope. Philips’sPastorals had appeared in 1709 in a sixth volume ofa Poetical Miscellany issued by Jacob Tonson.The first four volumes of that Miscellany had beenedited by Dryden, the fifth was collected after Dryden’sdeath, and the sixth was notable for opening with the
Pastorals of Ambrose Philips and closing with thoseof young Pope which Tonson had volunteered to print,thereby, said Wycherley, furnishing a Jacob’sladder by which Pope mounted to immortality. Ina letter to his friend Mr. Henry Cromwell, Pope said,generously putting himself out of account, that therewere no better eclogues in our language than thoseof Philips; but when afterwards Tickell in the Guardian,criticising Pastoral Poets from Theocritus downwards,exalted Philips and passed over Pope, the slightedpoet took his revenge by sending to Steele an amusingone paper more upon Pastorals. This was ironicalexaltation of the worst he could find in Philips overthe best bits of his own work, which Steele inserted(it is No. 40 of the Guardian). HereuponPhilips, it is said, stuck up a rod in Buttons CoffeeHouse, which he said was to be used on Pope when nexthe met him. Pope retained his wrath, and celebratedPhilips afterwards under the character of Macer, sayingof this Spectator time,When simple Macer, now of high renown,First sought a Poets fortune in the town, Twasall the ambition his high soul could feel, To wearred stockings, and to dine with Steele.]
[Footnote 3: Dionysius of Halicarnassus.]
* * * * *
No. 224. Friday, November 16, 1711. Hughes.
—Fulgente trahit constrictos Gloriacurru
Non minus ignotos generosis
Hor. Sat. 6.
If we look abroad upon the great Multitudes of Mankind,and endeavour to trace out the Principles of Actionin every Individual, it will, I think, seem highlyprobable that Ambition runs through the whole Species,and that every Man in Proportion to the Vigour of hisComplection is more or less actuated by it. Itis indeed no uncommon thing to meet with Men, whoby the natural Bent of their Inclinations, and withoutthe Discipline of Philosophy, aspire not to the Heightsof Power and Grandeur; who never set their Heartsupon a numerous Train of Clients and Dependancies,nor other gay Appendages of Greatness; who are contentedwith a Competency, and will not molest their Tranquillityto gain an Abundance: But it is not thereforeto be concluded that such a Man is not Ambitious;his Desires may have cut out another Channel, anddetermined him to other Pursuits; the Motive howevermay be still the same; and in these Cases likewisethe Man may be equally pushed on with the Desire ofDistinction.
Though the pure Consciousness of worthy Actions, abstractedfrom the Views of popular Applause, be to a generousMind an ample Reward, yet the Desire of Distinctionwas doubtless implanted in our Natures as an additionalIncentive to exert our selves in virtuous Excellence.
This Passion indeed, like all others, is frequentlyperverted to evil and ignoble Purposes; so that wemay account for many of the Excellencies and Folliesof Life upon the same innate Principle, to wit, theDesire of being remarkable: For this, as it hasbeen differently cultivated by Education, Study andConverse, will bring forth suitable Effects as itfalls in with an [ingenuous] [1] Disposition, or acorrupt Mind; it does accordingly express itself inActs of Magnanimity or selfish Cunning, as it meetswith a good or a weak Understanding. As it hasbeen employed in embellishing the Mind, or adorningthe Outside, it renders the Man eminently Praise-worthyor ridiculous. Ambition therefore is not to beconfined only to one Passion or Pursuit; for as thesame Humours, in Constitutions otherwise different,affect the Body after different Manners, so the sameaspiring Principle within us sometimes breaks forthupon one Object, sometimes upon another.
It cannot be doubted, but that there is as great Desireof Glory in a Ring of Wrestlers or Cudgel-Players,as in any other more refined Competition for Superiority.No Man that could avoid it, would ever suffer hisHead to be broken but out of a Principle of Honour.This is the secret Spring that pushes them forward;and the Superiority which they gain above the undistinguish’dmany, does more than repair those Wounds they havereceived in the Combat. Tis Mr. Waller’sOpinion, that Julius Caesar, had he not beenMaster of the Roman Empire, would in all Probabilityhave made an excellent Wrestler.
Great Julius on the Mountainsbred, A Flock perhaps or Herd had led; He thatthe World subdued, had been But the best Wrestleron the Green. [2]
That he subdued the World, was owing to the Accidentsof Art and Knowledge; had he not met with those Advantages,the same Sparks of Emulation would have kindled withinhim, and prompted him to distinguish himself in someEnterprize of a lower Nature. Since thereforeno Man’s Lot is so unalterably fixed in thisLife, but that a thousand Accidents may either forwardor disappoint his Advancement, it is, methinks, apleasant and inoffensive Speculation, to consider agreat Man as divested of all the adventitious Circ*mstancesof Fortune, and to bring him down in ones Imaginationto that low Station of Life, the Nature of which bearssome distant Resemblance to that high one he is atpresent possessed of. Thus one may view him exercisingin Miniature those Talents of Nature, which beingdrawn out by Education to their full Length, enablehim for the Discharge of some important Employment.On the other Hand, one may raise uneducated Meritto such a Pitch of Greatness as may seem equal tothe possible Extent of his improved Capacity.
Thus Nature furnishes a Man with a general Appetiteof Glory, Education determines it to this or thatparticular Object. The Desire of Distinctionis not, I think, in any Instance more observable thanin the Variety of Outsides and new Appearances, whichthe modish Part of the World are obliged to provide,in order to make themselves remarkable; for any thingglaring and particular, either in Behaviour or Apparel,is known to have this good Effect, that it catchesthe Eye, and will not suffer you to pass over thePerson so adorned without due Notice and Observation.It has likewise, upon this Account, been frequentlyresented as a very great Slight, to leave any Gentlemanout of a Lampoon or Satyr, who has as much Right tobe there as his Neighbour, because it supposes thePerson not eminent enough to be taken notice of.To this passionate Fondness for Distinction are owingvarious frolicksome and irregular Practices, as sallyingout into Nocturnal Exploits, breaking of Windows,singing of Catches, beating the Watch, getting Drunktwice a Day, killing a great Number of Horses; withmany other Enterprizes of the like fiery Nature:For certainly many a Man is more Rakish and Extravagantthan he would willingly be, were there not others tolook on and give their Approbation.
One very Common, and at the same time the most absurdAmbition that ever shewed it self in Humane Nature,is that which comes upon a Man with Experience andold Age, the Season when it might be expected he shouldbe wisest; and therefore it cannot receive any of thoselessening Circ*mstances which do, in some measure,excuse the disorderly Ferments of youthful Blood:I mean the Passion for getting Money, exclusive ofthe Character of the Provident Father, the AffectionateHusband, or the Generous Friend. It may be remarked,for the Comfort of honest Poverty, that this Desirereigns most in those who have but few good Qualitiesto recommend them. This is a Weed that will growin a barren Soil. Humanity, Good Nature, andthe Advantages of a Liberal Education, are incompatiblewith Avarice. Tis strange to see how suddenlythis abject Passion kills all the noble Sentimentsand generous Ambitions that adorn Humane Nature; itrenders the Man who is over-run with it a peevish andcruel Master, a severe Parent, an unsociable Husband,a distant and mistrustful Friend. But it is moreto the present Purpose to consider it as an absurdPassion of the Heart, rather than as a vicious Affectionof the Mind. As there are frequent Instancesto be met with of a proud Humility, so this Passion,contrary to most others, affects Applause, by avoidingall Show and Appearance; for this Reason it will notsometimes endure even the common Decencies of Apparel.A covetous Man will call himself poor, that youmay sooth his Vanity by contradicting him.Love and the Desire of Glory, as they are the mostnatural, so they are capable of being refined intothe most delicate and rational Passions. Tis
true, the wise Man who strikes out of the secret Pathsof a private Life, for Honour and Dignity, alluredby the Splendour of a Court, and the unfelt Weightof publick Employment, whether he succeeds in hisAttempts or no, usually comes near enough to this paintedGreatness to discern the Dawbing; he is then desirousof extricating himself out of the Hurry of Life, thathe may pass away the Remainder of his Days in Tranquillityand Retirement.It may be thought then but common Prudence in a Mannot to change a better State for a worse, nor everto quit that which he knows he shall take up againwith Pleasure; and yet if human Life be not a littlemoved with the gentle Gales of Hopes and Fears, theremay be some Danger of its stagnating in an unmanlyIndolence and Security. It is a known Story ofDomitian, that after he had possessed himselfof the Roman Empire, his Desires turn’dupon catching Flies. Active and Masculine Spiritsin the Vigour of Youth neither can nor ought to remainat Rest: If they debar themselves from aimingat a noble Object, their Desires will move downwards,and they will feel themselves actuated by some lowand abject Passion.
Thus if you cut off the top Branches of a Tree, andwill not suffer it to grow any higher, it will nottherefore cease to grow, but will quickly shoot outat the Bottom. The Man indeed who goes into theWorld only with the narrow Views of Self-interest,who catches at the Applause of an idle Multitude,as he can find no solid Contentment at the End ofhis Journey, so he deserves to meet with Disappointmentsin his Way; but he who is actuated by a noble Principle,whose Mind is so far enlarged as to take in the Prospectof his Country’s Good, who is enamoured withthat Praise which is one of the fair Attendants ofVirtue, and values not those Acclamations which arenot seconded by the impartial Testimony of his ownMind; who repines not at the low Station which Providencehas at present allotted him, but yet would willinglyadvance himself by justifiable Means to a more risingand advantageous Ground; such a Man is warmed witha generous Emulation; it is a virtuous Movement inhim to wish and to endeavour that his Power of doingGood may be equal to his Will.
The Man who is fitted out by Nature, and sent intothe World with great Abilities, is capable of doinggreat Good or Mischief in it. It ought thereforeto be the Care of Education to infuse into the untaintedYouth early Notices of Justice and Honour, that sothe possible Advantages of good Parts may not takean evil Turn, nor be perverted to base and unworthyPurposes. It is the Business of Religion and Philosophynot so much to extinguish our Passions, as to regulateand direct them to valuable well-chosen Objects:When these have pointed out to us which Course wemay lawfully steer, tis no Harm to set out all ourSail; if the Storms and Tempests of Adversity shouldrise upon us, and not suffer us to make the Havenwhere we would be, it will however prove no smallConsolation to us in these Circ*mstances, that we haveneither mistaken our Course, nor fallen into Calamitiesof our own procuring.
Religion therefore (were we to consider it no fartherthan as it interposes in the Affairs of this Life)is highly valuable, and worthy of great Veneration;as it settles the various Pretensions, and otherwiseinterfering Interests of mortal Men, and thereby consultsthe Harmony and Order of the great Community; as itgives a Man room to play his Part, and exert his Abilities;as it animates to Actions truly laudable in themselves,in their Effects beneficial to Society; as it inspiresrational Ambitions, correct Love, and elegant Desires.
Z.
[Footnote 1: ingenious]
[Footnote 2: In the Poem To Zelinda.]
* * * * *
No. 225 Saturday, November 17, 1711 Addison.
Nullum numen abest si sit Prudentia
Juv.
I have often thought if the Minds of Men were laidopen, we should see but little Difference betweenthat of the Wise Man and that of the Fool. Thereare infinite Reveries, numberless Extravagancies,and a perpetual Train of Vanities which pass throughboth. The great Difference is that the firstknows how to pick and cull his Thoughts for Conversation,by suppressing some, and communicating others; whereasthe other lets them all indifferently fly out in Words.This sort of Discretion, however, has no Place inprivate Conversation between intimate Friends.On such Occasions the wisest Men very often talk likethe weakest; for indeed the Talking with a Friend isnothing else but thinking aloud.
Tully has therefore very justly exposed a Preceptdelivered by some Ancient Writers, That a Man shouldlive with his Enemy in such a manner, as might leavehim room to become his Friend; and with his Friendin such a manner, that if he became his Enemy, itshould not be in his Power to hurt him. The firstPart of this Rule, which regards our Behaviour towardsan Enemy, is indeed very reasonable, as well as veryprudential; but the latter Part of it which regardsour Behaviour towards a Friend, savours more of Cunningthan of Discretion, and would cut a Man off from thegreatest Pleasures of Life, which are the Freedomsof Conversation with a Bosom Friend. Besides,that when a Friend is turned into an Enemy, and (asthe Son of Sirach calls him) a Bewrayer ofSecrets, the World is just enough to accuse the Perfidiousnessof the Friend, rather than the Indiscretion of thePerson who confided in him.
Discretion does not only shew it self in Words, butin all the Circ*mstances of Action; and is like anUnder-Agent of Providence, to guide and direct usin the ordinary Concerns of Life.
There are many more shining Qualities in the Mindof Man, but there is none so useful as Discretion;it is this indeed which gives a Value to all the rest,which sets them at work in their proper Times and Places,and turns them to the Advantage of the Person who ispossessed of them. Without it Learning is Pedantry,and Wit Impertinence; Virtue itself looks like Weakness;the best Parts only qualify a Man to be more sprightlyin Errors, and active to his own Prejudice.
Nor does Discretion only make a Man the Master ofhis own Parts, but of other Mens. The discreetMan finds out the Talents of those he Converses with,and knows how to apply them to proper Uses. Accordinglyif we look into particular Communities and Divisionsof Men, we may observe that it is the discreet Man,not the Witty, nor the Learned, nor the Brave, whoguides the Conversation, and gives Measures to theSociety. A Man with great Talents, but void ofDiscretion, is like Polyphemus in the Fable,Strong and Blind, endued with an irresistible Force,which for want of Sight is of no Use to him.
Though a Man has all other Perfections, and wantsDiscretion, he will be of no great Consequence inthe World; but if he has this single Talent in Perfection,and but a common Share of others, he may do what hepleases in his particular Station of Life.
At the same time that I think Discretion the mostuseful Talent a Man can be Master of, I look uponCunning to be the Accomplishment of little, mean,ungenerous Minds. Discretion points out the noblestEnds to us, and pursues the most proper and laudableMethods of attaining them: Cunning has only privateselfish Aims, and sticks at nothing which may makethem succeed. Discretion has large and extendedViews, and, like a well-formed Eye, commands a wholeHorizon: Cunning is a Kind of Short-sightedness,that discovers the minutest Objects which are nearat hand, but is not able to discern things at a distance.Discretion, the more it is discovered, gives a greaterAuthority to the Person who possesses it: Cunning,when it is once detected, loses its Force, and makesa Man incapable of bringing about even those Eventswhich he might have done, had he passed only for aplain Man. Discretion is the Perfection of Reason,and a Guide to us in all the Duties of Life; Cunningis a kind of Instinct, that only looks out after ourimmediate Interest and Welfare. Discretion isonly found in Men of strong Sense and good Understandings:Cunning is often to be met with in Brutes themselves,and in Persons who are but the fewest Removes fromthem. In short Cunning is only the Mimick ofDiscretion, and may pass upon weak Men, in the samemanner as Vivacity is often mistaken for Wit, andGravity for Wisdom.
The Cast of Mind which is natural to a discreet Man,makes him look forward into Futurity, and considerwhat will be his Condition Millions of Ages hence,as well as what it is at present. He knows thatthe Misery or Happiness which are reserv’d forhim in another World, lose nothing of their Realityby being placed at so great Distance from him.The Objects do not appear little to him because theyare remote. He considers that those Pleasuresand Pains which lie hid in Eternity, approach nearerto him every Moment, and will be present with him intheir full Weight and Measure, as much as those Painsand Pleasures which he feels at this very Instant.For this Reason he is careful to secure to himself
that which is the proper Happiness of his Nature, andthe ultimate Design of his Being. He carries hisThoughts to the End of every Action, and considersthe most distant as well as the most immediate Effectsof it. He supersedes every little Prospect ofGain and Advantage which offers itself here, if hedoes not find it consistent with his Views of an Hereafter.In a word, his Hopes are full of Immortality, hisSchemes are large and glorious, and his Conduct suitableto one who knows his true Interest, and how to pursueit by proper Methods.I have, in this Essay upon Discretion, consideredit both as an Accomplishment and as a Virtue, andhave therefore described it in its full Extent; notonly as it is conversant about worldly Affairs, butas it regards our whole Existence; not only as itis the Guide of a mortal Creature, but as it is ingeneral the Director of a reasonable Being. Itis in this Light that Discretion is represented bythe Wise Man, who sometimes mentions it under theName of Discretion, and sometimes under that of Wisdom.It is indeed (as described in the latter Part of thisPaper) the greatest Wisdom, but at the same time inthe Power of every one to attain. Its Advantagesare infinite, but its Acquisition easy; or to speakof her in the Words of the Apocryphal Writer whom Iquoted in my last Saturdays Paper, Wisdomis glorious, and never fadeth away, yet she is easilyseen of them that love her, and found of such as seekher. She preventeth them that desire her, in makingherself first known unto them. He that seekethher early, shall have no great Travel: for heshall find her sitting at his Doors. To thinktherefore upon her is Perfection of Wisdom, and whosowatcheth for her shall quickly be without Care.For she goeth about seeking such as are worthy of her,sheweth her self favourably unto them in the Ways,and meeteth them in every Thought. [1]
C.
[Footnote 1: Wisdom vi. 12-16.]
* * * * *
No. 226 Monday, November 19, 1711. [1] Steele.
—Mutum est pictura poema.
Hor. [2]
I have very often lamented and hinted my Sorrow inseveral Speculations, that the Art of Painting ismade so little Use of to the Improvement of our Manners.When we consider that it places the Action of the Personrepresented in the most agreeable Aspect imaginable,that it does not only express the Passion or Concernas it sits upon him who is drawn, but has under thoseFeatures the Height of the Painters Imagination.What strong Images of Virtue and Humanity might wenot expect would be instilled into the Mind from theLabours of the Pencil? This is a Poetry whichwould be understood with much less Capacity, and lessExpence of Time, than what is taught by Writings;but the Use of it is generally perverted, and thatadmirable Skill prostituted to the basest and most
unworthy Ends. Who is the better Man for beholdingthe most beautiful Venus, the best wroughtBacchanal, the Images of sleeping Cupids,languishing Nymphs, or any of the Representations ofGods, Goddesses, Demy-gods, Satyrs, Polyphemes,Sphinxes, or Fauns? But if the Virtues and Vices,which are sometimes pretended to be represented undersuch Draughts, were given us by the Painter in theCharacters of real Life, and the Persons of Men andWomen whose Actions have rendered them laudable orinfamous; we should not see a good History-Piece withoutreceiving an instructive Lecture. There needsno other Proof of this Truth, than the Testimony ofevery reasonable Creature who has seen the Cartonsin Her Majesty’s Gallery at Hampton—Court:These are Representations of no less Actions thanthose of our Blessed Saviour and his Apostles.As I now sit and recollect the warm Images which theadmirable Raphael has raised, it is impossibleeven from the faint Traces in ones Memory of whatone has not seen these two Years, to be unmoved atthe Horror and Reverence which appear in the wholeAssembly when the mercenary Man fell down dead; atthe Amazement of the Man born blind, when he firstreceives Sight; or at the graceless Indignation ofthe Sorcerer, when he is struck blind. The Lame,when they first find Strength in their Feet, standdoubtful of their new Vigour. The heavenly Apostlesappear acting these great Things, with a deep Senseof the Infirmities which they relieve, but no Valueof themselves who administer to their Weakness.They know themselves to be but Instruments; and thegenerous Distress they are painted in when divineHonours are offered to them, is a Representation inthe most exquisite Degree of the Beauty of Holiness.When St. Paul is preaching to the Athenians,with what wonderful Art are almost all the differentTempers of Mankind represented in that elegant Audience?You see one credulous of all that is said, anotherwrapt up in deep Suspence, another saying there issome Reason in what he says, another angry that theApostle destroys a favourite Opinion which he is unwillingto give up, another wholly convinced and holding outhis Hands in Rapture; while the Generality attend,and wait for the Opinion of those who are of leadingCharacters in the Assembly. I will not pretendso much as to mention that Chart on which is drawnthe Appearance of our Blessed Lord after his Resurrection.Present Authority, late Suffering, Humility and Majesty,Despotick Command, and [Divine] [3] Love, are at onceseated in his celestial Aspect. The Figures ofthe Eleven Apostles are all in the same Passion ofAdmiration, but discover it differently according totheir Characters. Peter receives his MastersOrders on his Knees with an Admiration mixed witha more particular Attention: The two next witha more open Ecstasy, though still constrained by theAwe of the Divine [4] Presence: The beloved Disciple,whom I take to be the Right of the two first Figures,has in his Countenance Wonder drowned in Love; andthe last Personage, whose Back is towards the Spectator[s],and his Side towards the Presence, one would fancyto be St. Thomas, as abashed by the Conscienceof his former Diffidence; which perplexed Concern itis possible Raphael thought too hard a Taskto draw but by this Acknowledgment of the Difficultyto describe it.The whole Work is an Exercise of the highest Pietyin the Painter; and all the Touches of a religiousMind are expressed in a Manner much more forciblethan can possibly be performed by the most moving Eloquence.These invaluable Pieces are very justly in the Handsof the greatest and most pious Sovereign in the World;and cannot be the frequent Object of every one attheir own Leisure: But as an Engraver is to thePainter what a Printer is to an Author, it is worthyHer Majesty’s Name, that she has encouragedthat Noble Artist, Monsieur Dorigny, [5] topublish these Works of Raphael. We haveof this Gentleman a Piece of the Transfiguration,which, I think, is held a Work second to none in theWorld.
Methinks it would be ridiculous in our People of Condition,after their large Bounties to Foreigners of no Nameor Merit, should they overlook this Occasion of having,for a trifling Subscription, a Work which it is impossiblefor a Man of Sense to behold, without being warmedwith the noblest Sentiments that can be inspired byLove, Admiration, Compassion, Contempt of this World,and Expectation of a better.
It is certainly the greatest Honour we can do ourCountry, to distinguish Strangers of Merit who applyto us with Modesty and Diffidence, which generallyaccompanies Merit. No Opportunity of this Kindought to be neglected; and a modest Behaviour shouldalarm us to examine whether we do not lose somethingexcellent under that Disadvantage in the Possessorof that Quality. My Skill in Paintings, whereone is not directed by the Passion of the Pictures,is so inconsiderable, that I am in very great Perplexitywhen I offer to speak of any Performances of Paintersof Landskips, Buildings, or single Figures. Thismakes me at a loss how to mention the Pieces whichMr. Boul exposes to Sale by Auction on Wednesdaynext in Shandois-street: But having heardhim commended by those who have bought of him heretoforefor great Integrity in his Dealing, and overheardhim himself (tho a laudable Painter) say, nothing ofhis own was fit to come into the Room with those hehad to sell, I fear’d I should lose an Occasionof serving a Man of Worth, in omitting to speak ofhis Auction.
T.
[Footnote 1: Swift to Stella, Nov. 18, 1711.
Do you ever read the SPECTATORS?I never do; they never come in my way; I go to nocoffee-houses. They say abundance of them arevery pretty; they are going to be printed in smallvolumes; Ill bring them over with me.]
[Footnote 2:
Pictura Poesis erit.
Hor.]
[Footnote 3: Brotherly]
[Footnote 4: coelestial]
[Footnote 5: Michel Dorigny, painter and engraver,native of St. Quentin, pupil and son-in-law of SimonVouet, whose style he adopted, was Professor in theParis Academy of Painting, and died at the age of48, in 1665. His son and Vouet’s grandson,Nicolo Dorigny, in aid of whose undertaking Steelewrote this paper in the Spectator, had been invitedfrom Rome by several of the nobility, to produce, withlicence from the Queen, engravings from Raphael’sCartoons, at Hampton Court. He offered eightplates 19 inches high, and from 25 to 30 inches long,for four guineas subscription, although, he said inhis Prospectus, the five prints of Alexanders Battlesafter Lebrun were often sold for twenty guineas.]
* * * * *
ADVERTIsem*nT.
There is arrivedfrom Italy
a Painter
who acknowledges himself the greatest Person ofthe Age in that Art,
and is willing to be as renowned in thisIsland
as he declares he is in Foreign Parts.
The Doctor paints thePoor for nothing.
* * * * *
No. 227. Tuesday, November 20,1711. Addison.
[Greek: O moi ego ti patho; ti hodussuos; ouch hypakoueis; Tan Baitan apodus eiskumata taena aleumai Homer tos thunnos skopiazetaiOlpis ho gripeus. Kaeka mae pothano, to geman teon hadu tetuktai.
Theoc.]
In my last Thursday’s Paper I made mentionof a Place called The Lovers’ Leap, whichI find has raised a great Curiosity among severalof my Correspondents. I there told them that thisLeap was used to be taken from a Promontory of Leucas.This Leucas was formerly a Part of Acarnania,being [joined to[1]] it by a narrow Neck of Land, whichthe Sea has by length of Time overflowed and washedaway; so that at present Leucas is dividedfrom the Continent, and is a little Island in theIonian Sea. The Promontory of this Island,from whence the Lover took his Leap, was formerlycalled Leucate. If the Reader has a mindto know both the Island and the Promontory by theirmodern Titles, he will find in his Map the ancientIsland of Leucas under the Name of St. Mauro,and the ancient Promontory of Leucate underthe Name of The Cape of St. Mauro.
Since I am engaged thus far in Antiquity, I must observethat Theocritus in the Motto prefixed to myPaper, describes one of his despairing Shepherds addressinghimself to his Mistress after the following manner,Alas! What will become of me! Wretch thatI am! Will you not hear me? Ill throw offmy Cloaths, and take a Leap into that Part of theSea which is so much frequented by Olphis theFisherman. And tho I should escape with my Life,I know you will be pleased with it. I shallleave it with the Criticks to determine whether thePlace, which this Shepherd so particularly pointsout, was not the above-mentioned Leucate, orat least some other Lovers Leap, which was supposedto have had the same Effect. I cannot believe,as all the Interpreters do, that the Shepherd meansnothing farther here than that he would drown himself,since he represents the Issue of his Leap as doubtful,by adding, That if he should escape with [Life,[2]]he knows his Mistress would be pleased with it; whichis, according to our Interpretation, that she wouldrejoice any way to get rid of a Lover who was so troublesometo her.
After this short Preface, I shall present my Readerwith some Letters which I have received upon thisSubject. The first is sent me by a Physician.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
The Lovers Leap, which you mention inyour 223d Paper, was generally, I believe, a veryeffectual Cure for Love, and not only for Love,but for all other Evils. In short, Sir, I am afraidit was such a Leap as that which Hero tookto get rid of her Passion for Leander.A Man is in no Danger of breaking his Heart, who breakshis Neck to prevent it. I know very well theWonders which ancient Authors relate concerningthis Leap; and in particular, that very many Personswho tried it, escaped not only with their Lives buttheir Limbs. If by this Means they got ridof their Love, tho it may in part be ascribed tothe Reasons you give for it; why may not we supposethat the cold Bath into which they plunged themselves,had also some Share in their Cure? A Leap intothe Sea or into any Creek of Salt Waters, very oftengives a new Motion to the Spirits, and a new Turnto the Blood; for which Reason we prescribe it inDistempers which no other Medicine will reach.I could produce a Quotation out of a very venerableAuthor, in which the Frenzy produced by Love, iscompared to that which is produced by the Bitingof a mad Dog. But as this Comparison is a littletoo coarse for your Paper, and might look as if itwere cited to ridicule the Author who has made useof it; I shall only hint at it, and desire you toconsider whether, if the Frenzy produced by thesetwo different Causes be of the same Nature, it maynot very properly be cured by the same Means.
I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant, and Well-wisher,_
ESCULAPIUS.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a young Woman crossed in Love.My Story is very long and melancholy. To giveyou the heads of it: A young Gentleman, afterhaving made his Applications to me for three Yearstogether, and filled my Head with a thousand Dreamsof Happiness, some few Days since married another.Pray tell me in what Part of the World your Promontorylies, which you call The Lovers Leap, and whetherone may go to it by Land? But, alas, I am afraidit has lost its Virtue, and that a Woman of ourTimes would find no more Relief in taking such aLeap, than in singing an Hymn to Venus.So that I must cry out with Dido in Dryden’sVirgil,
Ah! cruel Heaven, that made no Curefor Love!
Your disconsolate Servant,_
ATHENAIS.
MISTER SPICTATUR,
My Heart is so full of Lofes andPassions for Mrs. Gwinifrid, and
she is so pettish and overrun with Cholersagainst me, that if I had
the good Happiness to have my Dwelling(which is placed by my
Creat-Cranfather upon the Pottom of anHill) no farther Distance but
twenty Mile from the Lofers Leap, I wouldindeed indeafour to preak
my Neck upon it on Purpose. Now,good Mister SPICTATUR of Crete
Prittain, you must know it there isin Caernaruanshire a fery pig
Mountain, the Glory of all Wales,which is named Penmainmaure, and
you must also know, it iss no great Journeyon Foot from me; but the
Road is stony and bad for Shooes.Now, there is upon the Forehead of
this Mountain a very high Rock, (likea Parish Steeple) that cometh a
huge deal over the Sea; so when I am inmy Melancholies, and I do
throw myself from it, I do desire my ferygood Friend to tell me in
his Spictatur, if I shall be cureof my grefous Lofes; for there is
the Sea clear as Glass, and as creen asthe Leek: Then likewise if I
be drown, and preak my Neck, if Mrs. Gwinifridwill not lose me
afterwards. Pray be speedy in yourAnswers, for I am in crete Haste,
and it is my Tesires to do my Pusinesswithout Loss of Time. I remain
with cordial Affections, your ever lofingFriend, Davyth ap
Shenkyn.
P. S. My Law-suits have brought me toLondon, but I have lost my
Causes; and so have made my Resolutionsto go down and leap before the
Frosts begin; for I am apt to take Colds.
Ridicule, perhaps, is a better Expedient against Lovethan sober Advice, and I am of Opinion, that Hudibrasand Don Quixote may be as effectual to curethe Extravagancies of this Passion, as any of the oldPhilosophers. I shall therefore publish, veryspeedily, the Translation of a little GreekManuscript, which is sent me by a learned Friend.It appears to have been a Piece of those Records whichwere kept in the little Temple of Apollo, thatstood upon the Promontory of Leucate.The Reader will find it to be a Summary Account ofseveral Persons who tried the Lovers Leap, and ofthe Success they found in it. As there seem tobe in it some Anachronisms and Deviations from theancient Orthography, I am not wholly satisfied myselfthat it is authentick, and not rather the Productionof one of those Grecian Sophisters, who haveimposed upon the World several spurious Works of thisNature. I speak this by way of Precaution, becauseI know there are several Writers, of uncommon Erudition,who would not fail to expose my Ignorance, if theycaught me tripping in a Matter of so great Moment.[3]
C.
[Footnote 1: [divided from]]
[Footnote 2: [his Life,]]
[Footnote 3: The following Advertisem*nt appearedin Nos. 227-234, 237, 247 and 248, with the word certainlybefore be ready after the first insertion:
There is now Printing by Subscriptiontwo Volumes of the SPECTATORS on a large Characterin Octavo; the Price of the two Vols. well Bound andGilt two Guineas. Those who are inclined toSubscribe, are desired to make their first Paymentsto Jacob Tonson, Bookseller in the Strand, the Booksbeing so near finished, that they will be ready forthe Subscribers at or before Christmas next.
The Third and Fourth Volumes of the LUCUBRATIONSof Isaac Bickerstaff,
Esq., are ready to be delivered at thesame Place.
N.B. The Author desires that suchGentlemen who have not received
their Books for which they have Subscribed,would be pleased to
signify the same to Mr. Tonson.]
* * * * *
No. 228. Wednesday, November 21,1711. Steele.
Percunctatorem fugito, nam Garrulus idemest.
Hor.
There is a Creature who has all the Organs of Speech,a tolerable good Capacity for conceiving what is saidto it, together with a pretty proper Behaviour inall the Occurrences of common Life; but naturallyvery vacant of Thought in it self, and therefore forcedto apply it self to foreign Assistances. Of thisMake is that Man who is very inquisitive. Youmay often observe, that tho he speaks as good Senseas any Man upon any thing with which he is well acquainted,he cannot trust to the Range of his own Fancy to entertainhimself upon that Foundation, but goes on to stillnew Enquiries. Thus, tho you know he is fit forthe most polite Conversation, you shall see him verywell contented to sit by a Jockey, giving an Accountof the many Revolutions in his Horses Health, whatPotion he made him take, how that agreed with him,how afterwards he came to his Stomach and his Exercise,or any the like Impertinence; and be as well pleasedas if you talked to him on the most important Truths.This Humour is far from making a Man unhappy, tho itmay subject him to Raillery; for he generally fallsin with a Person who seems to be born for him, whichis your talkative Fellow. It is so ordered, thatthere is a secret Bent, as natural as the Meeting ofdifferent Sexes, in these two Characters, to supplyeach others Wants. I had the Honour the otherDay to sit in a publick Room, and saw an inquisitiveMan look with an Air of Satisfaction upon the Approachof one of these Talkers.
The Man of ready Utterance sat down by him, and rubbinghis Head, leaning on his Arm, and making an uneasyCountenance, he began; There is no manner of NewsTo-day. I cannot tell what is the Matter withme, but I slept very ill last Night; whether I caughtCold or no, I know not, but I fancy I do not wearShoes thick enough for the Weather, and I have coughedall this Week: It must be so, for the Custom ofwashing my Head Winter and Summer with cold Water,prevents any Injury from the Season entering thatWay; so it must come in at my Feet; But I take nonotice of it: as it comes so it goes. Mostof our Evils proceed from too much Tenderness; andour Faces are naturally as little able to resist theCold as other Parts. The Indian answeredvery well to an European, who asked him howhe could go naked; I am all Face.
I observed this Discourse was as welcome to my generalEnquirer as any other of more Consequence could havebeen; but some Body calling our Talker to anotherPart of the Room, the Enquirer told the next Man whosat by him, that Mr. such a one, who was just gonefrom him, used to wash his Head in cold Water everyMorning; and so repeated almost verbatim allthat had been said to him. The Truth is, the Inquisitiveare the Funnels of Conversation; they do not take inany thing for their own Use, but merely to pass itto another: They are the Channels through whichall the Good and Evil that is spoken in Town are conveyed.Such as are offended at them, or think they sufferby their Behaviour, may themselves mend that Inconvenience;for they are not a malicious People, and if you willsupply them, you may contradict any thing they havesaid before by their own Mouths. A farther Accountof a thing is one of the gratefullest Goods that canarrive to them; and it is seldom that they are moreparticular than to say, The Town will have it, or Ihave it from a good Hand: So that there is roomfor the Town to know the Matter more particularly,and for a better Hand to contradict what was said bya good one.
I have not known this Humour more ridiculous thanin a Father, who has been earnestly solicitous tohave an Account how his Son has passed his leisureHours; if it be in a Way thoroughly insignificant,there cannot be a greater Joy than an Enquirer discoversin seeing him follow so hopefully his own Steps:But this Humour among Men is most pleasant when theyare saying something which is not wholly proper fora third Person to hear, and yet is in itself indifferent.The other Day there came in a well-dressed young Fellow,and two Gentlemen of this Species immediately fella whispering his Pedigree. I could overhear, byBreaks, She was his Aunt; then an Answer, Ay, shewas of the Mothers Side: Then again in a littlelower Voice, His Father wore generally a darker Wig;Answer, Not much. But this Gentleman wears higherHeels to his Shoes.
As the Inquisitive, in my Opinion, are such merelyfrom a Vacancy in their own Imaginations, there isnothing, methinks, so dangerous as to communicateSecrets to them; for the same Temper of Enquiry makesthem as impertinently communicative: But no Man,though he converses with them, need put himself intheir Power, for they will be contented with Mattersof less Moment as well. When there is Fuel enough,no matter what it is—Thus the Ends of Sentencesin the News Papers, as, This wants Confirmation,This occasions many Speculations, and Time willdiscover the Event, are read by them, and considerednot as mere Expletives.
One may see now and then this Humour accompanied withan insatiable Desire of knowing what passes, withoutturning it to any Use in the world but merely theirown Entertainment. A Mind which is gratified thisWay is adapted to Humour and Pleasantry, and formedfor an unconcerned Character in the World; and, likemy self, to be a mere Spectator. This Curiosity,without Malice or Self-interest, lays up in the Imaginationa Magazine of Circ*mstances which cannot but entertainwhen they are produced in Conversation. If onewere to know, from the Man of the first Quality tothe meanest Servant, the different Intrigues, Sentiments,Pleasures, and Interests of Mankind, would it not bethe most pleasing Entertainment imaginable to enjoyso constant a Farce, as the observing Mankind muchmore different from themselves in their secret Thoughtsand publick Actions, than in their Night-caps andlong Periwigs?
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Plutarch tells us, that CaiusGracchus, the Roman, was frequently hurriedby his Passion into so loud and tumultuous a way ofSpeaking, and so strained his Voice as not to beable to proceed. To remedy this Excess, hehad an ingenious Servant, by Name Licinius,always attended him with a Pitch-pipe, or Instrumentto regulate the Voice; who, whenever he heard hisMaster begin to be high, immediately touched a softNote; at which, ’tis said, Caius wouldpresently abate and grow calm.
Upon recollecting this Story, I have frequentlywondered that this useful Instrument should havebeen so long discontinued; especially since we findthat this good Office of Licinius has preservedhis Memory for many hundred Years, which, methinks,should have encouraged some one to have revivedit, if not for the publick Good, yet for his ownCredit. It may be objected, that our loud Talkersare so fond of their own Noise, that they wouldnot take it well to be check’d by their Servants:But granting this to be true, surely any of theirHearers have a very good Title to play a soft Notein their own Defence. To be short, no Liciniusappearing and the Noise increasing, I was resolvedto give this late long Vacation to the Good of myCountry; and I have at length, by the Assistance ofan ingenious Artist, (who works to the Royal Society)almost compleated my Design, and shall be readyin a short Time to furnish the Publick with what Numberof these Instruments they please, either to lodge atCoffee-houses, or carry for their own private Use.In the mean time I shall pay that Respect to severalGentlemen, who I know will be in Danger of offendingagainst this Instrument, to give them notice of itby private Letters, in which I shall only write,Get a Licinius.
I should now trouble you no longer, butthat I must not conclude without desiring you toaccept one of these Pipes, which shall be left foryou with Buckley; and which I hope will be serviceableto you, since as you are silent yourself you aremost open to the Insults of the Noisy.
I am, SIR, &c.
W.B.
I had almost forgot to inform you, thatas an Improvement in this Instrument, there willbe a particular Note, which I call a Hush-Note; andthis is to be made use of against a long Story, Swearing,Obsceneness, and the like.
* * * * *
No. 229. Thursday, Nov. 22, 1711. Addison.
—Spirat adhuc amor,
Vivuntque commissi calores
AEoliae fidibus puellae.
Hor.
Among the many famous Pieces of Antiquity which arestill to be seen at Rome, there is the Trunkof a Statue [1] which has lost the Arms, Legs, andHead; but discovers such an exquisite Workmanship inwhat remains of it, that Michael Angelo declaredhe had learned his whole Art from it. Indeedhe studied it so attentively, that he made most ofhis Statues, and even his Pictures in that Gusto,to make use of the Italian Phrase; for whichReason this maimed Statue is still called MichaelAngelo’s School.
A Fragment of Sappho, which I design for theSubject of this Paper, [2] is in as great Reputationamong the Poets and Criticks, as the mutilated Figureabove-mentioned is among the Statuaries and Painters.Several of our Countrymen, and Mr. Dryden inparticular, seem very often to have copied after itin their Dramatick Writings; and in their Poems uponLove.
Whatever might have been the Occasion of this Ode,the English Reader will enter into the Beauties ofit, if he supposes it to have been written in thePerson of a Lover sitting by his Mistress. I shallset to View three different Copies of this beautifulOriginal: The first is a Translation by Catullus,the second by Monsieur Boileau, and the lastby a Gentleman whose Translation of the Hymn toVenus has been so deservedly admired.
Ad LESBIAM.
Ille mi par esse deo videtur,
Ille, si fas est, superare divos,
Qui sedens adversus identidem te,
Spectat,et audit.
Dulce ridentem, misero quod omnis
Eripit sensus mihi: nam simul te,
Lesbia, adspexi, nihil est super mi_
Quod loquaramens.
Lingua sed torpet, tenuis sub artus
Flamnia dimanat, sonitu suopte
Tinniunt aures, gemina teguntur
Lumina nocte.
My learned Reader will know very well the Reason whyone of these Verses is printed in Roman Letter;[3] and if he compares this Translation with the Original,will find that the three first Stanzas are rendredalmost Word for Word, and not only with the same Elegance,but with the same short Turn of Expression which isso remarkable in the Greek, and so peculiarto the Sapphick Ode. I cannot imagine forwhat Reason Madam Dacier has told us, thatthis Ode of Sappho is preserved entire in Longinus,since it is manifest to any one who looks into thatAuthors Quotation of it, that there must at least havebeen another Stanza, which is not transmitted to us.
The second Translation of this Fragment which I shallhere cite, is that of Monsieur Boileau.
Heureux! qui pres de toi, pour toi seulesoupire:
Qui jouit du plaisir de tentendre parler:
Qui te voit quelquefois doucement luisourire.
Les Dieux, dans son bonheur, peuvent-ilslegaler?
Je sens de veine en veine une subtileflamme
Courir par tout mon corps, si-tost queje te vois:
Et dans les doux transports, ou segaremon ame,
Je ne scaurois trouver de langue, ni devoix.
Un nuage confus se repand sur ma vue,
Je nentens plus, je tombe en de douceslangueurs;
Et pale, sans haleine, interdite, esperdue,
Un frisson me saisit, je tremble, je memeurs.
The Reader will see that this is rather an Imitationthan a Translation. The Circ*mstances do notlie so thick together, and follow one another withthat Vehemence and Emotion as in the Original.In short, Monsieur Boileau has given us allthe Poetry, but not all the Passion of this famousFragment. I shall, in the last Place, presentmy Reader with the English Translation.
I. Blest as th’immortal Gods is he,
The Youth who fondlysits by thee,
And hears and sees theeall the while
Softly speak and sweetlysmile.
II. Twas this deprived my Soul of Rest,
And raised such Tumultsin my Breast;
For while I gaz’d,in Transport tost,
My Breath was gone,my Voice was lost:
III. My Bosom glowed; the subtle Flame
Ran quick through allmy vital Frame;
O’er my dim Eyesa Darkness hung;
My Ears with hollowMurmurs rung.
IV. In dewy Damps my Limbs were child;
My Blood with gentleHorrors thrill’d;
My feeble Pulse forgotto play;
I fainted, sunk, anddy’d away.
Instead of giving any Character of this last Translation,I shall desire my learned Reader to look into theCriticisms which Longinus has made upon theOriginal. By that means he will know to whichof the Translations he ought to give the Preference.I shall only add, that this Translation is writtenin the very Spirit of Sappho, and as near theGreek as the Genius of our Language will possiblysuffer.
Longinus has observed, that this Descriptionof Love in Sappho is an exact Copy of Nature,and that all the Circ*mstances which follow one anotherin such an Hurry of Sentiments, notwithstanding theyappear repugnant to each other, are really such ashappen in the Phrenzies of Love.
I wonder, that not one of the Criticks or Editors,through whose Hands this Ode has passed, has takenOccasion from it to mention a Circ*mstance relatedby Plutarch. That Author in the famousStory of Antiochus, who fell in Love with Stratonice,his Mother-in-law, and (not daring to discover hisPassion) pretended to be confined to his Bed by Sickness,tells us, that Erasistratus, the Physician,found out the Nature of his Distemper by those Symptomsof Love which he had learnt from Sappho’sWritings. [4] Stratonice was in the Room ofthe Love-sick Prince, when these Symptoms discoveredthemselves to his Physician; and it is probable, thatthey were not very different from those which Sapphohere describes in a Lover sitting by his Mistress.This Story of Antiochus is so well known, thatI need not add the Sequel of it, which has no Relationto my present Subject.
C.
[Footnote 1: The Belvidere Torso.]
[Footnote 2: The other translation by AmbrosePhilips. See note to No. 223.]
[Footnote 3: Wanting in copies then known, itis here supplied by conjecture.]
[Footnote 4: In Plutarch’s Life of Demetrius.
When others entered Antiochus was entirelyunaffected. But when Stratonice came in, asshe often did, he shewed all the symptoms describedby Sappho, the faltering voice, the burning blush,the languid eye, the sudden sweat, the tumultuouspulse; and at length, the passion overcoming hisspirits, a swoon and mortal paleness.]
* * * * *
No. 230. Friday, Nov. 23, 1711. Steele.
Homines ad Deos nulla re propius accedunt,quam salutem Hominibus
dando.
Tull.
Human Nature appears a very deformed, or a very beautifulObject, according to the different Lights in whichit is viewed. When we see Men of inflamed Passions,or of wicked Designs, tearing one another to piecesby open Violence, or undermining each other by secretTreachery; when we observe base and narrow Ends pursuedby ignominious and dishonest Means; when we beholdMen mixed in Society as if it were for the Destructionof it; we are even ashamed of our Species, and outof Humour with our own Being: But in anotherLight, when we behold them mild, good, and benevolent,full of a generous Regard for the publick Prosperity,compassionating [each [1]] others Distresses, and relievingeach others Wants, we can hardly believe they are Creaturesof the same Kind. In this View they appear Gods
to each other, in the Exercise of the noblest Power,that of doing Good; and the greatest Compliment wehave ever been able to make to our own Being, has beenby calling this Disposition of Mind Humanity.We cannot but observe a Pleasure arising in our ownBreast upon the seeing or hearing of a generous Action,even when we are wholly disinterested in it.I cannot give a more proper Instance of this, thanby a Letter from Pliny, in which he recommendsa Friend in the most handsome manner, and, methinks,it would be a great Pleasure to know the Success ofthis Epistle, though each Party concerned in it hasbeen so many hundred Years in his Grave.To MAXIMUS.
What I should gladly do for any Friendof yours, I think I may now with Confidence requestfor a Friend of mine. Arrianus Maturius isthe most considerable Man of his Country; when Icall him so, I do not speak with Relation to hisFortune, though that is very plentiful, but to hisIntegrity, Justice, Gravity, and Prudence; his Adviceis useful to me in Business, and his Judgment inMatters of Learning: His Fidelity, Truth, andgood Understanding, are very great; besides this,he loves me as you do, than which I cannot say anything that signifies a warmer Affection. Hehas nothing that’s aspiring; and though hemight rise to the highest Order of Nobility, he keepshimself in an inferior Rank; yet I think my selfbound to use my Endeavours to serve and promotehim; and would therefore find the Means of addingsomething to his Honours while he neither expects norknows it, nay, though he should refuse it. Something,in short, I would have for him that may be honourable,but not troublesome; and I entreat that you willprocure him the first thing of this kind that offers,by which you will not only oblige me, but him also;for though he does not covet it, I know he willbe as grateful in acknowledging your Favour as ifhe had asked it. [2]
Mr. SPECTATOR,
The Reflections in some of your Paperson the servile manner of Education now in Use, havegiven Birth to an Ambition, which, unless you discountenanceit, will, I doubt, engage me in a very difficult,tho not ungrateful Adventure. I am about toundertake, for the sake of the British Youth,to instruct them in such a manner, that the most dangerousPage in Virgil or Homer may be read bythem with much Pleasure, and with perfect Safetyto their Persons.
Could I prevail so far as to be honouredwith the Protection of some few of them, (for Iam not Hero enough to rescue many) my Design is toretire with them to an agreeable Solitude; thoughwithin the Neighbourhood of a City, for the Convenienceof their being instructed in Musick, Dancing, Drawing,Designing, or any other such Accomplishments, whichit is conceived may make as proper Diversions forthem, and almost as pleasant, as the little sordidGames which dirty School-boys are so much delightedwith. It may easily be imagined, how such apretty Society, conversing with none beneath themselves,and sometimes admitted as perhaps not unentertainingParties amongst better Company, commended and caressedfor their little Performances, and turned by suchConversations to a certain Gallantry of Soul, mightbe brought early acquainted with some of the mostpolite English Writers. This having giventhem some tolerable Taste of Books, they would makethemselves Masters of the Latin Tongue byMethods far easier than those in Lilly, withas little Difficulty or Reluctance as young Ladieslearn to speak French, or to sing ItalianOperas. When they had advanced thus far, it wouldbe time to form their Taste something more exactly:One that had any true Relish of fine Writing, might,with great Pleasure both to himself and them, runover together with them the best Roman Historians,Poets, and Orators, and point out their more remarkableBeauties; give them a short Scheme of Chronology,a little View of Geography, Medals, Astronomy, orwhat else might best feed the busy inquisitive Humourso natural to that Age. Such of them as hadthe least Spark of Genius, when it was once awakenedby the shining Thoughts and great Sentiments ofthose admired Writers, could not, I believe, be easilywithheld from attempting that more difficult SisterLanguage, whose exalted Beauties they would haveheard so often celebrated as the Pride and Wonderof the whole Learned World. In the mean while,it would be requisite to exercise their Style inWriting any light Pieces that ask more of Fancythan of Judgment: and that frequently in theirNative Language, which every one methinks shouldbe most concerned to cultivate, especially Letters,in which a Gentleman must have so frequent Occasionsto distinguish himself. A Set of genteel good-naturedYouths fallen into such a Manner of Life, would formalmost a little Academy, and doubtless prove no suchcontemptible Companions, as might not often tempta wiser Man to mingle himself in their Diversions,and draw them into such serious Sports as might provenothing less instructing than the gravest Lessons.I doubt not but it might be made some of their FavouritePlays, to contend which of them should recite abeautiful Part of a Poem or Oration most gracefully,or sometimes to join in acting a Scene of Terence,Sophocles, or our own Shakespear.The Cause of Milo might again be pleadedbefore more favourable Judges, Caesar a secondtime be taught to tremble, and another Race of Atheniansbe afresh enraged at the Ambition of another Philip.Amidst these noble Amusem*nts, we could hope tosee the early Dawnings of their Imagination dailybrighten into Sense, their Innocence improve intoVirtue, and their unexperienced Good-nature directedto a generous Love of their Country.
I am, &c.
T.
[Footnote 1: of each]
[Footnote 2: Pliny, Jun, Epist. Bk.II. Ep. 2. Thus far the paper is by JohnHughes.]
* * * * *
No. 231. Saturday, November 24,1711. Addison.
O Pudor! O Pietas!
Mart.
Looking over the Letters which I have lately receivedfrom from my Correspondents, I met with the followingone, which is written with such a Spirit of Politeness,that I could not but be very much pleased with itmy self, and question not but it will be as acceptableto the Reader.
Mr. Spectator, [1]
You, who are no Stranger to Publick Assemblies,cannot but have observed the Awe they often strikeon such as are obliged to exert any Talent beforethem. This is a sort of elegant Distress, to whichingenuous Minds are the most liable, and may thereforedeserve some remarks in your Paper. Many abrave Fellow, who has put his Enemy to Flight inthe Field, has been in the utmost Disorder upon makinga Speech before a Body of his Friends at home:One would think there was some kind of Fascinationin the Eyes of a large Circle of People, when dartingaltogether upon one Person. I have seen a newActor in a Tragedy so bound up by it as to be scarceable to speak or move, and have expected he wouldhave died above three Acts before the Dagger or Cupof Poison were brought in. It would not be amiss,if such an one were at first introduced as a Ghostor a Statue, till he recovered his Spirits, andgrew fit for some living Part.
As this sudden Desertion of ones selfshews a Diffidence, which is not displeasing, itimplies at the same time the greatest Respect to anAudience that can be. It is a sort of mute Eloquence,which pleads for their Favour much better than Wordscould do; and we find their Generosity naturallymoved to support those who are in so much Perplexityto entertain them. I was extremely pleased witha late Instance of this Kind at the Opera of Almahide,in the Encouragement given to a young Singer, [2]whose more than ordinary Concern on her first Appearance,recommended her no less than her agreeable Voice,and just Performance. Meer Bashfulness withoutMerit is awkward; and Merit without Modesty, insolent.But modest Merit has a double Claim to Acceptance,and generally meets with as many Patrons as Beholders.I am, &c.
It is impossible that a Person should exert himselfto Advantage in an Assembly, whether it be his Parteither to sing or speak, who lies under too greatOppressions of Modesty. I remember, upon talkingwith a Friend of mine concerning the Force of Pronunciation,our Discourse led us into the Enumeration of the severalOrgans of Speech which an Orator ought to have inPerfection, as the Tongue, the Teeth [the Lips,] theNose, the Palate, and the Wind-pipe. Upon which,says my Friend, you have omitted the most materialOrgan of them all, and that is the Forehead.
But notwithstanding an Excess of Modesty obstructsthe Tongue, and renders it unfit for its Offices,a due Proportion of it is thought so requisite toan Orator, that Rhetoricians have recommended it totheir Disciples as a Particular in their Art. Cicerotells us that he never liked an Orator who did notappear in some little Confusion at the Beginning ofhis Speech, and confesses that he himself never enteredupon an Oration without Trembling and Concern.It is indeed a kind of Deference which is due to agreat Assembly, and seldom fails to raise a Benevolencein the Audience towards the Person who speaks.My Correspondent has taken notice that the bravestMen often appear timorous on these Occasions, as indeedwe may observe, that there is generally no Creaturemore impudent than a Coward.
—Lingua melior, sedfrigida bello
Dextera—
A bold Tongue and a feeble Arm are the Qualificationsof Drances in Virgil; as Homer,to express a Man both timorous and sawcy, makes useof a kind of Point, which is very rarely to be metwith in his Writings; namely, that he had the Eyesof a Dog, but the Heart of a Deer. [3]
A just and reasonable Modesty does not only recommendEloquence, but sets off every great Talent which aMan can be possessed of. It heightens all theVirtues which it accompanies like the Shades in Paintings,it raises and rounds every Figure, and makes the Coloursmore beautiful, though not so glaring as they wouldbe without it.
Modesty is not only an Ornament, but also a Guardto Virtue. It is a kind of quick and delicateFeeling in the Soul, which makes her shrinkand withdraw her self from every thing that has Dangerin it. It is such an exquisite Sensibility, aswarns her to shun the first Appearance of every thingwhich is hurtful.
I cannot at present recollect either the Place orTime of what I am going to mention; but I have readsomewhere in the History of Ancient Greece,that the Women of the Country were seized with anunaccountable Melancholy, which disposed several ofthem to make away with themselves. The Senate,after having tried many Expedients to prevent thisSelf-Murder, which was so frequent among them, publishedan Edict, That if any Woman whatever should lay violentHands upon her self, her Corps should be exposed nakedin the Street, and dragged about the City in the mostpublick Manner. This Edict immediately put a Stopto the Practice which was before so common. Wemay see in this Instance the Strength of Female Modesty,which was able to overcome the Violence even of Madnessand Despair. The Fear of Shame in the Fair Sex,was in those Days more prevalent than that of Death.
If Modesty has so great an Influence over our Actions,and is in many Cases so impregnable a Fence to Virtue;what can more undermine Morality than that Politenesswhich reigns among the unthinking Part of Mankind,and treats as unfashionable the most ingenuous Partof our Behaviour; which recommends Impudence as goodBreeding, and keeps a Man always in Countenance, notbecause he is Innocent, but because he is Shameless?
Seneca thought Modesty so great a Check toVice, that he prescribes to us the Practice of itin Secret, and advises us to raise it in ourselvesupon imaginary Occasions, when such as are real donot offer themselves; for this is the Meaning of hisPrecept, that when we are by ourselves, and in ourgreatest Solitudes, we should fancy that Catostands before us, and sees every thing we do.In short, if you banish Modesty out of the World,she carries away with her half the Virtue that is init.
After these Reflections on Modesty, as it is a Virtue;I must observe, that there is a vicious Modesty, whichjustly deserves to be ridiculed, and which those Personsvery often discover, who value themselves most upona well-bred Confidence. This happens when a Manis ashamed to act up to his Reason, and would notupon any Consideration be surprized in the Practiceof those Duties, for the Performance of which he wassent into the World. Many an impudent Libertinewould blush to be caught in a serious Discourse, andwould scarce be able to show his Head, after havingdisclosed a religious Thought. Decency of Behaviour,all outward Show of Virtue, and Abhorrence of Vice,are carefully avoided by this Set of Shame-faced People,as what would disparage their Gayety of Temper, andinfallibly bring them to Dishonour. This is sucha Poorness of Spirit, such a despicable Cowardice,such a degenerate abject State of Mind, as one wouldthink Human Nature incapable of, did we not meet withfrequent Instances of it in ordinary Conversation.
There is another Kind of vicious Modesty which makesa Man ashamed of his Person, his Birth, his Profession,his Poverty, or the like Misfortunes, which it wasnot in his Choice to prevent, and is not in his Powerto rectify. If a Man appears ridiculous by anyof the afore-mentioned Circ*mstances, he becomes muchmore so by being out of Countenance for them.They should rather give him Occasion to exert a nobleSpirit, and to palliate those Imperfections which arenot in his Power, by those Perfections which are;or to use a very witty Allusion of an eminent Author,he should imitate Caesar, who, because his Headwas bald, cover’d that Defect with Laurels.
C.
[Footnote 1: This letter is by John Hughes.]
[Footnote 2: Mrs. Barbier]
[Footnote 3: Iliad, i. 225.]
* * * * *
No. 232. Monday, November 26, 1711. Hughes [1].
Nihil largiundo gloriam adeptus est.
Sallust.
My wise and good Friend, Sir Andrew Freeport,divides himself almost equally between the Town andthe Country: His Time in Town is given up tothe Publick, and the Management of his private Fortune;and after every three or four Days spent in this Manner,he retires for as many to his Seat within a few Milesof the Town, to the Enjoyment of himself, his Family,and his Friend. Thus Business and Pleasure, orrather, in Sir Andrew, Labour and Rest, recommendeach other. They take their Turns with so quicka Vicissitude, that neither becomes a Habit, or takesPossession of the whole Man; nor is it possible heshould be surfeited with either. I often seehim at our Club in good Humour, and yet sometimestoo with an Air of Care in his Looks: But in hisCountry Retreat he is always unbent, and such a Companionas I could desire; and therefore I seldom fail tomake one with him when he is pleased to invite me.
The other Day, as soon as we were got into his Chariot,two or three Beggars on each Side hung upon the Doors,and solicited our Charity with the usual Rhetorickof a sick Wife or Husband at home, three or four helplesslittle Children all starving with Cold and Hunger.We were forced to part with some Money to get ridof their Importunity; and then we proceeded on ourJourney with the Blessings and Acclamations of thesePeople.
Well then, says Sir Andrew, wego off with the Prayers and good Wishes of the Beggars,and perhaps too our Healths will be drunk at thenext Ale-house: So all we shall be able to valueourselves upon, is, that we have promoted the Tradeof the Victualler and the Excises of the Government.But how few Ounces of Wooll do we see upon the Backsof those poor Creatures? And when they shall nextfall in our Way, they will hardly be better dress’d;they must always live in Rags to look like Objectsof Compassion. If their Families too are suchas they are represented, tis certain they cannotbe better clothed, and must be a great deal worsefed: One would think Potatoes should be all theirBread, and their Drink the pure Element; and then whatgoodly Customers are the Farmers like to have fortheir Wooll, Corn and Cattle? Such Customers,and such a Consumption, cannot choose but advancethe landed Interest, and hold up the Rents of the Gentlemen.
But of all Men living, we Merchants, wholive by Buying and Selling, ought never to encourageBeggars. The Goods which we export are indeedthe Product of the lands, but much the greatest Partof their Value is the Labour of the People:but how much of these Peoples Labour shall we exportwhilst we hire them to sit still? The very Almsthey receive from us, are the Wages of Idleness.I have often thought that no Man should be permittedto take Relief from the Parish, or to ask it in theStreet, till he has first purchased as much as possibleof his own Livelihood by the Labour of his own Hands;and then the Publick ought only to be taxed to makegood the Deficiency. If this Rule was strictlyobserved, we should see every where such a Multitudeof new Labourers, as would in all probability reducethe Prices of all our Manufactures. It is thevery Life of Merchandise to buy cheap and sell dear.The Merchant ought to make his Outset as cheap as possible,that he may find the greater Profit upon his Returns;and nothing will enable him to do this like theReduction of the Price of Labour upon all our Manufactures.This too would be the ready Way to increase the Numberof our Foreign Markets: The Abatement of the Priceof the Manufacture would pay for the Carriage ofit to more distant Countries; and this Consequencewould be equally beneficial both to the Landed andTrading Interests. As so great an Addition oflabouring Hands would produce this happy Consequenceboth to the Merchant and the Gentle man; our Liberalityto common Beggars, and every other Obstruction tothe Increase of Labourers, must be equally perniciousto both.
Sir Andrew then went on to affirm, That theReduction of the Prices of our Manufactures by theAddition of so many new Hands, would be no Inconvenienceto any Man: But observing I was something startledat the Assertion, he made a short Pause, and thenresumed the Discourse.
It may seem, says he, a Paradox, thatthe Price of Labour should be reduced without anAbatement of Wages, or that Wages can be abated withoutany Inconvenience to the Labourer, and yet nothingis more certain than that both those Things mayhappen. The Wages of the Labourers make thegreatest Part of the Price of every Thing that isuseful; and if in Proportion with the Wages the Pricesof all other Things should be abated, every Labourerwith less Wages would be still able to purchaseas many Necessaries of Life; where then would be theInconvenience? But the Price of Labour may bereduced by the Addition of more Hands to a Manufacture,and yet the Wages of Persons remain as high as ever.The admirable Sir William Petty [2] has given Examplesof this in some of his Writings: One of them,as I remember, is that of a Watch, which I shallendeavour to explain so as shall suit my presentPurpose. It is certain that a single Watch couldnot be made so cheap in Proportion by one only Man,as a hundred Watches by a hundred; for as thereis vast Variety in the Work, no one Person could equallysuit himself to all the Parts of it; the Manufacturewould be tedious, and at last but clumsily performed:But if an hundred Watches were to be made by a hundredMen, the Cases may be assigned to one, the Dialsto another, the Wheels to another, the Springs to another,and every other Part to a proper Artist; as therewould be no need of perplexing any one Person withtoo much Variety, every one would be able to performhis single Part with greater Skill and Expedition;and the hundred Watches would be finished in onefourth Part of the Time of the first one, and everyone of them at one fourth Part of the Cost, thothe Wages of every Man were equal. The Reductionof the Price of the Manufacture would increase theDemand of it, all the same Hands would be stillemployed and as well paid. The same Rule willhold in the Clothing, the Shipping, and all the otherTrades whatsoever. And thus an Addition ofHands to our Manufactures will only reduce the Priceof them; the Labourer will still have as much Wages,and will consequently be enabled to purchase more Convenienciesof Life; so that every Interest in the Nation wouldreceive a Benefit from the Increase of our WorkingPeople.
Besides, I see no Occasion for this Charityto common Beggars, since
every Beggar is an Inhabitant of a Parish,and every Parish is taxed
to the Maintenance of their own Poor.[3]
For my own part, I cannot be mightilypleased with the Laws which have done this, whichhave provided better to feed than employ the Poor.We have a Tradition from our Forefathers, that afterthe first of those Laws was made, they were insultedwith that famous Song;
Hang Sorrow, and cast awayCare,
The Parish is bound to findus, &c.
And if we will be so good-natured as tomaintain them without Work,
they can do no less in Return than singus The Merry Beggars.
What then? Am I against all Actsof Charity? God forbid! I know of no Virtuein the Gospel that is in more pathetical Expressionsrecommended to our Practice. I was hungry and[ye] [4] gave me no Meat, thirsty and ye gave meno Drink, naked and ye clothed me not, a Strangerand ye took me not in, sick and in prison and ye visitedme not. Our Blessed Saviour treats theExercise or Neglect of Charity towards a poor Man,as the Performance or Breach of this Duty towardshimself. I shall endeavour to obey the Willof my Lord and Master: And therefore if anindustrious Man shall submit to the hardest Labourand coarsest Fare, rather than endure the Shameof taking Relief from the Parish, or asking it inthe Street, this is the Hungry, the Thirsty, theNaked; and I ought to believe, if any Man is come hitherfor Shelter against Persecution or Oppression, thisis the Stranger, and I ought to take him in.If any Countryman of our own is fallen into the Handsof Infidels, and lives in a State of miserable Captivity,this is the Man in Prison, and I should contributeto his Ransom. I ought to give to an Hospitalof Invalids, to recover as many useful Subjects asI can; but I shall bestow none of my Bounties uponan Alms-house of idle People; and for the same ReasonI should not think it a Reproach to me if I hadwithheld my Charity from those common Beggars.But we prescribe better Rules than we are able topractise; we are ashamed not to give into the mistakenCustoms of our Country: But at the same time,I cannot but think it a Reproach worse than that ofcommon Swearing, that the Idle and the Abandonedare suffered in the Name of Heaven and all thatis sacred, to extort from Christian and tender Mindsa Supply to a profligate Way of Life, that is alwaysto be supported, but never relieved.
[Z.] [5]
[Footnote 1: Or Henry Martyn?]
[Footnote 2: Surveyor-general of Ireland to CharlesII. See his Discourse of Taxes (1689).]
[Footnote 3: Our idle poor till the time of HenryVIII. lived upon alms. After the dissolutionof the monasteries experiments were made for theircare, and by a statute 43 Eliz. overseers were appointedand Parishes charged to maintain their helpless poorand find work for the sturdy. In Queen Annestime the Poor Law had been made more intricate andtroublesome by the legislation on the subject thathad been attempted after the Restoration.]
[Footnote 4: [you] throughout, and infirst reprint.]
[Footnote 5: X.]
* * * * *
No. 233. Tuesday, Nov. 27, 1711. Addison.
—Tanquam hec sint nostri medicinafuroris,
Aut Deus ille malis hominum mitescerediscat.
Virg.
I shall, in this Paper, discharge myself of the PromiseI have made to the Publick, by obliging them witha Translation of the little Greek Manuscript,which is said to have been a Piece of those Recordsthat were preserved in the Temple of Apollo,upon the Promontory of Leucate: It isa short History of the Lovers Leap, and is inscribed,An Account of Persons Male and Female, who offeredup their Vows in the Temple of the Pythian Apollo,in the Forty sixth Olympiad, and leaped from thePromontory of Leucate into the Ionian Sea,in order to cure themselves of the Passion of Love.
This Account is very dry in many Parts, as only mentioningthe Name of the Lover who leaped, the Person he leapedfor, and relating, in short, that he was either cured,or killed, or maimed by the Fall. It indeed givesthe Names of so many who died by it, that it wouldhave looked like a Bill of Mortality, had I translatedit at full length; I have therefore made an Abridgmentof it, and only extracted such particular Passagesas have something extraordinary, either in the Case,or in the Cure, or in the Fate of the Person who ismentioned in it. After this short Preface takethe Account as follows.
Battus, the Son of Menalcasthe Sicilian, leaped for Bombyca
the Musician: Got rid of his Passionwith the Loss of his Right Leg
and Arm, which were broken in the Fall.
Melissa, in Love with Daphnis,very much bruised, but escaped with
Life.
Cynisca, the Wife of AEschines,being in Love with Lycus; and AEschinesher Husband being in Love with Eurilla; (whichhad made this married Couple very uneasy to oneanother for several Years) both the Husband andthe Wife took the Leap by Consent; they both of themescaped, and have lived very happily together eversince.
Larissa, a Virgin of Thessaly,deserted by Plexippus, after a Courtshipof three Years; she stood upon the Brow of the Promontoryfor some time, and after having thrown down a Ring,a Bracelet, and a little Picture, with other Presentswhich she had received from Plexippus, shethrew her self into the Sea, and was taken up alive.
N. B. Larissa, before sheleaped, made an Offering of a Silver
Cupid in the Temple of Apollo.
Simaetha, in Love with Daphnisthe Myndian, perished in the
Fall.
Charixus, the Brother of Sappho,in Love with Rhodope the Courtesan, havingspent his whole Estate upon her, was advised by hisSister to leap in the Beginning of his Amour, butwould not hearken to her till he was reduced tohis last Talent; being forsaken by Rhodope,at length resolved to take the Leap. Perishedin it.
Aridaeus, a beautiful Youth ofEpirus, in Love with Praxinoe,
the Wife of Thespis, escaped withoutDamage, saving only that two of
his Fore-Teeth were struck out and hisNose a little flatted.
Cleora, a Widow of Ephesus,being inconsolable for the Death of her Husband,was resolved to take this Leap in order to get ridof her Passion for his Memory; but being arrivedat the Promontory, she there met with Dimmachusthe Miletian, and after a short Conversationwith him, laid aside the Thoughts of her Leap, andmarried him in the Temple of Apollo.
N. B. Her Widows Weeds arestill to be seen hanging up in the
Western Corner of the Temple.
Olphis, the Fisherman, having receiveda Box on the Ear from
Thestylis the Day before, and beingdetermined to have no more to do
with her, leaped, and escaped with Life.
Atalanta, an old Maid, whose Crueltyhad several Years before driven two or three despairingLovers to this Leap; being now in the fifty fifthYear of her Age, and in Love with an Officer of Sparta,broke her Neck in the Fall.
Hipparchus being passionately fondof his own Wife who was enamoured
of Bathyllus, leaped, and diedof his Fall; upon which his Wife
married her Gallant.
Tettyx, the Dancing-Master, inLove with Olympia an Athenian
Matron, threw himself from the Rock withgreat Agility, but was
crippled in the Fall.
Diagoras, the Usurer, in Love withhis Cook-Maid; he peeped several
times over the Precipice, but his Heartmisgiving him, he went back,
and married her that Evening.
Cinaedus, after having enteredhis own Name in the Pythian Records,
being asked the Name of the Person whomhe leaped for, and being
ashamed to discover it, he was set aside,and not suffered to leap.
Eunica, a Maid of Paphos,aged Nineteen, in Love with Eurybates.
Hurt in the Fall, but recovered.
N. B. This was her secondTime of Leaping.
Hesperus, a young Man of Tarentum,in Love with his Masters
Daughter. Drowned, the Boats notcoming in soon enough to his Relief.
Sappho, the Lesbian, inLove with Phaon, arrived at the Temple ofApollo, habited like a Bride in Garments aswhite as Snow. She wore a Garland of Myrtleon her Head, and carried in her Hand the littleMusical Instrument of her own Invention. Afterhaving sung an Hymn to Apollo, she hung upher Garland on one Side of his Altar, and her Harpon the other. She then tuck’d up her Vestments,like a Spartan Virgin, and amidst thousandsof Spectators, who were anxious for her Safety,and offered up Vows for her Deliverance, [marched[1]]directly forwards to the utmost Summit of the Promontory,where after having repeated a Stanza of her ownVerses, which we could not hear, she threw herselfoff the Rock with such an Intrepidity as was neverbefore observed in any who had attempted that dangerousLeap. Many who were present related, that theysaw her fall into the Sea, from whence she neverrose again; tho there were others who affirmed, thatshe never came to the Bottom of her Leap, but thatshe was changed into a Swan as she fell, and thatthey saw her hovering in the Air under that Shape.But whether or no the Whiteness and Fluttering of herGarments might not deceive those who looked uponher, or whether she might not really be metamorphosedinto that musical and melancholy Bird, is stilla Doubt among the Lesbians.
Alcaeus, the famous LyrickPoet, who had for some time been passionately inLove with Sappho, arrived at the Promontoryof Leucate that very Evening, in order totake the Leap upon her Account; but hearing thatSappho had been there before him, and thather Body could be no where found, he very generouslylamented her Fall, and is said to have written hishundred and twenty fifth Ode upon that Occasion.
Leaped in this Olympiad[250 [2]]
Males 124Females 126
Cured [120[3]]
Males 51Females 69
C.
[Footnote 1: [she marched]]
[Footnote 2: [350], and in first reprint.]
[Footnote 3: [150], corrected by an Erratum.]
* * * * *
No. 234. Wednesday, Nov. 28, 1711. Steele.
[Vellum in amicitia erraremus.
Hor.] [1]
You very often hear People, after a Story has beentold with some entertaining Circ*mstances, tell itover again with Particulars that destroy the Jest,but give Light into the Truth of the Narration.This sort of Veracity, though it is impertinent, hassomething amiable in it, because it proceeds fromthe Love of Truth, even in frivolous Occasions.If such honest Amendments do not promise an agreeableCompanion, they do a sincere Friend; for which Reasonone should allow them so much of our Time, if we fallinto their Company, as to set us right in Matters thatcan do us no manner of Harm, whether the Facts be oneWay or the other. Lies which are told out ofArrogance and Ostentation a Man should detect in hisown Defence, because he should not be triumphed over;Lies which are told out of Malice he should expose,both for his own sake and that of the rest of Mankind,because every Man should rise against a common Enemy:But the officious Liar many have argued is to be excused,because it does some Man good, and no Man hurt.The Man who made more than ordinary speed from a Fightin which the Athenians were beaten, and toldthem they had obtained a complete Victory, and putthe whole City into the utmost Joy and Exultation,was check’d by the Magistrates for his Falshood;but excused himself by saying, O Athenians!am I your Enemy because I gave you two happy Days?This Fellow did to a whole People what an Acquaintanceof mine does every Day he lives in some eminent Degreeto particular Persons. He is ever lying Peopleinto good Humour, and, as Plato said, it wasallowable in Physicians to lie to their Patients tokeep up their Spirits, I am half doubtful whether myFriends Behaviour is not as excusable. His Manneris to express himself surprised at the Chearful Countenanceof a Man whom he observes diffident of himself; andgenerally by that means makes his Lie a Truth.He will, as if he did not know any [thing] [2] of theCirc*mstance, ask one whom he knows at Variance withanother, what is the meaning that Mr. such a one,naming his Adversary, does not applaud him with thatHeartiness which formerly he has heard him? Hesaid indeed, (continues he) I would rather have thatMan for my Friend than any Man in England;but for an Enemy—This melts the Person hetalks to, who expected nothing but downright Railleryfrom that Side. According as he sees his Practicessucceeded, he goes to the opposite Party, and tellshim, he cannot imagine how it happens that some Peopleknow one another so little; you spoke with so muchColdness of a Gentleman who said more Good of you,than, let me tell you, any Man living deserves.The Success of one of these Incidents was, that thenext time that one of the Adversaries spied the other,he hems after him in the publick Street, and theymust crack a Bottle at the next Tavern, that used toturn out of the others Way to avoid one anothers Eyeshot.He will tell one Beauty she was commended by another,
nay, he will say she gave the Woman he speaks to,the Preference in a Particular for which she her selfis admired. The pleasantest Confusion imaginableis made through the whole Town by my Friends indirectOffices; you shall have a Visit returned after halfa Years Absence, and mutual Railing at each other everyDay of that Time. They meet with a thousand Lamentationsfor so long a Separation, each Party naming herselffor the greater Delinquent, if the other can possiblybe so good as to forgive her, which she has no Reasonin the World, but from the Knowledge of her Goodness,to hope for. Very often a whole Train of Railersof each Side tire their Horses in setting Mattersright which they have said during the War between theParties; and a whole Circle of Acquaintance are putinto a thousand pleasing Passions and Sentiments,instead of the Pangs of Anger, Envy, Detraction, andMalice.The worst Evil I ever observed this Man’s Falsehoodoccasion, has been that he turned Detraction intoFlattery. He is well skilled in the Manners ofthe World, and by over-looking what Men really are,he grounds his Artifices upon what they have a Mindto be. Upon this Foundation, if two distant Friendsare brought together, and the Cement seems to be weak,he never rests till he finds new Appearances to takeoff all Remains of Ill-will, and that by new Misunderstandingsthey are thoroughly reconciled.
To the SPECTATOR.
Devonshire, Nov. 14, 1711.
SIR,
There arrived in this Neighbourhood twoDays ago one of your gay Gentlemen of the Town,who being attended at his Entry with a Servant ofhis own, besides a Countryman he had taken up for aGuide, excited the Curiosity of the Village to learnwhence and what he might be. The Countryman(to whom they applied as most easy of Access) knewlittle more than that the Gentleman came from Londonto travel and see Fashions, and was, as he heardsay, a Free-thinker: What Religion that mightbe, he could not tell; and for his own Part, if theyhad not told him the Man was a Free-thinker, heshould have guessed, by his way of talking, he waslittle better than a Heathen; excepting only thathe had been a good Gentleman to him, and made him drunktwice in one Day, over and above what they had bargainedfor.
I do not look upon the Simplicity of this,and several odd Inquiries with which I shall nottrouble you to be wondered at, much less can I thinkthat our Youths of fine Wit, and enlarged Understandings,have any Reason to laugh. There is no Necessitythat every Squire in Great Britain shouldknow what the Word Free-thinker stands for; but itwere much to be wished, that they who value themselvesupon that conceited Title were a little better instructedin what it ought to stand for; and that they wouldnot perswade themselves a Man is really and trulya Free-thinker in any tolerable Sense, meerly by virtueof his being an Atheist, or an Infidel of any otherDistinction. It may be doubted, with good Reason,whether there ever was in Nature a more abject,slavish, and bigotted Generation than the Tribe ofBeaux Esprits, at present so prevailing inthis Island. Their Pretension to be Free-thinkers,is no other than Rakes have to be Free-livers, andSavages to be Free-men, that is, they can think whateverthey have a Mind to, and give themselves up to whateverConceit the Extravagancy of their Inclination, ortheir Fancy, shall suggest; they can think as wildlyas they talk and act, and will not endure that theirWit should be controuled by such formal Things asDecency and common Sense: Deduction, Coherence,Consistency, and all the Rules of Reason they accordinglydisdain, as too precise and mechanical for Men of aliberal Education.
This, as far as I could ever learn fromtheir Writings, or my own Observation, is a trueAccount of the British Free-thinker. OurVisitant here, who gave occasion to this Paper, hasbrought with him a new System of common Sense, theParticulars of which I am not yet acquainted with,but will lose no Opportunity of informing my selfwhether it contain any [thing] [3] worth Mr. SPECTATORSNotice. In the mean time, Sir, I cannot butthink it would be for the good of Mankind, if youwould take this Subject into your own Consideration,and convince the hopeful Youth of our Nation, thatLicentiousness is not Freedom; or, if such a Paradoxwill not be understood, that a Prejudice towardsAtheism is not Impartiality.
I am, SIR, Your most humble Servant,
PHILONOUS.
[Footnote 1:
Splendide mendax.
Hor.]
[Footnote 2: think]
[Footnote 3: think]
* * * * *
No. 235. Thursday, November 29,1711. Addison.
—Populares
Vincentum strepitus
Hor.
There is nothing which lies more within the Provinceof a Spectator than publick Shows and Diversions;and as among these there are none which can pretendto vie with those elegant Entertainments that are exhibitedin our Theatres, I think it particularly incumbenton me to take Notice of every thing that is remarkablein such numerous and refined Assemblies.
It is observed, that of late Years there has beena certain Person in the upper Gallery of the Playhouse,who when he is pleased with any Thing that is actedupon the Stage, expresses his Approbation by a loudKnock upon the Benches or the Wainscot, which may beheard over the whole Theatre. This Person iscommonly known by the Name of the Trunk-maker inthe upper Gallery. Whether it be, that theBlow he gives on these Occasions resembles that whichis often heard in the Shops of such Artizans, or thathe was supposed to have been a real Trunk-maker, whoafter the finishing of his Days Work used to unbend
his Mind at these publick Diversions with his Hammerin his Hand, I cannot certainly tell. There aresome, I know, who have been foolish enough to imagineit is a Spirit which haunts the upper Gallery, andfrom Time to Time makes those strange Noises; and therather, because he is observed to be louder than ordinaryevery Time the Ghost of Hamlet appears.Others have reported, that it is a dumb Man, who haschosen this Way of uttering himself when he is transportedwith any Thing he sees or hears. Others willhave it to be the Playhouse Thunderer, that exertshimself after this Manner in the upper Gallery, whenhe has nothing to do upon the Roof.But having made it my Business to get the best InformationI could in a Matter of this Moment, I find that theTrunk-maker, as he is commonly called, is a largeblack Man, whom no body knows. He generally leansforward on a huge Oaken Plant with great Attentionto every thing that passes upon the Stage. Heis never seen to smile; but upon hearing any thingthat pleases him, he takes up his Staff with both Hands,and lays it upon the next Piece of Timber that standsin his Way with exceeding Vehemence: After which,he composes himself in his former Posture, till suchTime as something new sets him again at Work.
It has been observed, his Blow is so well timed, thatthe most judicious Critick could never except againstit. As soon as any shining Thought is expressedin the Poet, or any uncommon Grace appears in the Actor,he smites the Bench or Wainscot. If the Audiencedoes not concur with him, he smites a second Time,and if the Audience is not yet awaked, looks roundhim with great Wrath, and repeats the Blow a thirdTime, which never fails to produce the Clap.He sometimes lets the Audience begin the Clap of themselves,and at the Conclusion of their Applause ratifies itwith a single Thwack.
He is of so great Use to the Play-house, that it issaid a former Director of it, upon his not being ableto pay his Attendance by reason of Sickness, keptone in Pay to officiate for him till such time as herecovered; but the Person so employed, tho he laidabout him with incredible Violence, did it in suchwrong Places, that the Audience soon found out thatit was not their old Friend the Trunk-maker.
It has been remarked, that he has not yet exertedhimself with Vigour this Season. He sometimesplies at the Opera; and upon Nicolini’sfirst Appearance, was said to have demolished threeBenches in the Fury of his Applause. He has brokenhalf a dozen Oaken Plants upon Dogget [1] andseldom goes away from a Tragedy of Shakespear,without leaving the Wainscot extremely shattered.
The Players do not only connive at his obstreperousApprobation, but very cheerfully repair at their ownCost whatever Damages he makes. They had oncea Thought of erecting a kind of Wooden Anvil for hisUse that should be made of a very sounding Plank,in order to render his Stroaks more deep and mellow;but as this might not have been distinguished fromthe Musick of a Kettle-Drum, the Project was laid aside.
In the mean while, I cannot but take notice of thegreat Use it is to an Audience, that a Person shouldthus preside over their Heads like the Director ofa Consort, in order to awaken their Attention, andbeat time to their Applauses; or, to raise my Simile,I have sometimes fancied the Trunk-maker in the upperGallery to be like Virgil’s Ruler of theWind, seated upon the Top of a Mountain, who, whenhe struck his Sceptre upon the Side of it, rousedan Hurricane, and set the whole Cavern in an Uproar.[2]
It is certain, the Trunk-maker has saved many a goodPlay, and brought many a graceful Actor into Reputation,who would not otherwise have been taken notice of.It is very visible, as the Audience is not a littleabashed, if they find themselves betrayed into a Clap,when their Friend in the upper Gallery does not comeinto it; so the Actors do not value themselves uponthe Clap, but regard it as a meer Brutum fulmen,or empty Noise, when it has not the Sound of the OakenPlant in it. I know it has been given out bythose who are Enemies to the Trunk-maker, that hehas sometimes been bribed to be in the Interest ofa bad Poet, or a vicious Player; but this is a Surmisewhich has no Foundation: his Stroaks are alwaysjust, and his Admonitions seasonable; he does notdeal about his Blows at Random, but always hits theright Nail upon the Head. [The [3]] inexpressibleForce wherewith he lays them on, sufficiently showsthe Evidence and Strength of his Conviction. HisZeal for a good Author is indeed outrageous, and breaksdown every Fence and Partition, every Board and Plank,that stands within the Expression of his Applause.
As I do not care for terminating my Thoughts in barrenSpeculations, or in Reports of pure Matter of Fact,without drawing something from them for the Advantageof my Countrymen, I shall take the Liberty to makean humble Proposal, that whenever the Trunk-makershall depart this Life, or whenever he shall havelost the Spring of his Arm by Sickness, old Age, Infirmity,or the like, some able-bodied Critick should be advancedto this Post, and have a competent Salary settled onhim for Life, to be furnished with Bamboos for Operas,Crabtree-Cudgels for Comedies, and Oaken Plants forTragedy, at the publick Expence. And to the Endthat this Place should be always disposed of accordingto Merit, I would have none preferred to it, who hasnot given convincing Proofs both of a sound Judgmentand a strong Arm, and who could not, upon Occasion,either knock down an Ox, or write a Comment upon Horace’sArt of Poetry. In short, I would have him a dueComposition of Hercules and Apollo,and so rightly qualified for this important Office,that the Trunk-maker may not be missed by our Posterity.
C.
[Footnote 1: Thomas Doggett, an excellent comicactor, who was for many years joint-manager with Wilkesand Cibber, died in 1721, and bequeathed the Coatand Badge that are rowed for by Thames Watermen everyfirst of August, from London Bridge to Chelsea.]
[Footnote 2: AEneid I. 85.]
[Footnote 3: That.]
* * * * *
No. 236. Friday, November 30, 1711. Steele
—Dare Jura maritis.
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
You have not spoken in so direct a mannerupon the Subject of Marriage as that important Casedeserves. It would not be improper to observeupon the Peculiarity in the Youth of Great Britain,of railing and laughing at that Institution; andwhen they fall into it, from a profligate Habitof Mind, being insensible of the [Satisfaction [1]]in that Way of Life, and treating their Wives withthe most barbarous Disrespect.
Particular Circ*mstances and Cast of Temper,must teach a Man the Probability of mighty Uneasinessesin that State, (for unquestionably some there arewhose very Dispositions are strangely averse to conjugalFriendship;) but no one, I believe, is by his own naturalComplexion prompted to teaze and torment anotherfor no Reason but being nearly allied to him:And can there be any thing more base, or serve tosink a Man so much below his own distinguishing Characteristick,(I mean Reason) than returning Evil for Good in soopen a Manner, as that of treating an helpless Creaturewith Unkindness, who has had so good an Opinionof him as to believe what he said relating to oneof the greatest Concerns of Life, by deliveringher Happiness in this World to his Care and Protection?Must not that Man be abandoned even to all mannerof Humanity, who can deceive a Woman with Appearancesof Affection and Kindness, for no other End butto torment her with more Ease and Authority? Isany Thing more unlike a Gentleman, than when hisHonour is engaged for the performing his Promises,because nothing but that can oblige him to it, tobecome afterwards false to his Word, and be alone theOccasion of Misery to one whose Happiness he butlately pretended was dearer to him than his own?Ought such a one to be trusted in his common Affairs?or treated but as one whose Honesty consisted onlyin his Incapacity of being otherwise?
There is one Cause of this Usage no lessabsurd than common, which takes place among themore unthinking Men: and that is the Desire toappear to their Friends free and at Liberty, andwithout those Trammels they have so much ridiculed.[To avoid [2]] this they fly into the other Extream,and grow Tyrants that they may seem Masters.Because an uncontroulable Command of their own Actionsis a certain Sign of entire Dominion, they wontso much as recede from the Government even in oneMuscle, of their Faces. A kind Look they believewould be fawning, and a civil Answer yielding the Superiority.To this must we attribute an Austerity they betrayin every Action: What but this can put a Manout of Humour in his Wife’s Company, tho heis so distinguishingly pleasant every where else?The Bitterness of his Replies, and the Severityof his Frowns to the tenderest of Wives, clearlydemonstrate, that an ill-grounded Fear of being thoughttoo submissive, is at the Bottom of this, as I amwilling to call it, affected Moroseness; but ifit be such only, put on to convince his Acquaintanceof his entire Dominion, let him take Care of the Consequence,which will be certain, and worse than the present Evil;his seeming Indifference will by Degrees grow intoreal Contempt, and if it doth not wholly alienatethe Affections of his Wife for ever from him, makeboth him and her more miserable than if it really didso.
However inconsistent it may appear, tobe thought a well-bred Person has no small Sharein this clownish Behaviour: A Discourse thereforerelating to good Breeding towards a loving and atender Wife, would be of great Use to this Sortof Gentlemen. Could you but once convince them,that to be civil at least is not beneath the Characterof a Gentleman, nor even tender Affection towardsone who would make it reciprocal, betrays any Softnessor Effeminacy that the most masculine Dispositionneed be ashamed of; could you satisfy them of theGenerosity of voluntary Civility, and the Greatnessof Soul that is conspicuous in Benevolence withoutimmediate Obligations; could you recommend to PeoplesPractice the Saying of the Gentleman quoted in oneof your Speculations, That he thought it incumbentupon him to make the Inclinations of a Woman ofMerit go along with her Duty: Could you,I say, perswade these Men of the Beauty and Reasonablenessof this Sort of Behaviour, I have so much Charityfor some of them at least, to believe you wouldconvince them of a Thing they are only ashamed toallow: Besides, you would recommend that Statein its truest, and consequently its most agreeableColours; and the Gentlemen who have for any Timebeen such professed Enemies to it, when Occasion shouldserve, would return you their Thanks for assistingtheir Interest in prevailing over their Prejudices.Marriage in general would by this Means be a moreeasy and comfortable Condition; the Husband wouldbe no where so well satisfied as in his own Parlour,nor the Wife so pleasant as in the Company of herHusband: A Desire of being agreeable in theLover would be increased in the Husband, and theMistress be more amiable by becoming the Wife.Besides all which, I am apt to believe we shouldfind the Race of Men grow wiser as their Progenitorsgrew kinder, and the Affection of the Parents wouldbe conspicuous in the Wisdom of their Children;in short, Men would in general be much better humouredthan they are, did not they so frequently exercisethe worst Turns of their Temper where they ought toexert the best.
MR. SPECTATOR,
I am a Woman who left the Admiration ofthis whole Town, to throw myself ([for [3]] Loveof Wealth) into the Arms of a Fool. When I marriedhim, I could have had any one of several Men of Sensewho languished for me; but my Case is just.I believed my superior Understanding would formhim into a tractable Creature. But, alas, mySpouse has Cunning and Suspicion, the inseparableCompanions of little Minds; and every Attempt Imake to divert, by putting on an agreeable Air,a sudden Chearfulness, or kind Behaviour, he looksupon as the first Act towards an Insurrection againsthis undeserved Dominion over me. Let everyone who is still to chuse, and hopes to govern a Fool,remember
TRISTISSA.
St. Martins, November 25.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
This is to complain of an evil Practicewhich I think very well deserves a Redress, thoughyou have not as yet taken any Notice of it: Ifyou mention it in your Paper, it may perhaps have avery good Effect. What I mean is the Disturbancesome People give to others at Church, by their Repetitionof the Prayers after the Minister, and that notonly in the Prayers, but also the Absolution and theCommandments fare no better, winch are in a particularManner the Priests Office: This I have knowndone in so audible a manner, that sometimes theirVoices have been as loud as his. As little asyou would think it, this is frequently done by Peopleseemingly devout. This irreligious Inadvertencyis a Thing extremely offensive: But I do notrecommend it as a Thing I give you Liberty to ridicule,but hope it may be amended by the bare Mention.
SIR,
Your very humble Servant,
T.S.
T.
[Footnote 1: Satisfactions]
[Footnote 2: [For this Reason should they appearthe least like what they were so much used to laughat, they would become the Jest of themselves, andthe Object of that Raillery they formerly bestowedon others. To avoid &c.]
[Footnote 3: [by], and in first reprint.]
* * * * *
No. 237. Saturday, December 1, 1711. Addison.
Visu carentem magna pars veri latet.
Senec. in OEdip.
It is very reasonable to believe, that Part of thePleasure which happy Minds shall enjoy in a futureState, will arise from an enlarged Contemplation ofthe Divine Wisdom in the Government of the World, anda Discovery of the secret and amazing Steps of Providence,from the Beginning to the End of Time. Nothingseems to be an Entertainment more adapted to the Natureof Man, if we consider that Curiosity is one of thestrongest and most lasting Appetites implanted in us,and that Admiration is one of our most pleasing Passions;and what a perpetual Succession of Enjoyments willbe afforded to both these, in a Scene so large andvarious as shall then be laid open to our View in theSociety of superior Spirits, who perhaps will joinwith us in so delightful a Prospect!
It is not impossible, on the contrary, that Part ofthe Punishment of such as are excluded from Bliss,may consist not only in their being denied this Privilege,but in having their Appetites at the same time vastlyencreased, without any Satisfaction afforded to them.In these, the vain Pursuit of Knowledge shall, perhaps,add to their Infelicity, and bewilder them into Labyrinthsof Error, Darkness, Distraction and Uncertainty ofevery thing but their own evil State. Miltonhas thus represented the fallen Angels reasoning togetherin a kind of Respite from their Torments, and creatingto themselves a new Disquiet amidst their very Amusem*nts;he could not properly have described the Sports ofcondemned Spirits, without that Cast of Horror andMelancholy he has so judiciously mingled with them.
Others apart sate on a Hill retired,
In Thoughts more elevate, and reason’dhigh
Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, andFate,
First Fate, Freewill, Foreknowledge absolute,
And found no End in wandring Mazes lost.[1]
In our present Condition, which is a middle State,our Minds are, as it were, chequered with Truth andFalshood; and as our Faculties are narrow, and ourViews imperfect, it is impossible but our Curiositymust meet with many Repulses. The Business ofMankind in this Life being rather to act than to know,their Portion of Knowledge is dealt to them accordingly.
From hence it is, that the Reason of the Inquisitivehas so long been exercised with Difficulties, in accountingfor the promiscuous Distribution of Good and Evilto the Virtuous and the Wicked in this World.From hence come all those pathetical Complaints ofso many tragical Events, which happen to the Wiseand the Good; and of such surprising Prosperity, whichis often the Lot[2] of the Guilty and the Foolish;that Reason is sometimes puzzled, and at a loss whatto pronounce upon so mysterious a Dispensation.
Plato expresses his Abhorrence of some Fablesof the Poets, which seem to reflect on the Gods asthe Authors of Injustice; and lays it down as a Principle,That whatever is permitted to befal a just Man, whetherPoverty, Sickness, or any of those Things which seemto be Evils, shall either in Life or Death conduceto his Good. My Reader will observe how agreeablethis Maxim is to what we find delivered by a greaterAuthority. Seneca has written a Discourse purposelyon this Subject[3], in which he takes Pains, afterthe Doctrine of the Stoicks, to shew that Adversityis not in itself an Evil; and mentions a noble Sayingof Demetrius, That nothing would be moreunhappy than a Man who had never known Affliction.He compares Prosperity to the Indulgence of a fondMother to a Child, which often proves his Ruin; butthe Affection of the Divine Being to that of a wiseFather who would have his Sons exercised with Labour,Disappointment, and Pain, that they may gather Strength,and improve their Fortitude. On this Occasionthe Philosopher rises into the celebrated Sentiment,That there is not on Earth a Spectator more worthythe Regard of a Creator intent on his Works than abrave Man superior to his Sufferings; to which he adds,That it must be a Pleasure to Jupiter himselfto look down from Heaven, and see Cato amidstthe Ruins of his Country preserving his Integrity.
This Thought will appear yet more reasonable, if weconsider human Life as a State of Probation, and Adversityas the Post of Honour in it, assigned often to thebest and most select Spirits.
But what I would chiefly insist on here, is, thatwe are not at present in a proper Situation to judgeof the Counsels by which Providence acts, since butlittle arrives at our Knowledge, and even that littlewe discern imperfectly; or according to the elegantFigure in Holy Writ, We see but in part, and asin a Glass darkly. [It is to be considered, thatProvidence[4]] in its Oeconomy regards the whole Systemof Time and Things together, [so that] we cannot discoverthe beautiful Connection between Incidents which liewidely separated in Time, and by losing so many Linksof the Chain, our Reasonings become broken and imperfect.Thus those Parts in the moral World which have notan absolute, may yet have a relative Beauty, in respectof some other Parts concealed from us, but open tohis Eye before whom Past, Present, and Tocome, are set together in one Point of View:and those Events, the Permission of which seems nowto accuse his Goodness, may in the Consummation ofThings both magnify his Goodness, and exalt his Wisdom.And this is enough to check our Presumption, sinceit is in vain to apply our Measures of Regularityto Matters of which we know neither the Antecedentsnor the Consequents, the Beginning nor the End.
I shall relieve my Reader from this abstracted Thought,by relating here a Jewish Tradition concerningMoses [5] which seems to be a kind of Parable,illustrating what I have last mentioned. Thatgreat Prophet, it is said, was called up by a Voicefrom Heaven to the top of a Mountain; where, in aConference with the Supreme Being, he was permittedto propose to him some Questions concerning his Administrationof the Universe. In the midst of this Divine[Colloquy [6]] he was commanded to look down on thePlain below. At the Foot of the Mountain thereissued out a clear Spring of Water, at which a Soldieralighted from his Horse to drink. He was no soonergone than a little Boy came to the same Place, andfinding a Purse of Gold which the Soldier had dropped,took it up and went away with it. Immediatelyafter this came an infirm old Man, weary with Ageand Travelling, and having quenched his Thirst, satdown to rest himself by the Side of the Spring.The Soldier missing his Purse returns to search forit, and demands it of the old Man, who affirms hehad not seen it, and appeals to Heaven in witness ofhis Innocence. The Soldier not believing hisProtestations, kills him. Moses fell on hisFace with Horror and Amazement, when the Divine Voicethus prevented his Expostulation: Be not surprised,Moses, nor ask why the Judge of the whole Earthhas suffer’d this Thing to come to pass:The Child is the Occasion that the Blood of the oldMan is spilt; but know, that the old Man whom thousawst, was the Murderer of that Child’s Father[7].
[Footnote 1: Paradise Lost, B. II. v. 557-561.]
[Footnote 2: In Saturdays Spectator, forreward read lot. Erratum in No. 238.]
[Footnote 3: De Constantia Sapientis.]
[Footnote 4: [Since Providence, therefore], andin 1st rep.]
[Footnote 5: Henry Mores Divine Dialogues.]
[Footnote 6: [Conference]]
[Footnote 7: No letter appended to original issueor reissue. Printed in Addison’s Works,1720. The paper has been claimed for John Hughesin the Preface to his Poems (1735).]
* * * * *
No. 238. Monday, December 3, 1711. Steele.
Nequicquam populo bibulas donaveris Aures;
Respue quod non es.
Persius, Sat. 4.
Among all the Diseases of the Mind, there is not onemore epidemical or more pernicious than the Love ofFlattery. For as where the Juices of the Bodyare prepared to receive a malignant Influence, therethe Disease rages with most Violence; so in this Distemperof the Mind, where there is ever a Propensity andInclination to suck in the Poison, it cannot be butthat the whole Order of reasonable Action must beoverturn’d, for, like Musick, it
—So softens and disarms the Mind,
That not one Arrow can Resistance find.
First we flatter ourselves, and then the Flatteryof others is sure of Success. It awakens ourSelf-Love within, a Party which is ever ready to revoltfrom our better Judgment, and join the Enemy without.Hence it is, that the Profusion of Favours we so oftensee poured upon the Parasite, are represented to us,by our Self-Love, as Justice done to Man, who so agreeablyreconciles us to our selves. When we are overcomeby such soft Insinuations and ensnaring Compliances,we gladly recompense the Artifices that are made useof to blind our Reason, and which triumph over theWeaknesses of our Temper and Inclinations.
But were every Man perswaded from how mean and lowa Principle this Passion is derived, there can beno doubt but the Person who should attempt to gratifyit, would then be as contemptible as he is now successful.Tis the Desire of some Quality we are not possessedof, or Inclination to be something we are not, whichare the Causes of our giving ourselves up to thatMan, who bestows upon us the Characters and Qualitiesof others; which perhaps suit us as ill and were aslittle design’d for our wearing, as their Cloaths.Instead of going out of our own complectional Natureinto that of others, twere a better and more laudableIndustry to improve our own, and instead of a miserableCopy become a good Original; for there is no Temper,no Disposition so rude and untractable, but may inits own peculiar Cast and Turn be brought to someagreeable Use in Conversation, or in the Affairs ofLife. A Person of a rougher Deportment, and lesstied up to the usual Ceremonies of Behaviour, will,like Manly in the Play,[1] please by the Gracewhich Nature gives to every Action wherein she iscomplied with; the Brisk and Lively will not wanttheir Admirers, and even a more reserved and melancholyTemper may at some times be agreeable.
When there is not Vanity enough awake in a Man toundo him, the Flatterer stirs up that dormant Weakness,and inspires him with Merit enough to be a Coxcomb.But if Flattery be the most sordid Act that can becomplied with, the Art of Praising justly is as commendable:For tis laudable to praise well; as Poets at one andthe same time give Immortality, and receive it themselvesfor a Reward: Both are pleased, the one whilsthe receives the Recompence of Merit, the other whilsthe shews he knows now to discern it; but above all,that Man is happy in this Art, who, like a skilfulPainter, retains the Features and Complection, butstill softens the Picture into the most agreeableLikeness.
There can hardly, I believe, be imagin’d a moredesirable Pleasure, than that of Praise unmix’dwith any Possibility of Flattery. Such was thatwhich Germanicus enjoyed, when, the Night beforea Battle, desirous of some sincere Mark of the Esteemof his Legions for him, he is described by Tacituslistening in a Disguise to the Discourse of a Soldier,and wrapt up in the Fruition of his Glory, whilstwith an undesigned Sincerity they praised his nobleand majestick Mien, his Affability, his Valour, Conduct,and Success in War. How must a Man have his Heartfull-blown with Joy in such an Article of Glory asthis? What a Spur and Encouragement still toproceed in those Steps which had already brought himto so pure a Taste of the greatest of mortal Enjoyments?
It sometimes happens, that even Enemies and enviousPersons bestow the sincerest Marks of Esteem whenthey least design it. Such afford a greater Pleasure,as extorted by Merit, and freed from all Suspicionof Favour or Flattery. Thus it is with Malvolio;he has Wit, Learning, and Discernment, but temper’dwith an Allay of Envy, Self-Love and Detraction:Malvolio turns pale at the Mirth and good Humourof the Company, if it center not in his Person; hegrows jealous and displeased when he ceases to bethe only Person admired, and looks upon the Commendationspaid to another as a Detraction from his Merit, andan Attempt to lessen the Superiority he affects; butby this very Method, he bestows such Praise as cannever be suspected of Flattery. His Uneasinessand Distastes are so many sure and certain Signs ofanothers Title to that Glory he desires, and has theMortification to find himself not possessed of.
A good Name is fitly compared to a precious Ointment,[2]and when we are praised with Skill and Decency, tisindeed the most agreeable Perfume, but if too stronglyadmitted into a Brain of a less vigorous and happyTexture, twill, like too strong an Odour, overcomethe Senses, and prove pernicious to those Nerves twasintended to refresh. A generous Mind is of allothers the most sensible of Praise and Dispraise; anda noble Spirit is as much invigorated with its dueProportion of Honour and Applause, as tis depressedby Neglect and Contempt: But tis only Personsfar above the common Level who are thus affected witheither of these Extreams; as in a Thermometer, tisonly the purest and most sublimated Spirit that iseither contracted or dilated by the Benignity or Inclemencyof the Season.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
The Translations which you have latelygiven us from the Greek, in some of yourlast Papers, have been the Occasion of my looking intosome of those Authors; among whom I chanced on aCollection of Letters which pass under the Nameof Aristaenetus. Of all the Remains ofAntiquity, I believe there can be Nothing produc’dof an Air so gallant and polite; each Letter containsa little Novel or Adventure, which is told withall the Beauties of Language and heightened with aLuxuriance of Wit. There are several of themtranslated,[3] but with such wide Deviations fromthe Original, and in a Style so far differing fromthe Authors, that the Translator seems rather to havetaken Hints for the expressing his own Sense andThoughts, than to have endeavoured to render thoseof Aristaenetus. In the following Translation,I have kept as near the Meaning of the Greekas I could, and have only added a few Words to makethe Sentences in English fit together a littlebetter than they would otherwise have done.The Story seems to be taken from that of Pygmalionand the Statue in Ovid: Some of theThoughts are of the same Turn, and the whole iswritten in a kind of Poetical Prose.
Philopinax to Chromation.
“Never was Man more overcome withso fantastical a Passion as mine. I havepainted a beautiful Woman, and am despairing, dyingfor the Picture. My own Skill has undoneme; tis not the Dart of Venus, but my ownPencil has thus wounded me. Ah me! with what Anxietyam I necessitated to adore my own Idol? Howmiserable am I, whilst every one must as muchpity the Painter as he praises the Picture, and ownmy Torment more than equal to my Art. Butwhy do I thus complain? Have there not beenmore unhappy and unnatural Passions than mine?Yes, I have seen the Representations of Phaedra,Narcissus, and Pasiphae. Phaedrawas unhappy in her Love; that of Pasiphae wasmonstrous; and whilst the other caught at his belovedLikeness, he destroyed the watery Image, whichever eluded his Embraces. The Fountain representedNarcissus to himself, and the Picture boththat and him, thirsting after his adored Image.But I am yet less unhappy, I enjoy her Presencecontinually, and if I touch her, I destroy notthe beauteous Form, but she looks pleased, and a sweetSmile sits in the charming Space which dividesher Lips. One would swear that Voice andSpeech were issuing out, and that ones Ears feltthe melodious Sound. How often have I, deceivedby a Lovers Credulity, hearkned if she had notsomething to whisper me? and when frustrated ofmy Hopes, how often have I taken my Revenge in Kissesfrom her Cheeks and Eyes, and softly wooed herto my Embrace, whilst she (as to me it seem’d)only withheld her Tongue the more to inflame me.But, Madman that I am, shall I be thus taken with theRepresentation only of a beauteous Face, and flowingHair, and thus waste myself and melt to Tearsfor a Shadow? Ah, sure tis something more,tis a Reality! for see her Beauties shine out withnew Lustre, and she seems to upbraid me with suchunkind Reproaches. Oh may I have a livingMistress of this Form, that when I shall compare theWork of Nature with that of Art, I may be still ata loss which to choose, and be long perplex’dwith the pleasing Uncertainty.
T.
[Footnote 1: Wycherley’s Plain Dealer.]
[Footnote 2: Eccles, vii. I.]
[Footnote 3: In a volume of translated Letterson Wit, Politicks, and Morality, edited by Abel Boyer,in 1701. The letters ascribed to Aristaenetusof Nicer in Bithynis, who died A.D. 358, but whichwere written after the fifth century, were afterwardstranslated as Letters of Love and Gallantry, writtenin Greek by Aristaenetus. This volume, 12mo (1715),was dedicated to Eustace Budgell, who is named in thePreface as the author of the Spectator papers signedX.]
* * * * *
No. 239. Tuesday, December 4, 1711. Addison.
Bella, horrida bella!
Virg.
I have sometimes amused myself with considering theseveral Methods of managing a Debate which have obtainedm the World.
The first Races of Mankind used to dispute, as ourordinary People do now-a-days, in a kind of wild Logick,uncultivated by Rules of Art.
Socrates introduced a catechetical Method ofArguing. He would ask his Adversary Questionupon Question, till he had convinced him out of hisown Mouth that his Opinions were wrong. This Wayof Debating drives an Enemy up into a Corner, seizesall the Passes through which he can make an Escape,and forces him to surrender at Discretion.
Aristotle changed this Method of Attack, andinvented a great Variety of little Weapons, call’dSyllogisms. As in the Socratick Way ofDispute you agree to every thing which your Opponentadvances, in the Aristotelick you are stilldenying and contradicting some Part or other of whathe says. Socrates conquers you by Stratagem,Aristotle by Force: The one takes theTown by Sap, the other Sword in Hand.
The Universities of Europe, for many Years,carried on their Debates by Syllogism, insomuch thatwe see the Knowledge of several Centuries laid outinto Objections and Answers, and all the good Senseof the Age cut and minced into almost an Infinitudeof Distinctions.
When our Universities found that there was no Endof Wrangling this Way, they invented a kind of Argument,which is not reducible to any Mood or Figure in Aristotle.It was called the Argumentum Basilinum (otherswrite it Bacilinum or Baculinum) whichis pretty well express’d in our EnglishWord Club-Law. When they were not ableto confute their Antagonist, they knock’d himdown. It was their Method in these polemicalDebates, first to discharge their Syllogisms, and afterwardsto betake themselves to their Clubs, till such Timeas they had one Way or other confounded their Gainsayers.There is in Oxford a narrow [Defile, [1] (tomake use of a military Term) where the Partizans usedto encounter, for which Reason it still retains theName of Logic-Lane. I have heard an oldGentleman, a Physician, make his Boasts, that whenhe was a young Fellow he marched several Times at theHead of a Troop of Scotists, [2] and cudgel’da Body of Smiglesians [3] half the length ofHigh-street, till they had dispersed themselvesfor Shelter into their respective Garrisons.
This Humour, I find, went very far in Erasmus’sTime. For that Author tells us [4], That uponthe Revival of Greek Letters, most of the Universitiesin Europe were divided into Greeks andTrojans. The latter were those who borea mortal Enmity to the Language of the Grecians,insomuch that if they met with any who understood it,they did not fail to treat him as a Foe. Erasmushimself had, it seems, the Misfortune to fall intothe Hands of a Party of Trojans, who laid himon with so many Blows and Buffets that he never forgottheir Hostilities to his dying Day.
There is a way of managing an Argument not much unlikethe former, which is made use of by States and Communities,when they draw up a hundred thousand Disputants oneach Side, and convince one another by Dint of Sword.A certain Grand Monarch [5] was so sensible of hisStrength in this way of Reasoning, that he writ uponhis Great Guns—Ratio ultima Regum, TheLogick of Kings; but, God be thanked, he is nowpretty well baffled at his own Weapons. Whenone was to do with a Philosopher of this kind, oneshould remember the old Gentleman’s Saying, whohad been engaged in an Argument with one of the RomanEmperors. [6] Upon his Friends telling him, That hewonder’d he would give up the Question, whenhe had visibly the Better of the Dispute; I am neverasham’d, says he, to be confuted by onewho is Master of fifty Legions.
I shall but just mention another kind of Reasoning,which may be called arguing by Poll; and another whichis of equal Force, in which Wagers are made use ofas Arguments, according to the celebrated Line inHudibras [7]
But the most notable way of managing a Controversy,is that which we may call Arguing by Torture.This is a Method of Reasoning which has been madeuse of with the poor Refugees, and which was so fashionablein our Country during the Reign of Queen Mary,that in a Passage of an Author quoted by MonsieurBayle [8] it is said the Price of Wood was raisedin England, by reason of the Executions thatwere made in Smithfield. These Disputantsconvince their Adversaries with a Sorites,[9] commonly called a Pile of fa*ggots. The Rackis also a kind of Syllogism which has been used withgood Effect, and has made Multitudes of Converts.Men were formerly disputed out of their Doubts, reconciledto Truth by Force of Reason, and won over to Opinionsby the Candour, Sense and Ingenuity of those who hadthe Right on their Side; but this Method of Convictionoperated too slowly. Pain was found to be muchmore enlightning than Reason. Every Scruple waslooked upon as Obstinacy, and not to be removed butby several Engines invented for that Purpose.In a Word, the Application of Whips, Racks, Gibbets,Gallies, Dungeons, Fire and fa*ggot, in a Dispute, maybe look’d upon as Popish Refinements upon theold Heathen Logick.
There is another way of Reasoning which seldom fails,tho it be of a quite different Nature to that I havelast mentioned. I mean, convincing a Man by readyMoney, or as it is ordinarily called, bribing a Manto an Opinion. This Method has often proved successful,when all the others have been made use of to no purpose.A Man who is furnished with Arguments from the Mint,will convince his Antagonist much sooner than onewho draws them from Reason and Philosophy. Goldis a wonderful Clearer of the Understanding; it dissipatesevery Doubt and Scruple in an Instant; accommodatesitself to the meanest Capacities; silences the Loudand Clamorous, and brings over the most Obstinate andInflexible. Philip of Macedon was a Man ofmost invincible Reason this Way. He refuted byit all the Wisdom of Athens, confounded theirStatesmen, struck their Orators dumb, and at lengthargued them out of all their Liberties.
Having here touched upon the several Methods of Disputing,as they have prevailed in different Ages of the World,I shall very suddenly give my Reader an Account ofthe whole Art of Cavilling; which shall be a fulland satisfactory Answer to all such Papers and Pamphletsas have yet appeared against the SPECTATOR.
C.
[Footnote 1: Defile]
[Footnote 2: The followers of the famous scholasticphilosopher, Duns Scotus (who taught at Oxford anddied in 1308), were Realists, and the Scotists wereas Realists opposed to the Nominalists, who, as followersof Thomas Aquinas, were called Thomists. Abuse,in later time, of the followers of Duns gave its presentsense to the word Dunce.]
[Footnote 3: The followers of Martin Simgleciusa Polish Jesuit, who taught Philosophy for four yearsand Theology for ten years at Vilna, in Lithuania,and died at Kalisch in 1618. Besides theologicalworks he published a book of Disputations upon Logic.]
[Footnote 4: Erasm. Epist.]
[Footnote 5: Louis XIV.]
[Footnote 6: Adrian, cited in Bacons Apophthegms.]
[Footnote 7: Hudibras, Pt. II. c. i, v.297. See note to No. 145.]
[Footnote 8: And. Ammonius in Bayle’sLife of him, but the saying was of the reign of HenryVIII.]
[Footnote 9: A Sorites, in Logic,—from[Greek: soros], a heap—is a pile ofsyllogisms so compacted that the conclusion of oneserves as a premiss to the next.]
* * * * *
No. 240. Wednesday, December 5, 1711. Steele.
—Aliter not fit, Avite, liber.
Mart.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am of one of the most genteel Tradesin the City, and understand thus much of liberalEducation, as to have an ardent Ambition of beinguseful to Mankind, and to think That the chief Endof Being as to this Life. I had these goodImpressions given me from the handsome Behaviourof a learned, generous, and wealthy Man towards mewhen I first began the World. Some Dissatisfactionbetween me and my Parents made me enter into itwith less Relish of Business than I ought; and toturn off this Uneasiness I gave my self to criminalPleasures, some Excesses, and a general loose Conduct.I know not what the excellent Man above-mentionedsaw in me, but he descended from the Superiority ofhis Wisdom and Merit, to throw himself frequently intomy Company. This made me soon hope that I hadsomething in me worth cultivating, and his Conversationmade me sensible of Satisfactions in a regular Way,which I had never before imagined. When he wasgrown familiar with me, he opened himself like agood Angel, and told me, he had long laboured toripen me into a Preparation to receive his Friendshipand Advice, both which I should daily command, andthe Use of any Part of his Fortune, to apply theMeasures he should propose to me, for the Improvementof my own. I assure you, I cannot recollect theGoodness and Confusion of the good Man when he spoketo this Purpose to me, without melting into Tears;but in a word, Sir, I must hasten to tell you, thatmy Heart burns with Gratitude towards him, and he isso happy a Man, that it can never be in my Powerto return him his Favours in Kind, but I am sureI have made him the most agreeable SatisfactionI could possibly, [in being ready to serve others tomy utmost Ability,] as far as is consistent withthe Prudence he prescribes to me. Dear Mr.SPECTATOR, I do not owe to him only the good Willand Esteem of my own Relations, (who are People ofDistinction) the present Ease and Plenty of my Circ*mstances,but also the Government of my Passions, and Regulationof my Desires. I doubt not, Sir, but in yourImagination such Virtues as these of my worthy Friend,bear as great a Figure as Actions which are more glitteringin the common Estimation. What I would askof you, is to give us a whole Spectator uponHeroick Virtue in common Life, which may incite Mento the same generous Inclinations, as have by thisadmirable Person been shewn to, and rais’din,
SIR, Your most humble Servant.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a Country Gentleman, of a good plentifulEstate, and live as the rest of my Neighbours withgreat Hospitality. I have been ever reckonedamong the Ladies the best Company in the World, andhave Access as a sort of Favourite. I nevercame in Publick but I saluted them, tho in greatAssemblies, all round, where it was seen how genteellyI avoided hampering my Spurs in their Petticoats, whileI moved amongst them; and on the other side howprettily they curtsied and received me, standingin proper Rows, and advancing as fast as they sawtheir Elders, or their Betters, dispatch’d byme. But so it is, Mr. SPECTATOR, that all ourgood Breeding is of late lost by the unhappy Arrivalof a Courtier, or Town Gentleman, who came latelyamong us: This Person where-ever he came intoa Room made a profound Bow, and fell back, thenrecovered with a soft Air, and made a Bow to thenext, and so to one or two more, and then took theGross of the Room, by passing by them in a continuedBow till he arrived at the Person he thought properparticularly to entertain. This he did with sogood a Grace and Assurance, that it is taken for thepresent Fashion; and there is no young Gentlewomanwithin several Miles of this Place has been kissedever since his first Appearance among us. WeCountry Gentlemen cannot begin again and learn thesefine and reserved Airs; and our Conversation isat a Stand, till we have your Judgment for or againstKissing, by way of Civility or Salutation; whichis impatiently expected by your Friends of both Sexes,but by none so much as
Your humble Servant,
Rustick Sprightly.
December 3, 1711.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I was the other Night at Philaster,[1]where I expected to hear your famous Trunk-maker,but was happily disappointed of his Company, and sawanother Person who had the like Ambition to distinguishhimself in a noisy manner, partly by Vociferationor talking loud, and partly by his bodily Agility.This was a very lusty Fellow, but withal a sort ofBeau, who getting into one of the Side-boxes on theStage before the Curtain drew, was disposed to shewthe whole Audience his Activity by leaping overthe Spikes; he pass’d from thence to one of theentering Doors, where he took Snuff with a tolerablegood Grace, display’d his fine Cloaths, madetwo or three feint Passes at the Curtain with hisCane, then faced about and appear’d at totherDoor: Here he affected to survey the wholeHouse, bow’d and smil’d at random, andthen shew’d his Teeth, which were some ofthem indeed very white: After this he retiredbehind the Curtain, and obliged us with several Viewsof his Person from every Opening.
During the Time of Acting, he appear’dfrequently in the Princes Apartment, made one atthe Hunting-match, and was very forward in the Rebellion.If there were no Injunctions to the contrary, yet thisPractice must be confess’d to diminish thePleasure of the Audience, and for that Reason presumptuousand unwarrantable: But since her Majesty’slate Command has made it criminal,[2] you have Authorityto take Notice of it.
SIR, Your humble Servant,
Charles Easy.
T.
[Footnote 1: Beaumont and Fletchers Philasterhad been acted on the preceding Friday, Nov. 30.The Hunt is in the Fourth Act, the Rebellion in theFifth.]
[Footnote 2: At this time there had been addedto the playbills the line
By her Majesty’s Command no Personis to be admitted behind the
Scenes.]
* * * * *
No. 241. Thursday, December 6,1711. Addison.
—Semperque relinqui
Sola sibi, semper longam incomitata videtur
Ire viam—
Virg.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Though you have considered virtuous Loveinmost of its Distresses, I do not remember thatyou have given us any Dissertation upon the Absenceof Lovers, or laid down any Methods how they shouldsupport themselves under those long Separationswhich they are sometimes forced to undergo.I am at present in this unhappy Circ*mstance, havingparted with the best of Husbands, who is abroad inthe Service of his Country, and may not possiblyreturn for some Years. His warm and generousAffection while we were together, with the Tendernesswhich he expressed to me at parting, make his Absencealmost insupportable. I think of him everyMoment of the Day, and meet him every Night in myDreams. Every thing I see puts me in mind of him.I apply myself with more than ordinary Diligenceto the Care of his Family and his Estate; but this,instead of relieving me, gives me but so many Occasionsof wishing for his Return. I frequent the Roomswhere I used to converse with him, and not meetinghim there, sit down in his Chair, and fall a weeping.I love to read the Books he delighted in, and toconverse with the Persons whom he esteemed. Ivisit his Picture a hundred times a Day, and placemyself over-against it whole Hours together.I pass a great part of my Time in the Walks whereI used to lean upon his Arm, and recollect in my Mindthe Discourses which have there passed between us:I look over the several Prospects and Points ofView which we used to survey together, fix my Eyeupon the Objects which he has made me take notice of,and call to mind a thousand [agreeable] Remarkswhich he has made on those Occasions. I writeto him by every Conveyance, and contrary to otherPeople, am always in good Humour when an East-Windblows, because it seldom fails of bringing me aLetter from him. Let me entreat you, Sir, togive me your Advice upon this Occasion, and to letme know how I may relieve my self in this my Widowhood.
I am, SIR, Your most humble Servant,
ASTERIA.
Absence is what the Poets call Death in Love, andhas given Occasion to abundance of beautiful Complaintsin those Authors who have treated of this Passionin Verse. Ovid’s Epistles are full ofthem. Otway’s Monimia talks very tenderlyupon this Subject. [1]
—It was not kind
To leave me like a Turtle, here alone,
To droop and mourn the Absence of my Mate._
When thou art from me, every Placeis desert:
And I, methinks, am savage and forlorn.
Thy Presence only tis can make me blest,
Heal my unquiet Mind, and tune my Soul.
The Consolations of Lovers on these Occasions arevery extraordinary. Besides those mentioned byAsteria, there are many other Motives of Comfort,which are made use of by absent Lovers.
I remember in one of Scudery’s Romances,a Couple of honourable Lovers agreed at their partingto set aside one half Hour in the Day to think ofeach other during a tedious Absence. The Romancetells us, that they both of them punctually observedthe Time thus agreed upon; and that whatever Companyor Business they were engaged in, they left it abruptlyas soon as the Clock warned them to retire. TheRomance further adds, That the Lovers expected theReturn of this stated Hour with as much Impatience,as if it had been a real Assignation, and enjoyed animaginary Happiness that was almost as pleasing tothem as what they would have found from a real Meeting.It was an inexpressible Satisfaction to these dividedLovers, to be assured that each was at the same timeemploy’d in the same kind of Contemplation, andmaking equal Returns of Tenderness and Affection.
If I may be allowed to mention a more serious Expedientfor the alleviating of Absence, I shall take noticeof one which I have known two Persons practise, whojoined Religion to that Elegance of Sentiments withwhich the Passion of Love generally inspires its Votaries.This was, at the Return of such an Hour, to offerup a certain Prayer for each other, which they hadagreed upon before their Parting. The Husband,who is a Man that makes a Figure in the polite World,as well as in his own Family, has often told me, thathe could not have supported an Absence of three Yearswithout this Expedient.
[Strada, in one of his Prolusions, [2]] givesan Account of a chimerical Correspondence betweentwo Friends by the Help of a certain Loadstone, whichhad such Virtue in it, that if it touched two severalNeedles, when one of the Needles so touched [began[3]], to move, the other, tho at never so great aDistance, moved at the same Time, and in the sameManner. He tells us, that the two Friends, beingeach of them possessed of one of these Needles, madea kind of a Dial-plate, inscribing it with the fourand twenty Letters, in the same manner as the Hoursof the Day are marked upon the ordinary Dial-plate.They then fixed one of the Needles on each of thesePlates in such a manner, that it could move roundwithout Impediment, so as to touch any of the fourand twenty Letters. Upon their Separating fromone another into distant Countries, they agreed towithdraw themselves punctually into their Closetsat a certain Hour of the Day, and to converse withone another by means of this their Invention.Accordingly when they were some hundred Miles asunder,each of them shut himself up in his Closet at theTime appointed, and immediately cast his Eye upon hisDial-plate. If he had a mind to write any thingto his Friend, he directed his Needle to every Letterthat formed the Words which he had occasion for, makinga little Pause at the end of every Word or Sentence,to avoid Confusion. The Friend, in the mean while,saw his own sympathetick Needle moving of itself toevery Letter which that of his Correspondent pointedat. By this means they talked together acrossa whole Continent, and conveyed their Thoughts toone another in an Instant over Cities or Mountains,Seas or Desarts.
If Monsieur Scudery, or any other Writer ofRomance, had introduced a Necromancer, who is generallyin the Train of a Knight-Errant, making a Presentto two Lovers of a Couple of those above-mentionedNeedles, the Reader would not have been a little pleasedto have seen them corresponding with one another whenthey were guarded by Spies and Watches, or separatedby Castles and Adventures.
In the mean while, if ever this Invention should berevived or put in practice, I would propose, thatupon the Lovers Dial-plate there should be writtennot only the four and twenty Letters, but several entireWords which have always a Place in passionate Epistles,as Flames, Darts, Die, Language, Absence, Cupid,Heart, Eyes, Hang, Drown, and the like. Thiswould very much abridge the Lovers Pains in this wayof writing a Letter, as it would enable him to expressthe most useful and significant Words with a singleTouch of the Needle.
C.
[Footnote 1: Orphan, Act II.]
[Footnote 2: [In one of Strada’s Prolusionshe] Lib. II. Prol. 6.]
[Footnote 3: [begun], and in first reprint.]
* * * * *
No. 242. Friday, December 7, 1711. Steele.
Creditur, ex medio quia res arcessit,habere
Sudoris minimum—
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Your Speculations do not so generallyprevail over Mens Manners as I could wish.A former Paper of yours [1] concerning the Misbehaviourof People, who are necessarily in each others Companyin travelling, ought to have been a lasting Admonitionagainst Transgressions of that Kind: But Ihad the Fate of your Quaker, in meeting with a rudeFellow in a Stage-Coach, who entertained two orthree Women of us (for there was no Man besideshimself) with Language as indecent as was ever heardupon the Water. The impertinent Observations whichthe Coxcomb made upon our Shame and Confusion weresuch, that it is an unspeakable Grief to reflectupon them. As much as you have declaimed againstDuelling, I hope you will do us the Justice to declare,that if the Brute has Courage enough to send tothe Place where he saw us all alight together toget rid of him, there is not one of us but has a Loverwho shall avenge the Insult. It would certainlybe worth your Consideration, to look into the frequentMisfortunes of this kind, to which the Modest andInnocent are exposed, by the licentious Behaviourof such as are as much Strangers to good Breedingas to Virtue. Could we avoid hearing what wedo not approve, as easily as we can seeing whatis disagreeable, there were some Consolation; but since[in a Box at a Play,][2] in an Assembly of Ladies,or even in a Pew at Church, it is in the Power ofa gross Coxcomb to utter what a Woman cannot avoidhearing, how miserable is her Condition who comes withinthe Power of such Impertinents? And how necessaryis it to repeat Invectives against such a Behaviour?If the Licentious had not utterly forgot what itis to be modest, they would know that offended Modestylabours under one of the greatest Sufferings to whichhuman Life can be exposed. If one of theseBrutes could reflect thus much, tho they want Shame,they would be moved, by their Pity, to abhor an impudentBehaviour in the Presence of the Chaste and Innocent.If you will oblige us with a Spectator onthis Subject, and procure it to be pasted againstevery Stage-Coach in Great-Britain, as the Lawof the Journey, you will highly oblige the wholeSex, for which you have professed so great an Esteem;and in particular, the two Ladies my late Fellow-Sufferers,and,
SIR, Your most humble Servant,
Rebecca Ridinghood.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
The Matter which I am now going to sendyou, is an unhappy Story in low Life, and will recommendit self, so that you must excuse the Manner of expressingit. A poor idle drunken Weaver in Spittle-Fieldshas a faithful laborious Wife, who by her Frugalityand Industry had laid by her as much Money as purchasedher a Ticket in the present Lottery. She hadhid this very privately in the Bottom of a Trunk,and had given her Number to a Friend and Confident,who had promised to keep the Secret, and bring herNews of the Success. The poor Adventurer wasone Day gone abroad, when her careless Husband,suspecting she had saved some Money, searches everyCorner, till at length he finds this same Ticket;which he immediately carries abroad, sells, andsquanders away the Money without the Wife’ssuspecting any thing of the Matter. A Day ortwo after this, this Friend, who was a Woman, comesand brings the Wife word, that she had a Benefitof Five Hundred Pounds. The poor Creature over-joyed,flies up Stairs to her Husband, who was then atWork, and desires him to leave his Loom for thatEvening, and come and drink with a Friend of hisand hers below. The Man received this chearfulInvitation as bad Husbands sometimes do, and aftera cross Word or two told her he woudn’t come.His Wife with Tenderness renewed her Importunity, andat length said to him, My Love! I have withinthese few Months, unknown to you, scraped togetheras much Money as has bought us a Ticket in the Lottery,and now here is Mrs. Quick [come] [3] to tell me,that tis come up this Morning a Five hundred PoundPrize. The Husband replies immediately, Youlye, you slu*t, you have no Ticket, for I have soldit. The poor Woman upon this Faints away in aFit, recovers, and is now run distracted. Asshe had no Design to defraud her Husband, but waswilling only to participate in his good Fortune, everyone pities her, but thinks her Husbands Punishmentbut just. This, Sir, is Matter of Fact, andwould, if the Persons and Circ*mstances were greater,in a well-wrought Play be called Beautiful Distress.I have only sketched it out with Chalk, and know agood Hand can make a moving Picture with worse Materials.
SIR, &c.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am what the World calls a warm Fellow,and by good Success in Trade I have raised myselfto a Capacity of making some Figure in the World;but no matter for that. I have now under myGuardianship a couple of Nieces, who will certainlymake me run mad; which you will not wonder at, whenI tell you they are Female Virtuosos, and during thethree Years and a half that I have had them undermy Care, they never in the least inclined theirThoughts towards any one single Part of the Characterof a notable Woman. Whilst they should have beenconsidering the proper Ingredients for a Sack-posset,you should hear a Dispute concerning the [magnetick][4], and in first reprint.] Virtue of the Loadstone,or perhaps the Pressure of the Atmosphere: TheirLanguage is peculiar to themselves, and they scornto express themselves on the meanest Trifle withWords that are not of a Latin Derivation.But this were supportable still, would they sufferme to enjoy an uninterrupted Ignorance; but, unlessI fall in with their abstracted Idea of Things (asthey call them) I must not expect to smoak one Pipein Quiet. In a late Fit of the Gout I complainedof the Pain of that Distemper when my Niece Kittybegged Leave to assure me, that whatever I mightthink, several great Philosophers, both ancient andmodern, were of Opinion, that both Pleasure and Painwere imaginary [Distinctions [5]], and that therewas no such thing as either in rerum Natura.I have often heard them affirm that the Fire was nothot; and one Day when I, with the Authority of anold Fellow, desired one of them to put my blue Cloakon my Knees; she answered, Sir, I will reach theCloak; but take notice, I do not do it as allowingyour Description; for it might as well be calledYellow as Blue; for Colour is nothing but the variousInfractions of the Rays of the Sun. Miss Mollytold me one Day; That to say Snow was white, is allowinga vulgar Error; for as it contains a great Quantityof nitrous Particles, it [might more reasonably][6]be supposed to be black. In short, the youngHusseys would persuade me, that to believe ones Eyesis a sure way to be deceived; and have often advisedme, by no means, to trust any thing so fallibleas my Senses. What I have to beg of you nowis, to turn one Speculation to the due Regulation ofFemale Literature, so far at least, as to make itconsistent with the Quiet of such whose Fate itis to be liable to its Insults; and to tell us theDifference between a Gentleman that should make Cheesecakesand raise Paste, and a Lady that reads Locke,and understands the Mathematicks. In whichyou will extreamly oblige
Your hearty Friend and humble Servant,
Abraham Thrifty.
T.
[Footnote 1: No. 132.]
[Footnote 2: at a Box in a Play, and in firstreprint.]
[Footnote 3: [comes], and in first reprint.]
[Footnote 4: [magnetical], and in first reprint.]
[Footnote 5: [Distractions], and in first reprint.]
[Footnote 6: [may more seasonably], and in firstreprint.]
* * * * *
No. 243. Saturday, December 8, 1711. Addison.
Formam quidem ipsam, Marce fili, et tanquamfaciem Honesti vides: quae
si oculis cerneretur, mirabiles amores(ut ait Plato) excitaret
Sapientiae.
Tull. Offic.
I do not remember to have read any Discourse writtenexpressly upon the Beauty and Loveliness of Virtue,without considering it as a Duty, and as the Meansof making us happy both now and hereafter. I designtherefore this Speculation as an Essay upon that Subject,in which I shall consider Virtue no further than asit is in it self of an amiable Nature, after havingpremised, that I understand by the Word Virtue sucha general Notion as is affixed to it by the Writersof Morality, and which by devout Men generally goesunder the Name of Religion, and by Men of the Worldunder the Name of Honour.
Hypocrisy it self does great Honour, or rather Justice,to Religion, and tacitly acknowledges it to be anOrnament to human Nature. The Hypocrite wouldnot be at so much Pains to put on the Appearance ofVirtue, if he did not know it was the most properand effectual means to gain the Love and Esteem ofMankind.
We learn from Hierodes, it was a common Sayingamong the Heathens, that the Wise Man hates no body,but only loves the Virtuous.
Tully has a very beautiful Gradation of Thoughtsto shew how amiable Virtue is. We love a virtuousMan, says he, who lives in the remotest Parts of theEarth, though we are altogether out of the Reach ofhis Virtue, and can receive from it no Manner of Benefit;nay, one who died several Ages ago, raises a secretFondness and Benevolence for him in our Minds, whenwe read his Story: Nay, what is still more, onewho has been the Enemy of our Country, provided hisWars were regulated by Justice and Humanity, as inthe Instance of Pyrrhus whom Tully mentionson this Occasion in Opposition to Hannibal.Such is the natural Beauty and Loveliness of Virtue.
Stoicism, which was the Pedantry of Virtue, ascribesall good Qualifications, of what kind soever, to thevirtuous Man. Accordingly [Cato][1] in the CharacterTully has left of him, carried Matters so far,that he would not allow any one but a virtuous Manto be handsome. This indeed looks more like aPhilosophical Rant than the real Opinion of a WiseMan; yet this was what Cato very seriously maintained.In short, the Stoics thought they could not sufficientlyrepresent the Excellence of Virtue, if they did notcomprehend in the Notion of it all possible Perfection[s];and therefore did not only suppose, that it was transcendentlybeautiful in it self, but that it made the very Bodyamiable, and banished every kind of Deformity fromthe Person in whom it resided.
It is a common Observation, that the most abandonedto all Sense of Goodness, are apt to wish those whoare related to them of a different Character; andit is very observable, that none are more struck withthe Charms of Virtue in the fair Sex, than those whoby their very Admiration of it are carried to a Desireof ruining it.
A virtuous Mind in a fair Body is indeed a fine Picturein a good Light, and therefore it is no Wonder thatit makes the beautiful Sex all over Charms.
As Virtue in general is of an amiable and lovely Nature,there are some particular kinds of it which are moreso than others, and these are such as dispose us todo Good to Mankind. Temperance and Abstinence,Faith and Devotion, are in themselves perhaps as laudableas any other Virtues; but those which make a Man popularand beloved, are Justice, Charity, Munificence, and,in short, all the good Qualities that render us beneficialto each other. For which Reason even an extravagantMan, who has nothing else to recommend him but a falseGenerosity, is often more beloved and esteemed thana Person of a much more finished Character, who isdefective in this Particular.
The two great Ornaments of Virtue, which shew herin the most advantageous Views, and make her altogetherlovely, are Chearfulness and Good-Nature. Thesegenerally go together, as a Man cannot be agreeableto others who is not easy within himself. Theyare both very requisite in a virtuous Mind, to keepout Melancholy from the many serious Thoughts it isengaged in, and to hinder its natural Hatred of Vicefrom souring into Severity and Censoriousness.
If Virtue is of this amiable Nature, what can we thinkof those who can look upon it with an Eye of Hatredand Ill-will, or can suffer their Aversion for a Partyto blot out all the Merit of the Person who is engagedin it. A Man must be excessively stupid, as wellas uncharitable, who believes that there is no Virtuebut on his own Side, and that there are not Men ashonest as himself who may differ from him in PoliticalPrinciples. Men may oppose one another in someParticulars, but ought not to carry their Hatred tothose Qualities which are of so amiable a Nature inthemselves, and have nothing to do with the Pointsin Dispute. Men of Virtue, though of differentInterests, ought to consider themselves as more nearlyunited with one another, than with the vicious Partof Mankind, who embark with them in the same civilConcerns. We should bear the same Love towardsa Man of Honour, who is a living Antagonist, whichTully tells us in the forementioned Passageevery one naturally does to an Enemy that is dead.In short, we should esteem Virtue though in a Foe,and abhor Vice though in a Friend.
I speak this with an Eye to those cruel Treatmentswhich Men of all Sides are apt to give the Charactersof those who do not agree with them. How manyPersons of undoubted Probity, and exemplary Virtue,on either Side, are blackned and defamed? Howmany Men of Honour exposed to publick Obloquy andReproach? Those therefore who are either theInstruments or Abettors in such Infernal Dealings,ought to be looked upon as Persons who make use ofReligion to promote their Cause, not of their Causeto promote Religion.
C.
[Footnote 1: [we find that Cato,]]
* * * * *
No. 244. Monday, December 10, 1711. Steele.
—Judex et callidus audis.
Hor.
Covent-Garden, Dec. 7.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I cannot, without a double Injustice,forbear expressing to you the Satisfaction whicha whole Clan of Virtuosos have received from thoseHints which you have lately given the Town on theCartons of the inimitable Raphael. It[1] should be methinks the Business of a SPECTATORto improve the Pleasures of Sight, and there cannotbe a more immediate Way to it than recommendingthe Study and Observation of excellent Drawingsand Pictures. When I first went to view thoseof Raphael which you have celebrated, I mustconfess 1 was but barely pleased; the next timeI liked them better, but at last as I grew betteracquainted with them, I fell deeply in love with them,like wise Speeches they sunk deep into my Heart;for you know, Mr. SPECTATOR, that aMan of Wit may extreamly affect one for the Present,but if he has not Discretion, his Merit soon vanishesaway, while a Wise Man that has not so great a Stockof Wit, shall nevertheless give you a far greaterand more lasting Satisfaction: Just so it is ina Picture that is smartly touched but not well studied;one may call it a witty Picture, tho the Painterin the mean time may be in Danger of being calleda Fool. On the other hand, a Picture that is thoroughlyunderstood in the Whole, and well performed in theParticulars, that is begun on the Foundation ofGeometry, carried on by the Rules of Perspective,Architecture, and Anatomy, and perfected by a goodHarmony, a just and natural Colouring, and such Passionsand Expressions of the Mind as are almost peculiarto Raphael; this is what you may justly stylea wise Picture, and which seldom fails to strikeus Dumb, till we can assemble all our Faculties tomake but a tolerable Judgment upon it. OtherPictures are made for the Eyes only, as Rattlesare made for Children’s Ears; and certainly thatPicture that only pleases the Eye, without representingsome well-chosen Part of Nature or other, does butshew what fine Colours are to be sold at the Colour-shop,and mocks the Works of the Creator. If the bestImitator of Nature is not to be esteemed the bestPainter, but he that makes the greatest Show andGlare of Colours; it will necessarily follow, thathe who can array himself in the most gaudy Draperiesis best drest, and he that can speak loudest thebest Orator. Every Man when he looks on a Pictureshould examine it according to that share of Reasonhe is Master of, or he will be in Danger of makinga wrong Judgment. If Men as they walk abroadwould make more frequent Observations on those Beautiesof Nature which every Moment present themselvesto their View, they would be better Judges when theysaw her well imitated at home: This would helpto correct those Errors which most Pretenders fallinto, who are over hasty in their Judgments, andwill not stay to let Reason come in for a share inthe Decision. Tis for want of this that Menmistake in this Case, and in common Life, a wildextravagant Pencil for one that is truly bold andgreat, an impudent Fellow for a Man of true Courageand Bravery, hasty and unreasonable Actions forEnterprizes of Spirit and Resolution, gaudy Colouringfor that which is truly beautiful, a false and insinuatingDiscourse for simple Truth elegantly recommended.The Parallel will hold through all the Parts ofLife and Painting too; and the Virtuosos above-mentionedwill be glad to see you draw it with your Termsof Art. As the Shadows in Picture represent theserious or melancholy, so the Lights do the brightand lively Thoughts: As there should be butone forcible Light in a Picture which should catchthe Eye and fall on the Hero, so there should bebut one Object of our Love, even the Author of Nature.These and the like Reflections well improved, mightvery much contribute to open the Beauty of that Art,and prevent young People from being poisoned by theill Gusto of an extravagant Workman that shouldbe imposed upon us. I am, SIR, Your most humbleServant.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Though I am a Woman, yet I am one of thosewho confess themselves highly pleased with a Speculationyou obliged the World with some time ago, [2] froman old Greek Poet you call Simonides,in relation to the several Natures and Distinctionsof our own Sex. I could not but admire howjustly the Characters of Women in this Age, fall inwith the Times of Simonides, there beingno one of those Sorts I have not at some time orother of my Life met with a Sample of. But, Sir,the Subject of this present Address, are a Set ofWomen comprehended, I think, in the Ninth Specieof that Speculation, called the Apes; the Descriptionof whom I find to be, “That they are such asare both ugly and ill-natured, who have nothingbeautiful themselves, and endeavour to detract fromor ridicule every thing that appears so in others.”Now, Sir, this Sect, as I have been told, is veryfrequent in the great Town where you live; but asmy Circ*mstance of Life obliges me to reside altogetherin the Country, though not many Miles from London,I cant have met with a great Number of em, nor indeedis it a desirable Acquaintance, as I have latelyfound by Experience. You must know, Sir, thatat the Beginning of this Summer a Family of theseApes came and settled for the Season not far fromthe Place where I live. As they were Strangersin the Country, they were visited by the Ladiesabout em, of whom I was, with an Humanity usual inthose that pass most of their Time in Solitude.The Apes lived with us very agreeably our own Waytill towards the End of the Summer, when they beganto bethink themselves of returning to Town; then itwas, Mr. SPECTATOR, that they beganto set themselves about the proper and distinguishingBusiness of their Character; and, as tis said of evilSpirits, that they are apt to carry away a Pieceof the House they are about to leave, the Apes,without Regard to common Mercy, Civility, or Gratitude,thought fit to mimick and fall foul on the Faces, Dress,and Behaviour of their innocent Neighbours, bestowingabominable Censures and disgraceful Appellations,commonly called Nicknames, on all of them; and inshort, like true fine Ladies, made their honest Plainnessand Sincerity Matter of Ridicule. I could notbut acquaint you with these Grievances, as wellat the Desire of all the Parties injur’d,as from my own Inclination. I hope, Sir, if youcant propose entirely to reform this Evil, you willtake such Notice of it in some of your future Speculations,as may put the deserving Part of our Sex on theirGuard against these Creatures; and at the same timethe Apes may be sensible, that this sort of Mirthis so far from an innocent Diversion, that it isin the highest Degree that Vice which is said to comprehendall others. [3]
I am, SIR, Your humble Servant,
Constantia Field.
T.
[Footnote 1: In No. 226. Signor Dorigny’sscheme was advertised in Nos. 205, 206, 207, 208,and 210.]
[Footnote 2: No. 209.]
[Footnote 3: Ingratitude.
Ingratum si dixeris, omnia dixeris.]
* * * * *
No. 245. Tuesday, December 11,1711. Addison.
Ficta Voluptatis causa sint proxima Veris.
Hor.
There is nothing which one regards so much with anEye of Mirth and Pity as Innocence, when it has init a Dash of Folly. At the same time that oneesteems the Virtue, one is tempted to laugh at theSimplicity which accompanies it. When a Man ismade up wholly of the Dove, without the least Grainof the Serpent in his Composition, he becomes ridiculousin many Circ*mstances of Life, and very often discreditshis best Actions. The Cordeliers tella Story of their Founder St. Francis, that ashe passed the Streets in the Dusk of the Evening,he discovered a young Fellow with a Maid in a Corner;upon which the good Man, say they, lifted up his Handsto Heaven with a secret Thanksgiving, that there wasstill so much Christian Charity in the World.The Innocence of the Saint made him mistake the Kissof a Lover for a Salute of Charity. I am heartilyconcerned when I see a virtuous Man without a competentKnowledge of the World; and if there be any Use inthese my Papers, it is this, that without presentingVice under any false alluring Notions, they give myReader an Insight into the Ways of Men, and representhuman Nature in all its changeable Colours. TheMan who has not been engaged in any of the Folliesof the World, or, as Shakespear expresses it,hackney’d in the Ways of Men, may herefind a Picture of its Follies and Extravagancies.The Virtuous and the Innocent may know in Speculationwhat they could never arrive at by Practice, and bythis Means avoid the Snares of the Crafty, the Corruptionsof the Vicious, and the Reasonings of the Prejudiced.Their Minds may be opened without being vitiated.
It is with an Eye to my following Correspondent, Mr.Timothy Doodle, who seems a very well-meaningMan, that I have written this short Preface, to whichI shall subjoin a Letter from the said Mr. Doodle.
SIR,
I could heartily wish that you would letus know your Opinion upon several innocent Diversionswhich are in use among us, and which are very properto pass away a Winter Night for those who do not careto throw away their Time at an Opera, or at thePlay-house. I would gladly know in particular,what Notion you have of Hot-co*ckles; as also whetheryou think that Questions and Commands, Mottoes, Similes,and Cross-Purposes have not more Mirth and Wit inthem, than those publick Diversions which are grownso very fashionable among us. If you wouldrecommend to our Wives and Daughters, who read yourPapers with a great deal of Pleasure, some of thoseSports and Pastimes that may be practised withinDoors, and by the Fire-side, we who are Mastersof Families should be hugely obliged to you. Ineed not tell you that I would have these Sportsand Pastimes not only merry but innocent, for whichReason I have not mentioned either Whisk or Lanterloo,nor indeed so much as One and Thirty. After havingcommunicated to you my Request upon this Subject,I will be so free as to tell you how my Wife andI pass away these tedious Winter Evenings with agreat deal of Pleasure. Tho she be young and handsome,and good-humoured to a Miracle, she does not carefor gadding abroad like others of her Sex.There is a very friendly Man, a Colonel in the Army,whom I am mightily obliged to for his Civilities, thatcomes to see me almost every Night; for he is notone of those giddy young Fellows that cannot liveout of a Play-house. When we are together, wevery often make a Party at Blind-Man’s Buff,which is a Sport that I like the better, becausethere is a good deal of Exercise in it. The Coloneland I are blinded by Turns, and you would laugh yourHeart out to see what Pains my Dear takes to hoodwinkus, so that it is impossible for us to see the leastGlimpse of Light. The poor Colonel sometimesh*ts his Nose against a Post, and makes us die withlaughing. I have generally the good Luck notto hurt myself, but am very often above half anHour before I can catch either of them; for youmust know we hide ourselves up and down in Corners,that we may have the more Sport. I only giveyou this Hint as a Sample of such Innocent Diversionsas I would have you recommend; and am, Most esteemedSIR, your ever loving Friend, Timothy Doodle.
The following Letter was occasioned by my last ThursdaysPaper upon the Absence of Lovers, and the Methodstherein mentioned of making such Absence supportable.
SIR,
Among the several Ways of Consolationwhich absent Lovers make use of while their Soulsare in that State of Departure, which you say is Deathin Love, there are some very material ones that haveescaped your Notice. Among these, the firstand most received is a crooked Shilling, which hasadministered great Comfort to our Forefathers, andis still made use of on this Occasion with very goodEffect in most Parts of Her Majesty’s Dominions.There are some, I know, who think a Crown-Piececut into two equal Parts, and preserved by the distantLovers, is of more sovereign Virtue than the former.But since Opinions are divided in this Particular,why may not the same Persons make use of both?The Figure of a Heart, whether cut in Stone or castin Metal, whether bleeding upon an Altar, stuck withDarts, or held in the Hand of a Cupid, hasalways been looked upon as Talismanick in Distressesof this Nature. I am acquainted with many a braveFellow, who carries his Mistress in the Lid of hisSnuff-box, and by that Expedient has supported himselfunder the Absence of a whole Campaign. Formy own Part, I have tried all these Remedies, but neverfound so much Benefit from any as from a Ring, inwhich my Mistresss Hair is platted together veryartificially in a kind of True-Lovers Knot. AsI have received great Benefit from this Secret, Ithink myself obliged to communicate it to the Publick,for the Good of my Fellow-Subjects. I desireyou will add this Letter as an Appendix to your Consolationsupon Absence, and am, Your very humble Servant,T. B.
I shall conclude this Paper with a Letter from anUniversity Gentleman, occasioned by my last TuesdaysPaper, wherein I gave some Account of the great Feudswhich happened formerly in those learned Bodies, betweenthe modern Greeks and Trojans.
SIR,
This will give you to understand, thatthere is at present in the Society, whereof I ama Member, a very considerable Body of Trojans,who, upon a proper Occasion, would not fail to declareourselves. In the mean while we do all we canto annoy our Enemies by Stratagem, and are resolvedby the first Opportunity to attack Mr. Joshua Barnes[1], whom we look upon as the Achilles ofthe opposite Party. As for myself, I have hadthe Reputation ever since I came from School, of beinga trusty Trojan, and am resolved never to giveQuarter to the smallest Particle of Greek,where-ever I chance to meet it. It is for thisReason I take it very ill of you, that you sometimeshang out Greek Colours at the Head of yourPaper, and sometimes give a Word of the Enemy evenin the Body of it. When I meet with any thingof this nature, I throw down your Speculations uponthe Table, with that Form of Words which we makeuse of when we declare War upon an Author.
Graecum est, non potestlegi. [2]
I give you this Hint, that you may forthe future abstain from any
such Hostilities at your Peril.
Troilus.
C.
[Footnote 1: Professor of Greek at Cambridge,who edited Homer, Euripides, Anacreon, &c., and wrotein Greek verse a History of Esther. He died in1714.]
[Footnote 2:
It is Greek. It cannot be read.
This passed into a proverb from Franciscus Accursius,a famous Jurisconsult and son of another Accursius,who was called the Idol of the Jurisconsults.Franciscus Accursius was a learned man of the 13thcentury, who, in expounding Justinian, whenever hecame to one of Justinian’s quotations from Homer,said Graecum est, nec potest legi. Afterwards,in the first days of the revival of Greek studies inEurope, it was often said, as reported by Claude d’Espence,for example, that to know anything of Greek made aman suspected, to know anything of Hebrew almost madehim a heretic.]
* * * * *
No. 246. Wednesday, December 12, 1711. Steele
[Greek: Ouch ara soi ge pataer aenippora Paeleus Oude Thetis maetaer,
glaukae de d etikte thalassa Petrai taelibatoi, hoti toi noos estin
apaenaes.]
Mr. SPECTATOR,
As your Paper is Part of the Equipageof the Tea-Table, I conjure you to print what Inow write to you; for I have no other Way to communicatewhat I have to say to the fair Sex on the most importantCirc*mstance of Life, even the Care of Children.I do not understand that you profess your Paperis always to consist of Matters which are only toentertain the Learned and Polite, but that it may agreewith your Design to publish some which may tendto the Information of Mankind in general; and whenit does so, you do more than writing Wit and Humour.Give me leave then to tell you, that of all the Abusesthat ever you have as yet endeavoured to reform,certainly not one wanted so much your Assistanceas the Abuse in [nursing [1]] Children. Itis unmerciful to see, that a Woman endowed with allthe Perfections and Blessings of Nature, can, assoon as she is delivered, turn off her innocent,tender, and helpless Infant, and give it up to a Womanthat is (ten thousand to one) neither in Health norgood Condition, neither sound in Mind nor Body,that has neither Honour nor Reputation, neitherLove nor Pity for the poor Babe, but more Regard forthe Money than for the whole Child, and never willtake further Care of it than what by all the Encouragementof Money and Presents she is forced to; like AEsop’sEarth, which would not nurse the Plant of anotherGround, altho never so much improved, by reason thatPlant was not of its own Production. And sinceanothers Child is no more natural to a Nurse thana Plant to a strange and different Ground, how canit be supposed that the Child should thrive? and ifit thrives, must it not imbibe the gross Humoursand Qualities of the Nurse, like a Plant in a differentGround, or like a Graft upon a different Stock?Do not we observe, that a Lamb sucking a Goat changesvery much its Nature, nay even its Skin and Woollinto the Goat Kind? The Power of a Nurse overa Child, by infusing into it, with her Milk, her Qualitiesand Disposition, is sufficiently and daily observed:Hence came that old Saying concerning an ill-naturedand malicious Fellow, that he had imbibed his Malicewith his Nurses Milk, or that some Brute or otherhad been his Nurse. Hence Romulus andRemus were said to have been nursed by aWolf, Telephus the Son of Hercules bya Hind, Pelias the Son of Neptuneby a Mare, and AEgisthus by a Goat; not thatthey had actually suck’d such Creatures, assome Simpletons have imagin’d, but that theirNurses had been of such a Nature and Temper, andinfused such into them.
Many Instances may be produced from goodAuthorities and daily Experience, that Childrenactually suck in the several Passions and depravedInclinations of their Nurses, as Anger, Malice, Fear,Melancholy, Sadness, Desire, and Aversion. ThisDiodorus, lib. 2, witnesses, when he speaks,saying, That Nero the Emperors Nurse had beenvery much addicted to Drinking; which Habit Neroreceived from his Nurse, and was so very particularin this, that the People took so much notice ofit, as instead of Tiberius Nero, they call’dhim Biberius Mero. The same Diodorusalso relates of Caligula, Predecessor toNero, that his Nurse used to moisten the Nipplesof her Breast frequently with Blood, to make Caligulatake the better Hold of them; which, says Diodorus,was the Cause that made him so blood-thirsty andcruel all his Life-time after, that he not only committedfrequent Murder by his own Hand, but likewise wishedthat all human Kind wore but one Neck, that he mighthave the Pleasure to cut it off. Such likeDegeneracies astonish the Parents, [who] not knowingafter whom the Child can take, [see [2]] one to inclineto Stealing, another to Drinking, Cruelty, Stupidity;yet all these are not minded. Nay it is easyto demonstrate, that a Child, although it be bornfrom the best of Parents, may be corrupted by an ill-temperedNurse. How many Children do we see daily broughtinto Fits, Consumptions, Rickets, &c., merely bysucking their Nurses when in a Passion or Fury?But indeed almost any Disorder of the Nurse is a Disorderto the Child, and few Nurses can be found in this Townbut what labour under some Distemper or other.The first Question that is generally asked a youngWoman that wants to be a Nurse, [Why[3]] she shouldbe a Nurse to other Peoples Children; is answered,by her having an ill Husband, and that she mustmake Shift to live. I think now this very Answeris enough to give any Body a Shock if duly considered;for an ill Husband may, or ten to one if he does not,bring home to his Wife an ill Distemper, or at leastVexation and Disturbance. Besides as she takesthe Child out of meer Necessity, her Food will beaccordingly, or else very coarse at best; whence proceedsan ill-concocted and coarse Food for the Child; foras the Blood, so is the Milk; and hence I am verywell assured proceeds the Scurvy, the Evil, andmany other Distempers. I beg of you, for the Sakeof the many poor Infants that may and will be saved,by weighing this Case seriously, to exhort the Peoplewith the utmost Vehemence to let the Children sucktheir own [Mothers, [4]] both for the Benefit of Motherand Child. For the general Argument, that aMother is weakned by giving suck to her Children,is vain and simple; I will maintain that the Mothergrows stronger by it, and will have her Health betterthan she would have otherwise: She will findit the greatest Cure and Preservative for the Vapoursand future Miscarriages, much beyond any other Remedywhatsoever: Her Children will be like Giants,whereas otherwise they are but living Shadows andlike unripe Fruit; and certainly if a Woman is strongenough to bring forth a Child, she is beyond allDoubt strong enough to nurse it afterwards. Itgrieves me to observe and consider how many poorChildren are daily ruin’d by careless Nurses;and yet how tender ought they to be of a poor Infant,since the least Hurt or Blow, especially upon theHead, may make it senseless, stupid, or otherwisemiserable for ever?
But I cannot well leave this Subject asyet; for it seems to me very unnatural, that a Womanthat has fed a Child as Part of her self for nineMonths, should have no Desire to nurse it farther,when brought to Light and before her Eyes, and whenby its Cry it implores her Assistance and the Officeof a Mother. Do not the very cruellest of Brutestend their young ones with all the Care and Delightimaginable? For how can she be call’da Mother that will not nurse her young ones?The Earth is called the Mother of all Things, notbecause she produces, but because she maintainsand nurses what she produces. The Generationof the Infant is the Effect of Desire, but the Careof it argues Virtue and Choice. I am not ignorantbut that there are some Cases of Necessity wherea Mother cannot give Suck, and then out of two Evilsthe least must be chosen; but there are so very few,that I am sure in a Thousand there is hardly onereal Instance; for if a Woman does but know thather Husband can spare about three or six Shillingsa Week extraordinary, (altho this is but seldom considered)she certainly, with the Assistance of her Gossips,will soon perswade the good Man to send the Childto Nurse, and easily impose upon him by pretendingIn-disposition. This Cruelty is supported by Fashion,and Nature gives Place to Custom. SIR, Your humbleServant.
T.
[Footnote 1: [nursing of], and in first reprint.]
[Footnote 2: [seeing], and in 1st r.]
[Footnote 3: [is, why], and in 1st. r.]
[Footnote 4: Mother,]
* * * * *
No. 247. Thursday, December 13,1711. Addison.
[Greek:—Ton d akamatos rheeiaudae Ek stomaton haedeia—Hes.]
We are told by some antient Authors, that Socrateswas instructed in Eloquence by a Woman, whose Name,if I am not mistaken, was Aspasia. I haveindeed very often looked upon that Art as the mostproper for the Female Sex, and I think the Universitieswould do well to consider whether they should notfill the Rhetorick Chairs with She Professors.
It has been said in the Praise of some Men, that theycould Talk whole Hours together upon any Thing; butit must be owned to the Honour of the other Sex, thatthere are many among them who can Talk whole Hourstogether upon Nothing. I have known a Woman branchout into a long Extempore Dissertation upon the Edgingof a Petticoat, and chide her Servant for breakinga China Cup, in all the Figures of Rhetorick.
Were Women admitted to plead in Courts of Judicature,I am perswaded they would carry the Eloquence of theBar to greater Heights than it has yet arrived at.If any one doubts this, let him but be present at thoseDebates which frequently arise among the Ladies [ofthe [1]] British Fishery.
The first Kind therefore of Female Orators which Ishall take notice of, are those who are employed instirring up the Passions, a Part of Rhetorick in whichSocrates his Wife had perhaps made a greaterProficiency than his above-mentioned Teacher.
The second Kind of Female Orators are those who dealin Invectives, and who are commonly known by the Nameof the Censorious. The Imagination and Elocutionof this Set of Rhetoricians is wonderful. Withwhat a Fluency of Invention, and Copiousness of Expression,will they enlarge upon every little Slip in the Behaviourof another? With how many different Circ*mstances,and with what Variety of Phrases, will they tell overthe same Story? I have known an old Lady makean unhappy Marriage the Subject of a Months Conversation.She blamed the Bride in one Place; pitied her in another;laughed at her in a third; wondered at her in a fourth;was angry with her in a fifth; and in short, wore outa Pair of Coach-Horses in expressing her Concern forher. At length, after having quite exhaustedthe Subject on this Side, she made a Visit to thenew-married Pair, praised the Wife for the prudentChoice she had made, told her the unreasonable Reflectionswhich some malicious People had cast upon her, anddesired that they might be better acquainted.The Censure and Approbation of this Kind of Womenare therefore only to be consider’d as Helpsto Discourse.
A third Kind of Female Orators may be comprehendedunder the Word Gossips. Mrs. FiddleFaddle is perfectly accomplished in this Sortof Eloquence; she launches out into Descriptions ofChristenings, runs Divisions upon an Headdress, knowsevery Dish of Meat that is served up in her Neighbourhood,and entertains her Company a whole Afternoon togetherwith the Wit of her little Boy, before he is able tospeak.
The Coquet may be looked upon as a fourth Kind ofFemale Orator. To give her self the larger Fieldfor Discourse, she hates and loves in the same Breath,talks to her Lap-dog or Parrot, is uneasy in all kindsof Weather, and in every Part of the Room: Shehas false Quarrels and feigned Obligations to allthe Men of her Acquaintance; sighs when she is notsad, and Laughs when she is not Merry. The Coquetis in particular a great Mistress of that Part ofOratory which is called Action, and indeed seems tospeak for no other Purpose, but as it gives her anOpportunity of stirring a Limb, or varying a Feature,of glancing her Eyes, or playing with her Fan.
As for News-mongers, Politicians, Mimicks, Story-Tellers,with other Characters of that nature, which give Birthto Loquacity, they are as commonly found among theMen as the Women; for which Reason I shall pass themover in Silence.
I have often been puzzled to assign a Cause why Womenshould have this Talent of a ready Utterance in somuch greater Perfection than Men. I have sometimesfancied that they have not a retentive Power, or theFaculty of suppressing their Thoughts, as Men have,but that they are necessitated to speak every Thingthey think, and if so, it would perhaps furnish avery strong Argument to the Cartesians, forthe supporting of their [Doctrine,[2]] that the Soulalways thinks. But as several are of Opinionthat the Fair Sex are not altogether Strangers tothe Art of Dissembling and concealing their Thoughts,I have been forced to relinquish that Opinion, andhave therefore endeavoured to seek after some betterReason. In order to it, a Friend of mine, whois an excellent Anatomist, has promised me by thefirst Opportunity to dissect a Woman’s Tongue,and to examine whether there may not be in it certainJuices which render it so wonderfully voluble [or [3]]flippant, or whether the Fibres of it may not be madeup of a finer or more pliant Thread, or whether thereare not in it some particular Muscles which dart itup and down by such sudden Glances and Vibrations;or whether in the last Place, there may not be certainundiscovered Channels running from the Head and theHeart, to this little Instrument of Loquacity, andconveying into it a perpetual Affluence of animal Spirits.Nor must I omit the Reason which Hudibras hasgiven, why those who can talk on Trifles speak withthe greatest Fluency; namely, that the Tongue is likea Race-Horse, which runs the faster the lesser Weightit carries.
Which of these Reasons soever may be looked upon asthe most probable, I think the Irishman’sThought was very natural, who after some Hours Conversationwith a Female Orator, told her, that he believed herTongue was very glad when she was asleep, for thatit had not a Moments Rest all the while she was awake.
That excellent old Ballad of The Wanton Wife ofBath has the following remarkable Lines.
I think, quoth Thomas, WomensTongues
Of Aspen Leaves are made.
And Ovid, though in the Description of a very barbarousCirc*mstance, tells us, That when the Tongue of abeautiful Female was cut out, and thrown upon theGround, it could not forbear muttering even in thatPosture.
—Comprensam forcipe linguam
Abstulit ense fero. Radix micat ultimalinguae,
Ipsa jacet, terraeque tremens immurmuratatrae;
Utque salire solet mutilatae cauda colubrae
Palpitat:—[4]
If a tongue would be talking without a Mouth, whatcould it have done when it had all its Organs of Speech,and Accomplices of Sound about it? I might heremention the Story of the Pippin-Woman, had not I someReason to look upon it as fabulous.
I must confess I am so wonderfully charmed with theMusick of this little Instrument, that I would byno Means discourage it. All that I aim at bythis Dissertation is, to cure it of several disagreeableNotes, and in particular of those little Jarrings andDissonances which arise from Anger, Censoriousness,Gossiping and Coquetry. In short, I would alwayshave it tuned by Good-Nature, Truth, Discretion andSincerity.
C.
[Footnote 1: that belong to our]
[Footnote 2: [Opinion,]]
[Footnote 3: [and]]
[Footnote 4: Met. I. 6, v. 556.]
* * * * *
No. 248. Friday, December 14, 1711. Steele.
Hoc maxime Officii est, ut quisque maximeopis indigeat, ita ei
potissimum opitulari.
Tull.
There are none who deserve Superiority over othersin the Esteem of Mankind, who do not make it theirEndeavour to be beneficial to Society; and who uponall Occasions which their Circ*mstances of Life canadminister, do not take a certain unfeigned Pleasurein conferring Benefits of one kind or other.Those whose great Talents and high Birth have placedthem in conspicuous Stations of Life, are indispensablyobliged to exert some noble Inclinations for the Serviceof the World, or else such Advantages become Misfortunes,and Shade and Privacy are a more eligible Portion.Where Opportunities and Inclinations are given tothe same Person, we sometimes see sublime Instancesof Virtue, which so dazzle our Imaginations, thatwe look with Scorn on all which in lower Scenes ofLife we may our selves be able to practise. Butthis is a vicious Way of Thinking; and it bears someSpice of romantick Madness, for a Man to imagine thathe must grow ambitious, or seek Adventures, to beable to do great Actions. It is in every Man’sPower in the World who is above meer Poverty, notonly to do Things worthy but heroick. The greatFoundation of civil Virtue is Self-Denial; and thereis no one above the Necessities of Life, but has Opportunitiesof exercising that noble Quality, and doing as muchas his Circ*mstances will bear for the Ease and Convenienceof other Men; and he who does more than ordinarilyMen practise upon such Occasions as occur in his Life,deserves the Value of his Friends as if he had doneEnterprizes which are usually attended with the highestGlory. Men of publick Spirit differ rather intheir Circ*mstances than their Virtue; and the Manwho does all he can in a low Station, is more [a[1]]Hero than he who omits any worthy Action he is ableto accomplish in a great one. It is not many Yearsago since Lapirius, in Wrong of his elder Brother,came to a great Estate by Gift of his Father, by reasonof the dissolute Behaviour of the First-born.Shame and Contrition reformed the Life of the disinheritedYouth, and he became as remarkable for his good Qualitiesas formerly for his Errors. Lapirius, who observedhis Brothers Amendment, sent him on a New-Years Dayin the Morning the following Letter:
Honoured Brother,
I enclose to you the Deeds whereby myFather gave me this House and Land: Had helived till now, he would not have bestowed it in thatManner; he took it from the Man you were, and I restoreit to the Man you are. I am,
SIR,
Your affectionate Brother, and humbleServant,
P. T.
As great and exalted Spirits undertake the Pursuitof hazardous Actions for the Good of others, at thesame Time gratifying their Passion for Glory; so doworthy Minds in the domestick Way of Life deny themselvesmany Advantages, to satisfy a generous Benevolencewhich they bear to their Friends oppressed with Distressesand Calamities. Such Natures one may call Storesof Providence, which are actuated by a secret CelestialInfluence to undervalue the ordinary Gratificationsof Wealth, to give Comfort to an Heart loaded withAffliction, to save a falling Family, to preservea Branch of Trade in their Neighbourhood, and giveWork to the Industrious, preserve the Portion of thehelpless Infant, and raise the Head of the mourningFather. People whose Hearts are wholly bent towardsPleasure, or intent upon Gain, never hear of the nobleOccurrences among Men of Industry and Humanity.It would look like a City Romance, to tell them ofthe generous Merchant who the other Day sent this Billetto an eminent Trader under Difficulties to supporthimself, in whose Fall many hundreds besides himselfhad perished; but because I think there is more Spiritand true Gallantry in it than in any Letter I haveever read from Strepkon to Phillis,I shall insert it even in the mercantile honest Stilein which it was sent.
SIR,
I Have heard of the Casualties which haveinvolved you in extreme Distress at this Time; andknowing you to be a Man of great Good-Nature, Industryand Probity, have resolved to stand by you. Beof good Chear, the Bearer brings with him five thousandPounds, and has my Order to answer your drawingas much more on my Account. I did this in Haste,for fear I should come too late for your Relief; butyou may value your self with me to the Sum of fiftythousand Pounds; for I can very chearfully run theHazard of being so much less rich than I am now,to save an honest Man whom I love.
Your Friend and Servant,
[W. S. [2]]
I think there is somewhere in Montaigne Mentionmade of a Family-book, wherein all the Occurrencesthat happened from one Generation of that House toanother were recorded. Were there such a Methodin the Families, which are concerned in this Generosity,it would be an hard Task for the greatest in Europeto give, in their own, an Instance of a Benefit betterplaced, or conferred with a more graceful Air.It has been heretofore urged, how barbarous and inhumanis any unjust Step made to the Disadvantage of a Trader;and by how much such an Act towards him is detestable,by so much an Act of Kindness towards him is laudable.I remember to have heard a Bencher of the Templetell a Story of a Tradition in their House, wherethey had formerly a Custom of chusing Kings for sucha Season, and allowing him his Expences at the Chargeof the Society: One of our Kings, said my Friend,carried his Royal Inclination a little too far, and
there was a Committee ordered to look into the Managementof his Treasury. Among other Things it appeared,that his Majesty walking incog, in the Cloister,had overheard a poor Man say to another, Such a smallSum would make me the happiest Man in the World.The King out of his Royal Compassion privately inquiredinto his Character, and finding him a proper Objectof Charity, sent him the Money. When the Committeeread their Report, the House passed his Account witha Plaudite without further Examination, upon the Recitalof this Article in them.For making a Man happy L. : s. :d.:
10 :00 : 00
T.
[Footnote 1: [an]]
[Footnote 2: [W. P.] corrected by an Erratumin No. 152 to W.S.]
* * * * *
No. 249. Saturday, December 15, 1711. Addison.
[Greek: Gelos akairos en brotoisdeinon kakon]
Frag. Vet. Poet.
When I make Choice of a Subject that has not beentreated on by others, I throw together my Reflectionson it without any Order or Method, so that they mayappear rather in the Looseness and Freedom of an Essay,than in the Regularity of a Set Discourse. Itis after this Manner that I shall consider Laughterand Ridicule in my present Paper.
Man is the merriest Species of the Creation, all aboveand below him are Serious. He sees things ina different Light from other Beings, and finds hisMirth [a]rising from Objects that perhaps cause somethinglike Pity or Displeasure in higher Natures. Laughteris indeed a very good Counterpoise to the Spleen;and it seems but reasonable that we should be capableof receiving Joy from what is no real Good to us, sincewe can receive Grief from what is no real Evil.
I have in my Forty-seventh Paper raised a Speculationon the Notion of a Modern Philosopher [1], who describesthe first Motive of Laughter to be a secret Comparisonwhich we make between our selves, and the Persons welaugh at; or, in other Words, that Satisfaction whichwe receive from the Opinion of some Pre-eminence inour selves, when we see the Absurdities of anotheror when we reflect on any past Absurdities of ourown. This seems to hold in most Cases, and wemay observe that the vainest Part of Mankind are themost addicted to this Passion.
I have read a Sermon of a Conventual in the Churchof Rome, on those Words of the Wise Man, Isaid of Laughter, it is mad; and of Mirth, what doesit? Upon which he laid it down as a Point of Doctrine,that Laughter was the Effect of Original Sin, andthat Adam could not laugh before the Fall.
Laughter, while it lasts, slackens and unbraces theMind, weakens the Faculties, and causes a kind ofRemissness and Dissolution in all the Powers of theSoul: And thus far it may be looked upon as aWeakness in the Composition of Human Nature.But if we consider the frequent Reliefs we receivefrom it, and how often it breaks the Gloom which isapt to depress the Mind and damp our Spirits, withtransient unexpected Gleams of Joy, one would takecare not to grow too Wise for so great a Pleasureof Life.
The Talent of turning Men into Ridicule, and exposingto Laughter those one converses with, is the Qualificationof little ungenerous Tempers. A young Man withthis Cast of Mind cuts himself off from all mannerof Improvement. Every one has his Flaws and Weaknesses;nay, the greatest Blemishes are often found in themost shining Characters; but what an absurd Thingis it to pass over all the valuable Parts of a Man,and fix our Attention on his Infirmities to observehis Imperfections more than his Virtues; and to makeuse of him for the Sport of others, rather than forour own Improvement?
We therefore very often find, that Persons the mostaccomplished in Ridicule are those who are very shrewdat hitting a Blot, without exerting any thing masterlyin themselves. As there are many eminent Critickswho never writ a good Line, there are many admirableBuffoons that animadvert upon every single Defectin another, without ever discovering the least Beautyof their own. By this Means, these unlucky littleWits often gain Reputation in the Esteem of VulgarMinds, and raise themselves above Persons of muchmore laudable Characters.
If the Talent of Ridicule were employed to laugh Menout of Vice and Folly, it might be of some Use tothe World; but instead of this, we find that it isgenerally made use of to laugh Men out of Virtue andgood Sense, by attacking every thing that is Solemnand Serious, Decent and Praiseworthy in Human Life.
We may observe, that in the First Ages of the World,when the great Souls and Master-pieces of Human Naturewere produced, Men shined by a noble Simplicity ofBehaviour, and were Strangers to those little Embellishmentswhich are so fashionable in our present Conversation.And it is very remarkable, that notwithstanding wefall short at present of the Ancients in Poetry, Painting,Oratory, History, Architecture, and all the nobleArts and Sciences which depend more upon Genius thanExperience, we exceed them as much in Doggerel, Humour,Burlesque, and all the trivial Arts of Ridicule.We meet with more Raillery among the Moderns, butmore Good Sense among the Ancients.
The two great Branches of Ridicule in Writing areComedy and Burlesque. The first ridicules Personsby drawing them in their proper Characters, the otherby drawing them quite unlike themselves. Burlesqueis therefore of two kinds; the first represents meanPersons in the Accoutrements of Heroes, the otherdescribes great Persons acting and speaking like thebasest among the People. Don Quixote is an Instanceof the first, and Lucians Gods of the second.It is a Dispute among the Criticks, whether BurlesquePoetry runs best in Heroick Verse, like that of theDispensary; [2] or in Doggerel, like that ofHudibras. I think where the low Characteris to be raised, the Heroick is the proper Measure;but when an Hero is to be pulled down and degraded,it is done best in Doggerel.
If Hudibras had been set out with as much Witand Humour in Heroick Verse as he is in Doggerel,he would have made a much more agreeable Figure thanhe does; though the generality of his Readers are sowonderfully pleased with the double Rhimes, that Ido not expect many will be of my Opinion in this Particular.
I shall conclude this Essay upon Laughter with observingthat the Metaphor of Laughing, applied to Fields andMeadows when they are in Flower, or to Trees whenthey are in Blossom, runs through all Languages; whichI have not observed of any other Metaphor, exceptingthat of Fire and Burning when they are applied to Love.This shews that we naturally regard Laughter, as whatis in it self both amiable and beautiful. Forthis Reason likewise Venus has gained the Titleof [Greek: Philomeidaes,] the Laughter-lovingDame, as Waller has Translated it, and is representedby Horace as the Goddess who delights in Laughter.Milton, in a joyous Assembly of imaginary Persons[3], has given us a very Poetical Figure of Laughter.His whole Band of Mirth is so finely described, thatI shall [set [4]] down [the Passage] at length.
But come thou Goddess fair and free,In Heaven ycleped Euphrosyne, And by Men,heart-easing Mirth, Whom lovely Venus ata Birth, With two Sister Graces more, To Ivy-crownedBacchus bore: Haste thee, Nymph, and bringwith thee Jest and youthful jollity, Quips andCranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathedSmiles, Such as hang on Hebes Cheek, Andlove to live in Dimple sleek: Sport that wrinkledCare derides, And Laughter holding both hisSides. Come, and trip it, as you go, On thelight fantastick Toe: And in thy right Handlead with thee The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty;And if I give thee Honour due, Mirth, admit meof thy Crew, To live with her, and live with thee,In unreproved Pleasures free.
C.
[Footnote 1: Hobbes.]
[Footnote 2: Sir Samuel Garth, poet and physician,who was alive at this time (died in 1719), satirizeda squabble among the doctors in his poem of theDispensary.
The piercing Caustics ply their spitefulPowr;
Emetics ranch, and been Cathartics sour.
The deadly Drugs in double Doses fly;
And Pestles peal a martial Symphony_.]
[Footnote 3: L’Allegro.]
[Footnote 4: [set it]]
* * * * *
No. 250. Monday, December 17, 1711.
Disce docendus adhuc, quae censet amiculus,ut si
Caecus iter monstrare velit; tamen aspicesi quid
Et nos, quod cures proprium fecisse, loquamur.
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
You see the Nature of my Request by theLatin Motto which I address to you.I am very sensible I ought not to use many Words toyou, who are one of but few; but the following Piece,as it relates to Speculation in Propriety of Speech,being a Curiosity in its Kind, begs your Patience.It was found in a Poetical Virtuosos Closet amonghis Rarities; and since the several Treatises ofThumbs, Ears, and Noses, have obliged the World,this of Eyes is at your Service.
The first Eye of Consequence (under theinvisible Author of all) is the visible Luminaryof the Universe. This glorious Spectator is saidnever to open his Eyes at his Rising in a Morning,without having a whole Kingdom of Adorers in PersianSilk waiting at his Levee. Millions of Creaturesderive their Sight from this Original, who, besideshis being the great Director of Opticks, is the surestTest whether Eyes be of the same Species with thatof an Eagle, or that of an Owl: The one heemboldens with a manly Assurance to look, speak, actor plead before the Faces of a numerous Assembly; theother he dazzles out of Countenance into a sheepishDejectedness. The Sun-Proof Eye dares leadup a Dance in a full Court; and without blinking atthe Lustre of Beauty, can distribute an Eye of properComplaisance to a Room crowded with Company, eachof which deserves particular Regard; while the othersneaks from Conversation, like a fearful Debtor, whonever dares [to] look out, but when he can see nobody, and no body him.
The next Instance of Opticks is the famousArgus, who (to speak in the Language ofCambridge) was one of an Hundred; and beingused as a Spy in the Affairs of Jealousy, was obligedto have all his Eyes about him. We have noAccount of the particular Colours, Casts and Turnsof this Body of Eyes; but as he was Pimp for his MistressJuno, tis probable he used all the modernLeers, sly Glances, and other ocular Activitiesto serve his Purpose. Some look upon him as thethen King at Arms to the Heathenish Deities; and makeno more of his Eyes than as so many Spangles ofhis Heralds Coat.
The next upon the Optick List is old Janus,who stood in a double-sighted Capacity, like a Personplaced betwixt two opposite Looking-Glasses, andso took a sort of retrospective Cast at one View.Copies of this double-faced Way are not yet out ofFashion with many Professions, and the ingeniousArtists pretend to keep up this Species by double-headedCanes and Spoons [1]; but there is no Mark of thisFaculty, except in the emblematical Way of a wiseGeneral having an Eye to both Front and Rear, ora pious Man taking a Review and Prospect of hispast and future State at the same Time.
I must own, that the Names, Colours, Qualities,and Turns of Eyes vary almost in every Head; for,not to mention the common Appellations of the Black,the Blue, the White, the Gray, and the like; the mostremarkable are those that borrow their Title[s] fromAnimals, by Vertue of some particular Quality orResemblance they bear to the Eyes of the respectiveCreature[s]; as that of a greedy rapacious Aspecttakes its Name from the Cat, that of a sharp piercingNature from the Hawk, those of an amorous roguishLook derive their Title even from the Sheep, andwe say such a[n] one has a Sheep’s Eye, not somuch to denote the Innocence as the simple Slynessof the Cast: Nor is this metaphorical Inoculationa modern Invention, for we find Homer takingthe Freedom to place the Eye of an Ox, Bull, or Cowin one of his principal Goddesses, by that frequentExpression of
[Greek: Boopis potniahaerae—][2]
Now as to the peculiar Qualities of theEye, that fine Part of our Constitution seems asmuch the Receptacle and Seat of our Passions, Appetitesand Inclinations as the Mind it self; and at leastit is the outward Portal to introduce them to theHouse within, or rather the common Thorough-fareto let our Affections pass in and out. Love,Anger, Pride, and Avarice, all visibly move in thoselittle Orbs. I know a young Lady that cantsee a certain Gentleman pass by without shewinga secret Desire of seeing him again by a Dance in herEye-balls; nay, she cant for the Heart of her helplooking Half a Streets Length after any Man in agay Dress. You cant behold a covetous Spiritwalk by a Goldsmiths Shop without casting a wistfulEye at the Heaps upon the Counter. Does nota haughty Person shew the Temper of his Soul inthe supercilious Rowl of his Eye? and how frequentlyin the Height of Passion does that moving Picture inour Head start and stare, gather a Redness and quickFlashes of Lightning, and make all its Humours sparklewith Fire, as Virgil finely describes it.
—Ardentis ab ore
Scintillae absistunt:oculis micat acribus ignis. [3]
As for the various Turns of [the] Eye-sight,such as the voluntary or involuntary, the half orthe whole Leer, I shall not enter into a very particularAccount of them; but let me observe, that oblique Vision,when natural, was anciently the Mark of Bewitcheryand magical Fascination, and to this Day tis a malignantill Look; but when tis forced and affected it carriesa wanton Design, and in Play-houses, and other publickPlaces, this ocular Intimation is often an Assignationfor bad Practices: But this Irregularity in Vision,together with such Enormities as Tipping the Wink,the Circ*mspective Rowl, the Side-peep through athin Hood or Fan, must be put in the Class of Heteropticks,as all wrong Notions of Religion are ranked underthe general Name of Heterodox. All the perniciousApplications of Sight are more immediately underthe Direction of a SPECTATOR; and I hope you willarm your Readers against the Mischiefs which are dailydone by killing Eyes, in which you will highly obligeyour wounded unknown Friend, T. B.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
You professed in several Papers your particularEndeavours in the Province of SPECTATOR, to correctthe Offences committed by Starers, who disturb wholeAssemblies without any Regard to Time, Place or Modesty.You complained also, that a Starer is not usually aPerson to be convinced by Reason of the Thing, norso easily rebuked, as to amend by Admonitions.I thought therefore fit to acquaint you with a convenientMechanical Way, which may easily prevent or correctStaring, by an Optical Contrivance of new Perspective-Glasses,short and commodious like Opera Glasses, fit forshort-sighted People as well as others, these Glassesmaking the Objects appear, either as they are seenby the naked Eye, or more distinct, though somewhatless than Life, or bigger and nearer. A Personmay, by the Help of this Invention, take a Viewof another without the Impertinence of Staring; atthe same Time it shall not be possible to know whom*or what he is looking at. One may look towardshis Right or Left Hand, when he is supposed to lookforwards: This is set forth at large in the printedProposals for the Sale of these Glasses, to be hadat Mr. Dillons in Long-Acre, nextDoor to the White-Hart. Now, Sir, as yourSpectator has occasioned the Publishing ofthis Invention for the Benefit of modest Spectators,the Inventor desires your Admonitions concerningthe decent Use of it; and hopes, by your Recommendation,that for the future Beauty may be beheld withoutthe Torture and Confusion which it suffers fromthe Insolence of Starers. By this means youwill relieve the Innocent from an Insult which thereis no Law to punish, tho it is a greater Offencethan many which are within the Cognizance of Justice.
I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
Abraham Spy.
Q.
[Footnote 1: Apostle spoons and others with fancyheads upon their handles.]
[Footnote 2: The ox-eyed, venerable Juno.]
[Footnote 3: AEn. 12, v. 101.]
* * * * *
No. 251. Tuesday, December 18,1711. Addison.
—Lingua centum sunt, oraque centum.
Ferrea Vox.
Virg.
There is nothing which more astonishes a Foreigner,and frights a Country Squire, than the Cries ofLondon. My good Friend Sir ROGER often declares,that he cannot get them out of his Head or go to Sleepfor them, the first Week that he is in Town. Onthe contrary, WILL. HONEYCOMB calls them theRamage de la Ville, and prefers them to theSounds of Larks and Nightingales, with all the Musickof the Fields and Woods. I have lately receiveda Letter from some very odd Fellow upon this Subject,which I shall leave with my Reader, without sayingany thing further of it.
SIR,
I am a Man of all Business, and wouldwillingly turn my Head to any thing for an honestLivelihood. I have invented several Projects forraising many Millions of Money without burtheningthe Subject, but I cannot get the Parliament tolisten to me, who look upon me, forsooth, as a Crack,and a Projector; so that despairing to enrich eithermy self or my Country by this Publick-spiritedness,I would make some Proposals to you relating to aDesign which I have very much at Heart, and whichmay procure me [a [1]] handsome Subsistence, if youwill be pleased to recommend it to the Cities ofLondon and Westminster.
The Post I would aim at, is to be Comptroller-Generalof the London Cries, which are at presentunder no manner of Rules or Discipline. I thinkI am pretty well qualified for this Place, as beinga Man of very strong Lungs, of great Insight intoall the Branches of our British Trades andManufactures, and of a competent Skill in Musick.
The Cries of London may be dividedinto Vocal and Instrumental. As for the latterthey are at present under a very great Disorder.A Freeman of London has the Privilege ofdisturbing a whole Street for an Hour together,with the Twanking of a Brass-Kettle or a Frying-Pan.The Watchman’s Thump at Midnight startles usin our Beds, as much as the Breaking in of a Thief.The Sowgelder’s Horn has indeed something musicalin it, but this is seldom heard within the Liberties.I would therefore propose, that no Instrument ofthis Nature should be made use of, which I havenot tuned and licensed, after having carefully examinedin what manner it may affect the Ears of her Majesty’sliege Subjects.
Vocal Cries are of a much larger Extent,and indeed so full of Incongruities and Barbarisms,that we appear a distracted City to Foreigners,who do not comprehend the Meaning of such enormousOutcries. Milk is generally sold in a note aboveEla, and in Sounds so [exceeding [2]] shrill,that it often sets our Teeth [on [3]] Edge. TheChimney-sweeper is [confined [4]] to no certain Pitch;he sometimes utters himself in the deepest Base,and sometimes in the sharpest Treble; sometimesin the highest, and sometimes in the lowest Noteof the Gamut. The same Observation might be madeon the Retailers of Small-coal, not to mention brokenGlasses or Brick-dust. In these therefore,and the like Cases, it should be my Care to sweetenand mellow the Voices of these itinerant Tradesmen,before they make their Appearance in our Streets;as also to accommodate their Cries to their respectiveWares; and to take care in particular, that those maynot make the most Noise who have the least to sell,which is very observable in the Venders of Card-matches,to whom I cannot but apply that old Proverb of MuchCry but little Wool.
Some of these last mentioned Musiciansare so very loud in the Sale of these trifling Manufactures,that an honest Splenetick Gentleman of my Acquaintancebargained with one of them never to come into theStreet where he lived: But what was the Effectof this Contract? Why, the whole Tribe of Card-match-makerswhich frequent that Quarter, passed by his Doorthe very next Day, in hopes of being bought off afterthe same manner.
It is another great Imperfection in ourLondon Cries, that there is no just Timenor Measure observed in them. Our News shouldindeed be published in a very quick Time, becauseit is a Commodity that will not keep cold.It should not, however, be cried with the same Precipitationas Fire: Yet this is generally the Case.A Bloody Battle alarms the Town from one End toanother in an Instant. Every Motion of theFrench is Published in so great a Hurry, thatone would think the Enemy were at our Gates.This likewise I would take upon me to regulate insuch a manner, that there should be some Distinctionmade between the spreading of a Victory, a March,or an Incampment, a Dutch, a Portugalor a Spanish Mail. Nor must I omit underthis Head, those excessive Alarms with which severalboisterous Rusticks infest our Streets in TurnipSeason; and which are more inexcusable, becausethese are Wares which are in no Danger of Cooling upontheir Hands.
There are others who affect a very slowTime, and are, in my Opinion, much more tuneablethan the former; the Cooper in particular swells hislast Note in an hollow Voice, that is not without itsHarmony; nor can I forbear being inspired with amost agreeable Melancholy, when I hear that sadand solemn Air with which the Public are very oftenasked, if they have any Chairs to mend? Yourown Memory may suggest to you many other lamentableDitties of the same Nature, in which the Musickis wonderfully languishing and melodious.
I am always pleased with that particularTime of the Year which is proper for the picklingof Dill and Cucumbers; but alas, this Cry, likethe Song of the [Nightingale [5]], is not heard abovetwo Months. It would therefore be worth whileto consider, whether the same Air might not in someCases be adapted to other Words.
It might likewise deserve our most seriousConsideration, how far, in a well-regulated City,those Humourists are to be tolerated, who, not contentedwith the traditional Cries of their Forefathers, haveinvented particular Songs and Tunes of their own:Such as was, not many Years since, the Pastryman,commonly known by the Name of the Colly-Molly-Puff;and such as is at this Day the Vender of Powder andWash-balls, who, if I am rightly informed, goes underthe Name of Powder-Watt.
I must not here omit one particular Absurditywhich runs through this whole vociferous Generation,and which renders their Cries very often not onlyincommodious, but altogether useless to the Publick;I mean, that idle Accomplishment which they allof them aim at, of Crying so as not to be understood.Whether or no they have learned this from severalof our affected Singers, I will not take upon me tosay; but most certain it is, that People know theWares they deal in rather by their Tunes than bytheir Words; insomuch that I have sometimes seen aCountry Boy run out to buy Apples of a Bellows-mender,and Gingerbread from a Grinder of Knives and Scissars.Nay so strangely infatuated are some very eminentArtists of this particular Grace in a Cry, that nonebut then Acquaintance are able to guess at theirProfession; for who else can know, that Workif I had it, should be the Signification of aCorn-Cutter?
Forasmuch therefore as Persons of thisRank are seldom Men of Genius or Capacity, I thinkit would be very proper, that some Man of good Senseand sound Judgment should preside over these PublickCries, who should permit none to lift up their Voicesin our Streets, that have not tuneable Throats,and are not only able to overcome the Noise of theCroud, and the Rattling of Coaches, but also to vendtheir respective Merchandizes in apt Phrases, andin the most distinct and agreeable Sounds.I do therefore humbly recommend my self as a Personrightly qualified for this Post; and if I meet withfitting Encouragement, shall communicate some otherProjects which I have by me, that may no less conduceto the Emolument of the Public.
I am
SIR_, &c.,
Ralph Crotchet.
[Footnote 1: an]
[Footnote 2: exceedingly]
[Footnote 3: an]
[Footnote 4: contained]
[Footnote 5: Nightingales]
* * * * *
TO THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. [1]
My LORD,
As it is natural to have a Fondness for what has costus so much Time and Attention to produce, I hope YourGrace will forgive an endeavour to preserve this Workfrom Oblivion, by affixing to it Your memorable Name.
I shall not here presume to mention the illustriousPassages of Your Life, which are celebrated by thewhole Age, and have been the Subject of the most sublimePens; but if I could convey You to Posterity in yourprivate Character, and describe the Stature, the Behaviourand Aspect of the Duke of Marlborough, I questionnot but it would fill the Reader with more agreeableImages, and give him a more delightful Entertainmentthan what can be found in the following, or any otherBook.
One cannot indeed without Offence, to Your self, observe,that You excel the rest of Mankind in the least, aswell as the greatest Endowments. Nor were ita Circ*mstance to be mentioned, if the Graces andAttractions of Your Person were not the only PreheminenceYou have above others, which is left, almost, unobservedby greater Writers.
Yet how pleasing would it be to those who shall readthe surprising Revolutions in your Story, to be madeacquainted with your ordinary Life and Deportment?How pleasing would it be to hear that the same Manwho had carried Fire and Sword into the Countriesof all that had opposed the Cause of Liberty, andstruck a Terrour into the Armies of France,had, in the midst of His high Station, a Behaviouras gentle as is usual in the first Steps towards Greatness?And if it were possible to express that easie Grandeur,which did at once perswade and command; it would appearas clearly to those to come, as it does to his Contemporaries,that all the great Events which were brought to passunder the Conduct of so well-govern’d a Spirit,were the Blessings of Heaven upon Wisdom and Valour:and all which seem adverse fell out by divine Permission,which we are not to search into.
You have pass’d that Year of Life wherein themost able and fortunate Captain, before Your Time,declared he had lived enough both to Nature and toGlory; [2] and Your Grace may make that Reflectionwith much more Justice. He spoke it after hehad arrived at Empire, by an Usurpation upon thosewhom he had enslaved; but the Prince of Mindleheimmay rejoice in a Sovereignty which was the Gift ofHim whose Dominions he had preserved.
Glory established upon the uninterrupted Success ofhonourable Designs and Actions is not subject to Diminution;nor can any Attempts prevail against it, but in theProportion which the narrow Circuit of Rumour bearsto the unlimited Extent of Fame.
We may congratulate Your Grace not only upon yourhigh Atchievements, but likewise upon the happy Expirationof Your Command, by which your Glory is put out ofthe Power of Fortune: And when your Person shallbe so too, that the Author and Disposer of all thingsmay place You in that higher Mansion of Bliss andImmortality which is prepared for good Princes, Lawgivers,and Heroes, when HE in HIS due Time removes them fromthe Envy of Mankind, is the hearty Prayer of,
My LORD,
Your Graces
Most Obedient,
Most Devoted
Humble Servant,
THE SPECTATOR.
[Footnote 1: John Churchill, afterwards Dukeof Marlborough, was at this time 62 years old, andpast the zenith of his fame. He was born at Ashe,in Devonshire, in 1650, the son of Sir Winston Churchill,an adherent of Charles I. At the age of twelve JohnChurchill was placed as page in the household of theDuke of York. He first distinguished himself asa soldier in the defence of Tangier against the Moors.Between 1672 and 1677 he served in the auxiliary forcesent by our King Charles II. to his master, LouisXIV. In 1672, after the siege of Maestricht, Churchillwas praised by Louis at the head of his army, and madeLieutenant-colonel. Continuing in the serviceof the Duke of York, Churchill, about 1680, marriedSarah Jennings, favourite of the Princess Anne.
In 1682 Charles II. made Churchill a Baron, and threeyears afterwards he was made Brigadier-general whensent to France to announce the accession of JamesII. On his return he was made Baron Churchillof Sandridge. He helped to suppress Monmouth’sinsurrection, but before the Revolution committedhimself secretly to the cause of the Prince of Orange;was made, therefore, by William III., Earl of Marlboroughand Privy Councillor. After some military servicehe was for a short time imprisoned in the Tower onsuspicion of treasonous correspondence with the exiledking. In 1697 he was restored to favour, and onthe breaking out of the War of the Spanish Successionin 1701 he was chief commander of the Forces in theUnited Provinces. In this war his victories madehim the most famous captain of the age. In December,1702, he was made Duke, with a pension of five thousanda year. In the campaign of 1704 Marlborough plannedvery privately, and executed on his own responsibility,the boldest and most distant march that had ever beenattempted in our continental wars. France, alliedwith Bavaria, was ready to force the way to Vienna,but Marlborough, quitting the Hague, carried his armyto the Danube, where he took by storm a strong entrenchedcamp of the enemy upon the Schellenberg, and cruellylaid waste the towns and villages of the Bavarians,who never had taken arms; but, as he said, we arenow going to burn and destroy the Electors country,to oblige him to hearken to terms. On the 13thof August, the army of Marlborough having been joinedby the army under Prince Eugene, battle was givento the French and Bavarians under Marshal Tallard,who had his head-quarters at the village of Plentheim,or Blenheim. At the cost of eleven thousand killedand wounded in the armies of Marlborough and Eugene,and fourteen thousand killed and wounded on the otherside, a decisive victory was secured, Tallard himselfbeing made prisoner, and 26 battalions and 12 squadronscapitulating as prisoners of war. 121 of the enemy’sstandards and 179 colours were brought home and hungup in Westminster Hall. Austria was saved, andLouis XIV. utterly humbled at the time when he hadexpected confidently to make himself master of thedestinies of Europe.For this service Marlborough was made by the Emperora Prince of the Empire, and his Most Illustrious Cousinas the Prince of Mindelsheim. At home he wasrewarded with the manor of Woodstock, upon which wasbuilt for him the Palace of Blenheim, and his pensionof L5000 from the Post-office was annexed to his title.There followed other victories, of which the serieswas closed with that of Malplaquet, in 1709, for whicha national thanksgiving was appointed. Then camea change over the face of home politics. Englandwas weary of the war, which Marlborough was accusedof prolonging for the sake of the enormous wealth hedrew officially from perquisites out of the differentforms of expenditure upon the army. The Tories
gathered strength, and in the beginning of 1712 acommission on a charge of taking money from contractorsfor bread, and 2 1/2 per cent, from the pay of foreigntroops, having reported against him, Marlborough wasdismissed from all his employments. Sarah, hisduch*ess, had also been ousted from the Queens favour,and they quitted England for a time, Marlborough writing,Provided that my destiny does not involve any prejudiceto the public, I shall be very content with it; andshall account myself happy in a retreat in which Imay be able wisely to reflect on the vicissitudes ofthis world. It was during this season of his unpopularitythat Steele and Addison dedicated to the Duke of Marlboroughthe fourth volume of the Spectator.][Footnote 2: Julius Caesar.]
* * * * *
No. 252. Wednesday, December 19,1711. Steele.
Erranti, passimque oculos per cuncta ferenti.
Virg. [1]
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am very sorry to find by your Discourseupon the Eye, 1 that you have not thoroughly studiedthe Nature and Force of that Part of a beauteousFace. Had you ever been in Love, you would havesaid ten thousand things, which it seems did notoccur to you: Do but reflect upon the Nonsenseit makes Men talk, the Flames which it is said tokindle, the Transport it raises, the Dejection itcauses in the bravest Men; and if you do believethose things are expressed to an Extravagance, yetyou will own, that the Influence of it is very greatwhich moves Men to that Extravagance. Certainit is, that the whole Strength of the Mind is sometimesseated there; that a kind Look imparts all, thata Years Discourse could give you, in one Moment.What matters it what she says to you, see how shelooks, is the Language of all who know what Loveis. When the Mind is thus summed up and expressedin a Glance, did you never observe a sudden Joy arisein the Countenance of a Lover? Did you neversee the Attendance of Years paid, over-paid in anInstant? You a SPECTATOR, and not know that theIntelligence of Affection is carried on by the Eyeonly; that Good-breeding has made the Tongue falsifythe Heart, and act a Part of continual Constraint,while Nature has preserved the Eyes to her self, thatshe may not be disguised or misrepresented. Thepoor Bride can give her Hand, and say, I do,with a languishing Air, to the Man she is obligedby cruel Parents to take for mercenary Reasons, butat the same Time she cannot look as if she loved;her Eye is full of Sorrow, and Reluctance sits ina Tear, while the Offering of the Sacrifice is performedin what we call the Marriage Ceremony. Do younever go to Plays? Cannot you distinguish betweenthe Eyes of those who go to see, from those whocome to be seen? I am a Woman turned of Thirty,and am on the Observation a little; therefore ifyou or your Correspondent had consulted me in yourDiscourse on the Eye, I could have told you thatthe Eye of Leonora is slyly watchful while itlooks negligent: she looks round her withoutthe Help of the Glasses you speak of, and yet seemsto be employed on Objects directly before her.This Eye is what affects Chance-medley, and on asudden, as if it attended to another thing, turnsall its Charms against an Ogler. The Eye of Lusitaniais an Instrument of premeditated Murder; but the Designbeing visible, destroys the Execution of it; andwith much more Beauty than that of Leonora,it is not half so mischievous. There is a braveSoldiers Daughter in Town, that by her Eye has beenthe Death of more than ever her Father made flybefore him. A beautiful Eye makes Silence eloquent,a kind Eye makes Contradiction an Assent, an enragedEye makes Beauty deformed. This little Membergives Life to every other Part about us, and I believethe Story of Argus implies no more than thatthe Eye is in every Part, that is to say, every otherPart would be mutilated, were not its Force representedmore by the Eye than even by it self. But thisis Heathen Greek to those who have not conversedby Glances. This, Sir, is a Language in whichthere can be no Deceit, nor can a Skilful Observerbe imposed upon by Looks even among Politiciansand Courtiers. If you do me the Honour to printthis among your Speculations, I shall in my nextmake you a Present of Secret History, by Translatingall the Looks of the next Assembly of Ladies andGentlemen into Words, to adorn some future Paper.I am, SIR, Your faithful Friend, Mary Heartfree.
Dear Mr. SPECTATOR, I havea Sot of a Husband that lives a very scandalous Life,and wastes away his Body and Fortune in Debaucheries;and is immoveable to all the Arguments I can urgeto him. I would gladly know whether in someCases a Cudgel may not be allowed as a good Figureof Speech, and whether it may not be lawfully usedby a Female Orator. Your humble Servant,Barbara Crabtree.
Mr. SPECTATOR, [2]
Though I am a Practitioner in the Lawof some standing, and have heard many eminent Pleadersin my Time, as well as other eloquent Speakers ofboth Universities, yet I agree with you, that Womenare better qualified to succeed in Oratory thanthe Men, and believe this is to be resolved intonatural Causes. You have mentioned only the Volubilityof their Tongue; but what do you think of the silentFlattery of their pretty Faces, and the Perswasionwhich even an insipid Discourse carries with itwhen flowing from beautiful Lips, to which it wouldbe cruel to deny any thing? It is certain too,that they are possessed of some Springs of Rhetorickwhich Men want, such as Tears, fainting Fits, andthe like, which I have seen employed upon Occasionwith good Success. You must know I am a plainMan and love my Money; yet I have a Spouse who isso great an Orator in this Way, that she draws fromme what Sum she pleases. Every Room in my Houseis furnished with Trophies of her Eloquence, richCabinets, Piles of China, Japan Screens, and costlyJars; and if you were to come into my great Parlour,you would fancy your self in an India Ware-house:Besides this she keeps a Squirrel, and I am doublytaxed to pay for the China he breaks. She isseized with periodical Fits about the Time of theSubscriptions to a new Opera, and is drowned in Tearsafter having seen any Woman there in finer Cloathsthan herself: These are Arts of Perswasionpurely Feminine, and which a tender Heart cannot resist.What I would therefore desire of you, is, to prevailwith your Friend who has promised to dissect a FemaleTongue, that he would at the same time give us theAnatomy of a Female Eye, and explain the Springsand Sluices which feed it with such ready Suppliesof Moisture; and likewise shew by what means, ifpossible, they may be stopped at a reasonable Expence:Or, indeed, since there is something so moving inthe very Image of weeping Beauty, it would be worthyhis Art to provide, that these eloquent Drops mayno more be lavished on Trifles, or employed as Servantsto their wayward Wills; but reserved for seriousOccasions in Life, to adorn generous Pity, true Penitence,or real Sorrow. I am, &c.
T.
[Footnote 1: quis Temeros oculus mihi fascinatAgnos.—Virg.]
[Footnote 2: This letter is by John Hughes.]
* * * * *
No. 253. Thursday, December 20, 1711. Addison.
Indignor quicquam reprehendi, non quiacrasse
Compositum, illepideve putetur, sed quianuper.
Hor.
There is nothing which more denotes a great Mind,than the Abhorrence of Envy and Detraction. ThisPassion reigns more among bad Poets, than among anyother Set of Men.
As there are none more ambitious of Fame, than thosewho are conversant in Poetry, it is very natural forsuch as have not succeeded in it to depreciate theWorks of those who have. For since they cannotraise themselves to the Reputation of their Fellow-Writers,they must endeavour to sink it to their own Pitch,if they would still keep themselves upon a Level withthem.
The greatest Wits that ever were produced in one Age,lived together in so good an Understanding, and celebratedone another with so much Generosity, that each ofthem receives an additional Lustre from his Contemporaries,and is more famous for having lived with Men of soextraordinary a Genius, than if he had himself beenthe [sole Wonder [1]] of the Age. I need nottell my Reader, that I here point at the Reign ofAugustus, and I believe he will be of my Opinion,that neither Virgil nor Horace wouldhave gained so great a Reputation in the World, hadthey not been the Friends and Admirers of each other.Indeed all the great Writers of that Age, for whomsingly we have so great an Esteem, stand up togetheras Vouchers for one anothers Reputation. Butat the same time that Virgil was celebratedby Gallus, Propertius, Horace, Varius, Tuccaand Ovid, we know that Bavius and Maeviuswere his declared Foes and Calumniators.
In our own Country a Man seldom sets up for a Poet,without attacking the Reputation of all his Brothersin the Art. The Ignorance of the Moderns, theScribblers of the Age, the Decay of Poetry, are theTopicks of Detraction, with which he makes his Entranceinto the World: But how much more noble is theFame that is built on Candour and Ingenuity, accordingto those beautiful Lines of Sir John Denham,in his Poem on Fletchers Works!
But whither am I strayed? I neednot raise
Trophies to thee from other Mens Dispraise:
Nor is thy Fame on lesser Ruins built,
Nor needs thy juster Title the foul Guilt
Of Eastern Kings, who, to secure theirReign,
Must have their Brothers, Sons, and Kindredslain.
I am sorry to find that an Author, who is very justlyesteemed among the best Judges, has admitted someStroaks of this Nature into a very fine Poem; I meanThe Art of Criticism, which was publish’dsome Months since, and is a Master-piece in its kind.[2] The Observations follow one another like thosein Horace’s Art of Poetry, without thatmethodical Regularity which would have been requisitein a Prose Author. They are some of them uncommon,but such as the Reader must assent to, when he seesthem explained with that Elegance and Perspicuity inwhich they are delivered. As for those whichare the most known, and the most received, they areplaced in so beautiful a Light, and illustrated withsuch apt Allusions, that they have in them all theGraces of Novelty, and make the Reader, who was beforeacquainted with them, still more convinced of theirTruth and Solidity. And here give me leave tomention what Monsieur Boileau has so very wellenlarged upon in the Preface to his Works, that Witand fine Writing doth not consist so much in advancingThings that are new, as in giving Things that are knownan agreeable Turn. It is impossible for us, wholive in the lat[t]er Ages of the World, to make Observationsin Criticism, Morality, or in any Art or Science,which have not been touched upon by others. Wehave little else left us, but to represent the commonSense of Mankind in more strong, more beautiful, ormore uncommon Lights. If a Reader examines Horace’sArt of Poetry, he will find but very few Preceptsin it, which he may not meet with in Aristotle,and which were not commonly known by all the Poetsof the Augustan Age. His Way of expressingand applying them, not his Invention of them, is whatwe are chiefly to admire.
For this Reason I think there is nothing in the Worldso tiresome as the Works of those Criticks who writein a positive Dogmatick Way, without either Language,Genius, or Imagination. If the Reader would seehow the best of the Latin Criticks writ, hemay find their Manner very beautifully described inthe Characters of Horace, Petronius, Quintilian,and Longinus, as they are drawn in the Essayof which I am now speaking.
Since I have mentioned Longinus, who in hisReflections has given us the same kind of Sublime,which he observes in the several passages that occasionedthem; I cannot but take notice, that our EnglishAuthor has after the same manner exemplified severalof his Precepts in the very Precepts themselves.I shall produce two or three Instances of this Kind.Speaking of the insipid Smoothness which some Readersare so much in Love with, he has the following Verses.
These_ Equal Syllables alone require,
Tho oft the Ear the open Vowelstire,
While Expletives their feeble Aiddo join,
And ten low Words oft creep in one dullLine.
The gaping of the Vowels in the second Line, the Expletivedo in the third, and the ten Monosyllablesin the fourth, give such a Beauty to this Passage,as would have been very much admired in an AncientPoet. The Reader may observe the following Linesin the same View.
A needless Alexandrine ends the Song,
That like a wounded Snake, drags its slowLength along.
And afterwards,
Tis not enough no Harshness gives Offence,
The Sound must seem an Eccho to the Sense.
Soft is the Strain when Zephyr gentlyblows,
And the smooth Stream in smoother Numbersflows;
But when loud Surges lash the soundingShore,
The hoarse rough Verse shou’d likethe Torrent roar.
When Ajax strives some Rocks vast Weightto throw,
The Line too labours, and the Words moveslow;
Not so, when swift Camilla scours thePlain,
Flies o’er th’ unbending Corn,and skims along the Main.
The beautiful Distich upon Ajax in the foregoingLines, puts me in mind of a Description in Homer’sOdyssey, which none of the Criticks have taken noticeof. [3] It is where Sisyphus is representedlifting his Stone up the Hill, which is no soonercarried to the top of it, but it immediately tumblesto the Bottom. This double Motion of the Stoneis admirably described in the Numbers of these Verses;As in the four first it is heaved up by several Spondeesintermixed with proper Breathing places, and at lasttrundles down in a continual Line of Dactyls.
[Greek: Kai maen Sisyphon eiseidon,krater alge echonta, Laan Bastazonta pelorion amphoteraesin.Aetoi ho men skaeriptomenos chersin te posin te,Laan ano otheske poti lophon, all hote melloi Akronhyperbaleein, tot apostrepsaske krataiis, Autisepeita pedonde kylindeto laas anaidaes.]
It would be endless to quote Verses out of Virgilwhich have this particular Kind of Beauty in the Numbers;but I may take an Occasion in a future Paper to shewseveral of them which have escaped the Observationof others.
I cannot conclude this Paper without taking noticethat we have three Poems in our Tongue, which areof the same Nature, and each of them a Master-Piecein its Kind; the Essay on Translated Verse [4], theEssay on the Art of Poetry [5], and the Essay uponCriticism.
[Footnote 1: [single Product]]
[Footnote 2: At the time when this paper waswritten Pope was in his twenty-fourth year. Hewrote to express his gratitude to Addison and alsoto Steele. In his letter to Addison he said,
Though it be the highest satisfactionto find myself commended by a Writer whom all theworld commends, yet I am not more obliged to you forthat than for your candour and frankness in acquaintingme with the error I have been guilty of in speakingtoo freely of my brother moderns.
The only moderns of whom he spoke slightingly weremen of whom after-time has ratified his opinion:John Dennis, Sir Richard Blackmore, and Luke Milbourne.When, not long afterwards, Dennis attacked with hiscriticism Addison’s Cato, to which Pope had contributedthe Prologue, Pope made this the occasion of a bittersatire on Dennis, called The Narrative of Dr. RobertNorris (a well-known quack who professed the cureof lunatics) upon the Frenzy J. D. Addisonthen, through Steele, wrote to Popes publisher ofthis manner of treating Mr. Dennis, that he couldnot be privy to it, and was sorry to hear of it.In 1715, when Pope issued to subscribers the firstvolume of Homer, Tickell’s translation of thefirst book of the Iliad appeared in the same week,and had particular praise at Buttons from Addison,Tickell’s friend and patron. Pope was nowindignant, and expressed his irritation in the famoussatire first printed in 1723, and, finally, with thename of Addison transformed to Atticus, embodied inthe Epistle to Arbuthnot published in 1735. Here,while seeing in Addison a man
Blest with each talent and each artto please,
And born to live, converse, and writewith ease,
he said that should he, jealous of his own supremacy,damn with faint praise, as one
Willing to wound, and yet afraid tostrike, Just hint the fault and hesitate dislike,Who when two wits on rival themes contest, Approvesof both, but likes the worse the best: LikeCato, give his little Senate laws, And sits attentiveto his own applause; While wits and templars everysentence raise: And wonder with a foolish faceof praise: Who would not laugh if such a manthere be? Who would not weep if Addison werehe?
But in this Spectator paper young Popes Essayon Criticism certainly was not damned with faintpraise by the man most able to give it a firm standingin the world.]
[Footnote 3: Odyssey Bk. XI. In Ticknell’sedition of Addison’s works the latter part ofthis sentence is omitted; the same observation havingbeen made by Dionysius of Halicarnassus.]
[Footnote 4: Wentworth Dillon, Earl of Roscommon,author of the Essay on Translated Verse, was nephewand godson to Wentworth, Earl of Strafford. Hewas born in Ireland, in 1633, educated at the ProtestantUniversity of Caen, and was there when his father died.He travelled in Italy, came to England at the Restoration,held one or two court offices, gambled, took a wife,and endeavoured to introduce into England the principalsof criticism with which he had found the polite worldoccupied in France. He planned a society for refiningour language and fixing its standard. Duringthe troubles of King James’s reign he was aboutto leave the kingdom, when his departure was delayedby gout, of which he died in 1684. A foremostEnglish representative of the chief literary movementof his time, he translated into blank verse Horace’sArt of Poetry, and besides a few minor translationsand some short pieces of original verse, which earnedfrom Pope the credit that
in all Charles’s days
Roscommon only boasts unspotted lays,
he wrote in heroic couplets an Essay on TranslatedVerse that was admired by Dryden, Addison, and Pope,and was in highest honour wherever the French influenceupon our literature made itself felt. Roscommonbelieved in the superior energy of English wit, andwrote himself with care and frequent vigour in theturning of his couplets. It is from this poemthat we get the often quoted lines,
Immodest words admit of no Defence:
For Want of Decency is Want of Sense.]
[Footnote 5: The other piece with which Addisonranks Popes Essay on Criticism, was by John Sheffield,Duke of Buckingham, who was living when the Spectatorfirst appeared. He died, aged 72, in the year1721. John Sheffield, by the death of his father,succeeded at the age of nine to the title of Earlof Mulgrave. In the reign of Charles II he servedby sea and land, and was, as well as Marlborough, inthe French service. In the reign of James II.he was admitted into the Privy Council, made LordChamberlain, and, though still Protestant, attendedthe King to mass. He acquiesced in the Revolution,but remained out of office and disliked King William,who in 1694 made him Marquis of Normanby. Afterwardshe was received into the Cabinet Council, with a pensionof L3000. Queen Anne, to whom Walpole says hehad made love before her marriage, highly favouredhim. Before her coronation she made him LordPrivy Seal, next year he was made first Duke of Normanby,and then of Buckinghamshire, to exclude any latentclaimant to the title, which had been extinct sincethe miserable death of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham,the author of the Rehearsal. When the Spectatorappeared John Sheffield had just built BuckinghamHouse—now a royal palace—onground granted by the Crown, and taken office as LordChamberlain. He wrote more verse than Roscommonand poorer verse. The Essay on Poetry,
in which he followed the critical fashion of the day,he was praised into regarding as a masterpiece.He was continually polishing it, and during his lifetimeit was reissued with frequent variations. It ispolished quartz, not diamond; a short piece of about360 lines, which has something to say of each of thechief forms of poetry, from songs to epics. Sheffieldshows most natural force in writing upon plays, andhere in objecting to perfect characters, he struckout the often-quoted lineA faultless monster which the worldne’er saw.
When he comes to the epics he is, of course, all forHomer and Virgil.
Read Homer once, and you can read nomore; For all books else appear so mean, so poor,Verse will seem Prose; but still persist to read,And Homer will be all the Books you need.
And then it is supposed that some Angel had disclosedto M. Bossu, the French author of the treatise uponEpic Poetry then fashionable, the sacred mysteriesof Homer. John Sheffield had a patronizing recognitionfor the genius of Shakespeare and Milton, and was soobliging as to revise Shakespeare’s Julius Caesarand confine the action of that play within the limitsprescribed in the French gospel according to the Unities.Pope, however, had in the Essay on Criticism reckonedSheffield, Duke of Buckingham, among the sounder few
Who durst assert the juster ancientCause And have restored Wits Fundamental Laws.Such was the Muse, whose Rules and Practice tell,Natures chief Masterpiece is writing well.
With those last words which form the second line inthe Essay on Poetry Popes citation has mademany familiar. Addison paid young Pope a validcompliment in naming him as a critic in verse withRoscommon, and, what then passed on all hands fora valid compliment, in holding him worthy also tobe named as a poet in the same breath with the LordChamberlain.]
* * * * *
No. 254. Friday, December 21, 1711. Steele.
[Greek: Semnos eros aretaes, ho dekypridos achos ophellei.]
When I consider the false Impressions which are receivedby the Generality of the World, I am troubled at nonemore than a certain Levity of Thought, which manyyoung Women of Quality have entertained, to the Hazardof their Characters, and the certain Misfortune oftheir Lives. The first of the following Lettersmay best represent the Faults I would now point at,and the Answer to it the Temper of Mind in a contraryCharacter.
My dear Harriot,
If thou art she, but oh how fallen, howchanged, what an Apostate! how lost to all that’sgay and agreeable! To be married I find is tobe buried alive; I cant conceive it more dismalto be shut up in a Vault to converse with the Shadesof my Ancestors, than to be carried down to an oldManor-House in the Country, and confined to the Conversationof a sober Husband and an awkward Chamber-maid.For Variety I suppose you may entertain yourselfwith Madam in her Grogram Gown, the Spouse of yourParish Vicar, who has by this time I am sure well furnishedyou with Receipts for making Salves and Possets,distilling Cordial Waters, making Syrups, and applyingPoultices.
Blest Solitude! I wish thee Joy,my Dear, of thy loved Retirement, which indeed youwould perswade me is very agreeable, and differentenough from what I have here described: But,Child, I am afraid thy Brains are a little disorderedwith Romances and Novels: After six MonthsMarriage to hear thee talk of Love, and paint the CountryScenes so softly, is a little extravagant; one wouldthink you lived the Lives of Sylvan Deities,or roved among the Walks of Paradise, like the firsthappy Pair. But prythee leave these Whimsies,and come to Town in order to live and talk likeother Mortals. However, as I am extremely interestedin your Reputation, I would willingly give you a littlegood Advice at your first Appearance under the Characterof a married Woman: Tis a little Insolencein me perhaps, to advise a Matron; but I am so afraidyou’ll make so silly a Figure as a fond Wife,that I cannot help warning you not to appear in anypublick Places with your Husband, and never to saunterabout St. James’s Park together:If you presume to enter the Ring at Hide-Parktogether, you are ruined for ever; nor must you takethe least notice of one another at the Play-houseor Opera, unless you would be laughed at for a veryloving Couple most happily paired in the Yoke of Wedlock.I would recommend the Example of an Acquaintance ofours to your Imitation; she is the most negligentand fashionable Wife in the World; she is hardlyever seen in the same Place with her Husband, andif they happen to meet, you would think them perfectStrangers: She never was heard to name himin his Absence, and takes care he shall never bethe Subject of any Discourse that she has a Share in.I hope you’ propose this Lady as a Pattern,tho I am very much afraid you’ll be so sillyto think Portia, &c. Sabine and RomanWives much brighter Examples. I wish it maynever come into your Head to imitate those antiquatedCreatures so far, as to come into Publick in theHabit as well as Air of a Roman Matron.You make already the Entertainment at Mrs. Modish’sTea-Table; she says, she always thought you a discreetPerson, and qualified to manage a Family with admirablePrudence: she dies to see what demure and seriousAirs Wedlock has given you, but she says she shallnever forgive your Choice of so gallant a Man asBellamour to transform him to a meer soberHusband; twas unpardonable: You see, my Dear,we all envy your Happiness, and no Person more thanYour humble Servant, Lydia.
Be not in pain, good Madam, for my Appearancein Town; I shall frequent no publick Places, ormake any Visits where the Character of a modestWife is ridiculous. As for your wild Railleryon Matrimony, tis all Hypocrisy; you, and all thehandsome young Women of our Acquaintance, shew yourselvesto no other Purpose than to gain a Conquest oversome Man of Worth, in order to bestow your Charms andFortune on him. There’s no Indecency inthe Confession, the Design is modest and honourable,and all your Affectation cant disguise it.
I am married, and have no other Concernbut to please the Man I Love; he’s the Endof every Care I have; if I dress, tis for him; if Iread a Poem or a Play, tis to qualify myself fora Conversation agreeable to his Taste: He’salmost the End of my Devotions; half my Prayers arefor his Happiness. I love to talk of him, andnever hear him named but with Pleasure and Emotion.I am your Friend, and wish your Happiness, but amsorry to see by the Air of your Letter that there area Set of Women who are got into the Common-PlaceRaillery of every Thing that is sober, decent, andproper: Matrimony and the Clergy are the Topicksof People of little Wit and no Understanding.I own to you, I have learned of the Vicars Wifeall you tax me with: She is a discreet, ingenious,pleasant, pious Woman; I wish she had the handlingof you and Mrs. Modish; you would find, ifyou were too free with her, she would soon makeyou as charming as ever you were, she would make youblush as much as if you had never been fine Ladies.The Vicar, Madam, is so kind as to visit my Husband,and his agreeable Conversation has brought him toenjoy many sober happy Hours when even I am shut out,and my dear Master is entertained only with his ownThoughts. These Things, dear Madam, will belasting Satisfactions, when the fine Ladies, andthe Coxcombs by whom they form themselves, are irreparablyridiculous, ridiculous in old Age. I am, Madam,your most humble Servant, Mary Home.
Dear Mr. SPECTATOR, Youhave no Goodness in the World, and are not in earnestin any thing you say that is serious, if you donot send me a plain Answer to this: I happenedsome Days past to be at the Play, where during theTime of Performance, I could not keep my Eyes offfrom a beautiful young Creature who sat just beforeme, and who I have been since informed has no Fortune.It would utterly ruin my Reputation for Discretionto marry such a one, and by what I can learn shehas a Character of great Modesty, so that thereis nothing to be thought on any other Way. MyMind has ever since been so wholly bent on her, thatI am much in danger of doing something very extravagantwithout your speedy Advice to,
SIR, Your most humble Servant.
I am sorry I cannot answer this impatient Gentleman,but by another Question.
Dear Correspondent, Would you marryto please other People, or your
self?
T.
* * * * *
No. 255. Saturday, December 22, 1711. Addison.
Laudis amore tumes? sunt certa piacula,quae te
Ter pure lecto poterunt recreare libello.
Hor.
The Soul, considered abstractedly from its Passions,is of a remiss and sedentary Nature, slow in its Resolves,and languishing in its Executions. The Use thereforeof the Passions is to stir it up, and to put it uponAction, to awaken the Understanding, to enforce theWill, and to make the whole Man more vigorous andattentive in the Prosecutions of his Designs.As this is the End of the Passions in general, soit is particularly of Ambition, which pushes the Soulto such Actions as are apt to procure Honour and Reputationto the Actor. But if we carry our Reflectionshigher, we may discover further Ends of Providencein implanting this Passion in Mankind.
It was necessary for the World, that Arts should beinvented and improved, Books written and transmittedto Posterity, Nations conquered and civilized:Now since the proper and genuine Motives to these andthe like great Actions, would only influence virtuousMinds; there would be but small Improvements in theWorld, were there not some common Principle of Actionworking equally with all Men. And such a Principleis Ambition or a Desire of Fame, by which [great [1]]Endowments are not suffered to lie idle and uselessto the Publick, and many vicious Men over-reached,as it were, and engaged contrary to their naturalInclinations in a glorious and laudable Course of Action.For we may further observe, that Men of the greatestAbilities are most fired with Ambition: And thaton the contrary, mean and narrow Minds are the leastactuated by it: whether it be that [a Man’sSense of his own [2]] Incapacities makes [him [3]]despair of coming at Fame, or that [he has [4]] notenough range of Thought to look out for any Good whichdoes not more immediately relate to [his [5]] Interestor Convenience, or that Providence, in the very Frameof [his Soul [6]], would not subject [him [7]] tosuch a Passion as would be useless to the World, anda Torment to [himself. [8]]
Were not this Desire of Fame very strong, the Difficultyof obtaining it, and the Danger of losing it whenobtained, would be sufficient to deter a Man fromso vain a Pursuit.
How few are there who are furnished with Abilitiessufficient to recommend their Actions to the Admirationof the World, and to distinguish themselves from therest of Mankind? Providence for the most partsets us upon a Level, and observes a kind of Proportionin its Dispensation towards us. If it rendersus perfect in one Accomplishment, it generally leavesus defective in another, and seems careful rather ofpreserving every Person from being mean and deficientin his Qualifications, than of making any single oneeminent or extraordinary.
And among those who are the most richly endowed byNature, and accomplished by their own Industry, howfew are there whose Virtues are not obscured by theIgnorance, Prejudice or Envy of their Beholders?Some Men cannot discern between a noble and a meanAction. Others are apt to attribute them to somefalse End or Intention; and others purposely misrepresentor put a wrong Interpretation on them. But themore to enforce this Consideration, we may observethat those are generally most unsuccessful in theirPursuit after Fame, who are most desirous of obtainingit. It is Sallust’s Remark upon Cato,that the less he coveted Glory, the more he acquiredit. [9]
Men take an ill-natur’d Pleasure in crossingour Inclinations, and disappointing us in what ourHearts are most set upon. When therefore theyhave discovered the passionate Desire of Fame in theAmbitious Man (as no Temper of Mind is more apt toshow it self) they become sparing and reserved intheir Commendations, they envy him the Satisfactionof an Applause, and look on their Praises rather asa Kindness done to his Person, than as a Tribute paidto his Merit. Others who are free from this naturalPerverseness of Temper grow wary in their Praises ofone, who sets too great a Value on them, lest theyshould raise him too high in his own Imagination,and by Consequence remove him to a greater Distancefrom themselves.
But further, this Desire of Fame naturally betraysthe ambitious Man into such Indecencies as are a lesseningto his Reputation. He is still afraid lest anyof his Actions should be thrown away in private, lesthis Deserts should be concealed from the Notice ofthe World, or receive any Disadvantage from the Reportswhich others make of them. This often sets himon empty Boasts and Ostentations of himself, and betrayshim into vain fantastick Recitals of his own Performances:His Discourse generally leans one Way, and, whateveris the Subject of it, tends obliquely either to thedetracting from others, or to the extolling of himself.Vanity is the natural Weakness of an ambitious Man,which exposes him to the secret Scorn and Derisionof those he converses with, and ruins the Characterhe is so industrious to advance by it. For thohis Actions are never so glorious, they lose theirLustre when they are drawn at large, and set to showby his own Hand; and as the World is more apt to findfault than to commend, the Boast will probably becensured when the great Action that occasioned it isforgotten.
Besides this very Desire of Fame is looked on as aMeanness [and [10]] Imperfection in the greatest Character.A solid and substantial Greatness of Soul looks downwith a generous Neglect on the Censures and Applausesof the Multitude, and places a Man beyond the littleNoise and Strife of Tongues. Accordingly we findin our selves a secret Awe and Veneration for theCharacter of one who moves above us in a regular and
illustrious Course of Virtue, without any regard toour good or ill Opinions of him, to our Reproachesor Commendations. As on the contrary it is usualfor us, when we would take off from the Fame and Reputationof an Action, to ascribe it to Vain-Glory, and a Desireof Fame in the Actor. Nor is this common Judgmentand Opinion of Mankind ill-founded: for certainlyit denotes no great Bravery of Mind to be worked upto any noble Action by so selfish a Motive, and todo that out of a Desire of Fame, which we could notbe prompted to by a disinterested Love to Mankind,or by a generous Passion for the Glory of him thatmade us.Thus is Fame a thing difficult to be obtained by all,but particularly by those who thirst after it, sincemost Men have so much either of Ill-nature, or ofWariness, as not to gratify [or [11]] sooth the Vanityof the Ambitious Man, and since this very Thirst afterFame naturally betrays him into such Indecencies asare a lessening to his Reputation, and is it selflooked upon as a Weakness in the greatest Characters.
In the next Place, Fame is easily lost, and as difficultto be preserved as it was at first to be acquired.But this I shall make the Subject of a following Paper
C.
[Footnote 1: [all great]]
[Footnote 2: [the Sense of their own]]
[Footnote 3: [them]]
[Footnote 4: [they have]]
[Footnote 5: [their]]
[Footnote 6: [their Souls]]
[Footnote 7: [them]]
[Footnote 8: [themselves]]
[Footnote 9: Sallust. Bell. Catil.c. 49.]
[Footnote 10: [and an]]
[Footnote 11: [and]]
* * * * *
No. 256. Monday, December 24,1711. Addison.
[Greek: Phaelae gar te kakae peletaikouphae men aeirai Reia mal,
argalen de pherein.]
Hes.
There are many Passions and Tempers of Mind whichnaturally dispose us to depress and vilify the Meritof one rising in the Esteem of Mankind. All thosewho made their Entrance into the World with the sameAdvantages, and were once looked on as his Equals,are apt to think the Fame of his Merits a Reflectionon their own Indeserts; and will therefore take careto reproach him with the Scandal of some past Action,or derogate from the Worth of the present, that theymay still keep him on the same Level with themselves.The like Kind of Consideration often stirs up theEnvy of such as were once his Superiors, who thinkit a Detraction from their Merit to see another getground upon them and overtake them in the Pursuitsof Glory; and will therefore endeavour to sink hisReputation, that they may the better preserve theirown. Those who were once his Equals envy and defamehim, because they now see him their Superior; andthose who were once his Superiors, because they lookupon him as their Equal.
But further, a Man whose extraordinary Reputationthus lifts him up to the Notice and Observation ofMankind draws a Multitude of Eyes upon him that willnarrowly inspect every Part of him, consider him nicelyin all Views, and not be a little pleased when theyhave taken him in the worst and most disadvantageousLight. There are many who find a Pleasure incontradicting the common Reports of Fame, and in spreadingabroad the Weaknesses of an exalted Character.They publish their ill-natur’d Discoveries witha secret Pride, and applaud themselves for the Singularityof their Judgment which has searched deeper than others,detected what the rest of the World have overlooked,and found a Flaw in what the Generality of Mankindadmires. Others there are who proclaim the Errorsand Infirmities of a great Man with an inward Satisfactionand Complacency, if they discover none of the likeErrors and Infirmities in themselves; for while theyare exposing anothers Weaknesses, they are tacitlyaiming at their own Commendations, who are not subjectto the like Infirmities, and are apt to be transportedwith a secret kind of Vanity to see themselves superiorin some respects to one of a sublime and celebratedReputation. Nay, it very often happens, thatnone are more industrious in publishing the Blemishesof an extraordinary Reputation, than such as lie opento the same Censures in their own Characters, as eitherhoping to excuse their own Defects by the Authorityof so high an Example, or raising an imaginary Applauseto themselves for resembling a Person of an exaltedReputation, though in the blameable Parts of his Character.If all these secret Springs of Detraction fail, yetvery often a vain Ostentation of Wit sets a Man onattacking an established Name, and sacrificing it tothe Mirth and Laughter of those about him. ASatyr or a Libel on one of the common Stamp, nevermeets with that Reception and Approbation among itsReaders, as what is aimed at a Person whose Merit placeshim upon an Eminence, and gives him a more conspicuousFigure among Men. Whether it be that we thinkit shews greater Art to expose and turn to ridiculea Man whose Character seems so improper a Subjectfor it, or that we are pleased by some implicit kindof Revenge to see him taken down and humbled in hisReputation, and in some measure reduced to our ownRank, who had so far raised himself above us in theReports and Opinions of Mankind.
Thus we see how many dark and intricate Motives thereare to Detraction and Defamation, and how many maliciousSpies are searching into the Actions of a great Man,who is not always the best prepared for so narrowan Inspection. For we may generally observe, thatour Admiration of a famous Man lessens upon our nearerAcquaintance with him; and that we seldom hear theDescription of a celebrated Person, without a Catalogueof some notorious Weaknesses and Infirmities.The Reason may be, because any little Slip is moreconspicuous and observable in his Conduct than in
anothers, as it is not of a piece with the rest ofhis Character, or because it is impossible for a Manat the same time to be attentive to the more important[Part [1]] of his Life, and to keep a watchful Eyeover all the inconsiderable Circ*mstances of his Behaviourand Conversation; or because, as we have before observed,the same Temper of Mind which inclines us to a Desireof Fame, naturally betrays us into such Slips andUnwarinesses as are not incident to Men of a contraryDisposition.After all it must be confess’d, that a nobleand triumphant Merit often breaks through and dissipatesthese little Spots and Sullies in its Reputation;but if by a mistaken Pursuit after Fame, or throughhuman Infirmity, any false Step be made in the moremomentous Concerns of Life, the whole Scheme of ambitiousDesigns is broken and disappointed. The smallerStains and Blemishes may die away and disappear amidstthe Brightness that surrounds them; but a Blot ofa deeper Nature casts a Shade on all the other Beauties,and darkens the whole Character. How difficulttherefore is it to preserve a great Name, when he thathas acquired it is so obnoxious to such little Weaknessesand Infirmities as are no small Diminution to it whendiscovered, especially when they are so industriouslyproclaimed, and aggravated by such as were once hisSuperiors or Equals; by such as would set to show theirJudgment or their Wit, and by such as are guilty orinnocent of the same Slips or Misconducts in theirown Behaviour?
But were there none of these Dispositions in othersto censure a famous Man, nor any such Miscarriagesin himself, yet would he meet with no small Troublein keeping up his Reputation in all its Height andSplendour. There must be always a noble Trainof Actions to preserve his Fame in Life and Motion.For when it is once at a Stand, it naturally flagsand languishes. Admiration is a very short-liv’dPassion, that immediately decays upon growing familiarwith its Object, unless it be still fed with freshDiscoveries, and kept alive by a new perpetual Successionof Miracles rising up to its View. And even thegreatest Actions of a celebrated [Person [2]] labourunder this Disadvantage, that however surprising andextraordinary they may be, they are no more than whatare expected from him; but on the contrary, if theyfall any thing below the Opinion that is conceivedof him, tho they might raise the Reputation of another,they are a Diminution to his.
One would think there should be something wonderfullypleasing in the Possession of Fame, that, notwithstandingall these mortifying Considerations, can engage aMan in so desperate a Pursuit; and yet if we considerthe little Happiness that attends a great Character,and the Multitude of Disquietudes to which the Desireof it subjects an ambitious Mind, one would be stillthe more surprised to see so many restless Candidatesfor Glory.
Ambition raises a secret Tumult in the Soul, it inflamesthe Mind, and puts it into a violent Hurry of Thought:It is still reaching after an empty imaginary Good,that has not in it the Power to abate or satisfy it.Most other Things we long for can allay the Cravingsof their proper Sense, and for a while set the Appetiteat Rest: But Fame is a Good so wholly foreignto our Natures, that we have no Faculty in the Souladapted to it, nor any Organ in the Body to relish*t; an Object of Desire placed out of the Possibilityof Fruition. It may indeed fill the Mind fora while with a giddy kind of Pleasure, but it is sucha Pleasure as makes a Man restless and uneasy underit; and which does not so much satisfy the presentThirst, as it excites fresh Desires, and sets theSoul on new Enterprises. For how few ambitiousMen are there, who have got as much Fame as they desired,and whose Thirst after it has not been as eager inthe very Height of their Reputation, as it was beforethey became known and eminent among Men? Thereis not any Circ*mstance in Caesars Characterwhich gives me a greater Idea of him, than a Sayingwhich Cicero tells us [3] he frequently madeuse of in private Conversation, That he was satisfiedwith his Share of Life and Fame, Se satis vel ad Naturam,vel ad Gloriam vixisse. Many indeed havegiven over their Pursuits after Fame, but that hasproceeded either from the Disappointments they havemet in it, or from their Experience of the littlePleasure which attends it, or from the better Informationsor natural Coldness of old Age; but seldom from a fullSatisfaction and Acquiescence in their present Enjoymentsof it.
Nor is Fame only unsatisfying in it self, but theDesire of it lays us open to many accidental Troubleswhich those are free from who have no such a tenderRegard for it. How often is the ambitious Mancast down and disappointed, if he receives no Praisewhere he expected it? Nay how often is he mortifiedwith the very Praises he receives, if they do notrise so high as he thinks they ought, which they seldomdo unless increased by Flattery, since few Men haveso good an Opinion of us as we have of our selves?But if the ambitious Man can be so much grieved evenwith Praise it self, how will he be able to bear upunder Scandal and Defamation? For the same Temperof Mind which makes him desire Fame, makes him hateReproach. If he can be transported with the extraordinaryPraises of Men, he will be as much dejected by theirCensures. How little therefore is the Happinessof an ambitious Man, who gives every one a Dominionover it, who thus subjects himself to the good or illSpeeches of others, and puts it in the Power of everymalicious Tongue to throw him into a Fit of Melancholy,and destroy his natural Rest and Repose of Mind?Especially when we consider that the World is moreapt to censure than applaud, and himself fuller ofImperfections than Virtues.
We may further observe, that such a Man will be moregrieved for the Loss of Fame, than he could have beenpleased with the Enjoyment of it. For tho thePresence of this imaginary Good cannot make us happy,the Absence of it may make us miserable: Becausein the Enjoyment of an Object we only find that Shareof Pleasure which it is capable of giving us, butin the Loss of it we do not proportion our Grief tothe real Value it bears, but to the Value our Fanciesand Imaginations set upon it.
So inconsiderable is the Satisfaction that Fame bringsalong with it, and so great the Disquietudes, to whichit makes us liable. The Desire of it stirs upvery uneasy Motions in the Mind, and is rather inflamedthan satisfied by the Presence of the Thing desired.The Enjoyment of it brings but very little Pleasure,tho the Loss or Want of it be very sensible and afflicting;and even this little Happiness is so very precarious,that it wholly depends on the Will of others.We are not only tortured by the Reproaches which areoffered us, but are disappointed by the Silence ofMen when it is unexpected; and humbled even by theirPraises. [4]
C.
[Footnote 1: Parts]
[Footnote 2: [Name]]
[Footnote 3: Oratio pro M. Marcello.]
[Footnote 4: I shall conclude this Subjectin my next Paper.]
* * * * *
No. 257. Tuesday, December 25,[1] 1711. Addison.
[Greek: Ouch ehudei Dios
Ophthalmoseggus d esti kai paron pono.—Incert. exStob.]
That I might not lose myself upon a Subject of sogreat Extent as that of Fame, I have treated it ina particular Order and Method. I have first ofall considered the Reasons why Providence may haveimplanted in our Mind such a Principle of Action.I have in the next Place shewn from many Considerations,first, that Fame is a thing difficult to be obtained,and easily lost; Secondly, that it brings the ambitiousMan very little Happiness, but subjects him to muchUneasiness and Dissatisfaction. I shall in thelast Place shew, that it hinders us from obtainingan End which we have Abilities to acquire, and whichis accompanied with Fulness of Satisfaction.I need not tell my Reader, that I mean by this Endthat Happiness which is reserved for us in anotherWorld, which every one has Abilities to procure, andwhich will bring along with it Fulness of Joy andPleasures for evermore.
How the Pursuit after Fame may hinder us in the Attainmentof this great End, I shall leave the Reader to collectfrom the three following Considerations.
First, Because the strong Desire of Fame breedsseveral vicious Habits in the Mind.
Secondly, Because many of those Actions, whichare apt to procure Fame, are not in their Nature conduciveto this our ultimate Happiness.
Thirdly, Because if we should allow the sameActions to be the proper Instruments, both of acquiringFame, and of procuring this Happiness, they wouldnevertheless fail in the Attainment of this last End,if they proceeded from a Desire of the first.
These three Propositions are self-evident to thosewho are versed in Speculations of Morality. Forwhich Reason I shall not enlarge upon them, but proceedto a Point of the same Nature, which may open to usa more uncommon Field of Speculation.
From what has been already observed, I think we maymake a natural Conclusion, that it is the greatestFolly to seek the Praise or Approbation of any Being,besides the Supreme, and that for these two Reasons,Because no other Being can make a right Judgment ofus, and esteem us according to our Merits; and becausewe can procure no considerable Benefit or Advantagefrom the Esteem and Approbation of any other Being.
In the first Place, No other Being can make a rightJudgment of us, and esteem us according to our Merits.Created Beings see nothing but our Outside, and can[therefore] only frame a Judgment of us from our exteriorActions and Behaviour; but how unfit these are to giveus a right Notion of each others Perfections, mayappear from several Considerations. There aremany Virtues, which in their own Nature are incapableof any outward Representation: Many silent Perfectionsin the Soul of a good Man, which are great Ornamentsto human Nature, but not able to discover themselvesto the Knowledge of others; they are transacted inprivate, without Noise or Show, and are only visibleto the great Searcher of Hearts. What Actionscan express the entire Purity of Thought which refinesand sanctifies a virtuous Man? That secret Restand Contentedness of Mind, which gives him a PerfectEnjoyment of his present Condition? That inwardPleasure and Complacency, which he feels in doingGood? That Delight and Satisfaction which he takesin the Prosperity and Happiness of another? Theseand the like Virtues are the hidden Beauties of aSoul, the secret Graces which cannot be discoveredby a mortal Eye, but make the Soul lovely and preciousin His Sight, from whom no Secrets are concealed.Again, there are many Virtues which want an Opportunityof exerting and shewing themselves in Actions.Every Virtue requires Time and Place, a proper Objectand a fit Conjuncture of Circ*mstances, for the dueExercise of it. A State of Poverty obscures allthe Virtues of Liberality and Munificence. ThePatience and Fortitude of a Martyr or Confessor lieconcealed in the flourishing Times of Christianity.Some Virtues are only seen in Affliction, and somein Prosperity; some in a private, and others in a publickCapacity. But the great Sovereign of the Worldbeholds every Perfection in its Obscurity, and notonly sees what we do, but what we would do. Heviews our Behaviour in every Concurrence of Affairs,and sees us engaged in all the Possibilities of Action.
He discovers the Martyr and Confessor without theTryal of Flames and Tortures, and will hereafter entitlemany to the Reward of Actions, which they had neverthe Opportunity of Performing. Another Reasonwhy Men cannot form a right Judgment of us is, becausethe same Actions may be aimed at different Ends, andarise from quite contrary Principles. Actionsare of so mixt a Nature, and so full of Circ*mstances,that as Men pry into them more or less, or observesome Parts more than others, they take different Hints,and put contrary Interpretations on them; so thatthe same Actions may represent a Man as hypocriticaland designing to one, which make him appear a Saintor Hero to another. He therefore who looks uponthe Soul through its outward Actions, often sees itthrough a deceitful Medium, which is apt to discolourand pervert the Object: So that on this Accountalso, he is the only proper Judge of our Perfections,who does not guess at the Sincerity of our Intentionsfrom the Goodness of our Actions, but weighs the Goodnessof our Actions by the Sincerity of our Intentions.But further; it is impossible for outward Actionsto represent the Perfections of the Soul, becausethey can never shew the Strength of those Principlesfrom whence they proceed. They are not adequateExpressions of our Virtues, and can only shew us whatHabits are in the Soul, without discovering the Degreeand Perfection of such Habits. They are at bestbut weak Resemblances of our Intentions, faint andimperfect Copies that may acquaint us with the generalDesign, but can never express the Beauty and Lifeof the Original. But the great Judge of all theEarth knows every different State and Degree of humanImprovement, from those weak Stirrings and Tendenciesof the Will which have not yet formed themselves intoregular Purposes and Designs, to the last entire Finishingand Consummation of a good Habit. He beholds thefirst imperfect Rudiments of a Virtue in the Soul,and keeps a watchful Eye over it in all its Progress,till it has received every Grace it is capable of,and appears in its full Beauty and Perfection.Thus we see that none but the Supreme Being can esteemus according to our proper Merits, since all othersmust judge of us from our outward Actions, which cannever give them a just Estimate of us, since thereare many Perfections of a Man which are not capableof appearing in Actions; many which, allowing no naturalIncapacity of shewing themselves, want an Opportunityof doing it; or should they all meet with an Opportunityof appearing by Actions, yet those Actions maybe misinterpreted,and applied to wrong Principles; or though they plainlydiscovered the Principles from whence they proceeded,they could never shew the Degree, Strength and Perfectionof those Principles.
And as the Supreme Being is the only proper Judgeof our Perfections, so is He the only fit Rewarderof them. This is a Consideration that comes hometo our Interest, as the other adapts it self to ourAmbition. And what could the most aspiring, orthe most selfish Man desire more, were he to formthe Notion of a Being to whom he would recommend himself,than such a Knowledge as can discover the least Appearanceof Perfection in him, and such a Goodness as willproportion a Reward to it.
Let the ambitious Man therefore turn all his Desireof Fame this Way; and, that he may propose to himselfa Fame worthy of his Ambition, let him consider thatif he employs his Abilities to the best Advantage,the Time will come when the supreme Governor of theWorld, the great Judge of Mankind, who sees everyDegree of Perfection in others, and possesses allpossible Perfection in himself, shall proclaim hisWorth before Men and Angels, and pronounce to himin the Presence of the whole Creation that best andmost significant of Applauses, Well done, thou goodand faithful Servant, enter thou into thy MastersJoy.
C.
[Footnote 1: This being Christmas Day, Addisonhas continued to it a religious strain of thought.]
* * * * *
No. 258. Wednesday, December 26,1711. Steele.
Divide et Impera.
Pleasure and Recreation of one Kind or other are absolutelynecessary to relieve our Minds and Bodies from tooconstant Attention and Labour: Where thereforepublick Diversions are tolerated, it behoves Personsof Distinction, with their Power and Example, to presideover them in such a Manner as to check any thing thattends to the Corruption of Manners, or which is toomean or trivial for the Entertainment of reasonableCreatures. As to the Diversions of this Kind inthis Town, we owe them to the Arts of Poetry and Musick:My own private Opinion, with Relation to such Recreations,I have heretofore given with all the Frankness imaginable;what concerns those Arts at present the Reader shallhave from my Correspondents. The first of theLetters with which I acquit myself for this Day, iswritten by one who proposes to improve our Entertainmentsof Dramatick Poetry, and the other comes from threePersons, who, as soon as named, will be thought capableof advancing the present State of Musick.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am considerably obliged to you for yourspeedy Publication of my last in yours of the 18thInstant, and am in no small Hopes of being settledin the Post of Comptroller of the Cries.Of all the Objections I have hearkened after inpublick Coffee-houses there is but one that seemsto carry any Weight with it, viz. Thatsuch a Post would come too near the Nature of aMonopoly. Now, Sir, because I would have allSorts of People made easy, and being willing to havemore Strings than one to my Bow; in case that ofComptroller should fail me, I have sinceformed another Project, which, being grounded on thedividing a present Monopoly, I hope will give the Publickan Equivalent to their full Content. You know,Sir, it is allowed that the Business of the Stageis, as the Latin has it, Jucunda et Idoneadicere Vitae. Now there being but one DramatickTheatre licensed for the Delight and Profit of thisextensive Metropolis, I do humbly propose, for theConvenience of such of its Inhabitants as are toodistant from Covent-Garden, that another Theatreof Ease may be erected in some spacious Partof the City; and that the Direction thereof maybe made a Franchise in Fee to me, and my Heirs forever. And that the Town may have no Jealousyof my ever coming to an Union with the Set of Actorsnow in being, I do further propose to constitutefor my Deputy my near Kinsman and Adventurer, KitCrotchet, [1] whose long Experience and Improvementsin those Affairs need no Recommendation. Twasobvious to every Spectator what a quite differentFoot the Stage was upon during his Government; andhad he not been bolted out of his Trap-Doors, hisGarrison might have held out for ever, he havingby long Pains and Perseverance arriv’d at theArt of making his Army fight without Pay or Provisions.I must confess it, with a melancholy Amazement,I see so wonderful a Genius laid aside, and thelate Slaves of the Stage now become its Masters, Duncesthat will be sure to suppress all Theatrical Entertainmentsand Activities that they are not able themselvesto shine in!
Every Man that goes to a Play is not obligedto have either Wit or Understanding; and I insistupon it, that all who go there should see somethingwhich may improve them in a Way of which they are capable.In short, Sir, I would have something doneas well as said on the Stage. A Manmay have an active Body, though he has not a quickConception; for the Imitation therefore of such asare, as I may so speak, corporeal Wits or nimbleFellows, I would fain ask any of the present Mismanagers,Why should not Rope-dancers, Vaulters, Tumblers, Ladder-walkers,and Posture-makers appear again on our Stage?After such a Representation, a Five-bar Gate wouldbe leaped with a better Grace next Time any of theAudience went a Hunting. Sir, these Things cryloud for Reformation and fall properly under the Provinceof SPECTATOR General; but how indeed should it beotherwise, while Fellows (that for Twenty Yearstogether were never paid but as their Master wasin the Humour) now presume to pay others more thanever they had in their Lives; and in Contempt ofthe Practice of Persons of Condition, have the Insolenceto owe no Tradesman a Farthing at the End of theWeek. Sir, all I propose is the publick Good;for no one can imagine I shall ever get a privateShilling by it: Therefore I hope you will recommendthis Matter in one of your this Weeks Papers, anddesire when my House opens you will accept the Libertyof it for the Trouble you have receiv’d from,SIR, Your Humble Servant, RalphCrotchet.
P.S. I have Assurances that the Trunk-makerwill declare for us.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
We whose Names are subscribed, [2] thinkyou the properest Person to signify what we haveto offer the Town in Behalf of our selves, and theArt which we profess, Musick. We conceiveHopes of your Favour from the Speculations on theMistakes which the Town run into with Regard totheir Pleasure of this Kind; and believing your Methodof judging is, that you consider Musick only valuable,as it is agreeable to, and heightens the Purposeof Poetry, we consent that That is not only thetrue Way of relishing that Pleasure, but also, thatwithout it a Composure of Musick is the same thingas a Poem, where all the Rules of Poetical Numbersare observed, tho the Words have no Sense or Meaning;to say it shorter, meer musical Sounds are in our Artno other than nonsense Verses are in Poetry.Musick therefore is to aggravate what is intendedby Poetry; it must always have some Passion or Sentimentto express, or else Violins, Voices, or any other Organsof Sound, afford an Entertainment very little abovethe Rattles of Children. It was from this Opinionof the Matter, that when Mr. Clayton hadfinished his Studies in Italy, and brought overthe Opera of Arsinoe, that Mr. Haymand Mr. Dieupart, who had the Honour to bewell known and received among the Nobility and Gentry,were zealously inclined to assist, by their Solicitations,in introducing so elegant an Entertainment as theItalian Musick grafted upon EnglishPoetry. For this End Mr. Dieupart and Mr.Haym, according to their several Opportunities,promoted the Introduction of Arsinoe, anddid it to the best Advantage so great a Noveltywould allow. It is not proper to trouble you withParticulars of the just Complaints we all of ushave to make; but so it is, that without Regardto our obliging Pains, we are all equally set asidein the present Opera. Our Application thereforeto you is only to insert this Letter, in your Papers,that the Town may know we have all Three joinedtogether to make Entertainments of Musick for the futureat Mr. Claytons House in York-buildings.What we promise ourselves, is, to make a Subscriptionof two Guineas, for eight Times; and that the Entertainment,with the Names of the Authors of the Poetry, may beprinted, to be sold in the House, with an Accountof the several Authors of the Vocal as well as theInstrumental Musick for each Night; the Money tobe paid at the Receipt of the Tickets, at Mr. CharlesLillie’s. It will, we hope, Sir, beeasily allowed, that we are capable of undertakingto exhibit by our joint Force and different Qualificationsall that can be done in Musick; but lest you shouldthink so dry a thing as an Account of our Proposalshould be a Matter unworthy your Paper, which generallycontains something of publick Use; give us leaveto say, that favouring our Design is no less thanreviving an Art, which runs to ruin by the utmostBarbarism under an Affectation of Knowledge.We aim at establishing some settled Notion of whatis Musick, as recovering from Neglect and Want verymany Families who depend upon it, at making allForeigners who pretend to succeed in Englandto learn the Language of it as we our selves havedone, and not be so insolent as to expect a wholeNation, a refined and learned Nation, should submitto learn them. In a word, Mr. SPECTATOR, withall Deference and Humility, we hope to behave ourselvesin this Undertaking in such a Manner, that all EnglishMen who have any Skill in Musick may be furtheredin it for their Profit or Diversion by what newThings we shall produce; never pretending to surpassothers, or asserting that any Thing which is a Scienceis not attainable by all Men of all Nations whohave proper Genius for it: We say, Sir, whatwe hope for is not expected will arrive to us by contemningothers, but through the utmost Diligence recommendingourselves. We are, SIR, Your most humbleServants, Thomas Clayton, Nicolino Haym,Charles Dieupart.
[Footnote 1: Christopher Rich, of whom Steelewrote in No. 12 of the Tatler as Divito, who
has a perfect art in being unintelligiblein discourse and uncomeatable in business.But he, having no understanding in his polite way,brought in upon us, to get in his money, ladder-dancers,rope-dancers, jugglers, and mountebanks, to strutin the place of Shakespeare’s heroes and Jonson’shumorists.]
[Footnote 2: Thomas Clayton (see note on p. 72)had set Dryden’s Alexanders Feast tomusic at the request of Steele and John Hughes; butit* performance at his house in York Buildings wasa failure. Clayton had adapted English wordsto Italian airs in the drama written for him by Motteux,of Arsinoe, Queen of Cyprus, and called it hisown opera. Steele and Addison were taken by hisdesire to nationalize the opera, and put native musicto words that were English and had literature in them.After Camilla at Drury Lane, produced underthe superintendence of Nicolino Haym, Addison’sRosamond was produced, with music by Claytonand Mrs. Tofts in the part of Queen Eleanor. Themusic killed the piece on the third night of performance.The coming of Handel and his opera of Rinaldoset Mr. Clayton aside, but the friendship of Steeleand Addison abided with him, and Steele seems to havehad a share in his enterprises at York Buildings.Of his colleagues who join in the signing of thisletter, Nicola Francesco Haym was by birth a Roman,and resident in London as a professor of music.He published two good operas of sonatas for two violinsand a bass, and joined Clayton and Dieupart in theservice of the opera, until Handel’s successsuperseded them. Haym was also a man of letters,who published two quartos upon Medals, a notice ofrare Italian Books, an edition of Tasso’s Gerusalemme,and two tragedies of his own. He wrote a Historyof Music in Italian, and issued proposals for itspublication in English, but had no success. Finallyhe turned picture collector, and was employed in thatquality by Dr. Mead and Sir Robert Walpole.
Charles Dieupart, a Frenchman, was a fine performeron the violin and harpsichord. At the representationof Arsinoe and the other earliest operas, heplayed the harpsichord and Haym the violoncello.Dieupart, after the small success of the design setforth in this letter, taught the harpsichord in familiesof distinction, but wanted self-respect enough tosave him from declining into a player at obscure ale-houses,where he executed for the pleasure of dull ears solosof Corelli with the nicety of taste that never lefthim. He died old and poor in 1740.]
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No. 259. Thursday, December 27, 1711. Steele.
Quod decet honestum est, et quod honestumest decet.
Tull.
There are some Things which cannot come under certainRules, but which one would think could not need them.Of this kind are outward Civilities and Salutations.These one would imagine might be regulated by everyMan’s Common Sense without the Help of an Instructor;but that which we call Common Sense suffers underthat Word; for it sometimes implies no more than thatFaculty which is common to all Men, but sometimessignifies right Reason, and what all Men should consentto. In this latter Acceptation of the Phrase,it is no great Wonder People err so much against it,since it is not every one who is possessed of it, andthere are fewer, who against common Rules and Fashions,dare obey its Dictates. As to Salutations, whichI was about to talk of, I observe as I strole aboutTown, there are great Enormities committed with regardto this Particular. You shall sometimes see aMan begin the Offer of a Salutation, and observe aforbidding Air, or escaping Eye, in the Person heis going to salute, and stop short in the Pole of hisNeck. This in the Person who believed he coulddo it with a good Grace, and was refused the Opportunity,is justly resented with a Coldness the whole ensuingSeason. Your great Beauties, People in much Favour,or by any Means or for any Purpose overflattered,are apt to practise this which one may call the preventingAspect, and throw their Attention another Way, lestthey should confer a Bow or a Curtsie upon a Personwho might not appear to deserve that Dignity.Others you shall find so obsequious, and so very courteous,as there is no escaping their Favours of this Kind.Of this Sort may be a Man who is in the fifth or sixthDegree of Favour with a Minister; this good Creatureis resolved to shew the World, that great Honourscannot at all change his Manners; he is the same civilPerson he ever was; he will venture his Neck to bowout of a Coach in full Speed, at once, to shew heis full of Business, and yet is not so taken up asto forget his old Friend. With a Man, who is notso well formed for Courtship and elegant Behaviour,such a Gentleman as this seldom finds his Accountin the Return of his Compliments, but he will still
go on, for he is in his own Way, and must not omit;let the Neglect fall on your Side, or where it will,his Business is still to be well-bred to the End.I think I have read, in one of our EnglishComedies, a Description of a Fellow that affected knowingevery Body, and for Want of Judgment in Time and Place,would bow and smile in the Face of a Judge sittingin the Court, would sit in an opposite Gallery andsmile in the Ministers Face as he came up into thePulpit, and nod as if he alluded to some Familiaritiesbetween them in another Place. But now I happento speak of Salutation at Church, I must take noticethat several of my Correspondents have importuned meto consider that Subject, and settle the Point ofDecorum in that Particular.I do not pretend to be the best Courtier in the World,but I have often on publick Occasions thought it avery great Absurdity in the Company (during the RoyalPresence) to exchange Salutations from all Parts ofthe Room, when certainly Common Sense should suggest,that all Regards at that Time should be engaged, andcannot be diverted to any other Object, without Disrespectto the Sovereign. But as to the Complaint ofmy Correspondents, it is not to be imagined what Offencesome of them take at the Custom of Saluting in Placesof Worship. I have a very angry Letter from aLady, who tells me [of] one of her Acquaintance, [who,]out of meer Pride and a Pretence to be rude, takesupon her to return no Civilities done to her in Timeof Divine Service, and is the most religious Womanfor no other Reason but to appear a Woman of the bestQuality in the Church. This absurd Custom hadbetter be abolished than retained, if it were butto prevent Evils of no higher a Nature than this is;but I am informed of Objections much more considerable:A Dissenter of Rank and Distinction was lately prevailedupon by a Friend of his to come to one of the greatestCongregations of the Church of England aboutTown: After the Service was over, he declaredhe was very well satisfied with the little Ceremonywhich was used towards God Almighty; but at the sametime he feared he should not be able to go throughthose required towards one another: As to thisPoint he was in a State of Despair, and feared hewas not well-bred enough to be a Convert. Therehave been many Scandals of this Kind given to ourProtestant Dissenters from the outward Pomp and Respectwe take to our selves in our Religious Assemblies.A Quaker who came one Day into a Church, fixed hisEyes upon an old Lady with a Carpet larger than thatfrom the Pulpit before her, expecting when she wouldhold forth. An Anabaptist who designs to comeover himself, and all his Family, within few Months,is sensible they want Breeding enough for our Congregations,and has sent his two [eldest [1]] Daughters to learnto dance, that they may not misbehave themselves atChurch: It is worth considering whether, in regardto awkward People with scrupulous Consciences, a goodChristian of the best Air in the World ought not ratherto deny herself the Opportunity of shewing so manyGraces, than keep a bashful Proselyte without thePale of the Church.
[Footnote 1: [elder]]
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No. 260. Friday, December 28,1711. Steele.
Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes.
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am now in the Sixty fifth Year of myAge, and having been the greater Part of my Daysa Man of Pleasure, the Decay of my Faculties isa Stagnation of my Life. But how is it, Sir, thatmy Appetites are increased upon me with the Lossof Power to gratify them? I write this, likea Criminal, to warn People to enter upon what Reformationthey may please to make in themselves in their Youth,and not expect they shall be capable of it froma fond Opinion some have often in their Mouths,that if we do not leave our Desires they will leaveus. It is far otherwise; I am now as vain inmy Dress, and as flippant if I see a pretty Woman,as when in my Youth I stood upon a Bench in the Pitto survey the whole Circle of Beauties. The Follyis so extravagant with me, and I went on with solittle Check of my Desires, or Resignation of them,that I can assure you, I very often meerly to entertainmy own Thoughts, sit with my Spectacles on, writingLove-Letters to the Beauties that have been longsince in their Graves. This is to warm my Heartwith the faint Memory of Delights which were onceagreeable to me; but how much happier would my Lifehave been now, if I could have looked back on anyworthy Action done for my Country? If I hadlaid out that which I profused in Luxury and Wantonness,in Acts of Generosity or Charity? I have liveda Batchelor to this Day; and instead of a numerousOffspring, with which, in the regular Ways of Life,I might possibly have delighted my self, I have onlyto amuse my self with the Repetition of Old Storiesand Intrigues which no one will believe I ever wasconcerned in. I do not know whether you haveever treated of it or not; but you cannot fall on abetter Subject, than that of the Art of growing old.In such a Lecture you must propose, that no oneset his Heart upon what is transient; the Beautygrows wrinkled while we are yet gazing at her.The witty Man sinks into a Humourist imperceptibly,for want of reflecting that all Things around himare in a Flux, and continually changing: Thushe is in the Space of ten or fifteen Years surroundedby a new Set of People whose Manners are as naturalto them as his Delights, Method of Thinking, andMode of Living, were formerly to him and his Friends.But the Mischief is, he looks upon the same kindof Errors which he himself was guilty of with anEye of Scorn, and with that sort of Ill-will whichMen entertain against each other for different Opinions:Thus a crasie Constitution, and an uneasie Mind isfretted with vexatious Passions for young Mens doingfoolishly what it is Folly to do at all. DearSir, this is my present State of Mind; I hate thoseI should laugh at, and envy those I contemn. TheTime of Youth and vigorous Manhood passed the Wayin which I have disposed of it, is attended withthese Consequences; but to those who live and passaway Life as they ought, all Parts of it are equallypleasant; only the Memory of good and worthy Actionsis a Feast which must give a quicker Relish to theSoul than ever it could possibly taste in the highestEnjoyments or Jollities of Youth. As for me,if I sit down in my great Chair and begin to ponder,the Vagaries of a Child are not more ridiculousthan the Circ*mstances which are heaped up in my Memory.Fine Gowns, Country Dances, Ends of Tunes, interruptedConversations, and midnight Quarrels, are what mustnecessarily compose my Soliloquy. I beg ofyou to print this, that some Ladies of my Acquaintance,and my Years, may be perswaded to wear warm Night-capsthis cold Season: and that my old Friend JackTawdery may buy him a Cane, and not creep withthe Air of a Strut. I must add to all this, thatif it were not for one Pleasure, which I thoughta very mean one till of very late Years, I shouldhave no one great Satisfaction left; but if I liveto the 10th of March, 1714, and all my Securitiesare good, I shall be worth Fifty thousand Pound.
I am, SIR, Your most humble Servant,Jack Afterday.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
You will infinitely oblige a distressedLover, if you will insert in your very next Paper,the following Letter to my Mistress. You mustknow, I am not a Person apt to despair, but she hasgot an odd Humour of stopping short unaccountably,and, as she her self told a Confident of hers, shehas cold Fits. These Fits shall last her a Monthor six Weeks together; and as she falls into themwithout Provocation, so it is to be hoped she willreturn from them without the Merit of new Services.But Life and Love will not admit of such Intervals,therefore pray let her be admonished as follows.
Madam,
I Love you, and I honour you: thereforepray do not tell me of waiting till Decencies,till Forms, till Humours are consulted and gratified.If you have that happy Constitution as to be indolentfor ten Weeks together, you should consider thatall that while I burn in Impatiences and Fevers;but still you say it will be Time enough, thoI and you too grow older while we are yet talking.Which do you think the more reasonable, that youshould alter a State of Indifference for Happiness,and that to oblige me, or I live in Torment, andthat to lay no Manner of Obligation upon you?While I indulge your Insensibility I am doingnothing; if you favour my Passion, you are bestowingbright Desires, gay Hopes, generous Cares, nobleResolutions and transporting Raptures upon, Madam,
Your most devoted humbleServant.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Here’s a Gentlewoman lodges in thesame House with me, that I never did any Injuryto in my whole Life; and she is always railing at meto those that she knows will tell me of it.Don’t you think she is in Love with me? orwould you have me break my Mind yet or not? YourServant, T. B.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a Footman in a great Family, andam in Love with the House-maid. We were allat Hot-co*ckles last Night in the Hall these Holidays;when I lay down and was blinded, she pulled offher Shoe, and hit me with the Heel such a Rap, asalmost broke my Head to Pieces. Pray, Sir, wasthis Love or Spite?
T.
* * * * *
No. 261. Saturday. December 29,1711. Addison.
[Greek: Gamos gar anphropoisin euktaionkakon].
Frag. Vet. Poet.
My Father, whom I mentioned in my first Speculation,and whom I must always name with Honour and Gratitude,has very frequently talked to me upon the Subjectof Marriage. I was in my younger Years engaged,partly by his Advice, and partly by my own Inclinationsin the Courtship of a Person who had a great dealof Beauty, and did not at my first Approaches seemto have any Aversion to me; but as my natural Taciturnityhindred me from showing my self to the best Advantage,she by degrees began to look upon me as a very sillyFellow, and being resolved to regard Merit more thanany Thing else in the Persons who made their Applicationsto her, she married a Captain of Dragoons who happenedto be beating up for Recruits in those Parts.
This unlucky Accident has given me an Aversion topretty Fellows ever since, and discouraged me fromtrying my Fortune with the Fair Sex. The Observationswhich I made in this Conjuncture, and the repeatedAdvices which I received at that Time from the goodold Man above-mentioned, have produced the followingEssay upon Love and Marriage.
The pleasantest Part of a Man’s Life is generallythat which passes in Courtship, provided his Passionbe sincere, and the Party beloved kind with Discretion.Love, Desire, Hope, all the pleasing Motions of theSoul rise in the Pursuit.
It is easier for an artful Man who is not in Love,to persuade his Mistress he has a Passion for her,and to succeed in his Pursuits, than for one who loveswith the greatest Violence. True Love has tenthousand Griefs, Impatiences and Resentments, thatrender a Man unamiable in the Eyes of the Person whoseAffection he sollicits: besides, that it sinkshis Figure, gives him Fears, Apprehensions and Poornessof Spirit, and often makes him appear ridiculous wherehe has a mind to recommend himself.
Those Marriages generally abound most with Love andConstancy, that are preceded by a long Courtship.The Passion should strike Root, and gather Strengthbefore Marriage be grafted on it. A long Courseof Hopes and Expectations fixes the Idea in our Minds,and habituates us to a Fondness of the Person beloved.
There is Nothing of so great Importance to us, asthe good Qualities of one to whom we join ourselvesfor Life; they do not only make our present Stateagreeable, but often determine our Happiness to allEternity. Where the Choice is left to Friends,the chief Point under Consideration is an Estate:Where the Parties chuse for themselves, their Thoughtsturn most upon the Person. They have both theirReasons. The first would procure many Convenienciesand Pleasures of Life to the Party whose Intereststhey espouse; and at the same time may hope that theWealth of their Friend will turn to their own Creditand Advantage. The others are preparing for themselvesa perpetual Feast. A good Person does not onlyraise, but continue Love, and breeds a secret Pleasureand Complacency in the Beholder, when the first Heatsof Desire are extinguished. It puts the Wifeor Husband in Countenance both among Friends and Strangers,and generally fills the Family with a healthy andbeautiful Race of Children.
I should prefer a Woman that is agreeable in my ownEye, and not deformed in that of the World, to a CelebratedBeauty. If you marry one remarkably beautiful,you must have a violent Passion for her, or you havenot the proper Taste of her Charms; and if you havesuch a Passion for her, it is odds but it [would [1]]be imbittered with Fears and Jealousies.
Good-Nature and Evenness of Temper will give you aneasie Companion for Life; Virtue and good Sense, anagreeable Friend; Love and Constancy, a good Wifeor Husband. Where we meet one Person with allthese Accomplishments, we find an hundred withoutany one of them. The World, notwithstanding,is more intent on Trains and Equipages, and all theshowy Parts of Life; we love rather to dazzle the Multitude,than consult our proper Interest[s]; and, as I haveelsewhere observed, it is one of the most unaccountablePassions of human Nature, that we are at greater Painsto appear easie and happy to others, than really tomake our selves so. Of all Disparities, thatin Humour makes the most unhappy Marriages, yet scarceenters into our Thoughts at the contracting of them.Several that are in this Respect unequally yoked, anduneasie for Life, with a Person of a particular Character,might have been pleased and happy with a Person ofa contrary one, notwithstanding they are both perhapsequally virtuous and laudable in their Kind.
Before Marriage we cannot be too inquisitive and discerningin the Faults of the Person beloved, nor after ittoo dim-sighted and superficial. However perfectand accomplished the Person appears to you at a Distance,you will find many Blemishes and Imperfections in herHumour, upon a more intimate Acquaintance, which younever discovered or perhaps suspected. Here thereforeDiscretion and Good-nature are to shew their Strength;the first will hinder your Thoughts from dwelling onwhat is disagreeable, the other will raise in you allthe Tenderness of Compassion and Humanity, and bydegrees soften those very Imperfections into Beauties.
Marriage enlarges the Scene of our Happiness and Miseries.A Marriage of Love is pleasant; a Marriage of Interesteasie; and a Marriage, where both meet, happy.A happy Marriage has in it all the Pleasures of Friendship,all the Enjoyments of Sense and Reason, and indeed,all the Sweets of Life. Nothing is a greaterMark of a degenerate and vicious Age, than the commonRidicule [which [2]] passes on this State of Life.It is, indeed, only happy in those who can look downwith Scorn or Neglect on the Impieties of the Times,and tread the Paths of Life together in a constantuniform Course of Virtue.
[Footnote 1: [will]]
[Footnote 2: [that]]
* * * * *
No. 262. Monday, December 31, 1711. Steele.
Nulla venenato Littera mista Joco est.
Ovid.
I think myself highly obliged to the Publick for theirkind Acceptance of a Paper which visits them everyMorning, and has in it none of those Seasoningsthat recommend so many of the Writings which are inVogue among us.
As, on the one Side, my Paper has not in it a singleWord of News, a Reflection in Politics, nor a Stroakof Party; so on the other, there are no FashionableTouches of Infidelity, no obscene Ideas, no Satyrsupon Priesthood, Marriage, and the like popular Topicsof Ridicule; no private Scandal, nor any Thing thatmay tend to the Defamation of particular Persons,Families, or Societies.
There is not one of these above-mentioned Subjectsthat would not sell a very indifferent Paper, couldI think of gratifying the Publick by such mean andbase Methods. But notwithstanding I have rejectedevery Thing that savours of Party, every Thing thatis loose and immoral, and every Thing that might createUneasiness in the Minds of particular Persons, I findthat the Demand of my Papers has encreased every Monthsince their first Appearance in the World. Thisdoes not perhaps reflect so much Honour upon my self,as on my Readers, who give a much greater Attentionto Discourses of Virtue and Morality, than ever I expected,or indeed could hope.
When I broke loose from that great Body of Writerswho have employed their Wit and Parts in propagatingVice and Irreligion, I did not question but I shouldbe treated as an odd kind of Fellow that had a mindto appear singular in my Way of Writing: But thegeneral Reception I have found, convinces me thatthe World is not so corrupt as we are apt to imagine;and that if those Men of Parts who have been employedin vitiating the Age had endeavour’d to rectifyand amend it, they needed [not [1]] have sacrificedtheir good Sense and Virtue to their Fame and Reputation.No Man is so sunk in Vice and Ignorance, but thereare still some hidden Seeds of Goodness and Knowledgein him; which give him a Relish of such Reflectionsand Speculations as have an [Aptness [2]] to improvethe Mind, and make the Heart better.
I have shewn in a former Paper, with how much CareI have avoided all such Thoughts as are loose, obsceneor immoral; and I believe my Reader would still thinkthe better of me, if he knew the Pains I am at inqualifying what I write after such a manner, that nothingmay be interpreted as aimed at private Persons.For this Reason when I draw any faulty Character,I consider all those Persons to whom the Malice ofthe World may possibly apply it, and take care todash it with such particular Circ*mstances as mayprevent all such ill-natured Applications. IfI write any Thing on a black Man, I run over in myMind all the eminent Persons in the Nation who areof that Complection: When I place an imaginaryName at the Head of a Character, I examine every Syllableand Letter of it, that it may not bear any Resemblanceto one that is real. I know very well the Valuewhich every Man sets upon his Reputation, and howpainful it is to be exposed to the Mirth and Derisionof the Publick, and should therefore scorn to divertmy Reader, at the Expence of any private Man.
As I have been thus tender of every particular PersonsReputation, so I have taken more than ordinary Carenot to give Offence to those who appear in the higherFigures of Life. I would not make myself merryeven with a Piece of Paste-board that is investedwith a Publick Character; for which Reason I havenever glanced upon the late designed Procession ofhis Holiness and his Attendants, [3] notwithstandingit might have afforded Matter to many ludicrous Speculations.Among those Advantages, which the Publick may reapfrom this Paper, it is not the least, that it drawsMens Minds off from the Bitterness of Party, and furnishesthem with Subjects of Discourse that may be treatedwithout Warmth or Passion. This is said to havebeen the first Design of those Gentlemen who set onFoot the Royal Society; [4] and had then a very goodEffect, as it turned many of the greatest Genius’sof that Age to the Disquisitions of natural Knowledge,who, if they had engaged in Politicks with the sameParts and Application, might have set their Countryin a Flame. The Air-Pump, the Barometer, the Quadrant,and the like Inventions were thrown out to those busieSpirits, as Tubs and Barrels are to a Whale, thathe may let the Ship sail on without Disturbance, whilehe diverts himself with those innocent Amusem*nts.
I have been so very scrupulous in this Particularof not hurting any Man’s Reputation that I haveforborn mentioning even such Authors as I could notname without Honour. This I must confess to havebeen a Piece of very great Self-denial: For asthe Publick relishes nothing better than the Ridiculewhich turns upon a Writer of any Eminence, so thereis nothing which a Man that has but a very ordinaryTalent in Ridicule may execute with greater Ease.One might raise Laughter for a Quarter of a Year togetherupon the Works of a Person who has published but avery few Volumes. For which [Reason [5]] I am
astonished, that those who have appeared against thisPaper have made so very little of it. The Criticismswhich I have hitherto published, have been made withan Intention rather to discover Beauties and Excellenciesin the Writers of my own Time, than to publish anyof their Faults and Imperfections. In the meanwhile I should take it for a very great Favour fromsome of my underhand Detractors, if they would breakall Measures with me so far, as to give me a Pretencefor examining their Performances with an impartialEye: Nor shall I look upon it as any Breach ofCharity to criticise the Author, so long as I keepclear of the Person.In the mean while, till I am provoked to such Hostilities,I shall from time to time endeavour to do Justiceto those who have distinguished themselves in thepoliter Parts of Learning, and to point out such Beautiesin their Works as may have escaped the Observationof others.
As the first Place among our English Poetsis due to Milton; and as I have drawn moreQuotations out of him than from any other, I shallenter into a regular Criticism upon his ParadiseLost, which I shall publish every Saturdaytill I have given my Thoughts upon that Poem.I shall not however presume to impose upon others myown particular Judgment on this Author, but only deliverit as my private Opinion. Criticism is of a verylarge Extent, and every particular Master in thisArt has his favourite Passages in an Author, whichdo not equally strike the best Judges. It willbe sufficient for me if I discover many Beauties orImperfections which others have not attended to, andI should be very glad to see any of our eminent Writerspublish their Discoveries on the same Subject.In short, I would always be understood to write myPapers of Criticism in the Spirit which Horacehas expressed in those two famous Lines;
—Si quid novisti rectius istis,
Candidus imperti; si non, his utere mecum,
If you have made any better Remarks ofyour own, communicate them
with Candour; if not, make use of theseI present you with.
C.
[Footnote 1: [not to]]
[Footnote 2: [Aptness in them]]
[Footnote 3: [Fifteen images in waxwork, preparedfor a procession on the 17th November, Queen Elizabeth’sbirthday, had been seized under a Secretary of State’swarrant. Swift says, in his Journal to Stella,that the devil which was to have waited on the Popewas saved from burning because it was thought to resemblethe Lord Treasurer.]
[Footnote 4: The Royal Society was incorporatedin 1663 as the Royal Society of London for promotingNatural Knowledge. In the same year there wasan abortive insurrection in the North against the infamyof Charles II.’s government.]
[Footnote 5: [Reasons]]
* * * * *
No. 263. Tuesday, January 1, 1712. Steele.
Gratulor quod eum quem necesse erat diligere,qualiscunque esset,
talem habemus ut libenter quoque diligamus.
Trebonius apud Tull.
Mr, SPECTATOR,
I am the happy Father of a very towardlySon, in whom I do not only see my Life, but alsomy Manner of Life, renewed. It would be extremelybeneficial to Society, if you would frequently resumeSubjects which serve to bind these sort of Relationsfaster, and endear the Ties of Blood with thoseof Good-will, Protection, Observance, Indulgence,and Veneration. I would, methinks, have thisdone after an uncommon Method, and do not think anyone, who is not capable of writing a good Play,fit to undertake a Work wherein there will necessarilyoccur so many secret Instincts, and Biasses of humanNature which would pass unobserved by common Eyes.I thank Heaven I have no outrageous Offence againstmy own excellent Parents to answer for; but whenI am now and then alone, and look back upon my pastLife, from my earliest Infancy to this Time, thereare many Faults which I committed that did not appearto me, even till I my self became a Father.I had not till then a Notion of the Earnings of Heart,which a Man has when he sees his Child do a laudableThing, or the sudden Damp which seizes him whenhe fears he will act something unworthy. Itis not to be imagined, what a Remorse touched me fora long Train of childish Negligencies of my Mother,when I saw my Wife the other Day look out of theWindow, and turn as pale as Ashes upon seeing myyounger Boy sliding upon the Ice. These slightIntimations will give you to understand, that thereare numberless little Crimes which Children takeno notice of while they are doing, which upon Reflection,when they shall themselves become Fathers, they willlook upon with the utmost Sorrow and Contrition,that they did not regard, before those whom theyoffended were to be no more seen. How many thousandThings do I remember, which would have highly pleasedmy Father, and I omitted for no other Reason, butthat I thought what he proposed the Effect of Humourand old Age, which I am now convinced had Reasonand good Sense in it. I cannot now go into theParlour to him, and make his Heart glad with anAccount of a Matter which was of no Consequence,but that I told it, and acted in it. The goodMan and Woman are long since in their Graves, whoused to sit and plot the Welfare of us their Children,while, perhaps, we were sometimes laughing at theold Folks at another End of the House. The Truthof it is, were we merely to follow Nature in thesegreat Duties of Life, tho we have a strong Instincttowards the performing of them, we should be onboth Sides very deficient. Age is so unwelcometo the Generality of Mankind, and Growth towardsManhood so desirable to all, that Resignation toDecay is too difficult a Task in the Father; and Deference,amidst the Impulse of gay Desires, appears unreasonableto the Son. There are so few who can grow oldwith a good Grace, and yet fewer who can come slowenough into the World, that a Father, were he tobe actuated by his Desires, and a Son, were he to consulthimself only, could neither of them behave himselfas he ought to the other. But when Reason interposesagainst Instinct, where it would carry either outof the Interests of the other, there arises that happiestIntercourse of good Offices between those dearestRelations of human Life. The Father, accordingto the Opportunities which are offered to him, isthrowing down Blessings on the Son, and the Son endeavouringto appear the worthy Offspring of such a Father.It is after this manner that Camillus andhis firstborn dwell together. Camillus enjoysa pleasing and indolent old Age, in which Passion issubdued, and Reason exalted. He waits the Dayof his Dissolution with a Resignation mixed withDelight, and the Son fears the Accession of his FathersFortune with Diffidence, lest he should not enjoy orbecome it as well as his Predecessor. Add tothis, that the Father knows he leaves a Friend tothe Children of his Friends, an easie Landlord tohis Tenants, and an agreeable Companion to his Acquaintance.He believes his Sons Behaviour will make him frequentlyremembered, but never wanted. This Commerceis so well cemented, that without the Pomp of saying,Son, be a Friend to such a one when I am gone; Camillusknows, being in his Favour, is Direction enough tothe grateful Youth who is to succeed him, withoutthe Admonition of his mentioning it. TheseGentlemen are honoured in all their Neighbourhood,and the same Effect which the Court has on the Mannerof a Kingdom, their Characters have on all who livewithin the Influence of them.
My Son and I are not of Fortune to communicateour good Actions or Intentions to so many as theseGentlemen do; but I will be bold to say, my Sonhas, by the Applause and Approbation which his Behaviourtowards me has gained him, occasioned that many anold Man, besides my self, has rejoiced. OtherMens Children follow the Example of mine, and Ihave the inexpressible Happiness of overhearing ourNeighbours, as we ride by, point to their Children,and say, with a Voice of Joy, There they go.
You cannot, Mr. SPECTATOR,pass your time better than insinuating the Delightswhich these Relations well regarded bestow upon eachother. Ordinary Passions are no longer such,but mutual Love gives an Importance to the mostindifferent things, and a Merit to Actions the mostinsignificant. When we look round the World, andobserve the many Misunderstandings which are createdby the Malice and Insinuation of the meanest Servantsbetween People thus related, how necessary will itappear that it were inculcated that Men would be upontheir Guard to support a Constancy of Affection,and that grounded upon the Principles of Reason,not the Impulses of Instinct.
It is from the common Prejudices whichMen receive from their Parents, that Hatreds arekept alive from one Generation to another; and whenMen act by Instinct, Hatreds will descend when goodOffices are forgotten. For the Degeneracy ofhuman Life is such, that our Anger is more easilytransferred to our Children than our Love. Lovealways gives something to the Object it delightsin, and Anger spoils the Person against whom itis moved of something laudable in him. From thisDegeneracy therefore, and a sort of Self-Love, we aremore prone to take up the Ill-will of our Parents,than to follow them in their Friendships.
One would think there should need no moreto make Men keep up this sort of Relation with theutmost Sanctity, than to examine their own Hearts.If every Father remembered his own Thoughts and Inclinationswhen he was a Son, and every Son remembered whathe expected from his Father, when he himself wasin a State of Dependance, this one Reflection wouldpreserve Men from being dissolute or rigid in theseseveral Capacities. The Power and Subjectionbetween them, when broken, make them more emphaticallyTyrants and Rebels against each other, with greaterCruelty of Heart, than the Disruption of States andEmpires can possibly produce. I shall end thisApplication to you with two Letters which passedbetween a Mother and Son very lately, and are asfollows.
Dear FRANK,
If the Pleasures, which I have the Griefto hear you pursue in Town, do not take up allyour Time, do not deny your Mother so much of it,as to read seriously this Letter. You saidbefore Mr. Letacre, that an old Woman mightlive very well in the Country upon half my Jointure,and that your Father was a fond Fool to give me aRent-Charge of Eight hundred a Year to the Prejudiceof his Son. What Letacre said to youupon that Occasion, you ought to have born withmore Decency, as he was your Fathers well-belovedServant, than to have called him Country-put.In the first place, Frank, I must tellyou, I will have my Rent duly paid, for I will makeup to your Sisters for the Partiality I was guiltyof, in making your Father do so much as he hasdone for you. I may, it seems, live uponhalf my Jointure! I lived upon much less, Frank,when I carried you from Place to Place in theseArms, and could neither eat, dress, or mind anything for feeding and tending you a weakly Child,and shedding Tears when the Convulsions you were thentroubled with returned upon you. By my Careyou outgrew them, to throw away the Vigour ofyour Youth in the Arms of Harlots, and deny yourMother what is not yours to detain. Both yourSisters are crying to see the Passion which Ismother; but if you please to go on thus likea Gentleman of the Town, and forget all Regards toyour self and Family, I shall immediately enterupon your Estate for the Arrear due to me, andwithout one Tear more contemn you for forgettingthe Fondness of your Mother, as much as you have theExample of your Father. O Frank, doI live to omit writing myself, Your AffectionateMother, A.T.
MADAM, I will come downto-morrow and pay the Money on my Knees. Praywrite so no more. I will take care you nevershall, for I will be for ever hereafter, Yourmost dutiful Son, F.T.
I will bring down new Headsfor my Sisters. Pray let all be
forgotten.
T.
* * * * *
No. 264. Wednesday, January 2, 1712. Steele.
—Secretum iter et fallentis Semitavitae.
Hor.
It has been from Age to Age an Affectation to lovethe Pleasure of Solitude, amongst those who cannotpossibly be supposed qualified for passing Life inthat Manner. This People have taken up from readingthe many agreeable things which have been writ onthat Subject, for which we are beholden to excellentPersons who delighted in being retired and abstractedfrom the Pleasures that enchant the Generality of theWorld. This Way of Life is recommended indeedwith great Beauty, and in such a Manner as disposesthe Reader for the time to a pleasing Forgetfulness,or Negligence of the particular Hurry of Life in whichhe is engaged, together with a Longing for that Statewhich he is charmed with in Description. Butwhen we consider the World it self, and how few thereare capable of a religious, learned, or philosophickSolitude, we shall be apt to change a Regard to thatsort of Solitude, for being a little singular in enjoyingTime after the Way a Man himself likes best in theWorld, without going so far as wholly to withdraw fromit. I have often observed, there is not a Manbreathing who does not differ from all other Men,as much in the Sentiments of his Mind, as the Featuresof his Face. The Felicity is, when anyone isso happy as to find out and follow what is the properBent of this Genius, and turn all his Endeavours toexert himself according as that prompts him. Insteadof this, which is an innocent Method of enjoying aMan’s self, and turning out of the general Trackswherein you have Crowds of Rivals, there are thosewho pursue their own Way out of a Sowrness and Spiritof Contradiction: These Men do every thing whichthey are able to support, as if Guilt and Impunitycould not go together. They choose a thing onlybecause another dislikes it; and affect forsooth aninviolable Constancy in Matters of no manner of Moment.Thus sometimes an old Fellow shall wear this or thatsort of Cut in his Cloaths with great Integrity, whileall the rest of the World are degenerated into Buttons,Pockets and Loops unknown to their Ancestors.As insignificant as even this is, if it were searchedto the Bottom, you perhaps would find it not sincere,but that he is in the Fashion in his Heart, and holds
out from mere Obstinacy. But I am running frommy intended Purpose, which was to celebrate a certainparticular Manner of passing away Life, and is a Contradictionto no Man. but a Resolution to contract none of theexorbitant Desires by which others are enslaved.The best way of separating a Man’s self fromthe World, is to give up the Desire of being knownto it. After a Man has preserved his Innocence,and performed all Duties incumbent upon him, his Timespent his own Way is what makes his Life differ fromthat of a Slave. If they who affect Show andPomp knew how many of their Spectators derided theirtrivial Taste, they would be very much less elated,and have an Inclination to examine the Merit of allthey have to do with: They would soon find outthat there are many who make a Figure below what theirFortune or Merit entities them to, out of mere Choice,and an elegant Desire of Ease and Disincumbrance.It would look like Romance to tell you in this Ageof an old Man who is contented to pass for an Humourist,and one who does not understand the Figure he oughtto make in the World, while he lives in a Lodgingof Ten Shillings a Week with only one Servant:While he dresses himself according to the Season inCloth or in Stuff, and has no one necessary Attentionto any thing but the Bell which calls to Prayers twicea Day. I say it would look like a Fable to reportthat this Gentleman gives away all which is the Overplusof a great Fortune, by secret Methods to other Men.If he has not the Pomp of a numerous Train, and ofProfessors of Service to him, he has every Day helives the Conscience that the Widow, the Fatherless,the Mourner, and the Stranger bless his unseen Handin their Prayers. This Humourist gives up allthe Compliments which People of his own Conditioncould make to him, for the Pleasures of helping theAfflicted, supplying the Needy, and befriending theNeglected. This Humourist keeps to himself muchmore than he wants, and gives a vast Refuse of hisSuperfluities to purchase Heaven, and by freeing othersfrom the Temptations of Worldly Want, to carry a Retinuewith him thither. Of all Men who affect livingin a particular Way, next to this admirable Character,I am the most enamoured of Irus, whose Conditionwill not admit of such Largesses, and perhaps wouldnot be capable of making them, if it were. Irus,tho he is now turned of Fifty, has not appeared inthe World, in his real Character, since five and twenty,at which Age he ran out a small Patrimony, and spentsome Time after with Rakes who had lived upon him:A Course of ten Years time, passed in all the littleAlleys, By-Paths, and sometimes open Taverns and Streetsof this Town, gave Irus a perfect Skill injudging of the Inclinations of Mankind, and actingaccordingly. He seriously considered he was poor,and the general Horror which most Men have of all whoare in that Condition. Irus judg’d veryrightly, that while he could keep his Poverty a Secret,he should not feel the Weight of it; he improved thisThought into an Affectation of Closeness and Covetousness.Upon this one Principle he resolved to govern hisfuture Life; and in the thirty sixth Year of his Agehe repaired to Long-lane, and looked upon severalDresses which hung there deserted by their first Masters,and exposed to the Purchase of the best Bidder.At this Place he exchanged his gay Shabbiness of Cloathsfit for a much younger Man, to warm ones that wouldbe decent for a much older one. Irus came outthoroughly equipped from Head to Foot, with a littleoaken Cane in the Form of a substantial Man that didnot mind his Dress, turned of fifty. He had atthis time fifty Pounds in ready Money; and in thisHabit, with this Fortune, he took his present Lodgingin St. John Street, at the Mansion-House ofa Taylor’s Widow, who washes and can clear-starchhis Bands. From that Time to this, he has keptthe main Stock, without Alteration under or over tothe value of five Pounds. He left off all hisold Acquaintance to a Man, and all his Arts of Life,except the Play of Backgammon, upon which he has morethan bore his Charges. Irus has, ever sincehe came into this Neighbourhood, given all the Intimations,he skilfully could, of being a close Hunks worth Money:No body comes to visit him, he receives no Letters,and tells his Money Morning and Evening. He has,from the publick Papers, a Knowledge of what generallypasses, shuns all Discourses of Money, but shrugs hisShoulder when you talk of Securities; he denies hisbeing rich with the Air, which all do who are vainof being so: He is the Oracle of a NeighbouringJustice of Peace, who meets him at the Coffeehouse;the Hopes that what he has must come to Somebody,and that he has no Heirs, have that Effect where everhe is known, that he every Day has three or four Invitationsto dine at different Places, which he generally takescare to choose in such a manner, as not to seem inclinedto the richer Man. All the young Men respecthim, and say he is just the same Man he was when theywere Boys. He uses no Artifice in the World,but makes use of Mens Designs upon him to get a Maintenanceout of them. This he carries on by a certainPeevishness, (which he acts very well) that no onewould believe could possibly enter into the Head ofa poor Fellow. His Mein, his Dress, his Carriage,and his Language are such, that you would be at a lossto guess whether in the Active Part of his Life hehad been a sensible Citizen, or Scholar that knewthe World. These are the great Circ*mstancesin the Life of Irus, and thus does he pass awayhis Days a Stranger to Mankind; and at his Death,the worst that will be said of him will be, that hegot by every Man who had Expectations from him, morethan he had to leave him.I have an Inclination to print the following Letters;for that I have heard the Author of them has somewhere or other seen me, and by an excellent Facultyin Mimickry my Correspondents tell me he can assumemy Air, and give my Taciturnity a Slyness which divertsmore than any Thing I could say if I were present.Thus I am glad my Silence is attoned for to the goodCompany in Town. He has carried his Skill in Imitationso far, as to have forged a Letter from my FriendSir ROGER in such a manner, that any one but I whoam thoroughly acquainted with him, would have takenit for genuine.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Having observed in Lilly’sGrammar how sweetly Bacchus and Apollorun in a Verse: I have (to preserve the Amitybetween them) call’d in Bacchus tothe Aid of my Profession of the Theatre.So that while some People of Quality are bespeakingPlays of me to be acted upon such a Day, and others,Hogsheads for their Houses against such a Time;I am wholly employ’d in the agreeable Serviceof Wit and Wine: Sir, I have sent you Sir Rogerde Coverley’s Letter to me, which praycomply with in Favour of the Bumper Tavern.Be kind, for you know a Players utmost Pride isthe Approbation of the SPECTATOR.
I am your Admirer, tho unknown,
Richard Estcourt [1]
To Mr. Estcourt at his House in Covent-Garden.
Coverley, December the 18th, 1711.
Old Comical Ones,
The Hogsheads of Neat Port came safe,and have gotten thee good Reputation in these Parts;and I am glad to hear, that a Fellow who has beenlaying out his Money ever since he was born, for themeer Pleasure of Wine, has bethought himself ofjoining Profit and Pleasure together. Our Sexton(poor Man) having received Strength from thy Winesince his fit of the Gout, is hugely taken with it:He says it is given by Nature for the Use of Families,that no Stewards Table can be without it, that itstrengthens Digestion, excludes Surfeits, Feversand Physick; which green Wines of any kind cant do.Pray get a pure snug Room, and I hope next Termto help fill your Bumper with our People of theClub; but you must have no Bells stirring when theSpectator comes; I forbore ringing to Dinnerwhile he was down with me in the Country. Thankyou for the little Hams and Portugal Onions;pray keep some always by you. You know my Supperis only good Cheshire Cheese, best Mustard,a golden Pippin, attended with a Pipe of JohnSly’s Best. Sir Harry has stoln allyour Songs, and tells the Story of the 5th of Novemberto Perfection.
Yours to serve you,
Roger de Coverley.
We’ve lost old John sinceyou were here.
T.
[Footnote 1: Richard Estcourt, born at Tewkesburyin 1688, and educated in the Latin school there, stolefrom home at the age of 15 to join a travelling companyof comedians at Worcester, and, to avoid detection,made his first appearance in woman’s clothesas Roxana in Alexander the Great. He wasdiscovered, however, pursued, brought home, carriedto London, and bound prentice to an apothecary inHatton Garden. He escaped again, wandered aboutEngland, went to Ireland, and there obtained creditas an actor; then returned to London, and appearedat Drury Lane, where his skill as a mimic enabledhim to perform each part in the manner of the actorwho had obtained chief credit by it. His powerof mimicry made him very diverting in society, andas he had natural politeness with a sprightly wit,his company was sought and paid for at the entertainmentsof the great. Dick Estcourt was a great favouritewith the Duke of Marlborough, and when men of wit andrank joined in establishing the Beefsteak Club theymade Estcourt their Providore, with a smallgold gridiron, for badge, hung round his neck by agreen ribbon. Estcourt was a writer for the stageas well as actor, and had shown his agreement withthe Spectators dramatic criticisms by ridiculingthe Italian opera with an interlude called Prunella.In the Numbers of the Spectator for December28 and 29 Estcourt had advertised that he would onthe 1st of January open the Bumper Tavern in James’sStreet, Westminster, and had laid in
neat natural wines, fresh and in perfection;being bought by Brooke and Hellier, by whom thesaid Tavern will from time to time be supplied withthe best growths that shall be imported; to be soldby wholesale as well as retail, with the utmostfidelity by his old servant, trusty Anthony, whohas so often adorned both the theatres in Englandand Ireland; and as he is a person altogether unknowingin the wine trade, it cannot be doubted but thathe will deliver the wine in the same natural puritythat he receives it from the said merchants; andon these assurances he hopes that all his friends andacquaintance will become his customers, desiringa continuance of their favours no longer than theyshall find themselves well served.
This is the venture which Steele here backs for hisfriend with the influence of the Spectator.]
* * * * *
No. 265. Thursday, January 3, 1712. Addison.
Dixerit e multis aliquis, quid virus inangues
Adjicis? et rabidae tradis ovile lupae?
Ovid.
One of the Fathers, if I am rightly informed, hasdefined a Woman to be [Greek: xoon philokosmon],an Animal that delights in Finery. I havealready treated of the Sex in two or three Papers,conformably to this Definition, and have in particularobserved, that in all Ages they have been more carefulthen the Men to adorn that Part of the Head, whichwe generally call the Outside.
This Observation is so very notorious, that when inordinary Discourse we say a Man has a fine Head, along Head, or a good Head, we express ourselves metaphorically,and speak in relation to his Understanding; whereaswhen we say of a Woman, she has a fine, a long or agood Head, we speak only in relation to her Commode.
It is observed among Birds, that Nature has lavishedall her Ornaments upon the Male, who very often appearsin a most beautiful Head-dress: Whether it bea Crest, a Comb, a Tuft of Feathers, or a natural littlePlume, erected like a kind of Pinacle on the very Topof the Head. [As Nature on the contrary [1] has pouredout her Charms in the greatest Abundance upon theFemale Part of our Species, so they are very assiduousin bestowing upon themselves the finest Garnituresof Art. The Peaco*ck in all his Pride, does notdisplay half the Colours that appear in the Garmentsof a British Lady, when she is dressed eitherfor a Ball or a Birth-day.
But to return to our Female Heads. The Ladieshave been for some time in a kind of moulting Season,with regard to that Part of their Dress, having castgreat Quantities of Ribbon, Lace, and Cambrick, andin some measure reduced that Part of the human Figureto the beautiful globular Form, which is natural toit. We have for a great while expected what kindof Ornament would be substituted in the Place of thoseantiquated Commodes. But our Female Projectorswere all the last Summer so taken up with the Improvementof their Petticoats, that they had not time to attendto any thing else; but having at length sufficientlyadorned their lower Parts, they now begin to turntheir Thoughts upon the other Extremity, as well remembringthe old Kitchen Proverb, that if you light your Fireat both Ends, the middle will shift for it self.
I am engaged in this Speculation by a Sight whichI lately met with at the Opera. As I was standingin the hinder Part of the Box, I took notice of alittle Cluster of Women sitting together in the prettiestcoloured Hoods that I ever saw. One of them wasBlue, another Yellow, and another Philomot; [2] thefourth was of a Pink Colour, and the fifth of a paleGreen. I looked with as much Pleasure upon thislittle party-coloured Assembly, as upon a Bed of Tulips,and did not know at first whether it might not bean Embassy of Indian Queens; but upon my goingabout into the Pit, and taking them in Front, I wasimmediately undeceived, and saw so much Beauty inevery Face, that I found them all to be English.Such Eyes and Lips, Cheeks and Foreheads, could bethe Growth of no other Country. The Complectionof their Faces hindred me from observing any fartherthe Colour of their Hoods, though I could easily perceiveby that unspeakable Satisfaction which appeared intheir Looks, that their own Thoughts were wholly takenup on those pretty Ornaments they wore upon theirHeads.
I am informed that this Fashion spreads daily, insomuchthat the Whig and Tory Ladies begin already to hangout different Colours, and to shew their Principlesin their Head-dress. Nay if I may believe my FriendWILL. HONEYCOMB, there is a certain old Coquetof his Acquaintance who intends to appear very suddenlyin a Rainbow Hood, like the Iris in Dryden’sVirgil, not questioning but that among such a varietyof Colours she shall have a Charm for every Heart.
My Friend WILL., who very much values himself uponhis great Insights into Gallantry, tells me, thathe can already guess at the Humour a Lady is in byher Hood, as the Courtiers of Morocco know theDisposition of their present Emperor by the Colourof the Dress which he puts on. When Melesindawraps her Head in Flame Colour, her Heart is set uponExecution. When she covers it with Purple, I wouldnot, says he, advise her Lover to approach her; butif she appears in White, it is Peace, and he may handher out of her Box with Safety.
Will, informs me likewise, that these Hoods may beused as Signals. Why else, says he, does Corneliaalways put on a Black Hood when her Husband is goneinto the Country?
Such are my Friend HONEYCOMBS Dreams of Gallantry.For my own part, I impute this Diversity of Coloursin the Hoods to the Diversity of Complexion in theFaces of my pretty Country Women. Ovid in hisArt of Love has given some Precepts as to this Particular,though I find they are different from those whichprevail among the Moderns. He recommends a Redstriped Silk to the pale Complexion; White to the Brown,and Dark to the Fair. On the contrary my FriendWILL., who pretends to be a greater Master in thisArt than Ovid, tells me, that the palest Featureslook the most agreeable in white Sarsenet; that a Facewhich is overflushed appears to advantage in the deepestScarlet, and that the darkest Complexion is not alittle alleviated by a Black Hood. In short,he is for losing the Colour of the Face in that ofthe Hood, as a Fire burns dimly, and a Candle goeshalf out, in the Light of the Sun. This, sayshe, your Ovid himself has hinted, where he treatsof these Matters, when he tells us that the blue WaterNymphs are dressed in Sky coloured Garments; and thatAurora, who always appears in the Light ofthe Rising Sun, is robed in Saffron.
Whether these his Observations are justly groundedI cannot tell: but I have often known him, aswe have stood together behind the Ladies, praise ordispraise the Complexion of a Face which he never saw,from observing the Colour of her Hood, and has beenvery seldom out in these his Guesses.
As I have Nothing more at Heart than the Honour andImprovement of the Fair Sex, [3] I cannot concludethis Paper without an Exhortation to the BritishLadies, that they would excel the Women of all otherNations as much in Virtue and good Sense, as theydo in Beauty; which they may certainly do, if theywill be as industrious to cultivate their Minds, asthey are to adorn their Bodies: In the mean whileI shall recommend to their most serious Considerationthe Saying of an old Greek Poet,
[Greek: Gynaiki kosmos ho tropos, k ou chrysia.]
C. [4]
[Footnote 1: [On the contrary as Nature]]
[Footnote 2: Feuille mort, the russetyellow of dead leaves.]
[Footnote 3:
I will not meddle with the Spectator.Let him fair-sex it to the
worlds end.
Swifts Journal to Stella.]
[Footnote 4: [T.] corrected by an erratum inNo. 268.]
* * * * *
No. 266. Friday, January 4, 1712. Steele.
Id vero est, quod ego mihi puto palmarium,
Me reperisse, quomodo adolescentulus
Meretricum ingenia et mores possit noscere:
Mature ut cum cognorit perpetuo oderit.
Ter. Eun. Act. 5, Sc. 4.
No Vice or Wickedness which People fall into fromIndulgence to Desire[s] which are natural to all,ought to place them below the Compassion of the virtuousPart of the World; which indeed often makes me a littleapt to suspect the Sincerity of their Virtue, who aretoo warmly provoked at other Peoples personal Sins.The unlawful Commerce of the Sexes is of all otherthe hardest to avoid; and yet there is no one whichyou shall hear the rigider Part of Womankind speakof with so little Mercy. It is very certain thata modest Woman cannot abhor the Breach of Chastitytoo much; but pray let her hate it for her self, andonly pity it in others. WILL. HONEYCOMB callsthese over-offended Ladies, the Outragiously Virtuous.
I do not design to fall upon Failures in general,with relation to the Gift of Chastity, but at presentonly enter upon that large Field, and begin with theConsideration of poor and publick whor*s. Theother Evening passing along near Covent-Garden,I was jogged on the Elbow as I turned into the Piazza,on the right Hand coming out of James-street,by a slim young Girl of about Seventeen, who with apert Air asked me if I was for a Pint of Wine.I do not know but I should have indulged my Curiosityin having some Chat with her, but that I am informedthe Man of the Bumper knows me; and it wouldhave made a Story for him not very agreeable to somePart of my Writings, though I have in others so frequentlysaid that I am wholly unconcerned in any Scene I amin, but meerly as a Spectator. This Impedimentbeing in my Way, we stood [under [1]] one of the Archesby Twilight; and there I could observe as exact Featuresas I had ever seen, the most agreeable Shape, thefinest Neck and Bosom, in a Word, the whole Personof a Woman exquisitely Beautiful. She affectedto allure me with a forced Wantonness in her Lookand Air; but I saw it checked with Hunger and Cold:Her Eyes were wan and eager, her Dress thin and tawdry,her Mein genteel and childish. This strange Figuregave me much Anguish of Heart, and to avoid beingseen with her I went away, but could not forbear givingher a Crown. The poor thing sighed, curtisied,and with a Blessing, expressed with the utmost Vehemence,turned from me. This Creature is what they callnewly come upon the Town, but who, I suppose,falling into cruel Hands was left in the first Month
from her Dishonour, and exposed to pass through theHands and Discipline of one of those Hags of Hellwhom we call Bawds. But lest I should grow toosuddenly grave on this Subject, and be my self outragiouslygood, I shall turn to a Scene in one of FletchersPlays, where this Character is drawn, and the Oeconomyof whor*dom most admirably described. The PassageI would point to is in the third Scene of the secondAct of The Humorous Lieutenant. Leucippewho is Agent for the Kings Lust, and bawds at thesame time for the whole Court, is very pleasantlyintroduced, reading her Minutes as a Person of Business,with two Maids, her Under-Secretaries, taking Instructionsat a Table before her. Her Women, both thoseunder her present Tutelage, and those which she islaying wait for, are alphabetically set down in herBook; and as she is looking over the Letter C,in a muttering Voice, as if between Soliloquy andspeaking out, she says,Her Maidenhead will yield me; let mesee now; She is not Fifteen they say: For herComplexion—– Cloe, Cloe, Cloe,here I have her, Cloe,_ the Daughter of aCountry Gentleman; Here Age upon Fifteen. Nowher Complexion, A lovely brown; here tis; Eyes blackand rolling, The Body neatly built; she strikesa Lute well, Sings most enticingly: These Helpsconsider’d, Her Maidenhead will amount tosome three hundred, Or three hundred and fifty Crowns,twill bear it handsomly. Her Fathers poor,some little Share deducted, To buy him a HuntingNag_—
These Creatures are very well instructed in the Circ*mstancesand Manners of all who are any Way related to theFair One whom they have a Design upon. As Cloeis to be purchased with [350] [2] Crowns, and theFather taken off with a Pad; the Merchants Wife nextto her, who abounds in Plenty, is not to have downrightMoney, but the mercenary Part of her Mind is engagedwith a Present of Plate and a little Ambition.She is made to understand that it is a Man of Qualitywho dies for her. The Examination of a youngGirl for Business, and the crying down her Value forbeing a slight Thing, together with every other Circ*mstancein the Scene, are inimitably excellent, and have thetrue Spirit of Comedy; tho it were to be wished theAuthor had added a Circ*mstance which should makeLeucippe’s Baseness more odious.
It must not be thought a Digression from my intendedSpeculation, to talk of Bawds in a Discourse uponWenches; for a Woman of the Town is not thoroughlyand properly such, without having gone through theEducation of one of these Houses. But the compassionateCase of very many is, that they are taken into suchHands without any the least Suspicion, previous Temptation,or Admonition to what Place they are going. Thelast Week I went to an Inn in the City to enquire forsome Provisions which were sent by a Waggon out ofthe Country; and as I waited in one of the Boxes till
the Chamberlain had looked over his Parcel, I heardan old and a young Voice repeating the Questions andResponses of the Church- Catechism. I thoughtit no Breach of good Manners to peep at a Crevice,and look in at People so well employed; but who shouldI see there but the most artful Procuress in the Town,examining a most beautiful Country-Girl, who had comeup in the same Waggon with my Things, Whether shewas well educated, could forbear playing the Wantonwith Servants, and idle fellows, of which this Town,says she, is too full: At the same time,Whether she knew enough of Breeding, as that ifa Squire or a Gentleman, or one that was her Betters,should give her a civil Salute, she should curtsy andbe humble, nevertheless. Her innocent forsooths,yess, and’t please yous, and she would do herEndeavour, moved the good old Lady to take herout of the Hands of a Country Bumpkin her Brother,and hire her for her own Maid. I staid till Isaw them all marched out to take Coach; the brotherloaded with a great Cheese, he prevailed upon her totake for her Civilities to [his] Sister. Thispoor Creatures Fate is not far off that of hers whomI spoke of above, and it is not to be doubted, butafter she has been long enough a Prey to Lust she willbe delivered over to Famine; the Ironical Commendationof the Industry and Charity of these antiquated Ladies[,these] [3] Directors of Sin, after they can no longercommit it, makes up the Beauty of the inimitable Dedicationto the Plain-Dealer, [4] and is a Masterpieceof Raillery on this Vice. But to understand allthe Purleues of this Game the better, and to illustratethis Subject in future Discourses, I must venture myself, with my Friend WILL, into the Haunts of Beautyand Gallantry; from pampered Vice in the Habitationsof the Wealthy, to distressed indigent Wickednessexpelled the Harbours of the Brothel.T.
[Footnote 1: [under in]]
[Footnote 2: fifty]
[Footnote 3: [. These]]
[Footnote 4: Wycherley’s Plain-Dealerhaving given offence to many ladies, was inscribedin a satirical billet doux dedicatory To MyLady B .]
* * * * *
No. 267. Saturday, January 5,1712. Addison.
Cedite Romani Scriptores, cedite Graii. [1]
Propert.
There is nothing in Nature [more irksome than] [2]general Discourses, especially when they turn chieflyupon Words. For this Reason I shall wave theDiscussion of that Point which was started some Yearssince, whether Milton’s Paradise Lostmay be called an Heroick Poem? Those who willnot give it that Title, may call it (if they please)a Divine Poem. It will be sufficient toits Perfection, if it has in it all the Beauties ofthe highest kind of Poetry; and as for those who [alledge[3]] it is not an Heroick Poem, they advance no moreto the Diminution of it, than if they should say Adamis not AEneas, nor Eve Helen.
I shall therefore examine it by the Rules of EpicPoetry, and see whether it falls short of the Iliador AEneid, in the Beauties which are essentialto that kind of Writing. The first thing to beconsidered in an Epic Poem, is the Fable, [4] whichis perfect or imperfect, according as the Action whichit relates is more or less so. This Action shouldhave three Qualifications in it. First, It shouldbe but One Action. Secondly, It should be anentire Action; and, Thirdly, It should be a greatAction. [5] To consider the Action of the Iliad,AEneid, and Paradise Lost, in thesethree several Lights. Homer to preserve theUnity of his Action hastens into the Midst of Things,as Horace has observed: [6] Had he goneup to Leda’s Egg, or begun much later,even at the Rape of Helen, or the Investingof Troy, it is manifest that the Story of thePoem would have been a Series of several Actions.He therefore opens his Poem with the Discord of hisPrinces, and [artfully [7]] interweaves, in the severalsucceeding Parts of it, an Account of every Thing[material] which relates to [them [8]] and had passedbefore that fatal Dissension. After the same manner,AEneas makes his first Appearance in the TyrrheneSeas, and within Sight of Italy, because theAction proposed to be celebrated was that of his settlinghimself in Latium. But because it was necessaryfor the Reader to know what had happened to him inthe taking of Troy, and in the preceding Partsof his Voyage, Virgil makes his Hero relateit by way of Episode in the second and third Booksof the AEneid. The Contents of both whichBooks come before those of the first Book in the Threadof the Story, tho for preserving of this Unity of Actionthey follow them in the Disposition of the Poem. Milton,in imitation of these two great Poets, opens his ParadiseLost with an Infernal Council plotting the Fallof Man, which is the Action he proposed to celebrate;and as for those great Actions, which preceded, inpoint of Time, the Battle of the Angels, and the Creationof the World, (which would have entirely destroyedthe Unity of his principal Action, had he relatedthem in the same Order that they happened) he castthem into the fifth, sixth, and seventh Books, byway of Episode to this noble Poem.
Aristotle himself allows, that Homerhas nothing to boast of as to the Unity of his Fable,[9] tho at the same time that great Critick and Philosopherendeavours to palliate this Imperfection in the GreekPoet, by imputing it in some measure to the very Natureof an Epic Poem. Some have been of opinion, thatthe AEneid [also labours [10]] in this Particular,and has Episodes which may be looked upon as Excrescenciesrather than as Parts of the Action. On the contrary,the Poem, which we have now under our Consideration,hath no other Episodes than such as naturally arisefrom the Subject, and yet is filled with such a Multitudeof astonishing [Incidents,[11]] that it gives us atthe same time a Pleasure of the greatest Variety,and of the greatest [Simplicity; uniform in its Nature,tho diversified in the Execution [12]].
I must observe also, that as Virgil, in thePoem which was designed to celebrate the Originalof the Roman Empire, has described the Birthof its great Rival, the Carthaginian Commonwealth:Milton, with the like Art, in his Poem on theFall of Man, has related the Fall of thoseAngels who are his professed Enemies. Besidesthe many other Beauties in such an Episode, its runningparallel with the great Action of the Poem hindersit from breaking the Unity so much as another Episodewould have done, that had not so great an Affinitywith the principal Subject. In short, this isthe same kind of Beauty which the Criticks admirein The Spanish Frier, or The Double Discovery[13] where the two different Plots look like Counter-partsand Copies of one another.
The second Qualification required in the Action ofan Epic Poem, is, that it should be an entireAction: An Action is entire when it is completein all its Parts; or, as Aristotle describesit, when it consists of a Beginning, a Middle, andan End. Nothing should go before it, be intermixedwith it, or follow after it, that is not related toit. As on the contrary, no single Step shouldbe omitted in that just and regular Progress whichit must be supposed to take from its Original to itsConsummation. Thus we see the Anger of Achillesin its Birth, its Continuance and Effects; and AEneas’sSettlement in Italy, carried on thro all theOppositions in his Way to it both by Sea and Land.The Action in Milton excels (I think) both theformer in this Particular; we see it contrived inHell, executed upon Earth, and punished by Heaven.The Parts of it are told in the most distinct Manner,and grow out of one another in the most natural [Order[14]].
The third Qualification of an Epic Poem is its Greatness.The Anger of Achilles was of such Consequence,that it embroiled the Kings of Greece, destroyedthe Heroes of Troy, and engaged all the Godsin Factions. AEneas’s Settlement in Italyproduced the Caesars, and gave Birth to theRoman Empire. Milton’s Subjectwas still greater than either of the former; it doesnot determine the Fate of single Persons or Nations,but of a whole Species. The united Powers of Hellare joined together for the Destruction of Mankind,which they affected in part, and would have completed,had not Omnipotence it self interposed. The principalActors are Man in his greatest Perfection, and Womanin her highest Beauty. Their Enemies are the fallenAngels: The Messiah their Friend, and the Almightytheir Protector. In short, every thing that isgreat in the whole Circle of Being, whether withinthe Verge of Nature, or out of it, has a proper Partassigned it in this noble Poem.
In Poetry, as in Architecture, not only the Whole,but the principal Members, and every Part of them,should be Great. I will not presume to say, thatthe Book of Games in the AEneid, or that inthe Iliad, are not of this Nature, nor to reprehendVirgil’s Simile of the Top [15], andmany other of the same [kind [16]] in the Iliad,as liable to any Censure in this Particular; but Ithink we may say, without [derogating from [17]] thosewonderful Performances, that there is an unquestionableMagnificence in every Part of Paradise Lost,and indeed a much greater than could have been formedupon any Pagan System.
But Aristotle, by the Greatness of the Action,does not only mean that it should be great in itsNature, but also in its Duration, or in other Wordsthat it should have a due Length in it, as well aswhat we properly call Greatness. The just Measureof this kind of Magnitude, he explains by the followingSimilitude. [18] An Animal, no bigger than a Mite,cannot appear perfect to the Eye, because the Sighttakes it in at once, and has only a confused Ideaof the Whole, and not a distinct Idea of all its Parts;if on the contrary you should suppose an Animal often thousand Furlongs in length, the Eye would beso filled with a single Part of it, that it couldnot give the Mind an Idea of the Whole. Whatthese Animals are to the Eye, a very short or a verylong Action would be to the Memory. The firstwould be, as it were, lost and swallowed up by it,and the other difficult to be contained in it. Homerand Virgil have shewn their principal Art inthis Particular; the Action of the Iliad, andthat of the AEneid, were in themselves exceedingshort, but are so beautifully extended and diversifiedby the [Invention [19]] of Episodes, and theMachinery of Gods, with the like poetical Ornaments,that they make up an agreeable Story, sufficient toemploy the Memory without overcharging it. Milton’sAction is enriched with such a Variety of Circ*mstances,that I have taken as much Pleasure in reading theContents of his Books, as in the best invented StoryI ever met with. It is possible, that the Traditions,on which the Iliad and AEneid were built,had more Circ*mstances in them than the History ofthe Fall of Man, as it is related in Scripture.Besides, it was easier for Homer and Virgilto dash the Truth with Fiction, as they were in nodanger of offending the Religion of their Country byit. But as for Milton, he had not onlya very few Circ*mstances upon which to raise his Poem,but was also obliged to proceed with the greatest Cautionin every thing that he added out of his own Invention.And, indeed, notwithstanding all the Restraints hewas under, he has filled his Story with so many surprisingIncidents, which bear so close an Analogy with whatis delivered in Holy Writ, that it is capable of pleasingthe most delicate Reader, without giving Offence tothe most scrupulous.
The modern Criticks have collected from several Hintsin the Iliad and AEneid the Space ofTime, which is taken up by the Action of each of thosePoems; but as a great Part of Milton’sStory was transacted in Regions that lie out of theReach of the Sun and the Sphere of Day, it is impossibleto gratify the Reader with such a Calculation, whichindeed would be more curious than instructive; noneof the Criticks, either Ancient or Modern, havinglaid down Rules to circ*mscribe the Action of an EpicPoem with any determin’d Number of Years, Daysor Hours.
This Piece of Criticism on Milton’s ParadiseLost shall be carried on in [the] following[Saturdays] Papers.
L.
[Footnote 1: Give place to him, Writers of Romeand Greece. This application to Milton of a linefrom the last elegy (25th) in the second book of Propertiusis not only an example of Addison’s felicityin choice of motto for a paper, but was so bold andwell-timed that it must have given a wholesome shockto the minds of many of the Spectators readers.Addison was not before Steele in appreciation of Miltonand diffusion of a true sense of his genius.Milton was the subject of the first piece of poeticalcriticism in the Tatler; where, in his sixthnumber, Steele, having said that all Milton’sthoughts are wonderfully just and natural, dwelt onthe passage in which Adam tells his thoughts uponfirst falling asleep, soon after his creation.This passage he contrasts with the same apprehensionof Annihilation ascribed to Eve in a much lower senseby Dryden in his operatic version of Paradise Lost.In Tatlers and Spectators Steele andAddison had been equal contributors to the diffusionof a sense of Milton’s genius. In Addisonit had been strong, even when, at Oxford, in April,1694, a young man trained in the taste of the day,he omitted Shakespeare from a rhymed Account of thechief English Poets, but of Milton said:
Whate’er his pen describes Imore than see, Whilst evry verse, array’din majesty, Bold and sublime, my whole attentiondraws, And seems above the critics nicer laws.
Eighteen years older than he was when he wrote that,Addison now prepares by a series of Saturday Essays,—theSaturday Paper which reached many subscribers onlyin time for Sunday reading, being always set apartin the Spectator for moral or religious topics,to show that, judged also by Aristotle and the “criticsnicer laws,” Milton was even technically a greaterepic poet than either Homer or Virgil. This nobodyhad conceded. Dryden, the best critic of the outgoinggeneration, had said in the Dedication of the Translationsof Juvenal and Persius, published in1692,
“As for Mr. Milton, whom we alladmire with so much Justice, his Subject, is notthat of an Heroick Poem, properly so call’d:His Design is the Losing of our Happiness; his Eventis not prosperous, like that of all other EpiqueWorks” (Dryden’s French spelling of theword Epic is suggestive. For this new criticalMode was one of the fashions that had been importedfrom Paris); “His Heavenly Machines are many,and his Human Persons are but two. But I willnot take Mr. Rymer’s work out of hisHands: He has promised the World a Critique onthat Author; wherein, tho he will not allow his Poemfor Heroick, I hope he will grant us, that his Thoughtsare elevated, his Words sounding, and that no Manhas so happily copy’d the manner of Homer; orso copiously translated his Grecisms and the LatinElegancies of Virgil. Tis true he runs intoa Flat of Thought, sometimes for a Hundred Linestogether, but tis when he is got into a Track of Scripture... Neither will I justify Milton for hisBlank Verse, tho I may excuse him, by the Exampleof Hanabal Caro and other Italianswho have used it: For whatever Causes he alledgesfor the abolishing of Rhime (which I have not nowthe leisure to examine), his own particular Reasonis plainly this, that Rhime was not his Talent; hehad neither the Ease of doing it, nor the Graces ofit.”
So Dryden, who appreciated Milton better than mostof his critical neighbours, wrote of him in 1692.The promise of Rymer to discuss Milton was made in1678, when, on the last page of his little book, TheTragedies of the Last Age consider’d and examinedby the Practice of the Ancients and by the CommonSense of all Ages, in a letter to Fleetwold Shepheard,Esq. (father of two ladies who contribute an occasionalletter to the Spectator), he said: “Withthe remaining Tragedies I shall also send you somereflections on that Paradise Lost of Milton’s,which some are pleased to call a Poem, and assert Rhimeagainst the slender Sophistry wherewith he attaquesit.” But two years after the appearanceof Dryden’s Juvenal and PersiusRymer prefixed to his translation of Rene Rapin’sReflections on Aristotle’s Poesie someReflections of his own on Epic Poets. Herein hespeaks under the head Epic Poetry of Chaucer, in whosetime language was not capable of heroic character;or Spenser, who “wanted a true Idea, and losthimself by following an unfaithful guide, besidesusing a stanza which is in no wise proper for ourlanguage;” of Sir William Davenant, who, inGondibert, “has some strokes of an extraordinaryjudgment,” but “is for unbeaten tracksand new ways of thinking;” “his heroesare foreigners;” of Cowley, in whose Davideis“David is the least part of the Poem,”and there is want of the “one illustrious andperfect action which properly is the subject of anEpick Poem”: all failing through ignoranceor negligence of the Fundamental Rules or Laws of Aristotle.But he contemptuously passes over Milton without mention.Rene Rapin, that great French oracle of whom Drydensaid, in the Preface to his own conversion of ParadiseLost into an opera, that he was alone sufficient,were all other critics lost, to teach anew the Artof Writing, Rene Rapin in the work translated andintroduced by Rymer, worshipped in Aristotle the oneGod of all orthodox critics. Of his Laws he said,
There is no arriving at Perfection butby these Rules, and they certainly go astray thattake a different course.... And if a Poem madeby these Rules fails of success, the fault lies notin the Art, but in the Artist; all who have writof this Art, have followed no other Idea but thatof Aristotle.
Again as to Style,
to say the truth, what is good on thissubject is all taken from
Aristotle, who is the only source whencegood sense is to be drawn,
when one goes about to write.
This was the critical temper Addison resolved to meeton its own ground and do battle with for the honourof that greatest of all Epic Poets to whom he fearlesslysaid that all the Greeks and Latins must give place.In so doing he might suggest here and there cautiously,and without bringing upon himself the discredit ofmuch heresy,—indeed, without being muchof a heretic,—that even the Divine Aristotlesometimes fell short of perfection. The conventionalcritics who believed they kept the gates of Fame wouldneither understand nor credit him. Nine yearsafter these papers appeared, Charles Gildon, who passedfor a critic of considerable mark, edited with copiousannotation as the Laws of Poetry (1721), theDuke of Buckingham’s Essay on Poetry, Roscommon’sEssay on Translated Verse, and Lord Lansdowne on UnnaturalFlights in Poetry, and in the course of comment Gildonsaid that
Mr. Addison in the Spectators,in his criticisms upon Milton, seems to have mistakenthe matter, in endeavouring to bring that poem to therules of the epopoeia, which cannot be done ...It is not an Heroic Poem, but a Divine one, andindeed of a new species. It is plain that theproposition of all the heroic poems of the ancientsmentions some one person as the subject of theirpoem... But Milton begins his poem of things,and not of men.
The Gildon are all gone; and when, in the next generationafter theirs, national life began, in many parts ofEurope, strongly to assert itself in literature againstthe pedantry of the French critical lawgivers, inGermany Milton’s name was inscribed on the foremoststandard of the men who represented the new spiritof the age. Gottsched, who dealt French criticallaw from Leipzig, by passing sentence against Miltonin his Art of Poetry in 1737, raised in Bodmer anopponent who led the revolt of all that was most vigorousin German thought, and put an end to French supremacy.Bodmer, in a book published in 1740 Vom Wunderbarenin der Poesie, justified and exalted Milton, andbrought Addison to his aid by appending to his ownwork a translation of these Milton papers out of theSpectator. Gottsched replied; Bodmer retorted.Bodmer translated Paradise Lost; and what was calledthe English or Milton party (but was, in that form,really a German national party) were at last leftmasters of the field. It was right that these
papers of Addison should be brought in as aids duringthe contest. Careful as he was to conciliateopposing prejudices, he was yet first in the field,and this motto to the first of his series of Miltonpapers, Yield place to him, Writers of Greece andRome, is as the first trumpet note of the one heraldon a field from which only a quick ear can yet distinguishamong stir of all that is near, the distant tramp ofan advancing host.[Footnote 2: [so irksom as]]
[Footnote 3: say]
[Footnote 4: Aristotle, Poetics, III.Sec. I, after a full discussion of Tragedy, beginsby saying,
with respect to that species of Poetrywhich imitates by Narration ... it is obvious,that the Fable ought to be dramatically constructed,like that of Tragedy, and that it should have for itsSubject one entire and perfect action, having a beginning,a middle, and an end;
forming a complete whole, like an animal, and thereindiffering, Aristotle says, from History, which treatsnot of one Action, but of one Time, and of all theevents, casually connected, which happened to oneperson or to many during that time.]
[Footnote 5: Poetics, I. Sec. 9.
Epic Poetry agrees so far with Tragicas it is an imitation of great
characters and actions.
Aristotle (from whose opinion, in this matter alone,his worshippers departed, right though he was) rankeda perfect tragedy above a perfect epic; for, he said,
all the parts of the Epic poem are tobe found in Tragedy, not all
those of Tragedy in the Epic poem.]
[Footnote 6:
Nec reditum Diomedis ab interitu Meleagri,
Nec gemino bellum Trojanum orditur abovo,
Semper ad eventum festinat, et in mediasres,
Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit—
De Arte Poet. II. 146-9.]
[Footnote 7: with great Art]
[Footnote 8: the Story]
[Footnote 9: Poetics, V. Sec. 3.In arguing the superiority of Tragic to Epic Poetry,Aristotle says,
there is less Unity in all Epic imitation;as appears from this—that any Epic Poemwill furnish matter for several Tragedies ...The Iliad, for example, and the Odyssey,contain many such subordinate parts, each of whichhas a certain Magnitude and Unity of its own; yetis the construction of those Poems as perfect, andas nearly approaching to the imitation of a singleaction, as possible.]
[Footnote 10: labours also]
[Footnote 11: Circ*mstances]
[Footnote 12: Simplicity.]
[Footnote 13: Dryden’s Spanish Friarhas been praised also by Johnson for the happy coincidenceand coalition of the tragic and comic plots, and SirWalter Scott said of it, in his edition of Dryden’sWorks, that
the felicity does not consist in the ingenuityof his original conception, but in the minutelyartificial strokes by which the reader is perpetuallyreminded of the dependence of the one part of the Playon the other. These are so frequent, and appearso very natural, that the comic plot, instead ofdiverting our attention from the tragic business,recalls it to our mind by constant and unaffected allusion.No great event happens in the higher region of thecamp or court that has not some indirect influenceupon the intrigues of Lorenzo and Elvira; and thepart which the gallant is called upon to act in therevolution that winds up the tragic interest, whileit is highly in character, serves to bring the catastropheof both parts of the play under the eye of the spectator,at one and the same time.]
[Footnote 14: Method]
[Footnote 15: AEneid, Bk. VII. 11.378-384, thus translated by Dryden:
And as young striplings whip the topfor sport, On the smooth pavement of an empty court,The wooden engine files and whirls about, Admir’d,with clamours, of the beardless rout; They lashaloud, each other they provoke, And lend their littlesouls at every stroke: Thus fares the Queen,and thus her fury blows Amidst the crowds, and trundlesas she goes.]
[Footnote 16: [nature]]
[Footnote 17: [offence to]]
[Footnote 18: Poetics, II. section 4,where it is said of the magnitude of Tragedy.]
[Footnote 19: Intervention]
* * * * *
No. 268. Monday, January 7, 1712. Steele.
—Minus aptus acutis
Naribus Horum Hominum.
Hor.
It is not that I think I have been more witty thanI ought of late, that at present I wholly forbearany Attempt towards it: I am of Opinion thatI ought sometimes to lay before the World the plainLetters of my Correspondents in the artless Dressin which they hastily send them, that the Reader maysee I am not Accuser and Judge my self, but that theIndictment is properly and fairly laid, before I proceedagainst the Criminal.
Mr. SPECTATOR, [1]
As you are Spectator-General, Iapply myself to you in the following Case; viz.I do not wear a Sword, but I often divert my selfat the Theatre, where I frequently see a Set of Fellowspull plain People, by way of Humour [and [2]] Frolick,by the Nose, upon frivolous or no Occasions.A Friend of mine the other Night applauding whata graceful Exit Mr. Wilks made, one of theseNose-wringers overhearing him, pinched him by thenose. I was in the Pit the other Night, (whenit was very much crowded) a Gentleman leaning uponme, and very heavily, I very civilly requested himto remove his Hand; for which he pulled me by theNose. I would not resent it in so publick a Place,because I was unwilling to create a Disturbance; buthave since reflected upon it as a thing that isunmanly and disingenuous, renders the Nose-pullerodious, and makes the Person pulled by the Nose looklittle and contemptible. This Grievance I humblyrequest you would endeavour to redress.
I am your Admirer, &c.
James Easy.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Your Discourse of the 29th of Decemberon Love and Marriage is of so useful a Kind, thatI cannot forbear adding my Thoughts to yours on thatSubject. Methinks it is a Misfortune, that theMarriage State, which in its own Nature is adaptedto give us the compleatest Happiness this Life iscapable of, should be so uncomfortable a one to somany as it daily proves. But the Mischief generallyproceeds from the unwise Choice People make forthemselves, and Expectation of Happiness from Thingsnot capable of giving it. Nothing but the goodQualities of the Person beloved can be a Foundationfor a Love of Judgment and Discretion; and whoeverexpects Happiness from any Thing but Virtue, Wisdom,Good-humour, and a Similitude of Manners, will findthemselves widely mistaken. But how few are therewho seek after these things, and do not rather makeRiches their chief if not their only Aim? Howrare is it for a Man, when he engages himself in theThoughts of Marriage, to place his Hopes of havingin such a Woman a constant, agreeable Companion?One who will divide his Cares and double his Joys?Who will manage that Share of his Estate he intruststo her Conduct with Prudence and Frugality, governhis House with Oeconomy and Discretion, and be anOrnament to himself and Family? Where shallwe find the Man who looks out for one who places herchief Happiness in the Practice of Virtue, and makesher Duty her continual Pleasure? No: Menrather seek for Money as the Complement of all theirDesires; and regardless of what kind of Wives theytake, they think Riches will be a Minister to allkind of Pleasures, and enable them to keep Mistresses,Horses, Hounds, to drink, feast, and game with theirCompanions, pay their Debts contracted by formerExtravagancies, or some such vile and unworthy End;and indulge themselves in Pleasures which are aShame and Scandal to humane Nature. Now as forthe Women; how few of them are there who place theHappiness of their Marriage in the having a wiseand virtuous Friend? one who will be faithful andjust to all, and constant and loving to them? whowith Care and Diligence will look after and improvethe Estate, and without grudging allow whateveris prudent and convenient? Rather, how few arethere who do not place their Happiness in outshiningothers in Pomp and Show? and that do not think withinthemselves when they have married such a rich Person,that none of their Acquaintance shall appear so finein their Equipage, so adorned in their Persons, orso magnificent in their Furniture as themselves?Thus their Heads are filled with vain Ideas; andI heartily wish I could say that Equipage and Showwere not the Chief Good of so many Women as I fearit is.
After this Manner do both Sexes deceivethemselves, and bring Reflections and Disgrace uponthe most happy and most honourable State of Life;whereas if they would but correct their depraved Taste,moderate their Ambition, and place their Happinessupon proper Objects, we should not find Felicityin the Marriage State such a Wonder in the Worldas it now is.
Sir, if you think these Thoughts worthinserting [among [3]] your own,
be pleased to give them a better Dress,and let them pass abroad; and
you will oblige Your Admirer,
A. B.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
As I was this Day walking in the Street,there happened to pass by on the other Side of theWay a Beauty, whose Charms were so attracting thatit drew my Eyes wholly on that Side, insomuch thatI neglected my own Way, and chanced to run my Nosedirectly against a Post; which the Lady no soonerperceived, but fell out into a Fit of Laughter, thoughat the same time she was sensible that her self wasthe Cause of my Misfortune, which in my Opinionwas the greater Aggravation of her Crime. Ibeing busy wiping off the Blood which trickled downmy Face, had not Time to acquaint her with her Barbarity,as also with my Resolution, viz. never tolook out of my Way for one of her Sex more:Therefore, that your humble Servant may be revenged,he desires you to insert this in one of your nextPapers, which he hopes will be a Warning to allthe rest of the Women Gazers, as well as to poor
Anthony Gape.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I desire to know in your next, if themerry Game of The Parson has lost his Cloak,is not mightily in Vogue amongst the fine Ladies thisChristmas; because I see they wear Hoods ofall Colours, which I suppose is for that Purpose:If it is, and you think it proper, I will carrysome of those Hoods with me to our Ladies in Yorkshire;because they enjoyned me to bring them somethingfrom London that was very New. If youcan tell any Thing in which I can obey their Commandsmore agreeably, be pleased to inform me, and you willextremely oblige
Your humble Servant
Oxford, Dec. 29.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Since you appear inclined to be a Friendto the Distressed, I beg you would assist me inan Affair under which I have suffered very much.The reigning Toast of this Place is Patetia;I have pursued her with the utmost Diligence thisTwelve-month, and find nothing stands in my Waybut one who flatters her more than I can. Prideis her Favourite Passion; therefore if you wouldbe so far my Friend as to make a favourable Mentionof her in one of your Papers, I believe I should notfail in my Addresses. The Scholars stand in Rows,as they did to be sure in your Time, at her Pew-door:and she has all the Devotion paid to her by a Crowdof Youth[s] who are unacquainted with the Sex, andhave Inexperience added to their Passion: However,if it succeeds according to my Vows, you will makeme the happiest Man in the World, and the most obligedamongst all
Your humble Servants.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I came [to [4]] my Mistresss Toilet thisMorning, for I am admitted when her Face is starknaked: She frowned, and cryed Pish when I saida thing that I stole; and I will be judged by youwhether it was not very pretty. Madam, saidI, you [shall [5]] forbear that Part of your Dress;it may be well in others, but you cannot place a Patchwhere it does not hide a Beauty.
T.
[Footnote 1: This Letter was written by Mr. JamesHeywood, many years wholesale linen-draper on Fish-streetHill, who died in 1776, at the age of 90. HisLetters and Poems were (including this letter at p.100)in a second edition, in 12mo, in 1726.]
[Footnote 2: or]
[Footnote 3: amongst]
[Footnote 4: at]
[Footnote 5: should]
* * * * *
No. 269. Tuesday, January 8, 1712. Addison.
—AEvo rarissima nostro
Simplicitas—
Ovid.
I was this Morning surprised with a great knockingat the Door, when my Landlady’s Daughter cameup to me, and told me, that there was a Man belowdesired to speak with me. Upon my asking her whoit was, she told me it was a very grave elderly Person,but that she did not know his Name. I immediatelywent down to him, and found him to be the Coachmanof my worthy Friend Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY. Hetold me that his Master came to Town last Night, andwould be glad to take a Turn with me in Grays-InnWalks. As I was wondring in my self what had broughtSir ROGER to Town, not having lately received anyLetter from him, he told me that his Master was comeup to get a Sight of Prince Eugene [1] andthat he desired I would immediately meet him.
I was not a little pleased with the Curiosity of theold Knight, though I did not much wonder at it, havingheard him say more than once in private Discourse,that he looked upon Prince Eugenio (for so theKnight always calls him) to be a greater Man than Scanderbeg.
I was no sooner come into Grays-Inn Walks,but I heard my Friend upon the Terrace hemming twiceor thrice to himself with great Vigour, for he lovesto clear his Pipes in good Air (to make use of hisown Phrase) and is not a little pleased with any onewho takes notice of the Strength which he still exertsin his Morning Hems.
I was touched with a secret Joy at the Sight of thegood old Man, who before he saw me was engaged inConversation with a Beggar-Man that had asked an Almsof him. I could hear my Friend chide him for notfinding out some Work; but at the same time saw himput his Hand in his Pocket and give him Six-pence.
Our Salutations were very hearty on both Sides, consistingof many kind Shakes of the Hand, and several affectionateLooks which we cast upon one another. After whichthe Knight told me my good Friend his Chaplain wasvery well, and much at my Service, and that the Sundaybefore he had made a most incomparable Sermon outof Dr. Barrow. I have left, says he, allmy Affairs in his Hands, and being willing to lay anObligation upon him, have deposited with him thirtyMarks, to be distributed among his poor Parishioners.
He then proceeded to acquaint me with the Welfareof Will Wimble. Upon which he put hisHand into his Fob and presented me in his Name witha Tobacco-Stopper, telling me that Will hadbeen busy all the Beginning of the Winter in turninggreat Quantities of them; and that he [made [2]] aPresent of one to every Gentleman in the Country whohas good Principles, and smoaks. He added, thatpoor Will was at present under great Tribulation,for that Tom Touchy had taken the Law of himfor cutting some Hazel Sticks out of one of his Hedges.
Among other Pieces of News which the Knight broughtfrom his Country-Seat, he informed me that MollWhite was dead; and that about a Month after herDeath the Wind was so very high, that it blew downthe End of one of his Barns. But for my own part,says Sir ROGER, I do not think that the old Womanhad any hand in it.
He afterwards fell into an Account of the Diversionswhich had passed in his House during the Holidays;for Sir ROGER, after the laudable Custom of his Ancestors,always keeps open House at Christmas. Ilearned from him that he had killed eight fat Hogsfor the Season, that he had dealt about his Chinesvery liberally amongst his Neighbours, and that inparticular he had sent a string of Hogs-puddings witha pack of Cards to every poor Family in the Parish.I have often thought, says Sir ROGER, it happens verywell that Christmas should fall out in theMiddle of the Winter. It is the most dead uncomfortableTime of the Year, when the poor People would suffervery much from their [Poverty and Cold, [3]] if theyhad not good Cheer, warm Fires, and ChristmasGambols to support them. I love to rejoice theirpoor Hearts at this season, and to see the whole Villagemerry in my great Hall. I allow a double Quantityof Malt to my small Beer, and set it a running fortwelve Days to every one that calls for it. Ihave always a Piece of cold Beef and a Mince-Pye uponthe Table, and am wonderfully pleased to see my Tenantspass away a whole Evening in playing their innocentTricks, and smutting one another. Our Friend WillWimble is as merry as any of them, and shews athousand roguish Tricks upon these Occasions.
I was very much delighted with the Reflection of myold Friend, which carried so much Goodness in it.He then launched out into the Praise of the late Actof Parliament [4] for securing the Church of England,and told me, with great Satisfaction, that he believedit already began to take Effect, for that a rigidDissenter, who chanced to dine at his House on ChristmasDay, had been observed to eat very plentifully ofhis Plumb-porridge.
After having dispatched all our Country Matters, SirROGER made several Inquiries concerning the Club,and particularly of his old Antagonist Sir ANDREWFREEPORT. He asked me with a kind of Smile, whetherSir ANDREW had not taken Advantage of his Absence,to vent among them some of his Republican Doctrines;but soon after gathering up his Countenance into amore than ordinary Seriousness, Tell me truly, sayshe, don’t you think Sir ANDREW had a Hand inthe Popes Procession—–but withoutgiving me time to answer him, Well, well, says he,I know you are a wary Man, and do not care to talkof publick Matters.
The Knight then asked me, if I had seen Prince Eugenio,and made me promise to get him a Stand in some convenientPlace where he might have a full Sight of that extraordinaryMan, whose Presence does so much Honour to the BritishNation. He dwelt very long on the Praises ofthis Great General, and I found that, since I was withhim in the Country, he had drawn many Observationstogether out of his reading in Bakers Chronicle,and other Authors, [who [5]] always lie in his HallWindow, which very much redound to the Honour of thisPrince.
Having passed away the greatest Part of the Morningin hearing the Knights Reflections, which were partlyprivate, and partly political, he asked me if I wouldsmoak a Pipe with him over a Dish of Coffee at Squires.As I love the old Man, I take Delight in complyingwith every thing that is agreeable to him, and accordinglywaited on him to the Coffee-house, where his venerableFigure drew upon us the Eyes of the whole Room.He had no sooner seated himself at the upper End ofthe high Table, but he called for a clean Pipe, aPaper of Tobacco, a Dish of Coffee, a Wax-Candle,and the Supplement with such an Air of Cheerfulnessand Good-humour, that all the Boys in the Coffee-room(who seemed to take pleasure in serving him) wereat once employed on his several Errands, insomuchthat no Body else could come at a Dish of Tea, tillthe Knight had got all his Conveniences about him.
L.
[Footnote 1: Prince Eugene was at this in London,and caressed by courtiers who had wished to preventhis coming, for he was careful to mark his friendshipfor the Duke of Marlborough, who was the subject ofhostile party intrigues. During his visit he stoodgodfather to Steels second son, who was named, after,Eugene.]
[Footnote 2: had made]
[Footnote 3: Cold and Poverty]
[Footnote 4: The Act against Occasional Conformity,10 Ann. cap. 2.]
[Footnote 5: [that]]
* * * * *
No. 270. Wednesday, January 9,1712. Steele.
Discit enim citius, meminitque libentiusillud,
Quod quis deridet, quam quod probat.
Hor.
I do not know that I have been in greater Delightfor these many Years, than in beholding the Boxesat the Play the last Time The Scornful Lady[1] was acted. So great an Assembly of Ladiesplaced in gradual Rows in all the Ornaments of Jewels,Silk and Colours, gave so lively and gay an Impressionto the Heart, that methought the Season of the Yearwas vanished; and I did not think it an ill Expressionof a young Fellow who stood near me, that called theBoxes Those Beds of Tulips. It was a pretty Variationof the Prospect, when any one of these fine Ladiesrose up and did Honour to herself and Friend at a Distance,by curtisying; and gave Opportunity to that Friendto shew her Charms to the same Advantage in returningthe Salutation. Here that Action is as properand graceful, as it is at Church unbecoming and impertinent.By the way, I must take the Liberty to observe thatI did not see any one who is usually so full of Civilitiesat Church, offer at any such Indecorum during anyPart of the Action of the Play.
Such beautiful Prospects gladden our Minds, and whenconsidered in general, give innocent and pleasingIdeas. He that dwells upon any one Object ofBeauty, may fix his Imagination to his Disquiet; butthe Contemplation of a whole Assembly together, isa Defence against the Encroachment of Desire:At least to me, who have taken pains to look at Beautyabstracted from the Consideration of its being theObject of Desire; at Power, only as it sits upon another,without any Hopes of partaking any Share of it; atWisdom and Capacity, without any Pretensions to rivalor envy its Acquisitions: I say to me, who amreally free from forming any Hopes by beholding thePersons of beautiful Women, or warming my self intoAmbition from the Successes of other Men, this Worldis not only a meer Scene, but a very pleasant one.Did Mankind but know the Freedom which there is inkeeping thus aloof from the World, I should have moreImitators, than the powerfullest Man in the Nationhas Followers. To be no Man’s Rival in Love,or Competitor in Business, is a Character which ifit does not recommend you as it ought to Benevolenceamong those whom you live with, yet has it certainlythis Effect, that you do not stand so much in needof their Approbation, as you would if you aimed atit more, in setting your Heart on the same thingswhich the Generality doat on. By this means, andwith this easy Philosophy, I am never less at a Playthan when I am at the Theatre; but indeed I am seldomso well pleased with the Action as in that Place, formost Men follow Nature no longer than while they arein their Night-Gowns, and all the busy Part of theDay are in Characters which they neither become oract in with Pleasure to themselves or their Beholders.But to return to my Ladies: I was very well pleasedto see so great a Crowd of them assembled at a Play,wherein the Heroine, as the Phrase is, is so justa Picture of the Vanity of the Sex in tormenting theirAdmirers. The Lady who pines for the Man whomshe treats with so much Impertinence and Inconstancy,is drawn with much Art and Humour. Her Resolutionsto be extremely civil, but her Vanity arising justat the Instant that she resolved to express her selfkindly, are described as by one who had studied theSex. But when my Admiration is fixed upon thisexcellent Character, and two or three others in thePlay, I must confess I was moved with the utmost Indignationat the trivial, senseless, and unnatural Representationof the Chaplain. It is possible there may bea Pedant in Holy Orders, and we have seen one or twoof them in the World; but such a Driveler as Sir Roger,so bereft of all manner of Pride, which is the Characteristickof a Pedant, is what one would not believe could comeinto the Head of the same Man who drew the rest ofthe Play. The Meeting between Welford andhim shews a Wretch without any Notion of the Dignityof his Function; and it is out of all common Sensethat he should give an Account of himself as onesent four or five Miles in a Morning on Foot for Eggs.It is not to be denied, but his Part and that of theMaid whom he makes Love to, are excellently well performed;but a Thing which is blameable in it self, grows stillmore so by the Success in the Execution of it.It is so mean a Thing to gratify a loose Age witha scandalous Representation of what is reputable amongMen, not to say what is sacred, that no Beauty, noExcellence in an Author ought to attone for it; nay,such Excellence is an Aggravation of his Guilt, andan Argument that he errs against the Conviction ofhis own Understanding and Conscience. Wit shouldbe tried by this Rule, and an Audience should riseagainst such a Scene, as throws down the Reputationof any thing which the Consideration of Religion orDecency should preserve from Contempt. But allthis Evil arises from this one Corruption of Mind,that makes Men resent Offences against their Virtue,less than those against their Understanding. AnAuthor shall write as if he thought there was not oneMan of Honour or Woman of Chastity in the House, andcome off with Applause: For an Insult upon allthe Ten Commandments, with the little Criticks, isnot so bad as the Breach of an Unity of Time or Place.Half Wits do not apprehend the Miseries that mustnecessarily flow from Degeneracy of Manners; nor dothey know that Order is the Support of Society.Sir Roger and his Mistress are Monsters ofthe Poets own forming; the Sentiments in both of themare such as do not arise in Fools of their Education.We all know that a silly Scholar, instead of beingbelow every one he meets with, is apt to be exaltedabove the Rank of such as are really his Superiors:His Arrogance is always founded upon particular Notionsof Distinction in his own Head, accompanied with apedantick Scorn of all Fortune and Preheminence, whencompared with his Knowledge and Learning. Thisvery one Character of Sir Roger, as silly asit really is, has done more towards the Disparagementof Holy Orders, and consequently of Virtue it self,than all the Wit that Author or any other could makeup for in the Conduct of the longest Life after it.I do not pretend, in saying this, to give myself Airsof more Virtue than my Neighbours, but assert it fromthe Principles by which Mankind must always be governed.Sallies of Imagination are to be overlooked, whenthey are committed out of Warmth in the Recommendationof what is Praise worthy; but a deliberate advancingof Vice, with all the Wit in the World, is as illan Action as any that comes before the Magistrate,and ought to be received as such by the People.
T.
[Footnote 1: Beaumont and Fletchers. Vol.II.]
* * * * *
No. 271. Thursday, January 10, 1712. Addison.
Mille trahens varios adverso sole colores.
Virg.
I receive a double Advantage from the Letters of myCorrespondents, first as they shew me which of myPapers are most acceptable to them; and in the nextplace as they furnish me with Materials for new Speculations.Sometimes indeed I do not make use of the Letter itself, but form the Hints of it into Plans of my ownInvention; sometimes I take the Liberty to changethe Language or Thought into my own Way of Speakingand Thinking, and always (if it can be done withoutPrejudice to the Sense) omit the many Complimentsand Applauses which are usually bestowed upon me.
Besides the two Advantages above-mentioned which Ireceive from the Letters that are sent me, they giveme an Opportunity of lengthning out my Paper by theskilful Management of the subscribing Part at the Endof them, which perhaps does not a little conduce tothe Ease, both of my self and Reader.
Some will have it, that I often write to my self,and am the only punctual Correspondent I have.This Objection would indeed be material, were theLetters I communicate to the Publick stuffed with myown Commendations: and if, instead of endeavouringto divert or instruct my Readers, I admired in themthe Beauty of my own Performances. But I shallleave these wise Conjecturers to their own Imaginations,and produce the three following Letters for the Entertainmentof the Day.
SIR,
I was last Thursday in an Assemblyof Ladies, where there were Thirteen different colouredHoods. Your Spectator of that Day lyingupon the Table, they ordered me to read it to them,which I did with a very clear Voice, till I cameto the Greek Verse at the End of it. Imust confess I was a little startled at its poppingupon me so unexpectedly. However, I coveredmy Confusion as well as I could, and after havingmutter’d two or three hard Words to my self,laugh’d heartily, and cried, A very goodJest, Faith. The Ladies desired me to explainit to them; but I begged their pardon for that, andtold them, that if it had been proper for them tohear, they may be sure the Author would not havewrapp’d it up in Greek. I then letdrop several Expressions, as if there was somethingin it that was not fit to be spoken before a Companyof Ladies. Upon which the Matron of the Assembly,who was dressed in a Cherry-coloured Hood, commendedthe Discretion of the Writer for having thrown hisfilthy Thoughts into Greek, which was likelyto corrupt but few of his Readers. At the sametime she declared herself very well pleased, that hehad not given a decisive Opinion upon the new-fashionedHoods; for to tell you truly, says she, I was afraidhe would have made us ashamed to shew our Heads.Now, Sir, you must know, since this unlucky Accidenthappened to me in a Company of Ladies, among whomI passed for a most ingenious Man, I have consultedone who is well versed in the Greek Language,and he assures me upon his Word, that your late Quotationmeans no more, than that Manners and not Dressare the Ornaments of a Woman. If this comesto the Knowledge of my Female Admirers, I shall bevery hard put to it to bring my self off handsomely.In the mean while I give you this Account, thatyou may take care hereafter not to betray any ofyour Well-wishers into the like Inconveniencies.It is in the Number of these that I beg leave tosubscribe my self,
Tom Trippit.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Your Readers are so well pleasedwith your Character of Sir ROGER DE
COVERLEY, that there appeared a sensibleJoy in every Coffee-house,
upon hearing the old Knight was come toTown. I am now with a Knot of
his Admirers, who make it their jointRequest to you, that you would
give us publick Notice of the Window orBalcony where the Knight
intends to make his Appearance. Hehas already given great
Satisfaction to several who have seenhim at Squires Coffee-house.
If you think fit to place your short Faceat Sir ROGERS Left Elbow,
we shall take the Hint, and gratefullyacknowledge so great a Favour.
I am, Sir, Your most Devoted HumbleServant, C. D.
SIR,
Knowing that you are very Inquisitiveafter every thing that is
Curious in Nature, I will wait on youif you please in the Dusk of the
Evening, with my Show upon my Back,which I carry about with me in a
Box, as only consisting of a Man, a Woman,and an Horse. The two first
are married, in which State the littleCavalier has so well acquitted
himself, that his Lady is with Child.The big-bellied Woman, and her
Husband, with their whimsical Palfry,are so very light, that when
they are put together into a Scale, anordinary Man may weigh down the
whole Family. The little Man is aBully in his Nature; but when he
grows cholerick I confine him to his Boxtill his Wrath is over, by
which Means I have hitherto preventedhim from doing Mischief. His
Horse is likewise very vicious, for whichReason I am forced to tie
him close to his Manger with a Pack-thread.The Woman is a Coquet. She
struts as much as it is possible for aLady of two Foot high, and
would ruin me in Silks, were not the Quantitythat goes to a large
Pin-Cushion sufficient to make her a Gownand Petticoat. She told me
the other Day, that she heard the Ladieswore coloured Hoods, and
ordered me to get her one of the finestBlue. I am forced to comply
with her Demands while she is in her presentCondition, being very
willing to have more of the same Breed.I do not know what she may
produce me, but provided it be a ShowI shall be very well
satisfied. Such Novelties shouldnot, I think, be concealed from the
British Spectator; for which ReasonI hope you will excuse this
Presumption in
Your most Dutiful, most Obedient,and most Humble Servant, S. T.
L.
* * * * *
No. 272. Friday, January 11, 1712. Steele.
[—Longa est injuria, longae Ambages
Virg.[1]]
Mr. SPECTATOR,
The Occasion of this Letter is of so greatImportance, and the Circ*mstances of it such, thatI know you will but think it just to insert it,in Preference of all other Matters that can presentthemselves to your Consideration. I need not,after I have said this, tell you that I am in Love.The Circ*mstances of my Passion I shall let youunderstand as well as a disordered Mind will admit.That cursed Pickthank Mrs. Jane! Alas, Iam railing at one to you by her Name as familiarlyas if you were acquainted with her as well as my self:But I will tell you all, as fast as the alternate Interruptionsof Love and Anger will give me Leave. Thereis a most agreeable young Woman in the World whomI am passionately in Love with, and from whom Ihave for some space of Time received as great Marksof Favour as were fit for her to give, or me todesire. The successful Progress of the Affairof all others the most essential towards a Man’sHappiness, gave a new Life and Spirit not only tomy Behaviour and Discourse, but also a certain Graceto all my Actions in the Commerce of Life in all Thingstho never so remote from Love. You know the predominantPassion spreads its self thro all a Man’s Transactions,and exalts or depresses [him [2]] according to theNature of such Passion. But alas, I have notyet begun my Story, and what is making Sentences andObservations when a Man is pleading for his Life?To begin then: This Lady has corresponded withme under the Names of Love, she my Belinda,I her Cleanthes. Tho I am thus well gotinto the Account of my Affair, I cannot keep inthe Thread of it so much as to give you the Characterof Mrs. Jane, whom I will not hide under a borrowedName; but let you know that this Creature has beensince I knew her very handsome, (tho I will notallow her even she has been for the future)and during the Time of her Bloom and Beauty was sogreat a Tyrant to her Lovers, so over-valued herself and under-rated all her Pretenders, that theyhave deserted her to a Man; and she knows no Comfortbut that common one to all in her Condition, the Pleasureof interrupting the Amours of others. It isimpossible but you must have seen several of theseVolunteers in Malice, who pass their whole Time inthe most labourous Way of Life in getting Intelligence,running from Place to Place with new Whispers, withoutreaping any other Benefit but the Hopes of makingothers as unhappy as themselves. Mrs. Janehappened to be at a Place where I, with many otherswell acquainted with my Passion for Belinda,passed a Christmas Evening. There wasamong the rest a young Lady so free in Mirth, so amiablein a just Reserve that accompanied it; I wrong herto call it a Reserve, but there appeared in hera Mirth or Chearfulness which was not a Forbearanceof more immoderate Joy, but the natural Appearanceof all which could flow from a Mind possessed ofan Habit of Innocence and Purity. I must haveutterly forgot Belinda to have taken no Noticeof one who was growing up to the same womanly Virtueswhich shine to Perfection in her, had I not distinguishedone who seemed to promise to the World the sameLife and Conduct with my faithful and lovely Belinda.When the Company broke up, the fine young Thing permittedme to take Care of her Home. Mrs. Janesaw my particular Regard to her, and was informedof my attending her to her Fathers House. Shecame early to Belinda the next Morning, andasked her if Mrs. Such-a-one had been withher? No. If Mr. Such-a-ones Lady?No. Nor your Cousin Such-a-one?No. Lord, says Mrs. Jane, what is theFriendship of Woman?—Nay, they may laughat it. And did no one tell you any thing ofthe Behaviour of your Lover Mr. What dye calllast Night? But perhaps it is nothing to youthat he is to be married to young Mrs.—onTuesday next? Belinda was here readyto die with Rage and Jealousy. Then Mrs. Janegoes on: I have a young Kinsman who is Clerkto a Great Conveyancer, who shall shew you the roughDraught of the Marriage Settlement. The Worldsays her Father gives him Two Thousand Pounds morethan he could have with you. I went innocentlyto wait on Belinda as usual, but was not admitted;I writ to her, and my Letter was sent back unopened.Poor Betty her Maid, who is on my Side, hasbeen here just now blubbering, and told me the wholeMatter. She says she did not think I could beso base; and that she is now odious to her Mistressfor having so often spoke well of me, that she darenot mention me more. All our Hopes are placedin having these Circ*mstances fairly representedin the SPECTATOR, which Betty says she darenot but bring up as soon as it is brought in; andhas promised when you have broke the Ice to own thiswas laid between us: And when I can come toan Hearing, the young Lady will support what wesay by her Testimony, that I never saw her but thatonce in my whole Life. Dear Sir, do not omitthis true Relation, nor think it too particular;for there are Crowds of forlorn Coquets who interminglethemselves with other Ladies, and contract Familiaritiesout of Malice, and with no other Design but to blastthe Hopes of Lovers, the Expectation of Parents,and the Benevolence of Kindred. I doubt notbut I shall be, SIR, Your most obliged humbleServant, CLEANTHES.
Wills Coffee-house, Jan.10.
SIR, The other Day enteringa Room adorned with the Fair Sex, I offered, afterthe usual Manner, to each of them a Kiss; but one,more scornful than the rest, turned her Cheek.I did not think it proper to take any Notice ofit till I had asked your Advice. Your humbleServant, E. S.
The Correspondent is desir’d to say which Cheekthe Offender turned to him.
[Footnote 1:
Ubi visus eris nostra medicabilis arte
Fac monitis fugias otia prima meis.
Ovid. Rem. Am.]
[Footnote 2: [it]]
* * * * *
ADVERTIsem*nT.
From the Parish-Vestry,January 9.
All Ladies who come toChurch in the New-fashioned Hoods,
are desired to be there before DivineService begins,
lest they divert the Attention of theCongregation.
RALPH.
* * * * *
No. 273. Saturday, January 12,1712. Addison.
Notandi sunt tibi Mores.
Hor.
Having examined the Action of Paradise Lost,let us in the next place consider the Actors. [Thisis Aristotle’s Method of considering,first the Fable, and secondly [1]] the Manners; or,as we generally call them in English, the Fableand the Characters.
Homer has excelled all the Heroic Poets thatever wrote, in the Multitude and Variety of his Characters.Every God that is admitted into this Poem, acts aPart which would have been suitable to no other Deity.His Princes are as much distinguished by their Manners,as by their Dominions; and even those among them,whose Characters seem wholly made up of Courage, differfrom one another as to the particular kinds of Couragein which they excel. In short, there is scarcea Speech or Action in the Iliad, which theReader may not ascribe to the Person that speaks oracts, without seeing his Name at the Head of it.
Homer does not only outshine all other Poetsin the Variety, but also in the Novelty of his Characters.He has introduced among his Grecian Princesa Person who had lived thrice the Age of Man, and conversedwith Theseus, Hercules, Polyphemus, and thefirst Race of Heroes. His principal Actor isthe [Son [2]] of a Goddess, not to mention the [Offspringof other Deities, who have [3]] likewise a Place inhis Poem, and the venerable Trojan Prince,who was the Father of so many Kings and Heroes.There is in these several Characters of Homer,a certain Dignity as well as Novelty, which adaptsthem in a more peculiar manner to the Nature of anHeroic Poem. Tho at the same time, to give themthe greater Variety, he has described a Vulcan,that is a Buffoon among his Gods, and a Thersitesamong his Mortals.
Virgil falls infinitely short of Homerin the Characters of his Poem, both as to their Varietyand Novelty. AEneas is indeed a perfect Character,but as for Achates, tho he is stiled the HerosFriend, he does nothing in the whole Poem which maydeserve that Title. Gyas, Mnesteus,Sergestus and Cloanthus, are all of themMen of the same Stamp and Character.
—Fortemque Gyan, fortemque Cloanthum.
There are indeed several very Natural Incidents onthe Part of Ascanius; as that of Didocannot be sufficiently admired. I do not seeany thing new or particular in Turnus. Pallasand Evander are [remote] Copies of Hectorand Priam, as Lausus and Mezentiusare almost Parallels to Pallas and Evander.The Characters of Nisus and Eurialusare beautiful, but common. [We must not forget theParts of Sinon, Camilla, and some fewothers, which are fine Improvements on the GreekPoet.] In short, there is neither that Variety norNovelty in the Persons of the AEneid, whichwe meet with in those of the Iliad.
If we look into the Characters of Milton, weshall find that he has introduced all the Variety[his Fable [4]] was capable of receiving. Thewhole Species of Mankind was in two Persons at theTime to which the Subject of his Poem is confined.We have, however, four distinct Characters in thesetwo Persons. We see Man and Woman in the highestInnocence and Perfection, and in the most abject Stateof Guilt and Infirmity. The two last Charactersare, indeed, very common and obvious, but the twofirst are not only more magnificent, but more new [5]than any Characters either in Virgil or Homer,or indeed in the whole Circle of Nature.
Milton was so sensible of this Defect in theSubject of his Poem, and of the few Characters itwould afford him, that he has brought into it twoActors of a Shadowy and Fictitious Nature, in the Personsof Sin and Death, [6] by which meanshe has [wrought into [7]] the Body of his Fable avery beautiful and well-invented Allegory. Butnotwithstanding the Fineness of this Allegory may attonefor it in some measure; I cannot think that Personsof such a Chymerical Existence are proper Actors inan Epic Poem; because there is not that measure ofProbability annexed to them, which is requisite inWritings of this kind, [as I shall shew more at largehereafter].
Virgil has, indeed, admitted Fame as an Actressin the AEneid, but the Part she acts is veryshort, and none of the most admired Circ*mstancesin that Divine Work. We find in Mock-Heroic Poems,particularly in the Dispensary and the Lutrin[8] several Allegorical Persons of this Nature whichare very beautiful in those Compositions, and may,perhaps, be used as an Argument, that the Authorsof them were of Opinion, [such [9]] Characters mighthave a Place in an Epic Work. For my own part,I should be glad the Reader would think so, for thesake of the Poem I am now examining, and must furtheradd, that if such empty unsubstantial Beings may beever made use of on this Occasion, never were anymore nicely imagined, and employed in more properActions, than those of which I am now speaking.
Another Principal Actor in this Poem is the greatEnemy of Mankind. The Part of Ulyssesin Homers Odyssey is very much admired by Aristotle,[10] as perplexing that Fable with very agreeable Plotsand Intricacies, not only by the many Adventures inhis Voyage, and the Subtility of his Behaviour, butby the various Concealments and Discoveries of hisPerson in several Parts of that Poem. But theCrafty Being I have now mentioned, makes a much longerVoyage than Ulysses, puts in practice manymore Wiles and Stratagems, and hides himself undera greater Variety of Shapes and Appearances, all ofwhich are severally detected, to the great Delightand Surprize of the Reader.
We may likewise observe with how much Art the Poethas varied several Characters of the Persons thatspeak to his infernal Assembly. On the contrary,how has he represented the whole Godhead exerting itself towards Man in its full Benevolence under theThree-fold Distinction of a Creator, a Redeemer anda Comforter!
Nor must we omit the Person of Raphael, whoamidst his Tenderness and Friendship for Man, shewssuch a Dignity and Condescension in all his Speechand Behaviour, as are suitable to a Superior Nature.[The Angels are indeed as much diversified in Milton,and distinguished by their proper Parts, as the Godsare in Homer or Virgil. The Readerwill find nothing ascribed to Uriel, Gabriel, Michael,or Raphael, which is not in a particular mannersuitable to their respective Characters.]
There is another Circ*mstance in the principal Actorsof the Iliad and AEneid, which givesa [peculiar [11]] Beauty to those two Poems, and wastherefore contrived with very great Judgment.I mean the Authors having chosen for their Heroes,Persons who were so nearly related to the People forwhom they wrote. Achilles was a Greek, and AEneasthe remote Founder of Rome. By this meanstheir Countrymen (whom they principally proposed tothemselves for their Readers) were particularly attentiveto all the Parts of their Story, and sympathized withtheir Heroes in all their Adventures. A Romancould not but rejoice in the Escapes, Successes andVictories of AEneas, and be grieved at anyDefeats, Misfortunes or Disappointments that befelhim; as a Greek_ must have had the same Regard forAchilles_. And it is plain, that each of thosePoems have lost this great Advantage, among those Readersto whom their Heroes are as Strangers, or indifferentPersons.
Milton’s Poem is admirable in this respect,since it is impossible for any of its Readers, whateverNation, Country or People he may belong to, not tobe related to the Persons who are the principal Actorsin it; but what is still infinitely more to its Advantage,the principal Actors in this Poem are not only ourProgenitors, but our Representatives. We havean actual Interest in every thing they do, and no lessthan our utmost Happiness is concerned, and lies atStake in all their Behaviour.
I shall subjoin as a Corollary to the foregoing Remark,an admirable Observation out of Aristotle,which hath been very much misrepresented in the Quotationsof some Modern Criticks.
If a Man of perfect and consummate Virtuefalls into a Misfortune, it raises our Pity, butnot our Terror, because we do not fear that it maybe our own Case, who do not resemble the SufferingPerson. But as that great Philosopher adds,If we see a Man of Virtue mixt with Infirmities,fall into any Misfortune, it does not only raise ourPity but our Terror; because we are afraid thatthe like Misfortunes may happen to our selves, whor*semble the Character of the Suffering Person.
I shall take another Opportunity to observe, thata Person of an absolute and consummate Virtue shouldnever be introduced in Tragedy, and shall only remarkin this Place, that the foregoing Observation of Aristotle[12] tho it may be true in other Occasions, does nothold in this; because in the present Case, thoughthe Persons who fall into Misfortune are of the mostperfect and consummate Virtue, it is not to be consideredas what may possibly be, but what actually is our ownCase; since we are embarked with them on the same Bottom,and must be Partakers of their Happiness or Misery.
In this, and some other very few Instances, Aristotle’sRules for Epic Poetry (which he had drawn from hisReflections upon Homer) cannot be supposedto quadrate exactly with the Heroic Poems which havebeen made since his Time; since it is plain his Ruleswould [still have been [13]] more perfect, could hehave perused the AEneid which was made somehundred Years after his Death.
In my next, I shall go through other Parts ofMilton’s Poem; and hope that what I shallthere advance, as well as what I have already written,will not only serve as a Comment upon Milton, butupon Aristotle.
L.
[Footnote 1: [These are what Aristotle meansby the Fable and &c.]]
[Footnote 2: [Offspring]]
[Footnote 3: [Son of Aurora who has]]
[Footnote 4: [that his Poem]]
[Footnote 5: It was especially for the noveltyof Paradise Lost, that John Dennis had in 1704exalted Milton above the ancients. In puttingforward a prospectus of a large projected work uponthe Grounds of Criticism in Poetry, he gave as a specimenof the character of his work, the substance of whatwould be said in the beginning of the Criticism uponMilton. Here he gave Milton supremacy on groundprecisely opposite to that chosen by Addison.He described him as
one of the greatest and most daring Genius’sthat has appear’d in the World, and who hasmade his country a glorious present of the most lofty,but most irregular Poem, that has been produc’dby the Mind of Man. That great Man had a desireto give the World something like an Epick Poem;but he resolv’d at the same time to break throthe Rules of Aristotle. Not that he was ignorantof them, or contemned them.... Milton was thefirst who in the space of almost 4000 years resolv’dfor his Country’s Honour and his own, to presentthe World with an Original Poem; that is to say,a Poem that should have his own thoughts, his ownimages, and his own spirit. In order to this hewas resolved to write a Poem, that, by virtue ofits extraordinary Subject, cannot so properly besaid to be against the Rules as it may be affirmedto be above them all ... We shall now shew forwhat Reasons the choice of Milton’s Subject,as it set him free from the obligation which helay under to the Poetical Laws, so it necessarilythrew him upon new Thoughts, new Images, and an OriginalSpirit. In the next place we shall shew thathis Thoughts, his Images, and by consequence too,his Spirit are actually new, and different from thoseof Homer and Virgil. Thirdly, we shall shew,that besides their Newness, they have vastly theAdvantage of Homer and Virgil.]
[Footnote 6: Paradise Lost, Book II.]
[Footnote 7: interwoven in]
[Footnote 8: Sir Samuel Garth in his Dispensary,a mock-heroic poem upon a dispute, in 1696, amongdoctors over the setting up of a Dispensary in a roomof the College of Physicians for relief of the sickpoor, houses the God of Sloth within the College, andoutside, among other allegories, personifies Diseaseas a Fury to whom the enemies of the Dispensary offerlibation. Boileau in his Lutrin a mock-heroicpoem written in 1673 on a dispute between two chiefpersonages of the chapter of a church in Paris, laSainte Chapelle, as to the position of a pulpit, hadwith some minor allegory, chiefly personified Discord,and made her enter into the form of an old precentor,very much as in Garths poem the Fury Disease
Shrill Colons person took,
In morals loose, but most precise in look.]
[Footnote 9: [that such]]
[Footnote 10: Poetics II. Sec. 17; III.Sec.6.]
[Footnote 11: [particular]]
[Footnote 12: 1 Poetics II. Sec. ii.But Addison misquotes the first clause. Aristotlesays that when a wholly virtuous man falls from prosperityinto adversity, this is neither terrible nor piteous,but ([Greek: miaron]) shocking. Then headds that our pity is excited by undeservedmisfortune, and our terror by some resemblance betweenthe sufferer and ourselves.]
[Footnote 13: [have been still]]
* * * * *
No. 274. Monday, January 14, 1712. Steele.
Audire est operae pretium, procedere recte
Qui moechis non vultis.
Hor.
I have upon several Occasions (that have occurredsince I first took into my Thoughts the present Stateof Fornication) weighed with my self, in behalf ofguilty Females, the Impulses of Flesh and Blood, togetherwith the Arts and Gallantries of crafty Men; and reflectwith some Scorn that most Part of what we in our Youththink gay and polite, is nothing else but an Habitof indulging a Pruriency that Way. It will costsome Labour to bring People to so lively a Sense ofthis, as to recover the manly Modesty in the Behaviourof my Men Readers, and the bashful Grace in the Facesof my Women; but in all Cases which come into Debate,there are certain things previously to be done beforewe can have a true Light into the Subject Matter;therefore it will, in the first Place, be necessaryto consider the impotent Wenchers and industrious Haggs,who are supplied with, and are constantly supplyingnew Sacrifices to the Devil of Lust. You areto know then, if you are so happy as not to know italready, that the great Havock which is made in theHabitations of Beauty and Innocence, is committedby such as can only lay waste and not enjoy the Soil.When you observe the present State of Vice and Virtue,the Offenders are such as one would think should haveno Impulse to what they are pursuing; as in Business,you see sometimes Fools pretend to be Knaves, so inPleasure, you will find old Men set up for Wenchers.This latter sort of Men are the great Basis and Fundof Iniquity in the Kind we are speaking of: Youshall have an old rich Man often receive Scrawls fromthe several Quarters of the Town, with Descriptionsof the new Wares in their Hands, if he will pleaseto send Word when he will be waited on. ThisInterview is contrived, and the Innocent is broughtto such Indecencies as from Time to Time banish Shameand raise Desire. With these Preparatives theHaggs break their Wards by little and little, tillthey are brought to lose all Apprehensions of whatshall befall them in the Possession of younger Men.It is a common Postscript of an Hagg to a young Fellowwhom she invites to a new Woman, She has, I assureyou, seen none but old Mr. Such-a-one. Itpleases the old Fellow that the Nymph is brought tohim unadorned, and from his Bounty she is accommodatedwith enough to dress her for other Lovers. Thisis the most ordinary Method of bringing Beauty andPoverty into the Possession of the Town: Butthe particular Cases of kind Keepers, skilful Pimps,and all others who drive a separate Trade, and arenot in the general Society or Commerce of Sin, willrequire distinct Consideration. At the same timethat we are thus severe on the Abandoned, we are aptto represent the Case of others with that Mitigationas the Circ*mstances demand. Calling Names doesno Good; to speak worse of any thing than it deserves,does only take off from the Credit of the Accuser,
and has implicitly the Force of an Apology in theBehalf of the Person accused. We shall therefore,according as the Circ*mstances differ, vary our Appellationsof these Criminals: Those who offend only againstthemselves, and are not Scandals to Society, but outof Deference to the sober Part of the World, have somuch Good left in them as to be ashamed, must notbe huddled in the common Word due to the worst ofWomen; but Regard is to be had to their Circ*mstanceswhen they fell, to the uneasy Perplexity under whichthey lived under senseless and severe Parents, tothe Importunity of Poverty, to the Violence of a Passionin its Beginning well grounded, and all other Alleviationswhich make unhappy Women resign the Characteristickof their Sex, Modesty. To do otherwise than thus,would be to act like a Pedantick Stoick, who thinksall Crimes alike, and not like an impartial SPECTATOR,who looks upon them with all the Circ*mstances thatdiminish or enhance the Guilt. I am in Hopes,if this Subject be well pursued, Women will hereafterfrom their Infancy be treated with an Eye to theirfuture State in the World; and not have their Tempersmade too untractable from an improper Sourness orPride, or too complying from Familiarity or Forwardnesscontracted at their own Houses. After these Hintson this Subject, I shall end this Paper with the followinggenuine Letter; and desire all who think they maybe concerned in future Speculations on this Subject,to send in what they have to say for themselves forsome Incidents in their Lives, in order to have properAllowances made for their Conduct.Mr. SPECTATOR, January5, 1711.
The Subject of your Yesterdays Paper isof so great Importance, and the thorough handlingof it may be so very useful to the Preservation ofmany an innocent young Creature, that I think everyone is obliged to furnish you with what Lights hecan, to expose the pernicious Arts and Practicesof those unnatural Women called Bawds. In orderto this the enclosed is sent you, which is verbatimthe Copy of a Letter written by a Bawd of Figurein this Town to a noble Lord. I have concealedthe Names of both, my Intention being not to exposethe Persons but the Thing. I am, SIR,Your humble Servant.
My Lord, I having a greatEsteem for your Honour, and a better Opinion of youthan of any of the Quality, makes me acquaint you ofan Affair that I hope will oblige you to know.I have a Niece that came to Town about a Fortnightago. Her Parents being lately dead she came tome, expecting to a found me in so good a Conditionas to a set her up in a Milliners Shop. HerFather gave Fourscore Pounds with her for fiveYears: Her Time is out, and she is not Sixteen;as pretty a black Gentlewoman as ever you saw,a little Woman, which I know your Lordship likes:well shaped, and as fine a Complection for Redand White as ever I saw; I doubt not but your Lordshipwill be of the same Opinion. She designsto go down about a Month hence except I can providefor her, which I cannot at present. Her Fatherwas one with whom all he had died with him, sothere is four Children left destitute; so if yourLordship thinks fit to make an Appointment whereI shall wait on you with my Niece, by a Line or two,I stay for your Answer; for I have no Place fittedup since I left my House, fit to entertain yourHonour. I told her she should go with meto see a Gentleman a very good Friend of mine; so Idesire you to take no Notice of my Letter by reasonshe is ignorant of the Ways of the Town.My Lord, I desire if you meet us to come alone;for upon my Word and Honour you are the first thatever I mentioned her to. So I remain,
Your Lordships
Most humble Servant to Command.
I beg of you to burn it whenyou’ve read it.
T.
* * * * *
No. 275. Tuesday, January 15, 1712. Addison.
—tribus Anticyris caput insanabile—
Juv.
I was Yesterday engaged in an Assembly of Virtuosos,where one of them produced many curious Observationswhich he had lately made in the Anatomy of an HumanBody. Another of the Company communicated to usseveral wonderful Discoveries, which he had also madeon the same Subject, by the Help of very fine Glasses.This gave Birth to a great Variety of uncommon Remarks,and furnished Discourse for the remaining Part ofthe Day.
The different Opinions which were started on thisOccasion, presented to my Imagination so many newIdeas, that by mixing with those which were alreadythere, they employed my Fancy all the last Night, andcomposed a very wild Extravagant Dream.
I was invited, methoughts, to the Dissection of aBeaus Head and of a Coquets Heart, whichwere both of them laid on a Table before us. Animaginary Operator opened the first with a great dealof Nicety, which, upon a cursory and superficial View,appeared like the Head of another Man; but upon applyingour Glasses to it, we made a very odd Discovery, namely,that what we looked upon as Brains, were not such inreality, but an Heap of strange Materials wound upin that Shape and Texture, and packed together withwonderful Art in the several Cavities of the Skull.For, as Homer tells us, that the Blood of theGods is not real Blood, but only something like it;so we found that the Brain of a Beau is not real Brain,but only something like it.
The Pineal Gland, which many of our ModernPhilosophers suppose to be the Seat of the Soul, smeltvery strong of Essence and Orange-flower Water, andwas encompassed with a kind of Horny Substance, cutinto a thousand little Faces or Mirrours, which wereimperceptible to the naked Eye, insomuch that theSoul, if there had been any here, must have been alwaystaken up in contemplating her own Beauties.
We observed a long Antrum or Cavity in theSinciput, that was filled with Ribbons, Laceand Embroidery, wrought together in a most curiousPiece of Network, the Parts of which were likewiseimperceptible to the naked Eye. Another of theseAntrums or Cavities was stuffed with invisibleBilletdoux, Love-Letters, pricked Dances, and otherTrumpery of the same Nature. In another we founda kind of Powder, which set the whole Company a Sneezing,and by the Scent discovered it self to be right Spanish.The several other Cells were stored with Commoditiesof the same kind, of which it would be tedious togive the Reader an exact Inventory.
There was a large Cavity on each side of the Head,which I must not omit. That on the right Sidewas filled with Fictions, Flatteries, and Falshoods,Vows, Promises, and Protestations; that on the leftwith Oaths and Imprecations. There issued outa Duct from each of these Cells, which raninto the Root of the Tongue, where both joined together,and passed forward in one common Duct to theTip of it. We discovered several little Roadsor Canals running from the Ear into the Brain, andtook particular care to trace them out through theirseveral Passages. One of them extended itselfto a Bundle of Sonnets and little musical Instruments.Others ended in several Bladders which were filledeither with Wind or Froth. But the latter Canalentered into a great Cavity of the Skull, from whencethere went another Canal into the Tongue. Thisgreat Cavity was filled with a kind of Spongy Substance,which the French Anatomists call Galimatias,and the English, Nonsense.
The Skins of the Forehead were extremely tough andthick, and, what very much surprized us, had not inthem any single Blood-Vessel that we were able todiscover, either with or without our Glasses; fromwhence we concluded, that the Party when alive musthave been entirely deprived of the Faculty of Blushing.
The Os Cribriforme was exceedingly stuffed,and in some Places damaged with Snuff. We couldnot but take notice in particular of that small Musclewhich is not often discovered in Dissections, and drawsthe Nose upwards, when it expresses the Contempt whichthe Owner of it has, upon seeing any thing he doesnot like, or hearing any thing he does not understand.I need not tell my learned Reader, this is that Musclewhich performs the Motion so often mentioned by theLatin Poets, when they talk of a Man’sco*cking his Nose, or playing the Rhinoceros.
We did not find any thing very remarkable in the Eye,saving only, that the Musculi Amatorii, or,as we may translate it into English, the OglingMuscles, were very much worn and decayed with use;whereas on the contrary, the Elevator, or theMuscle which turns the Eye towards Heaven, did notappear to have been used at all.
I have only mentioned in this Dissection such newDiscoveries as we were able to make, and have nottaken any notice of those Parts which are to be metwith in common Heads. As for the Skull, the Face,and indeed the whole outward Shape and Figure of theHead, we could not discover any Difference from whatwe observe in the Heads of other Men. We wereinformed, that the Person to whom this Head belonged,had passed for a Man above five and thirtyYears; during which time he Eat and Drank like otherPeople, dressed well, talked loud, laught frequently,and on particular Occasions had acquitted himselftolerably at a Ball or an Assembly; to which one ofthe Company added, that a certain Knot of Ladies tookhim for a Wit. He was cut off in the Flower ofhis Age by the Blow of a Paring-Shovel, having beensurprized by an eminent Citizen, as he was tendringsome Civilities to his Wife.
When we had thoroughly examined this Head with allits Apartments, and its several kinds of Furniture,we put up the Brain, such as it was, into its properPlace, and laid it aside under a broad Piece of ScarletCloth, in order to be prepared, and kept ina great Repository of Dissections; our Operator tellingus that the Preparation would not be so difficultas that of another Brain, for that he had observedseveral of the little Pipes and Tubes which ran throughthe Brain were already filled with a kind of MercurialSubstance, which he looked upon to be true Quick-Silver.
He applied himself in the next Place to the CoquetsHeart, which he likewise laid open with greatDexterity. There occurred to us many Particularitiesin this Dissection; but being unwilling to burden myReaders Memory too much, I shall reserve this Subjectfor the Speculation of another Day.
L.
* * * * *
No. 276. Wednesday, January 16,1712. Steele.
Errori nomen virtus posuisset honestum.
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I hope you have Philosophy enough to becapable of bearing the Mention of your Faults.Your Papers which regard the fallen Part of the FairSex, are, I think, written with an Indelicacy, whichmakes them unworthy to be inserted in the Writingsof a Moralist who knows the World. I cannotallow that you are at Liberty to observe upon theActions of Mankind with the Freedom which you seemto resolve upon; at least if you do, you shouldtake along with you the Distinction of Manners ofthe World, according to the Quality and Way of Lifeof the Persons concerned. A Man of Breedingspeaks of even Misfortune among Ladies without givingit the most terrible Aspect it can bear: Andthis Tenderness towards them, is much more to bepreserved when you speak of Vices. All Mankindare so far related, that Care is to be taken, inthings to which all are liable, you do not mentionwhat concerns one in Terms which shall disgust another.Thus to tell a rich Man of the Indigence of a Kinsmanof his, or abruptly inform a virtuous Woman of theLapse of one who till then was in the same degreeof Esteem with her self, is in a kind involving eachof them in some Participation of those Disadvantages.It is therefore expected from every Writer, to treathis Argument in such a Manner, as is most properto entertain the sort of Readers to whom his Discourseis directed. It is not necessary when you writeto the Tea-table, that you should draw Vices whichcarry all the Horror of Shame and Contempt:If you paint an impertinent Self-love, an artful Glance,an assumed Complection, you say all which you oughtto suppose they can possibly be guilty of.When you talk with this Limitation, you behave yourself so as that you may expect others in Conversationmay second your Raillery; but when you do it ina Stile which every body else forbears in Respectto their Quality, they have an easy Remedy in forbearingto read you, and hearing no more of their Faults.A Man that is now and then guilty of an Intemperanceis not to be called a Drunkard; but the Rule ofpolite Raillery, is to speak of a Man’s Faultsas if you loved him. Of this Nature is what wassaid by Caesar: When one was railingwith an uncourtly Vehemence, and broke out, Whatmust we call him who was taken in an Intrigue withanother Man’s Wife? Caesar answered verygravely, A careless Fellow. This was atonce a Reprimand for speaking of a Crime which in thoseDays had not the Abhorrence attending it as it ought,as well as an Intimation that all intemperate Behaviourbefore Superiors loses its Aim, by accusing in aMethod unfit for the Audience. A Word to the Wise.All I mean here to say to you is, That the mostfree Person of Quality can go no further than being[a kind [1]] Woman; and you should never say ofa Man of Figure worse, than that he knows the World.
I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
Francis Courtly.
Mr. SPECTATOR, I am a Woman of an unspottedReputation, and know nothing I have ever done whichshould encourage such Insolence; but here was one theother Day, and he was dressed like a Gentleman too,who took the Liberty to name the Words Lusty Fellowin my Presence. I doubt not but you will resentit in Behalf of,
SIR,
Your Humble Servant,
CELIA.
Mr. SPECTATOR, You lately put out adreadful Paper, wherein you promise a full Accountof the State of criminal Love; and call all the Fairwho have transgressed in that Kind by one very rudeName which I do not care to repeat: But 1 desireto know of you whether I am or I am not of those?My Case is as follows. I am kept by an old Batchelour,who took me so young, that I knew not how he cameby me: He is a Bencher of one of the Inns ofCourt, a very gay healthy old Man; which is a luckything for him, who has been, he tells me, a Scowrer,a Scamperer, a Breaker of Windows, an Invader ofConstables, in the Days of Yore when all Dominionended with the Day, and Males and Females met helterskelter, and the Scowrers drove before them allwho pretended to keep up Order or Rule to the Interruptionof Love and Honour. This is his way of Talk,for he is very gay when he visits me; but as his formerKnowledge of the Town has alarmed him into an invincibleJealousy, he keeps me in a pair of Slippers, neatBodice, warm Petticoats, and my own Hair woven inRinglets, after a Manner, he says, he remembers.I am not Mistress of one Farthing of Money, buthave all Necessaries provided for me, under theGuard of one who procured for him while he had anyDesires to gratify. I know nothing of a Wench’sLife, but the Reputation of it: I have a naturalVoice, and a pretty untaught Step in Dancing.His Manner is to bring an old Fellow who has been hisServant from his Youth, and is gray-headed:This Man makes on the Violin a certain Jiggish Noiseto which I dance, and when that is over I sing tohim some loose Air, that has more Wantonness than Musickin it. You must have seen a strange window’dHouse near Hide-Park, which is so built thatno one can look out of any of the Apartments; myRooms are after that manner, and I never see Man, Woman,or Child, but in Company with the two Persons above-mentioned.He sends me in all the Books, Pamphlets, Plays,Operas and Songs that come out; and his utmost Delightin me as a Woman, is to talk over old Amours in myPresence, to play with my Neck, say the Time was,give me a Kiss, and bid me be sure to follow theDirections of my Guardian (the above-mentioned Lady)and I shall never want. The Truth of my Case is,I suppose, that I was educated for a Purpose he didnot know he should be unfit for when I came to Years.Now, Sir, what I ask of you, as a Casuist, is totell me how far in these Circ*mstances I am innocent,though submissive; he guilty, though impotent? Iam, SIR, Your constant Reader, PUCELLA.
To the Man called the SPECTATOR.
Friend, Forasmuch as at theBirth of thy Labour, thou didst promise upon thy Word,that letting alone the Vanities that do abound, thouwouldst only endeavour to strengthen the crookedMorals of this our Babylon, I gave Creditto thy fair Speeches, and admitted one of thy Papers,every Day save Sunday, into my House; forthe Edification of my Daughter Tabitha, andto the end that Susannah the Wife of my Bosom mightprofit thereby. But alas, my Friend, I find thatthou art a Liar, and that the Truth is not in thee;else why didst thou in a Paper which thou didstlately put forth, make mention of those vain Coveringsfor the Heads of our Females, which thou lovest toliken unto Tulips, and which are lately sprung upamongst us? Nay why didst thou make mentionof them in such a seeming, as if thou didst approvethe Invention, insomuch that my Daughter Tabithabeginneth to wax wanton, and to lust after thesefoolish Vanities? Surely thou dost see withthe Eyes of the Flesh. Verily therefore, unlessthou dost speedily amend and leave off followingthine own Imaginations, I will leave off thee.
Thy Friend as hereafter thou dost demeanthyself,
Hezekiah Broadbrim.
T.
[Footnote 1: [an unkind]]
* * * * *
No. 277. Thursday, January 17, 1712. Budgell.
—fas est et ab hoste doceri.
Virg.
I presume I need not inform the Polite Part of myReaders, that before our Correspondence with Francewas unhappily interrupted by the War, our Ladies hadall their Fashions from thence; which the Millinerstook care to furnish them with by means of a JointedBaby, that came regularly over, once a Month, habitedafter the manner of the most Eminent Toasts in Paris.
I am credibly informed, that even in the hottest timeof the War, the Sex made several Efforts, and raisedlarge Contributions towards the Importation of thisWooden Madamoiselle.
Whether the Vessel they set out was lost or taken,or whether its Cargo was seized on by the Officersof the Custom-house, as a piece of Contraband Goods,I have not yet been able to learn; it is, however,certain their first Attempts were without Success,to the no small Disappointment of our whole FemaleWorld; but as their Constancy and Application, in amatter of so great Importance, can never be sufficientlycommended, I am glad to find that in Spight of allOpposition, they have at length carried their Point,of which I received Advice by the two following Letters.
Mr. SPECTATOR, I am so greata Lover of whatever is French, that I latelydiscarded an humble Admirer, because he neither spokethat Tongue, nor drank Claret. I have longbewailed, in secret, the Calamities of my Sex duringthe War, in all which time we have laboured under theinsupportable Inventions of English Tire-Women,who, tho they sometimes copy indifferently well,can never compose with that Gout they doin France.
I was almost in Despair of ever more seeinga Model from that dear Country, when last SundayI over-heard a Lady, in the next Pew to me, whisperanother, that at the Seven Stars in King-streetCovent-garden, there was a Madamoisellecompleatly dressed just come from Paris.
I was in the utmost Impatience duringthe remaining part of the Service, and as soon asever it was over, having learnt the Millener’sAddresse, I went directly to her House inKing-street, but was told that the FrenchLady was at a Person of Quality’s in Pall-mall,and would not be back again till very late that Night.I was therefore obliged to renew my Visit very earlythis Morning, and had then a full View of the dearMoppet from Head to Foot.
You cannot imagine, worthy Sir, how ridiculouslyI find we have all
been trussed up during the War, and howinfinitely the French Dress
excels ours.
The Mantua has no Leads in the Sleeves,and I hope we are not lighter than the FrenchLadies, so as to want that kind of Ballast; the Petticoathas no Whale-bone; but fits with an Air altogethergalant and degage: the Coiffeureis inexpressibly pretty, and in short, the wholeDress has a thousand Beauties in it, which I wouldnot have as yet made too publick.
I thought fit, however, to give this Notice,that you may not be surprized at my appearing ala mode de Paris on the next Birth-Night. Iam, SIR, Your humble Servant, Teraminta.
Within an Hour after I had read this Letter, I receivedanother from the Owner of the Puppet.
SIR, On Saturday last, being the 12thInstant, there arrived at my House in King-street,Covent-Garden, a French Baby for the Year1712. I have taken the utmost Care to haveher dressed by the most celebrated Tyre-women andMantua-makers in Paris, and do not find thatI have any Reason to be sorry for the Expence Ihave been at in her Cloaths and Importation:However, as I know no Person who is so good a Judgeof Dress as your self, if you please to call at myHouse in your Way to the City, and take a View ofher, I promise to amend whatever you shall disapprovein your next Paper, before I exhibit her as a Patternto the Publick. I am, SIR, Your most humbleAdmirer, and most obedient Servant, BettyCross-stitch.
As I am willing to do any thing in reason for theService of my Country-women, and had much rather preventFaults than find them, I went last Night to the Houseof the above-mentioned Mrs. Cross-stitch.As soon as I enter’d, the Maid of the Shop,who, I suppose, was prepared for my coming, withoutasking me any Questions, introduced me to the littleDamsel, and ran away to call her Mistress.
The Puppet was dressed in a Cherry-coloured Gown andPetticoat, with a short working Apron over it, whichdiscovered her Shape to the most Advantage. HerHair was cut and divided very prettily, with severalRibbons stuck up and down in it. The Millenerassured me, that her Complexion was such as was wornby all the Ladies of the best Fashion in Paris.Her Head was extreamly high, on which Subject havinglong since declared my Sentiments, I shall say nothingmore to it at present. I was also offended ata small Patch she wore on her Breast, which I cannotsuppose is placed there with any good Design.
Her Necklace was of an immoderate Length, being tiedbefore in such a manner that the two Ends hung downto her Girdle; but whether these supply the Placeof Kissing-Strings in our Enemy’s Country, andwhether our British Ladies have any occasionfor them, I shall leave to their serious Consideration.
After having observed the Particulars of her Dress,as I was taking a view of it altogether, the Shop-maid,who is a pert Wench, told me that Mademoisellehad something very Curious in the tying of her Garters;but as I pay a due Respect even to a pair of Stickswhen they are in Petticoats, I did not examine intothat Particular.
Upon the whole I was well enough pleased with theAppearance of this gay Lady, and the more so becauseshe was not Talkative, a Quality very rarely to bemet with in the rest of her Countrywomen.
As I was taking my leave, the Millener farther informedme, that with the Assistance of a Watchmaker, whowas her Neighbour, and the ingenious Mr. Powell,she had also contrived another Puppet, which by thehelp of several little Springs to be wound up withinit, could move all its Limbs, and that she had sentit over to her Correspondent in Paris to betaught the various Leanings and Bendings of the Head,the Risings of the Bosom, the Curtesy and Recovery,the genteel Trip, and the agreeable Jet, as they arenow practised in the Court of France.
She added that she hoped she might depend upon havingmy Encouragement as soon as it arrived; but as thiswas a Petition of too great Importance to be answeredextempore, I left her without a Reply, andmade the best of my way to WILL. HONEYCOMBS Lodgings,without whose Advice I never communicate any thingto the Publick of this Nature.
X.
* * * * *
No. 278. Friday, January 18, 1712. Steele.
Sermones ego mallem
Repentes per humum.
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
SIR,
Your having done considerable Servicein this great City, by rectifying the Disordersof Families, and several Wives having preferredyour Advice and Directions to those of their Husbands,emboldens me to apply to you at this Time. Iam a Shop-keeper, and tho but a young Man, I findby Experience that nothing but the utmost Diligenceboth of Husband and Wife (among trading People) cankeep Affairs in any tolerable Order. My Wifeat the Beginning of our Establishment shewed herself very assisting to me in my Business as muchas could lie in her Way, and I have Reason to believetwas with her Inclination; but of late she has gotacquainted with a Schoolman, who values himselffor his great Knowledge in the Greek Tongue.He entertains her frequently in the Shop with Discoursesof the Beauties and Excellencies of that Language;and repeats to her several Passages out of the GreekPoets, wherein he tells her there is unspeakable Harmonyand agreeable Sounds that all other Languages are whollyunacquainted with. He has so infatuated herwith his Jargon, that instead of using her formerDiligence in the Shop, she now neglects the Affairsof the House, and is wholly taken up with her Tutorin learning by Heart Scraps of Greek, whichshe vents upon all Occasions. She told me someDays ago, that whereas I use some Latin Inscriptionsin my Shop, she advised me with a great deal of Concernto have them changed into Greek; it beinga Language less understood, would be more conformableto the Mystery of my Profession; that our good Friendwould be assisting to us in this Work; and that acertain Faculty of Gentlemen would find themselvesso much obliged to me, that they would infalliblymake my Fortune: In short her frequent Importunitiesupon this and other Impertinences of the like Naturemake me very uneasy; and if your Remonstrances haveno more Effect upon her than mine, I am afraid Ishall be obliged to ruin my self to procure hera Settlement at Oxford with her Tutor, for she’salready too mad for Bedlam. Now, Sir,you see the Danger my Family is exposed to, andthe Likelihood of my Wife’s becoming both troublesomeand useless, unless her reading her self in yourPaper may make her reflect. She is so verylearned that I cannot pretend by Word of Mouth toargue with her. She laughed out at your endinga Paper in Greek, and said twas a Hint toWomen of Literature, and very civil not to translateit to expose them to the Vulgar. You see how itis with,
SIR,
Your humble Servant.
Mr. SPECTATOR, If you havethat Humanity and Compassion in your Nature that youtake such Pains to make one think you have, youwill not deny your Advice to a distressed Damsel,who intends to be determined by your Judgment ina Matter of great Importance to her. You mustknow then, There is an agreeable young Fellow, towhose Person, Wit, and Humour no body makes anyObjection, that pretends to have been long in Lovewith me. To this I must add, (whether it proceedsfrom the Vanity of my Nature, or the seeming Sincerityof my Lover, I wont pretend to say) that I verilybelieve he has a real Value for me; which if true,you’ll allow may justly augment his Meritfor his Mistress. In short, I am so sensibleof his good Qualities, and what I owe to his Passion,that I think I could sooner resolve to give up myLiberty to him than any body else, were there notan Objection to be made to his Fortunes, in regardthey don’t answer the utmost mine may expect,and are not sufficient to secure me from undergoingthe reproachful Phrase so commonly used, That shehas played the Fool. Now, tho I am one of thosefew who heartily despise Equipage, Diamonds, and aCoxcomb, yet since such opposite Notions from mineprevail in the World, even amongst the best, andsuch as are esteemed the most prudent People, I cantfind in my Heart to resolve upon incurring the Censureof those wise Folks, which I am conscious I shalldo, if when I enter into a married State, I discovera Thought beyond that of equalling, if not advancingmy Fortunes. Under this Difficulty I now labour,not being in the least determined whether I shallbe governed by the vain World, and the frequentExamples I meet with, or hearken to the Voice of myLover, and the Motions I find in my Heart in favourof him. Sir, Your Opinion and Advice in thisAffair, is the only thing I know can turn the Ballance;and which I earnestly intreat I may receive soon; fortill I have your Thoughts upon it, I am engaged notto give my Swain a final Discharge.
Besides the particular Obligation youwill lay on me, by giving this Subject Room in oneof your Papers, tis possible it may be of use to someothers of my Sex, who will be as grateful for the Favouras, SIR, Your Humble Servant, Florinda.
P. S. To tell you the Truth I am Marriedto Him already, but pray say
something to justify me.
Mr. SPECTATOR, You willforgive Us Professors of Musick if We make a secondApplication to You, in order to promote our Designof exhibiting Entertainments of Musick in York-Buildings.It is industriously insinuated that Our Intentionis to destroy Operas in General, but we beg of youto insert this plain Explanation of our selves in yourPaper. Our Purpose is only to improve our Circ*mstances,by improving the Art which we profess. We seeit utterly destroyed at present; and as we werethe Persons who introduced Operas, we think it a groundlessImputation that we should set up against the Operain it self. What we pretend to assert is, Thatthe Songs of different Authors injudiciously puttogether, and a Foreign Tone and Manner which areexpected in every thing now performed among us, hasput Musick it self to a stand; insomuch that theEars of the People cannot now be entertained withany thing but what has an impertinent Gayety, withoutany just Spirit, or a Languishment of Notes, withoutany Passion or common Sense. We hope thosePersons of Sense and Quality who have done us theHonour to subscribe, will not be ashamed of their Patronagetowards us, and not receive Impressions that patronisingus is being for or against the Opera, but trulypromoting their own Diversions in a more just andelegant Manner than has been hitherto performed. Weare, SIR, Your most humble Servants, ThomasClayton. Nicolino Haym. Charles Dieupart.[1]
There will be no Performances in York-buildingstill after that of the Subscription.
T.
[Footnote 1: See No. 258.]
* * * * *
No. 279. Saturday, January 19,1712. Addison.
Reddere personae scit convenientia cuique.
Hor.
We have already taken a general Survey of the Fableand Characters in Milton’s Paradise Lost.The Parts which remain to be considered, accordingto Aristotle’s Method, are the Sentimentsand the Language. [1]
Before I enter upon the first of these, I must advertisemy Reader, that it is my Design as soon as I havefinished my general Reflections on these four severalHeads, to give particular Instances out of the Poemwhich is now before us of Beauties and Imperfectionswhich may be observed under each of them, as alsoof such other Particulars as may not properly fallunder any of them. This I thought fit to premise,that the Reader may not judge too hastily of thisPiece of Criticism, or look upon it as Imperfect,before he has seen the whole Extent of it.
The Sentiments in an Epic Poem are the Thoughts andBehaviour which the Author ascribes to the Personswhom he introduces, and are just when theyare conformable to the Characters of the several Persons.The Sentiments have likewise a relation to Thingsas well as Persons, and are then perfect whenthey are such as are adapted to the Subject.If in either of these Cases the Poet [endeavours toargue or explain, to magnify or diminish, to raise][2] Love or Hatred, Pity or Terror, or any other Passion,we ought to consider whether the Sentiments he makesuse of are proper for [those [3]] Ends. Homeris censured by the Criticks for his Defect as to thisParticular in several parts of the Iliad andOdyssey, tho at the same time those, who havetreated this great Poet with Candour, have attributedthis Defect to the Times in which he lived. [4] Itwas the Fault of the Age, and not of Homer,if there wants that Delicacy in some of his Sentimentswhich now appears in the Works of Men of a much inferiorGenius. Besides, if there are Blemishes in anyparticular Thoughts, there is an infinite Beauty inthe greatest Part of them. In short, if thereare many Poets who would not have fallen into theMeanness of some of his Sentiments, there are nonewho could have risen up to the Greatness of others.Virgil has excelled all others in the Proprietyof his Sentiments. Milton shines likewise verymuch in this Particular: Nor must we omit oneConsideration which adds to his Honour and Reputation.Homer and Virgil introduced Personswhose Characters are commonly known among Men, andsuch as are to be met with either in History, or inordinary Conversation. Milton’s Characters,most of them, lie out of Nature, and were to be formedpurely by his own Invention. It shews a greaterGenius in Shakespear to have drawn his Calyban,than his Hotspur or Julius Caesar: Theone was to be supplied out of his own Imagination,whereas the other might have been formed upon Tradition,History and Observation. It was much easier thereforefor Homer to find proper Sentiments for anAssembly of Grecian Generals, than for Miltonto diversify his infernal Council with proper Characters,and inspire them with a Variety of Sentiments.The Lovers of Dido and AEneas are onlyCopies of what has passed between other Persons. Adamand Eve, before the Fall, are a different Speciesfrom that of Mankind, who are descended from them;and none but a Poet of the most unbounded Invention,and the most exquisite Judgment, could have filledtheir Conversation and Behaviour with [so many apt[5]] Circ*mstances during their State of Innocence.
Nor is it sufficient for an Epic Poem to be filledwith such Thoughts as are Natural, unless itabound also with such as are Sublime. Virgilin this Particular falls short of Homer.He has not indeed so many Thoughts that are Low andVulgar; but at the same time has not so many Thoughtsthat are Sublime and Noble. The Truth of it is,Virgil seldom rises into very astonishing Sentiments,where he is not fired by the Iliad. Heevery where charms and pleases us by the Force of hisown Genius; but seldom elevates and transports uswhere he does not fetch his Hints from Homer.
Milton’s chief Talent, and indeed hisdistinguishing Excellence, lies in the Sublimity ofhis Thoughts. There are others of the Modernswho rival him in every other part of Poetry; but inthe Greatness of his Sentiments he triumphs over allthe Poets both Modern and Ancient, Homer onlyexcepted. It is impossible for the Imaginationof Man to distend itself with greater Ideas, thanthose which he has laid together in his first, [second,]and sixth Book[s]. The seventh, which describesthe Creation of the World, is likewise wonderfullySublime, tho not so apt to stir up Emotion in theMind of the Reader, nor consequently so perfect inthe Epic Way of Writing, because it is filled withless Action. Let the judicious Reader comparewhat Longinus has observed [6] on several Passagesin Homer, and he will find Parallels for mostof them in the Paradise Lost.
From what has been said we may infer, that as thereare two kinds of Sentiments, the Natural and the Sublime,which are always to be pursued in an Heroic Poem,there are also two kinds of Thoughts which are carefullyto be avoided. The first are such as are affectedand unnatural; the second such as are mean and vulgar.As for the first kind of Thoughts, we meet with littleor nothing that is like them in Virgil: Hehas none of those [trifling [7]] Points and Puerilitiesthat are so often to be met with in Ovid, noneof the Epigrammatick Turns of Lucan, none ofthose swelling Sentiments which are so frequent inStatins and Claudian, none of those mixedEmbellishments of Tasso. Every thing isjust and natural. His Sentiments shew that hehad a perfect Insight into human Nature, and that heknew every thing which was the most proper to [affectit [8]].
Mr. Dryden has in some Places, which I mayhereafter take notice of, misrepresented Virgil’sway of thinking as to this Particular, in the Translationhe has given us of the AEneid. I do notremember that Homer any where falls into theFaults above-mentioned, which were indeed the falseRefinements of later Ages. Milton, it must beconfest, has sometimes erred in this Respect, as Ishall shew more at large in another Paper; tho consideringhow all the Poets of the Age in which he writ wereinfected with this wrong way of thinking, he is ratherto be admired that he did not give more into it, thanthat he did sometimes comply with the vicious Tastewhich still prevails so much among Modern Writers.
But since several Thoughts may be natural which arelow and groveling, an Epic Poet should not only avoidsuch Sentiments as are unnatural or affected, butalso such as are [mean [9]] and vulgar. Homerhas opened a great Field of Raillery to Men of moreDelicacy than Greatness of Genius, by the Homelinessof some of his Sentiments. But, as I have beforesaid, these are rather to be imputed to the Simplicityof the Age in which he lived, to which I may alsoadd, of that which he described, than to any Imperfectionin that Divine Poet. Zoilus [10] among theAncients, and Monsieur Perrault, [11] amongthe Moderns, pushed their Ridicule very far upon him,on account of some such Sentiments. There isno Blemish to be observed in Virgil under thisHead, and but [a] very few in Milton.
I shall give but one Instance of this Improprietyof [Thought [12]] in Homer, and at the sametime compare it with an Instance of the same Nature,both in Virgil and Milton. Sentimentswhich raise Laughter, can very seldom be admittedwith any Decency into an Heroic Poem, whose Businessit is to excite Passions of a much nobler Nature. Homer,however, in his Characters of Vulcan [13] andThersites [14], in his Story of Marsand Venus, [15] in his Behaviour of Irus[16] and in other Passages, has been observed to havelapsed into the Burlesque Character, and to have departedfrom that serious Air which seems essential to theMagnificence of an Epic Poem. I remember but oneLaugh in the whole AEneid, which rises in the fifthBook, upon Monaetes, where he is representedas thrown overboard, and drying himself upon a Rock.But this Piece. of Mirth is so well timed, that theseverest Critick can have nothing to say against it;for it is in the Book of Games and Diversions, wherethe Readers Mind may be supposed to be sufficientlyrelaxed for such an Entertainment. The only Pieceof Pleasantry in Paradise Lost, is where theEvil Spirits are described as rallying the Angelsupon the Success of their new invented Artillery.This Passage I look upon to be the most exceptionablein the whole Poem, as being nothing else but a Stringof Punns, and those too very indifferent ones.
—Satan beheld their Plight,
And to his Mates thus in Derision call’d.
O Friends, why come not on those Victorsproud?
Ere-while they fierce were coming, andwhen we,
To entertain them fair with open Front,
And Breast, (what could we more?) propoundedterms
Of Composition, straight they chang’dtheir Minds,
Flew off, and into strange Vagariesfell
As they would dance: yet for a Dancethey seem’d
Somewhat extravagant, and wild; perhaps
For Joy of offer’d Peace; but Isuppose
If our Proposals once again were heard,
We should compel them to a quickResult.
To whom thus Belial in likegamesome Mood: Leader, the Terms we sent wereTerms of Weight, Of hard Contents, andfull of force urg’d home; Such as we mightperceive amus’d them all, And stumbledmany: who receives them right, Had need,from Head to Foot, will understand; Notunderstood, this Gift they have besides, Theyshew us when our Foes walk not upright.
Thus they among themselves in pleasantvein
Stood scoffing [17]——
I.
[Footnote 1: It is in Part II. of the Poetics,when treating of Tragedy, that Aristotle lays downhis main principles. Here after treating of theFable and the Manners, he proceeds to the Diction andthe Sentiments. By Fable, he says (Sec. 2),
I mean the contexture of incidents, orthe Plot. By Manners, I mean, whatever marksthe Character of the Persons. By Sentiments, whateverthey say, whether proving any thing, or deliveringa general sentiment, &c.
In dividing Sentiments from Diction, he says (Sec.22):The Sentiments include whatever is the Object of speech,Diction (Sec. 23-25) the words themselves. ConcerningSentiment, he refers his reader to the rhetoricians.]
[Footnote 2: [argues or explains, magnifies ordiminishes, raises]]
[Footnote 3: [these]]
[Footnote 4: Rene le Bossu says in his treatiseon the Epic, published in 1675, Bk, vi. ch. 3:
What is base and ignoble at one time andin one country, is not always so in others.We are apt to smile at Homers comparing Ajax to anAss in his Iliad. Such a comparison now-a-dayswould be indecent and ridiculous; because it wouldbe indecent and ridiculous for a person of qualityto ride upon such a steed. But heretofore thisAnimal was in better repute: Kings and princesdid not disdain the best so much as mere tradesmando in our time. Tis just the same with manyother smiles which in Homers time were allowable.We should now pity a Poet that should be so sillyand ridiculous as to compare a Hero to a piece ofFat. Yet Homer does it in a comparison he makesof Ulysses... The reason is that in these PrimitiveTimes, wherein the Sacrifices ... were living creatures,the Blood and the Fat were the most noble, the mostaugust, and the most holy things.]
[Footnote 5: [such Beautiful]]
[Footnote 6: Longimus on the Sublime, I. Sec.9. of Discord, Homer says (Popes tr.):
While scarce the skies her horrid headcan bound,
She stalks on earth.
(Iliad iv.)
Of horses of the gods:
Far as a shepherd from some spot on high
O’er the wide main extends his boundlesseye,
Through such a space of air, with thundringsound,
At one long leap th’ immortal coursersbound.
(Iliad v.)
Longinus quotes also from the Iliad xix., the combatof the Gods, the description of Neptune, Iliad xi.,and the Prayer of Ajax, Iliad xvii.]
[Footnote 7: [little]]
[Footnote 8: [affect it. I remember butone line in him which has been objected against, bythe Criticks, as a point of Wit. It is in hisninth Book, where Juno, speaking of the Trojans,how they survived the Ruins of their City, expressesher self in the following words;
Num copti potuere copi, num incensecremorunt Pergama?
Were the Trojans taken even after they were Captives,or did Troy burn even when it was in Flames?]
[Footnote 9: [low]]
[Footnote 10: Zoilus, who lived about 270 B.C., in the time of Ptolemy Philadelphus, made himselffamous for attacks upon Homer and on Plato and Isocrates,taking pride in the title of Homeromastix. Circesmen turned into swine Zoilus ridiculed as weepingporkers. When he asked sustenance of Ptolemyhe was told that Homer sustained many thousands, andas he claimed to be a better man than Homer, he oughtto be able to sustain himself. The traditionis that he was at last crucified, stoned, or burntfor his heresy.]
[Footnote 11: Charles Perrault, brother of ClaudePerrault the architect and ex-physician, was himselfController of Public Buildings under Colbert, andafter his retirement from that office, published in1690 his Parallel between the Ancients and Moderns,taking the side of the moderns in the controversy,and dealing sometimes disrespectfully with Homer.Boileau replied to him in Critical Reflections on Longinus.]
[Footnote 12: [Sentiments]]
[Footnote 13: Iliad, Bk. i., near the close.]
[Footnote 14: Iliad, Bk. ii.]
[Footnote 15: Bk. v., at close.]
[Footnote 16: Odyssey, Bk. xviii]
[Footnote 17: Paradise Lost, Bk. vi. 1. 609,&c. Milton meant that the devils should be shownas scoffers, and their scoffs as mean.]
* * * * *
No. 280. Monday, January 21, 1712. Steele.
Principibus Placuisse viris non ultimaI laus est.
Hor.
The Desire of Pleasing makes a Man agreeable or unwelcometo those with whom he converses, according to theMotive from which that Inclination appears to flow.If your Concern for pleasing others arises from innateBenevolence, it never fails of Success; if from a Vanityto excel, its Disappointment is no less certain.What we call an agreeable Man, is he who is endowedwith [the [1]] natural Bent to do acceptable thingsfrom a Delight he takes in them meerly as such; andthe Affectation of that Character is what constitutesa Fop. Under these Leaders one may draw up allthose who make any Manner of Figure, except in dumbShow. A rational and select Conversation is composedof Persons, who have the Talent of Pleasing with Delicacy
of Sentiments flowing from habitual Chastity of Thought;but mixed Company is frequently made up of Pretendersto Mirth, and is usually pestered with constrained,obscene, and painful Witticisms. Now and thenyou meet with a Man so exactly formed for Pleasing,that it is no matter what he is doing or saying, thatis to say, that there need no Manner of Importancein it, to make him gain upon every Body who hearsor beholds him. This Felicity is not the Giftof Nature only, but must be attended with happy Circ*mstances,which add a Dignity to the familiar Behaviour whichdistinguishes him whom we call an agreeable Man.It is from this that every Body loves and esteemsPolycarpus. He is in the Vigour of hisAge and the Gayety of Life, but has passed throughvery conspicuous Scenes in it; though no Soldier, hehas shared the Danger, and acted with great Gallantryand Generosity on a decisive Day of Battle. Tohave those Qualities which only make other Men conspicuousin the World as it were supernumerary to him, is aCirc*mstance which gives Weight to his most indifferentActions; for as a known Credit is ready Cash to aTrader, so is acknowledged Merit immediate Distinction,and serves in the Place of Equipage to a Gentleman.This renders Polycarpus graceful in Mirth, importantin Business, and regarded with Love in every ordinaryOccurrence. But not to dwell upon Characterswhich have such particular Recommendations to ourHearts, let us turn our Thoughts rather to the Methodsof Pleasing which must carry Men through the Worldwho cannot pretend to such Advantages. Fallingin with the particular Humour or Manner of one aboveyou, abstracted from the general Rules of good Behaviour,is the Life of a Slave. A Parasite differs innothing from the meanest Servant, but that the Footmanhires himself for bodily Labour, subjected to go andcome at the Will of his Master, but the other givesup his very Soul: He is prostituted to speak,and professes to think after the Mode of him whomhe courts. This Servitude to a Patron, in an honestNature, would be more grievous than that of wearinghis Livery; therefore we will speak of those Methodsonly which are worthy and ingenuous.The happy Talent of Pleasing either those above youor below you, seems to be wholly owing to the Opinionthey have of your Sincerity. This Quality isto attend the agreeable Man in all the Actions of hisLife; and I think there need no more be said in Honourof it, than that it is what forces the Approbationeven of your Opponents. The guilty Man has anHonour for the Judge who with Justice pronounces againsthim the Sentence of Death it self. The Authorof the Sentence at the Head of this Paper, was anexcellent Judge of human Life, and passed his own inCompany the most agreeable that ever was in the World.Augustus lived amongst his Friends as if hehad his Fortune to make in his own Court: Candourand Affability, accompanied with as much Power as ever
Mortal was vested with, were what made him in theutmost Manner agreeable among a Set of admirable Men,who had Thoughts too high for Ambition, and Viewstoo large to be gratified by what he could give themin the Disposal of an Empire, without the Pleasuresof their mutual Conversation. A certain Unanimityof Taste and Judgment, which is natural to all ofthe same Order in the Species, was the Band of thisSociety; and the Emperor assumed no Figure in it butwhat he thought was his Due from his private Talentsand Qualifications, as they contributed to advancethe Pleasures and Sentiments of the Company.Cunning People, Hypocrites, all who are but half virtuous,or half wise, are incapable of tasting the refinedPleasure of such an equal Company as could whollyexclude the Regard of Fortune in their Conversations.Horace, in the Discourse from whence I takethe Hint of the present Speculation, lays down excellentRules for Conduct in Conversation with Men of Power;but he speaks it with an Air of one who had no Needof such an Application for any thing which relatedto himself. It shews he understood what it wasto be a skilful Courtier, by just Admonitions againstImportunity, and shewing how forcible it was to speakModestly of your own Wants. There is indeed somethingso shameless in taking all Opportunities to speakof your own Affairs, that he who is guilty of it towardshim upon whom he depends, fares like the Beggar whoexposes his Sores, which instead of moving Compassionmakes the Man he begs of turn away from the Object.
I cannot tell what is become of him, but I rememberabout sixteen Years ago an honest Fellow, who so justlyunderstood how disagreeable the Mention or Appearanceof his Wants would make him, that I have often reflectedupon him as a Counterpart of Irus, whom I haveformerly mentioned. This Man, whom I have missedfor some Years in my Walks, and have heard was somewayemployed about the Army, made it a Maxim, That goodWigs, delicate Linen, and a chearful Air, were to apoor Dependent the same that working Tools are toa poor Artificer. It was no small Entertainmentto me, who knew his Circ*mstances, to see him, whohad fasted two Days, attribute the Thinness they toldhim of to the Violence of some Gallantries he hadlately been guilty of. The skilful Dissemblercarried this on with the utmost Address; and if anysuspected his Affairs were narrow, it was attributedto indulging himself in some fashionable Vice ratherthan an irreproachable Poverty, which saved his Creditwith those on whom he depended.
The main Art is to be as little troublesome as youcan, and make all you hope for come rather as a Favourfrom your Patron than Claim from you. But I amhere prating of what is the Method of Pleasing so asto succeed in the World, when there are Crowds whohave, in City, Town, Court, and Country, arrived atconsiderable Acquisitions, and yet seem incapable ofacting in any constant Tenour of Life, but have goneon from one successful Error to another: ThereforeI think I may shorten this Enquiry after the Methodof Pleasing; and as the old Beau said to his Son,once for all, Pray, Jack, be a fine Gentleman,so may I, to my Reader, abridge my Instructions, andfinish the Art of Pleasing in a Word, Be rich.
T.
[Footnote 1: [that]]
* * * * *
No. 281. Tuesday, January 22,1712. Addison.
Pectoribus inhians spirantia consulitexta.
Virg.
Having already given an Account of the Dissectionof a Beaus Head, with the several Discoveries madeon that Occasion; I shall here, according to my Promise,enter upon the Dissection of a Coquets Heart, andcommunicate to the Public such Particularities as weobserved in that curious Piece of Anatomy.
I should perhaps have waved this Undertaking, hadnot I been put in mind of my Promise by several ofmy unknown Correspondents, who are very importunatewith me to make an Example of the Coquet, as I havealready done of the Beau. It is therefore inCompliance with the Request of Friends, that I havelooked over the Minutes of my former Dream, in orderto give the Publick an exact Relation to it, whichI shall enter upon without further Preface.
Our Operator, before he engaged in this VisionaryDissection, told us, that there was nothing in hisArt more difficult than to lay open the Heart of aCoquet, by reason of the many Labyrinths and Recesseswhich are to be found in it, and which do not appearin the Heart of any other Animal.
He desired us first of all to observe the Pericardium,or outward Case of the Heart, which we did very attentively;and by the help of our Glasses discern’d init Millions of little Scars, which seem’d tohave been occasioned by the Points of innumerableDarts and Arrows, that from time to time had glancedupon the outward Coat; though we could not discoverthe smallest Orifice, by which any of them had enteredand pierced the inward Substance.
Every Smatterer in Anatomy knows that this Pericardium,or Case of the Heart, contains in it a thin reddishLiquor, supposed to be bred from the Vapours whichexhale out of the Heart, and, being stopt here, arecondensed into this watry Substance. Upon examiningthis Liquor, we found that it had in it all the Qualitiesof that Spirit which is made use of in the Thermometer,to shew the Change of Weather.
Nor must I here omit an Experiment one of the Companyassured us he himself had made with this Liquor, whichhe found in great Quantity about the Heart of a Coquetwhom he had formerly dissected. He affirmed tous, that he had actually inclosed it in a small Tubemade after the manner of a Weather Glass; but thatinstead of acquainting him with the Variations ofthe Atmosphere, it shewed him the Qualities of thosePersons who entered the Room where it stood. Heaffirmed also, that it rose at the Approach of a Plumeof Feathers, an embroidered Coat, or a Pair of fringedGloves; and that it fell as soon as an ill-shapedPerriwig, a clumsy Pair of Shoes, or an unfashionableCoat came into his House: Nay, he proceeded sofar as to assure us, that upon his Laughing aloudwhen he stood by it, the Liquor mounted very sensibly,and immediately sunk again upon his looking serious.In short, he told us, that he knew very well by thisInvention whenever he had a Man of Sense or a Coxcombin his Room.
Having cleared away the Pericardium, or theCase and Liquor above-mentioned, we came to the Heartit*elf. The outward Surface of it was extremelyslippery, and the Mufro, or Point, so very coldwithal, that, upon endeavouring to take hold of itit glided through the Fingers like a smooth Pieceof Ice.
The Fibres were turned and twisted in a more intricateand perplexed manner than they are usually found inother Hearts; insomuch that the whole Heart was woundup together in a Gordian Knot, and must have had veryirregular and unequal Motions, whilst it was employedin its Vital Function.
One thing we thought very observable, namely, that,upon examining all the Vessels which came into itor issued out of it, we could not discover any Communicationthat it had with the Tongue.
We could not but take Notice likewise, that severalof those little Nerves in the Heart which are affectedby the Sentiments of Love, Hatred, and other Passions,did not descend to this before us from the Brain,but from the Muscles which lie about the Eye.
Upon weighing the Heart in my Hand, I found it tobe extreamly light, and consequently very hollow,which I did not wonder at, when upon looking intothe Inside of it, I saw Multitudes of Cells and Cavitiesrunning one within another, as our Historians describethe Apartments of Rosamond’s Bower.Several of these little Hollows were stuffed withinnumerable sorts of Trifles, which I shall forbeargiving any particular Account of, and shall thereforeonly take Notice of what lay first and uppermost,which, upon our unfolding it and applying our Microscopesto it, appeared to be a Flame-coloured Hood.
We were informed that the Lady of this Heart, whenliving, received the Addresses of several who madeLove to her, and did not only give each of them Encouragement,but made every one she conversed with believe thatshe regarded him with an Eye of Kindness; for whichReason we expected to have seen the Impression ofMultitudes of Faces among the several Plaits and Foldingsof the Heart; but to our great Surprize not a singlePrint of this nature discovered it self till we cameinto the very Core and Center of it. We thereobserved a little Figure, which, upon applying ourGlasses to it, appeared dressed in a very fantastickmanner. The more I looked upon it, the more Ithought I had seen the Face before, but could notpossibly recollect either the Place or Time; when,at length, one of the Company, who had examined thisFigure more nicely than the rest, shew’d usplainly by the Make of its Face, and the several Turnsof its Features, that the little Idol which was thuslodged in the very Middle of the Heart was the deceasedBeau, whose Head I gave some Account of in my lastTuesdays Paper.
As soon as we had finished our Dissection, we resolvedto make an Experiment of the Heart, not being ableto determine among our selves the Nature of its Substance,which differ’d in so many Particulars from thatof the Heart in other Females. Accordingly welaid it into a Pan of burning Coals, when we observedin it a certain Salamandrine Quality, that made itcapable of living in the midst of Fire and Flame, withoutbeing consumed, or so much as singed.
As we were admiring this strange Phoenomenon,and standing round the Heart in a Circle, it gavea most prodigious Sigh or rather Crack, and dispersedall at once in Smoke and Vapour. This imaginaryNoise, which methought was louder than the burst ofa Cannon, produced such a violent Shake in my Brain,that it dissipated the Fumes of Sleep, and left mein an Instant broad awake.
L.
* * * * *
No. 282. Wednesday, January 23,1712. Steele.
[—Spes incerta futuri.
Virg. [1]]
It is a lamentable thing that every Man is full ofComplaints, and constantly uttering Sentences againstthe Fickleness of Fortune, when People generally bringupon themselves all the Calamities they fall into,and are constantly heaping up Matter for their ownSorrow and Disappointment. That which producesthe greatest Part of the [Delusions [2]] of Mankind,is a false Hope which People indulge with so sanguinea Flattery to themselves, that their Hearts are bentupon fantastical Advantages which they had no Reasonto believe should ever have arrived to them.By this unjust Measure of calculating their Happiness,they often mourn with real Affliction for imaginaryLosses. When I am talking of this unhappy wayof accounting for our selves, I cannot but reflectupon a particular Set of People, who, in their ownFavour, resolve every thing that is possible intowhat is probable, and then reckon on that Probabilityas on what must certainly happen. WILL. HONEYCOMB,upon my observing his looking on a Lady with someparticular Attention, gave me an Account of the greatDistresses which had laid waste that her very fineFace, and had given an Air of Melancholy to a veryagreeable Person, That Lady, and a couple of Sistersof hers, were, said WILL., fourteen Years ago, thegreatest Fortunes about Town; but without having anyLoss by bad Tenants, by bad Securities, or any Damageby Sea or Land, are reduced to very narrow Circ*mstances.They were at that time the most inaccessible haughtyBeauties in Town; and their Pretensions to take uponthem at that unmerciful rate, was rais’d uponthe following Scheme, according to which all theirLovers were answered.
Our Father is a youngish Man, but then our Motheris somewhat older, and not likely to have any Children:His Estate, being L800 per Annum, at 20 Years Purchase,is worth L16,000. Our Uncle who is above 50, hasL400 per Annum, which at the foresaid Rate,is L8000. There’s a Widow Aunt, who hasL10,000 at her own Disposal left by her Husband, andan old Maiden Aunt who has L6000. Then our FathersMother has L900 per Annum, which is worth L18,000and L1000 each of us has of her own, which cant betaken from us. These summ’d up togetherstand thus.
Fathers 800- 16,000 This equallydivided between
Uncles 400- 8000 us three amounts to L20,000
Aunts 10,000 each; and Allowance being
6000- 16,000 given for Enlargement upon
Grandmother 900- 18,000 common Fame, we may lawfully
Own 1000 each- 3000 pass for L30,000 Fortunes.
Total- 61,000
In Prospect of this, and the Knowledge of her ownpersonal Merit, every one was contemptible in theirEyes, and they refus’d those Offers which hadbeen frequently made em. But mark the End:The Mother dies, the Father is married again, andhas a Son, on him was entail’d the Fathers,Uncles, and Grand-mothers Estate. This cut offL43,000. The Maiden Aunt married a tall Irishman,and with her went the L6000. The Widow died,and left but enough to pay her Debts and bury her;so that there remained for these three Girls but theirown L1000. They had [by] this time passed theirPrime, and got on the wrong side of Thirty; and mustpass the Remainder of their Days, upbraiding Mankindthat they mind nothing but Money, and bewailing thatVirtue, Sense and Modesty are had at present in nomanner of Estimation.
I mention this Case of Ladies before any other, becauseit is the most irreparable: For tho Youth isthe Time less capable of Reflection, it is in thatSex the only Season in which they can advance theirFortunes. But if we turn our Thoughts to theMen, we see such Crowds of Unhappy from no other Reason,but an ill-grounded Hope, that it is hard to say whichthey rather deserve, our Pity or Contempt. Itis not unpleasant to see a Fellow after grown oldin Attendance, and after having passed half a Lifein Servitude, call himself the unhappiest of all Men,and pretend to be disappointed because a Courtierbroke his Word. He that promises himself anything but what may naturally arise from his own Propertyor Labour, and goes beyond the Desire of possessingabove two Parts in three even of that, lays up forhimself an encreasing Heap of Afflictions and Disappointments.There are but two Means in the World of gaining byother Men, and these are by being either agreeableor considerable. The Generality of Mankind doall things for their own sakes; and when you hopeany thing from Persons above you, if you cannot say,I can be thus agreeable or thus serviceable, it isridiculous to pretend to the Dignity of being unfortunatewhen they leave you; you were injudicious, in hopingfor any other than to be neglected, for such as cancome within these Descriptions of being capable toplease or serve your Patron, when his Humour or Interestscall for their Capacity either way.
It would not methinks be an useless Comparison betweenthe Condition of a Man who shuns all the Pleasuresof Life, and of one who makes it his Business to pursuethem. Hope in the Recluse makes his Austeritiescomfortable, while the luxurious Man gains nothingbut Uneasiness from his Enjoyments. What is theDifference in the Happiness of him who is maceratedby Abstinence, and his who is surfeited with Excess?He who resigns the World, has no Temptation to Envy,Hatred, Malice, Anger, but is in constant Possessionof a serene Mind; he who follows the Pleasures ofit, which are in their very Nature disappointing, isin constant Search of Care, Solicitude, Remorse, andConfusion.
January the 14th, 1712.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a young Woman and have my Fortuneto make; for which Reason I come constantly to Churchto hear Divine Service, and make Conquests: Butone great Hindrance in this my Design, is, that ourClerk, who was once a Gardener, has this Christmasso over-deckt the Church with Greens, that he hasquite spoilt my Prospect, insomuch that I have scarceseen the young Baronet I dress at these three Weeks,though we have both been very constant at our Devotions,and don’t sit above three Pews off. TheChurch, as it is now equipt, looks more like a Green-housethan a Place of Worship: The middle Isle is avery pretty shady Walk, and the Pews look like somany Arbours of each Side of it. The Pulpitit*elf has such Clusters of Ivy, Holly, and Rosemaryabout it, that a light Fellow in our Pew took occasionto say, that the Congregation heard the Word outof a Bush, like Moses. Sir AnthonyLoves Pew in particular is so well hedged, thatall my Batteries have no Effect. I am obligedto shoot at random among the Boughs, without takingany manner of Aim. Mr. SPECTATOR, unlessyou’ll give Orders for removing these Greens,I shall grow a very awkward Creature at Church,and soon have little else to do there but to say myPrayers. I am in haste,
Dear SIR,
Your most Obedient Servant,
Jenny Simper.
T.
[Footnote 1: Et nulli rei nisi Poenitentiaenatus. ]
[Footnote 2: Pollutions]
* * * * *
No. 283. Thursday, January 24,1712. Budgell.
Magister artis et largitor ingeni
Venter
Pers.
Lucian [1] rallies the Philosophers in his Time, whocould not agree whether they should admit Richesinto the number of real Goods; the Professorsof the Severer Sects threw them quite out, while othersas resolutely inserted them.
I am apt to believe, that as the World grew more Polite,the rigid Doctrines of the first were wholly discarded;and I do not find any one so hardy at present, asto deny that there are very great Advantages in theEnjoyment of a plentiful Fortune. Indeed the bestand wisest of Men, tho they may possibly despise agood Part of those things which the World calls Pleasures,can, I think, hardly be insensible of that Weightand Dignity which a moderate Share of Wealth adds totheir Characters, Councils, and Actions.
We find it is a General Complaint in Professions andTrades, that the richest Members of them are chieflyencouraged, and this is falsly imputed to the Ill-natureof Mankind, who are ever bestowing their Favours onsuch as least want them. Whereas if we fairlyconsider their Proceedings in this Case, we shallfind them founded on undoubted Reason: Sincesupposing both equal in their natural Integrity, Iought, in common Prudence, to fear foul Play froman Indigent Person, rather than from one whose Circ*mstancesseem to have placed him above the bare Temptationof Money.
This Reason also makes the Common-wealth regard herrichest Subjects, as those who are most concernedfor her Quiet and Interest, and consequently fittestto be intrusted with her highest Imployments.On the contrary, Cataline’s Saying tothose Men of desperate Fortunes, who applied themselvesto him, and of whom he afterwards composed his Army,that they had nothing to hope for but a Civil War,was too true not to make the Impressions he desired.
I believe I need not fear but that what I have saidin Praise of Money, will be more than sufficient withmost of my Readers to excuse the Subject of my presentPaper, which I intend as an Essay on The Ways toraise a Man’s Fortune, or, The Art ofgrowing Rich.
The first and most infallible Method towards the attainingof this End, is Thrift: All Men are not equallyqualified for getting Money, but it is in the Powerof every one alike to practise this Virtue, and Ibelieve there are very few Persons, who, if they pleaseto reflect on their past Lives, will not find thathad they saved all those Little Sums which they havespent unnecessarily, they might at present have beenMasters of a competent Fortune. Diligence justlyclaims the next Place to Thrift: I find boththese excellently well recommended to common use inthe three following Italian Proverbs,
Never do that by Proxy which you can doyourself.
Never defer that till To-morrow whichyou can do To-day.
Never neglect small Matters and Expences.
A third Instrument of growing Rich, is Method inBusiness, which, as well as the two former, isalso attainable by Persons of the meanest Capacities.
The famous De Wit, one of the greatest Statesmenof the Age in which he lived, being asked by a Friend,How he was able to dispatch that Multitude of Affairsin which he was engaged? reply’d, That his wholeArt consisted in doing one thing at once.If, says he, I have any necessary Dispatches to make,I think of nothing else till those are finished; Ifany Domestick Affairs require my Attention, I givemyself up wholly to them till they are set in Order.
In short, we often see Men of dull and phlegmatickTempers, arriving to great Estates, by making a regularand orderly Disposition of their Business, and thatwithout it the greatest Parts and most lively Imaginationsrather puzzle their Affairs, than bring them to anhappy Issue.
From what has been said, I think I may lay it downas a Maxim, that every Man of good common Sense may,if he pleases, in his particular Station of Life,most certainly be Rich. The Reason why we sometimessee that Men of the greatest Capacities are not so,is either because they despise Wealth in Comparisonof something else; or at least are not content tobe getting an Estate, unless they may do it their ownway, and at the same time enjoy all the Pleasuresand Gratifications of Life.
But besides these ordinary Forms of growing Rich,it must be allowed that there is Room for Genius,as well in this as in all other Circ*mstances of Life.
Tho the Ways of getting Money were long since verynumerous; and tho so many new ones have been foundout of late Years, there is certainly still remainingso large a Field for Invention, that a Man of an indifferentHead might easily sit down and draw up such a Planfor the Conduct and support of his Life, as was neveryet once thought of.
We daily see Methods put in practice by hungry andingenious Men, which demonstrate the Power of Inventionin this Particular.
It is reported of Scaramouch, the first famousItalian Comedian, that being at Paris and ingreat Want, he bethought himself of constantly plyingnear the Door of a noted Perfumer in that City, andwhen any one came out who had been buying Snuff, neverfailed to desire a Taste of them: when he hadby this Means got together a Quantity made up of severaldifferent Sorts, he sold it again at a lower Rate tothe same Perfumer, who finding out the Trick, calledit Tabac de mille fleures, or Snuff of athousand Flowers. The Story farther tellsus, that by this means he got a very comfortable Subsistence,till making too much haste to grow Rich, he one Daytook such an unreasonable Pinch out of the Box ofa Swiss Officer, as engaged him in a Quarrel,and obliged him to quit this Ingenious Way of Life.
Nor can I in this Place omit doing Justice to a Youthof my own Country, who, tho he is scarce yet twelveYears old, has with great Industry and Applicationattained to the Art of beating the Grenadiers Marchon his Chin. I am credibly informed that by thismeans he does not only maintain himself and his Mother,but that he is laying up Money every Day, with a Design,if the War continues, to purchase a Drum at least,if not a Colours.
I shall conclude these Instances with the Device ofthe famous Rabelais, when he was at a greatDistance from Paris, and without Money to bearhis Expences thither. This ingenious Author beingthus sharp set, got together a convenient Quantityof Brick-Dust, and having disposed of it into severalPapers, writ upon one Poyson for Monsieur,upon a second, Poyson for the Dauphin, and ona third, Poyson for the King. Having madethis Provision for the Royal Family of France,he laid his Papers so that his Landlord, who was anInquisitive Man, and a good Subject, might get a Sightof them.
The Plot succeeded as he desired: The Host gaveimmediate Intelligence to the Secretary of State.The Secretary presently sent down a Special Messenger,who brought up the Traitor to Court, and provided himat the Kings Expence with proper Accommodations onthe Road. As soon as he appeared he was knownto be the Celebrated Rabelais, and his Powderupon Examination being found very Innocent, the Jestwas only laught at; for which a less eminent Drolewould have been sent to the Gallies.
Trade and Commerce might doubtless be still varieda thousand Ways, out of which would arise such Branchesas have not yet been touched. The famous Doilyis still fresh in every ones Memory, who raised aFortune by finding out Materials for such Stuffs asmight at once be cheap and genteel. I have heardit affirmed, that had not he discovered this frugalMethod of gratifying our Pride, we should hardly havebeen [able[1]] to carry on the last War.
I regard Trade not only as highly advantageous tothe Commonwealth in general; but as the most naturaland likely Method of making a Man’s Fortune,having observed, since my being a Spectatorin the World, greater Estates got about Change,than at Whitehall or at St. James’s.I believe I may also add, that the first Acquisitionsare generally attended with more Satisfaction, andas good a Conscience.
I must not however close this Essay, without observingthat what has been said is only intended for Personsin the common ways of Thriving, and is not designedfor those Men who from low Beginnings push themselvesup to the Top of States, and the most considerableFigures in Life. My Maxim of Saving isnot designed for such as these, since nothing is moreusual than for Thrift to disappoint the Endsof Ambition; it being almost impossible thatthe Mind should [be [2]] intent upon Trifles, whileit is at the same time forming some great Design.
I may therefore compare these Men to a great Poet,who, as Longinus says, while he is full ofthe most magnificent Ideas, is not always at leisureto mind the little Beauties and Niceties of his Art.
I would however have all my Readers take great carehow they mistake themselves for uncommon Genius’s,and Men above Rule, since it is very easy for themto be deceived in this Particular.
X.
[Footnote 1: In his Auction of Philosophers.]
[Footnote 2: [able so well]]
[Footnote 3: [descend to and be]]
* * * * *
No. 284. Friday, January 25,1712. Steele.
[Posthabui tamen illorum mea seria Ludo.
Virg. [1]]
An unaffected Behaviour is without question a verygreat Charm; but under the Notion of being unconstrainedand disengaged, People take upon them to be unconcernedin any Duty of Life. A general Negligence is whatthey assume upon all Occasions, and set up for an Aversionto all manner of Business and Attention. I am thecarelessest Creature in the World, I have certainlythe worst Memory of any Man living, are frequentExpressions in the Mouth of a Pretender of this sort.It is a professed Maxim with these People never tothink; there is something so solemn in Reflexion,they, forsooth, can never give themselves Time for
such a way of employing themselves. It happensoften that this sort of Man is heavy enough in hisNature to be a good Proficient in such Matters asare attainable by Industry; but alas! he has such anardent Desire to be what he is not, to be too volatile,to have the Faults of a Person of Spirit, that heprofesses himself the most unfit Man living for anymanner of Application. When this Humour entersinto the Head of a Female, she gently professes Sicknessupon all Occasions, and acts all things with an indisposedAir: She is offended, but her Mind is too lazyto raise her to Anger, therefore she lives only asactuated by a violent Spleen and gentle Scorn.She has hardly Curiosity to listen to Scandal of herAcquaintance, and has never Attention enough to hearthem commended. This Affectation in both Sexesmakes them vain of being useless, and take a certainPride in their Insignificancy.Opposite to this Folly is another no less unreasonable,and that is the Impertinence of being always in aHurry. There are those who visit Ladies, andbeg Pardon afore they are well seated in their Chairs,that they just called in, but are obliged to attendBusiness of Importance elsewhere the very next Moment:Thus they run from Place to Place, professing thatthey are obliged to be still in another Company thanthat which they are in. These Persons who arejust a going somewhere else should never be detained;[let [2]] all the World allow that Business is tobe minded, and their Affairs will be at an end.Their Vanity is to be importuned, and Compliance withtheir Multiplicity of Affairs would effectually dispatchem. The Travelling Ladies, who have half theTown to see in an Afternoon, may be pardoned for beingin constant Hurry; but it is inexcusable in Men tocome where they have no Business, to profess theyabsent themselves where they have. It has beenremarked by some nice Observers and Criticks, thatthere is nothing discovers the true Temper of a Personso much as his Letters. I have by me two Epistles,which are written by two People of the different Humoursabove-mentioned. It is wonderful that a Man cannotobserve upon himself when he sits down to write, butthat he will gravely commit himself to Paper the sameMan that he is in the Freedom of Conversation.I have hardly seen a Line from any of these Gentlemen,but spoke them as absent from what they were doing,as they profess they are when they come into Company.For the Folly is, that they have perswaded themselvesthey really are busy. Thus their whole Time isspent in suspense of the present Moment to the next,and then from the next to the succeeding, which tothe End of Life is to pass away with Pretence to manythings, and Execution of nothing.
SIR,
The Post is just going out, and I havemany other Letters of very great Importance to writethis Evening, but I could not omit making my Complimentsto you for your Civilities to me when I was last inTown. It is my Misfortune to be so full ofBusiness, that I cannot tell you a Thousand Thingswhich I have to say to you. I must desire youto communicate the Contents of this to no one living;but believe me to be, with the greatest Fidelity,
SIR,
Your most Obedient,
Humble Servant,
Stephen Courier.
Madam,
I hate Writing, of all Things in the World;however, though I have drunk the Waters, and amtold I ought not to use my Eyes so much, I cannotforbear writing to you, to tell you I have been tothe last Degree hipped since I saw you. Howcould you entertain such a Thought, as that I shouldhear of that silly Fellow with Patience? Takemy Word for it, there is nothing in it; and youmay believe it when so lazy a Creature as I am undergothe Pains to assure you of it by taking Pen, Ink,and Paper in my Hand. Forgive this, you know Ishall not often offend in this Kind. I am verymuch Your Servant, Bridget Eitherdown.
The Fellow is of your Country, prytheesend me Word how ever whether
he has so great an Estate.
Mr. SPECTATOR, Jan.24, 1712.
I am Clerk of the Parish from whence Mrs.Simper sends her Complaint, in your YesterdaysSpectator. I must beg of you to publishthis as a publick Admonition to the aforesaid Mrs.Simper, otherwise all my honest Care in theDisposition of the Greens in the Church will haveno Effect: I shall therefore with your Leave laybefore you the whole Matter. I was formerly,as she charges me, for several Years a Gardenerin the County of Kent: But I must absolutelydeny, that tis out of any Affection I retain for myold Employment that I have placed my Greens so liberallyabout the Church, but out of a particular SpleenI conceived against Mrs. Simper (and othersof the same Sisterhood) some time ago. As to herself,I had one Day set the Hundredth Psalm, andwas singing the first Line in order to put the Congregationinto the Tune, she was all the while curtsying toSir Anthony in so affected and indecent a manner,that the Indignation I conceived at it made me forgetmy self so far, as from the Tune of that Psalmto wander into Southwell Tune, and from thenceinto Windsor Tune, still unable to recover myself till I had with the utmost Confusion set anew one. Nay, I have often seen her rise upand smile and curtsy to one at the lower End of theChurch in the midst of a Gloria Patri; andwhen I have spoke the Assent to a Prayer with along Amen uttered with decent Gravity, she has beenrolling her Eyes around about in such a Manner, asplainly shewed, however she was moved, it was nottowards an Heavenly Object. In fine, she extendedher Conquests so far over the Males, and raised suchEnvy in the Females, that what between Love of thoseand the Jealousy of these, I was almost the onlyPerson that looked in the Prayer-Book all Church-time.I had several Projects in my Head to put a Stop tothis growing Mischief; but as I have long livedin Kent, and there often heard how the KentishMen evaded the Conqueror, by carrying green Boughsover their Heads, it put me in mind of practising thisDevice against Mrs. Simper. I find Ihave preserved many a young Man from her Eye-shotby this Means; therefore humbly pray the Boughs maybe fixed, till she shall give Security for her peaceableIntentions.
Your Humble Servant,
Francis Sternhold.
T.
[Footnote 1: [Strenua nos exercet inertia.—–HOR.]
[Footnote 2: [but]]
* * * * *
No. 285. Saturday, January 26,1712. Addison.
Ne, quicunque Deus, quicunque adhibebiturheros,
Regali conspectus in auro nuper et ostro,
Migret in Obscuras humili sermone tabernas:
Aut, dum vitat humum, nubes et inaniacaptet.
Hor.
Having already treated of the Fable, the Characters,and Sentiments in the Paradise Lost, we are in thelast Place to consider the Language; and as the LearnedWorld is very much divided upon Milton as to thisPoint, I hope they will excuse me if I appear particularin any of my Opinions, and encline to those who judgethe most advantageously of the Author.
It is requisite that the Language of an Heroic Poemshould be both Perspicuous and Sublime. [1] In proportionas either of these two Qualities are wanting, theLanguage is imperfect. Perspicuity is the firstand most necessary Qualification; insomuch that a good-natur’dReader sometimes overlooks a little Slip even in theGrammar or Syntax, where it is impossible for himto mistake the Poets Sense. Of this Kind is thatPassage in Milton, wherein he speaks of Satan.
—God and his Son except,
Created thing nought valu’d he norshunn’d.
And that in which he describes Adam and Eve.
Adam the goodliest Man of Men since born
His Sons, the fairest of her DaughtersEve.
It is plain, that in the former of these Passagesaccording to the natural Syntax, the Divine Personsmentioned in the first Line are represented as createdBeings; and that, in the other, Adam and Eve are confoundedwith their Sons and Daughters. Such little Blemishesas these, when the Thought is great and natural, weshould, with Horace [2] impute to a pardonable Inadvertency,or to the Weakness of human Nature, which cannot attendto each minute Particular, and give the last Finishingto every Circ*mstance in so long a Work. The AncientCriticks therefore, who were acted by a Spirit ofCandour, rather than that of Cavilling, invented certainFigures of Speech, on purpose to palliate little Errorsof this nature in the Writings of those Authors whohad so many greater Beauties to attone for them.
If Clearness and Perspicuity were only to be consulted,the Poet would have nothing else to do but to cloathhis Thoughts in the most plain and natural Expressions.But since it often happens that the most obvious Phrases,and those which are used in ordinary Conversation,become too familiar to the Ear, and contract a kindof Meanness by passing through the Mouths of the Vulgar,a Poet should take particular Care to guard himselfa*gainst Idiomatick Ways of Speaking. Ovid andLucan have many Poornesses of Expression upon thisAccount, as taking up with the first Phrases thatoffered, without putting themselves to the Troubleof looking after such as would not only have beennatural, but also elevated and sublime. Miltonhas but few Failings in this Kind, of which, however,you may [meet with some Instances, as [3] in the followingPassages.
Embrios and Idiots, Eremites and Fryars,
White, Black, and Grey,—withall their Trumpery,
Here Pilgrims roam—
—A while discourse they hold,
No fear lest Dinner cool;—whenthus began
Our Author—
Who of all Ages to succeed, but feeling
The Evil on him brought by me, will curse
My Head, ill fare our Ancestor impure,
For this we may thank Adam—
The Great Masters in Composition, knew very well thatmany an elegant Phrase becomes improper for a Poetor an Orator, when it has been debased by common Use.For this Reason the Works of Ancient Authors, whichare written in dead Languages, have a great Advantageover those which are written in Languages that arenow spoken. Were there any mean Phrases or Idiomsin Virgil and Homer, they would not shock the Ear ofthe most delicate Modern Reader, so much as they wouldhave done that of an old Greek or Roman, because wenever hear them pronounced in our Streets, or in ordinaryConversation.
It is not therefore sufficient, that the Languageof an Epic Poem be Perspicuous, unless it be alsoSublime. To this end it ought to deviate fromthe common Forms and ordinary Phrases of Speech.The Judgment of a Poet very much discovers it selfin shunning the common Roads of Expression, withoutfalling into such ways of Speech as may seem stiffand unnatural; he must not swell into a false Sublime,by endeavouring to avoid the other Extream. Amongthe Greeks, AEschylus, and sometimes Sophocles, wereguilty of this Fault; among the Latins, Claudian andStatius; and among our own Countrymen, Shakespear andLee. In these Authors the Affectation of Greatnessoften hurts the Perspicuity of the Stile, as in manyothers the Endeavour after Perspicuity prejudices itsGreatness.
Aristotle has observed, that the Idiomatick Stilemay be avoided, and the Sublime formed, by the followingMethods. [4]
First, by the Use of Metaphors [: Such are thoseof Milton. [5]]
Imparadised in one anothers Arms.
—And in his Hand a Reed
Stood waving tipt with Fire.—
The grassie Clods now calvd,—
[Spangled with Eyes—]
In these and innumerable other Instances, the Metaphorsare very bold but just; I must however observe thatthe Metaphors are not [so] thick sown in Milton whichalways savours too much of Wit; that they never clashwith one another, which, as Aristotle observes, turnsa Sentence into a kind of an Enigma or Riddle; [6]and that he seldom has recourse to them where theproper and natural Words will do as well.
Another way of raising the Language, and giving ita Poetical Turn, is to make use of the Idioms of otherTongues. Virgil is full of the Greek Forms ofSpeech, which the Criticks call Hellenisms, as Horacein his Odes abounds with them much more than Virgil.I need not mention the several Dialects which Homerhas made use of for this end. Milton, in conformitywith the Practice of the Ancient Poets, and with Aristotle’sRule, has infused a great many Latinisms, as well asGraecisms, and sometimes Hebraisms, into the Languageof his Poem; as towards the Beginning of it.
Nor did they not perceive the evil Plight
In which they were, or the fierce Painsnot feel,
Yet to their Genrals Voice they soon obey’d.—
—Who shall tempt with wandring Feet
The dark unbottom’d Infinite Abyss,
And through the palpable Obscure findout
His uncouth way, or spread his airy Flight
Upborn with indefatigable Wings
Over the vast Abrupt!
[—So both ascend
In the Visions of God— Book 2.]
Under this Head may be reckon’d the placingthe Adjective after the Substantive, the Transpositionof Words, the turning the Adjective into a Substantive,with several other Foreign Modes of Speech which thisPoet has naturalized to give his Verse the greaterSound, and throw it out of Prose.
The third Method mentioned by Aristotle is what agreeswith the Genius of the Greek Language more than withthat of any other Tongue, and is therefore more usedby Homer than by any other Poet. I mean the lengthningof a Phrase by the Addition of Words, which may eitherbe inserted or omitted, as also by the extending orcontracting of particular Words by the Insertion orOmission of certain Syllables. Milton has putin practice this Method of raising his Language, asfar as the Nature of our Tongue will permit, as inthe Passage above-mentioned, Eremite, [for] what isHermit, in common Discourse. If you observe theMeasure of his Verse, he has with great Judgment suppresseda Syllable in several Words, and shortned those oftwo Syllables into one, by which Method, besides theabove-mentioned Advantage, he has given a greaterVariety to his Numbers. But this Practice ismore particularly remarkable in the Names of Personsand of Countries, as Beelzebub, Hessebon, and in manyother Particulars, wherein he has either changed theName, or made use of that which is not the most commonlyknown, that he might the better depart from the Languageof the Vulgar.
The same Reason recommended to him several old Words,which also makes his Poem appear the more venerable,and gives it a greater Air of Antiquity.
I must likewise take notice, that there are in Miltonseveral Words of his own coining, as Cerberean, miscreated,Hell-doom’d, Embryon Atoms, and many others.If the Reader is offended at this Liberty in our EnglishPoet, I would recommend him to a Discourse in Plutarch,[7] which shews us how frequently Homer has made useof the same Liberty.
Milton, by the above-mentioned Helps, and by the Choiceof the noblest Words and Phrases which our Tonguewould afford him, has carried our Language to a greaterHeight than any of the English Poets have ever donebefore or after him, and made the Sublimity of hisStile equal to that of his Sentiments.
I have been the more particular in these Observationson Milton’s Stile, because it is that Part ofhim in which he appears the most singular. TheRemarks I have here made upon the Practice of otherPoets, with my Observations out of Aristotle, willperhaps alleviate the Prejudice which some have takento his Poem upon this Account; tho after all, I mustconfess that I think his Stile, tho admirable in general,is in some places too much stiffened and obscuredby the frequent Use of those Methods, which Aristotlehas prescribed for the raising of it.
This Redundancy of those several Ways of Speech, whichAristotle calls foreign Language, and with which Miltonhas so very much enriched, and in some Places darknedthe Language of his Poem, was the more proper forhis use, because his Poem is written in Blank Verse.Rhyme, without any other Assistance, throws the Languageoff from Prose, and very often makes an indifferentPhrase pass unregarded; but where the Verse is notbuilt upon Rhymes, there Pomp of Sound, and Energyof Expression, are indispensably necessary to supportthe Stile, and keep it from falling into the Flatnessof Prose.
Those who have not a Taste for this Elevation of Stile,and are apt to ridicule a Poet when he departs fromthe common Forms of Expression, would do well to seehow Aristotle has treated an Ancient Author calledEuclid, [8] for his insipid Mirth upon this Occasion.Mr. Dryden used to call [these [9]]sort of Men hisProse-Criticks.
I should, under this Head of the Language, considerMilton’s Numbers, in which he has made use ofseveral Elisions, which are not customary among otherEnglish Poets, as may be particularly observed in hiscutting off the Letter Y, when it precedes a Vowel.[10] This, and some other Innovation in the Measureof his Verse, has varied his Numbers in such a manner,as makes them incapable of satiating the Ear, and cloyingthe Reader, which the same uniform Measure would certainlyhave done, and which the perpetual Returns of Rhimenever fail to do in long Narrative Poems. I shallclose these Reflections upon the Language of ParadiseLost, with observing that Milton has copied after Homerrather than Virgil in the length of his Periods, theCopiousness of his Phrases, and the running of hisVerses into one another.
L.
[Footnote 1: Aristotle, Poetics, ii. Sec.26.
The excellence of Diction consists inbeing perspicuous without being
mean.]
[Footnote 2:
Verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, nonego paucis
Offendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,
Aut humana parum cavit natura.
De Ar. Poet., II. 351-3.]
[Footnote 3: [see an Instance or two]]
[Footnote 4: Poetics, ii. Sec. 26]
[Footnote 5: [,like those in Milton]]
[Footnote 6:
That language is elevated and remote fromthe vulgar idiom which employs unusual words:by unusual, I mean foreign, metaphorical, extended—all,in short, that are not common words. Yet, shoulda poet compose his Diction entirely of such words,the result would be either an enigma or a barbarousjargon: an enigma if composed of metaphors, abarbarous jargon if composed of foreign words.For the essence of an enigma consists in puttingtogether things apparently inconsistent and impossible,and at the same time saying nothing but what is true.Now this cannot be effected by the mere arrangementof words; by the metaphorical use of them it may.]
[Footnote 7: On Life and Poetry of Homer, wronglyascribed to Plutarch, Bk. I. Sec. 16.]
[Footnote 8: Poetics, II. Sec. 26.
A judicious intermixture is requisite... It is without reason, therefore, that somecritics have censured these modes of speech, and ridiculedthe poet for the use of them; as old Euclid did, objectingthat versification would be an easy business, ifit were permitted to lengthen words at pleasure,and then giving a burlesque example of that sortof diction... In the employment of all the speciesof unusual words, moderation is necessary:for metaphors, foreign words, or any of the othersimproperly used, and with a design to be ridiculous,would produce the same effect. But how great adifference is made by a proper and temperate useof such words may be seen in heroic verse.Let any one put common words in the place of the metaphorical,the foreign, and others of the same kind, and he willbe convinced of the truth of what I say.
He then gives two or three examples of the effectof changing poetical for common words. As, that(in plays now lost):
the same Iambic verse occurs in AEschylusand Euripides; but by means of a single alteration—thesubstitution of a foreign for a common and usualword—one of these verses appears beautiful,the other ordinary. For AEschylus in his Philoctetessays, “The poisonous wound that eats my flesh.”But Euripides for ([Greek: esthiei]) “eats”says ([Greek: thoinatai]) “banquets on.”]
[Footnote 9: [this]]
[Footnote 10: This is not particularly observed.On the very first page of P. L. we have a line withthe final y twice sounded before a vowel,
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song.
Again a few lines later,
That to the height of this great argument
I may assert Eternal Providence.
Ten lines farther we read of the Serpent
Stirr’d up with envy and revenge.
We have only an apparent elision of y a few lineslater in his aspiring
To set himself in glory above his peers,
for the line would be ruined were the y to be omittedby a reader. The extreme shortness of the twounaccented syllables, y and a, gives them the quantityof one in the metre, and allows by the turn of voicea suggestion of exuberance, heightening the forceof the word glory. Three lines lower Milton hasno elision of the y before a vowel in the line,
Against the throne and monarchy of God.
Nor eight lines after that in the words day and night.There is elision of y in the line,
That were an ignominy and shame beneath
This downfall.
But none a few lines lower down in
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of heaven.
When the y stands by itself, unaccented, immediatelyafter an accented syllable, and precedes a vowel thatis part of another unaccented syllable standing immediatelybefore an accented one, Milton accepts the consequence,and does not attempt to give it the force of a distinctsyllable. But Addison’s vague notion thatit was Milton’s custom to cut off the finaly when it precedes a vowel, and that for the sake ofbeing uncommon, came of inaccurate observation.For the reasons just given, the y of the word gloryruns into the succeeding syllable, and most assuredlyis not cut off, when we read of
theexcess
Of Glory obscured: as when the sun,new ris’n,
Looks through the horizontal misty air,
but the y in misty stands as a full syllable becausethe word air is accented. So again in
Death as oft accused
Of tardy execution, since denounc’d
The day of his offence.
The y of tardy is a syllable because the vowel followingit is accented; the y also of day remains, because,although an unaccented vowel follows, it is itselfpart of an accented syllable.]
* * * * *
No. 286. Monday, January 28, 1712. Steele.
Nomina Honesta praetenduntur vitiis.
Tacit.
York, Jan. 18, 1712.
Mr. Spectator,
I pretend not to inform a Gentleman ofso just a Taste, whenever he pleases to use it;but it may not be amiss to inform your Readers, thatthere is a false Delicacy as well as a true one.True Delicacy, as I take it, consists in Exactnessof Judgment and Dignity of Sentiment, or if youwill, Purity of Affection, as this is opposed to Corruptionand Grossness. There are Pedants in Breeding aswell as in Learning. The Eye that cannot bearthe Light is not delicate but sore. A goodConstitution appears in the Soundness and Vigour ofthe Parts, not in the Squeamishness of the Stomach;And a false Delicacy is Affectation, not Politeness.What then can be the Standard of Delicacy but Truthand Virtue? Virtue, which, as the Satyrist longsince observed, is real Honour; whereas the otherDistinctions among Mankind are meerly titular.Judging by that Rule, in my Opinion, and in that ofmany of your virtuous Female Readers, you are so farfrom deserving Mr. Courtly’s Accusation, thatyou seem too gentle, and to allow too many Excusesfor an enormous Crime, which is the Reproach of theAge, and is in all its Branches and Degrees expreslyforbidden by that Religion we pretend to profess;and whose Laws, in a Nation that calls it self Christian,one would think should take Place of those Rules whichMen of corrupt Minds, and those of weak Understandingsfollow. I know not any thing more perniciousto good Manners, than the giving fair Names to foulActions; for this confounds Vice and Virtue, and takesoff that natural Horrour we have to Evil. An innocentCreature, who would start at the Name of Strumpet,may think it pretty to be called a Mistress, especiallyif her Seducer has taken care to inform her, thata Union of Hearts is the principal Matter in the Sightof Heaven, and that the Business at Church is ameer idle Ceremony. Who knows not that theDifference between obscene and modest Words expressingthe same Action, consists only in the accessary Idea,for there is nothing immodest in Letters and Syllables.Fornication and Adultery are modest Words:because they express an Evil Action as criminal,and so as to excite Horrour and Aversion: WhereasWords representing the Pleasure rather than theSin, are for this Reason indecent and dishonest.Your Papers would be chargeable with something worsethan Indelicacy, they would be Immoral, did you treatthe detestable Sins of Uncleanness in the same manneras you rally an impertinent Self-love and an artfulGlance; as those Laws would be very unjust, thatshould chastise Murder and Petty Larceny with thesame Punishment. Even Delicacy requires thatthe Pity shewn to distressed indigent Wickedness,first betrayed into, and then expelled the Harboursof the Brothel, should be changed to Detestation, whenwe consider pampered Vice in the Habitations ofthe Wealthy. The most free Person of Quality,in Mr. Courtly’s Phrase, that is, to speak properly,a Woman of Figure who has forgot her Birth and Breeding,dishonoured her Relations and her self, abandonedher Virtue and Reputation, together with the naturalModesty of her Sex, and risqued her very Soul, isso far from deserving to be treated with no worseCharacter than that of a kind Woman, (which is doubtlessMr. Courtly’s Meaning, if he has any,) thatone can scarce be too severe on her, in as muchas she sins against greater Restraints, is less exposed,and liable to fewer Temptations, than Beauty inPoverty and Distress. It is hoped therefore,Sir, that you will not lay aside your generous Designof exposing that monstrous Wickedness of the Town,whereby a Multitude of Innocents are sacrificedin a more barbarous Manner than those who were offeredto Moloch. The Unchaste are provoked to see theirVice exposed, and the Chaste cannot rake into suchFilth without Danger of Defilement; but a meer SPECTATORmay look into the Bottom, and come off without partakingin the Guilt. The doing so will convince usyou pursue publick Good, and not meerly your own Advantage:But if your Zeal slackens, how can one help thinkingthat Mr. Courtly’s Letter is but a Feint toget off from a Subject, in which either your own,or the private and base Ends of others to whom youare partial, or those [of] whom you are afraid, wouldnot endure a Reformation?
I am, Sir, your humble Servant and Admirer,so long as you tread in
the Paths of Truth, Virtue, and Honour.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Trin. Coll. Cantab. Jan.12, 1711-12.
It is my Fortune to have a Chamber-Fellow,with whom, tho I agree very well in many Sentiments,yet there is one in which we are as contrary asLight and Darkness. We are both in Love:his Mistress is a lovely Fair, and mine a lovelyBrown. Now as the Praise of our MistressesBeauty employs much of our Time, we have frequent Quarrelsin entering upon that Subject, while each says allhe can to defend his Choice. For my own part,I have racked my Fancy to the utmost; and sometimes,with the greatest Warmth of Imagination, have toldhim, That Night was made before Day, and many morefine Things, tho without any effect: Nay, lastNight I could not forbear saying with more Heatthan Judgment, that the Devil ought to be painted white.Now my Desire is, Sir, that you would be pleasedto give us in Black and White your Opinion in theMatter of Dispute between us; which will eitherfurnish me with fresh and prevailing Arguments to maintainmy own Taste, or make me with less Repining allowthat of my Chamber-Fellow. I know very wellthat I have Jack Cleveland[1] and Bonds Horace onmy Side; but then he has such a Band of Rhymers andRomance-Writers, with which he opposes me, and isso continually chiming to the Tune of Golden Tresses,yellow Locks, Milk, Marble, Ivory, Silver, Swan,Snow, Daisies, Doves, and the Lord knows what; whichhe is always sounding with so much Vehemence in myEars, that he often puts me into a brown Study howto answer him; and I find that I am in a fair Wayto be quite confounded, without your timely Assistanceafforded to,
SIR,
Your humble Servant,
Philobrune.
T. [2]
[Footnote 1: Cleveland celebrates brown beautiesin his poem of the Senses Festival. John Bond,who published Commentaries on Horace and Persius,Antony a Wood calls a polite and rare critic whoselabours have advanced the Commonwealth of Learningvery much.]
[Footnote 2: [Z.]]
* * * * *
No. 287. Tuesday, January 29, 1712. Addison.
[Greek: O philtatae gae maeter, hossemnon sphodr ei
Toisnoun echousi ktaema—
Menand.]
I look upon it as a peculiar Happiness, that wereI to choose of what Religion I would be, and underwhat Government I would live, I should most certainlygive the Preference to that Form of Religion and Governmentwhich is established in my own Country. In thisPoint I think I am determined by Reason and Conviction;but if I shall be told that I am acted by Prejudice,I am sure it is an honest Prejudice, it is a Prejudicethat arises from the Love of my Country, and thereforesuch an one as I will always indulge. I havein several Papers endeavoured to express my Duty andEsteem for the Church of England, and design this asan Essay upon the Civil Part of our Constitution, havingoften entertained my self with Reflections on thisSubject, which I have not met with in other Writers.
That Form of Government appears to me the most reasonable,which is most conformable to the Equality that wefind in human Nature, provided it be consistent withpublick Peace and Tranquillity. This is what mayproperly be called Liberty, which exempts one Man fromSubjection to another so far as the Order and Oeconomyof Government will permit.
Liberty should reach every Individual of a People,as they all share one common Nature; if it only spreadsamong particular Branches, there had better be noneat all, since such a Liberty only aggravates the Misfortuneof those who are depriv’d of it, by setting beforethem a disagreeable Subject of Comparison. ThisLiberty is best preserved, where the Legislative Poweris lodged in several Persons, especially if thosePersons are of different Ranks and Interests; for wherethey are of the same Rank, and consequently have anInterest to manage peculiar to that Rank, it differsbut little from a Despotical Government in a singlePerson. But the greatest Security a People canhave for their Liberty, is when the Legislative Poweris in the Hands of Persons so happily distinguished,that by providing for the particular Interests oftheir several Ranks, they are providing for the wholeBody of the People; or in other Words, when thereis no Part of the People that has not a common Interestwith at least one Part of the Legislators.
If there be but one Body of Legislators, it is nobetter than a Tyranny; if there are only two, therewill want a casting Voice, and one of them must atlength be swallowed up by Disputes and Contentionsthat will necessarily arise between them. Fourwould have the same Inconvenience as two, and a greaterNumber would cause too much Confusion. I couldnever read a Passage in Polybius, and another in Cicero,to this Purpose, without a secret Pleasure in applyingit to the English Constitution, which it suits muchbetter than the Roman. Both these great Authorsgive the Pre-eminence to a mixt Government, consistingof three Branches, the Regal, the Noble, and the Popular.They had doubtless in their Thoughts the Constitutionof the Roman Commonwealth, in which the Consul representedthe King, the Senate the Nobles, and the Tribunesthe People. This Division of the three Powersin the Roman Constitution was by no means so distinctand natural, as it is in the English Form of Government.Among several Objections that might be made to it,I think the Chief are those that affect the ConsularPower, which had only the Ornaments without the Forceof the Regal Authority. Their Number had nota casting Voice in it; for which Reason, if one didnot chance to be employed Abroad, while the othersat at Home, the Publick Business was sometimes ata Stand, while the Consuls pulled two different Waysin it. Besides, I do not find that the Consulshad ever a Negative Voice in the passing of a Law,or Decree of Senate, so that indeed they were ratherthe chief Body of the Nobility, or the first Ministersof State, than a distinct Branch of the Sovereignty,in which none can be looked upon as a Part, who arenot a Part of the Legislature. Had the Consulsbeen invested with the Regal Authority to as greata Degree as our Monarchs, there would never have beenany Occasions for a Dictatorship, which had in itthe Power of all the three Orders, and ended in theSubversion of the whole Constitution.
Such an History as that of Suelonius, which givesus a Succession of Absolute Princes, is to me an unanswerableArgument against Despotick Power. Where the Princeis a Man of Wisdom and Virtue, it is indeed happyfor his People that he is absolute; but since in thecommon Run of Mankind, for one that is Wise and Goodyou find ten of a contrary Character, it is very dangerousfor a Nation to stand to its Chance, or to have itspublick Happiness or Misery depend on the Virtues orVices of a single Person. Look into the [History[1]] I have mentioned, or into any Series of AbsolutePrinces, how many Tyrants must you read through, beforeyou come to an Emperor that is supportable. Butthis is not all; an honest private Man often growscruel and abandoned, when converted into an absolutePrince. Give a Man Power of doing what he pleaseswith Impunity, you extinguish his Fear, and consequentlyoverturn in him one of the great Pillars of Morality.This too we find confirmed by Matter of Fact.How many hopeful Heirs apparent to grand Empires,when in the Possession of them, have become such Monstersof Lust and Cruelty as are a Reproach to Human Nature.
Some tell us we ought to make our Governments on Earthlike that in Heaven, which, say they, is altogetherMonarchical and Unlimited. Was Man like his Creatorin Goodness and Justice, I should be for followingthis great Model; but where Goodness and Justice arenot essential to the Ruler, I would by no means putmyself into his Hands to be disposed of accordingto his particular Will and Pleasure.
It is odd to consider the Connection between DespoticGovernment and Barbarity, and how the making of onePerson more than Man, makes the rest less. Aboutnine Parts of the World in ten are in the lowest Stateof Slavery, and consequently sunk into the most grossand brutal Ignorance. European Slavery is indeeda State of Liberty, if compared with that which prevailsin the other three Divisions of the World; and thereforeit is no Wonder that those who grovel under it havemany Tracks of Light among them, of which the othersare wholly destitute.
Riches and Plenty are the natural Fruits of Liberty,and where these abound, Learning and all the LiberalArts will immediately lift up their Heads and flourish.As a Man must have no slavish Fears and Apprehensionshanging upon his Mind, [who [2]] will indulge the Flightsof Fancy or Speculation, and push his Researches intoall the abstruse Corners of Truth, so it is necessaryfor him to have about him a Competency of all theConveniencies of Life.
The first thing every one looks after, is to providehimself with Necessaries. This Point will engrossour Thoughts till it be satisfied. If this istaken care of to our Hands, we look out for Pleasuresand Amusem*nts; and among a great Number of idle People,there will be many whose Pleasures will lie in Readingand Contemplation. These are the two great Sourcesof Knowledge, and as Men grow wise they naturally loveto communicate their Discoveries; and others seeingthe Happiness of such a Learned Life, and improvingby their Conversation, emulate, imitate, and surpassone another, till a Nation is filled with Races ofwise and understanding Persons. Ease and Plentyare therefore the great Cherishers of Knowledge:and as most of the Despotick Governments of the Worldhave neither of them, they are naturally over-run withIgnorance and Barbarity. In Europe, indeed, notwithstandingseveral of its Princes are absolute, there are Menfamous for Knowledge and Learning; but the Reasonis because the Subjects are many of them rich and wealthy,the Prince not thinking fit to exert himself in hisfull Tyranny like the Princes of the Eastern Nations,lest his Subjects should be invited to new-mould theirConstitution, having so many Prospects of Liberty withintheir View. But in all Despotic Governments, thoa particular Prince may favour Arts and Letters, thereis a natural Degeneracy of Mankind, as you may observefrom Augustus’s Reign, how the Romans lost themselvesby Degrees till they fell to an Equality with the mostbarbarous Nations that surrounded them. Lookupon Greece under its free States, and you would thinkits Inhabitants lived in different Climates, and underdifferent Heavens, from those at present; so differentare the Genius’s which are formed under TurkishSlavery and Grecian Liberty.
Besides Poverty and Want, there are other Reasonsthat debase the Minds of Men, who live under Slavery,though I look on this as the Principal. Thisnatural Tendency of Despotic Power to Ignorance andBarbarity, tho not insisted upon by others, is, Ithink, an unanswerable Argument against that Formof Government, as it shews how repugnant it is to theGood of Mankind, and the Perfection of human Nature,which ought to be the great Ends of all Civil Institutions.
L.
[Footnote 1: [Historian]]
[Footnote 2: [that]]
* * * * *
No. 288. Wednesday, January 30, 1712. Steele
—Pavor est utrique molestus.
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
When you spoke of the Jilts and Coquets,you then promised to be very impartial, and notto spare even your own Sex, should any of their secretor open Faults come under your Cognizance; which hasgiven me Encouragement to describe a certain Speciesof Mankind under the Denomination of Male Jilts.They are Gentlemen who do not design to marry, yet,that they may appear to have some Sense of Gallantry,think they must pay their Devoirs to one particularFair; in order to which they single out from amongstthe Herd of Females her to whom they design to maketheir fruitless Addresses. This done, they firsttake every Opportunity of being in her Company, andthen never fail upon all Occasions to be particularto her, laying themselves at her Feet, protestingthe Reality of their Passion with a thousand Oaths,solliciting a Return, and saying as many fine Thingsas their Stock of Wit will allow; and if they arenot deficient that way, generally speak so as toadmit of a double Interpretation; which the credulousFair is apt to turn to her own Advantage, since itfrequently happens to be a raw, innocent, youngCreature, who thinks all the World as sincere asher self, and so her unwary Heart becomes an easy Preyto those deceitful Monsters, who no sooner perceiveit, but immediately they grow cool, and shun herwhom they before seemed so much to admire, and proceedto act the same common-place Villany towards another.A Coxcomb flushed with many of these infamous Victoriesshall say he is sorry for the poor Fools, protestand vow he never thought of Matrimony, and wondertalking civilly can be so strangely misinterpreted.Now, Mr. SPECTATOR, you that are a professed Friendto Love, will, I hope, observe upon those who abusethat noble Passion, and raise it in innocent Mindsby a deceitful Affectation of it, after which theydesert the Enamoured. Pray bestow a little ofyour Counsel to those fond believing Females whoalready have or are in Danger of broken Hearts;in which you will oblige a great Part of this Town,but in a particular Manner,
SIR Your (yet Heart-whole) Admirer,
and devoted humble Servant,
Melainia.
Melainie’s Complaint is occasioned by so generala Folly, that it is wonderful one could so long overlookit. But this false Gallantry proceeds from anImpotence of Mind, which makes those who are guiltyof it incapable of pursuing what they themselves approve.Many a Man wishes a Woman his Wife whom he dares nottake for such. Tho no one has Power over hisInclinations or Fortunes, he is a Slave to common Fame.For this Reason I think Melainia gives them too softa Name in that of Male Coquets. I know not whyIrresolution of Mind should not be more contemptiblethan Impotence of Body; and these frivolous Admirerswould be but tenderly used, in being only includedin the same Term with the Insufficient another Way.They whom my Correspondent calls Male Coquets, shallhereafter be called Fribblers. A Fribbler is one
who professes Rapture and Admiration for the Womanto whom he addresses, and dreads nothing so much asher Consent. His Heart can flutter by the Forceof Imagination, but cannot fix from the Force of Judgment.It is not uncommon for the Parents of young Womenof moderate Fortune to wink at the Addresses of Fribblers,and expose their Children to the ambiguous Behaviourwhich Melainia complains of, till by the Fondness toone they are to lose, they become incapable of Lovetowards others, and by Consequence in their futureMarriage lead a joyless or a miserable Life.As therefore I shall in the Speculations which regardLove be as severe as I ought on Jilts and LibertineWomen, so will I be as little merciful to insignificantand mischievous Men. In order to this, all Visitantswho frequent Families wherein there are young Females,are forthwith required to declare themselves, or absentfrom Places where their Presence banishes such aswould pass their Time more to the Advantage of thosewhom they visit. It is a Matter of too great Momentto be dallied with; and I shall expect from all myyoung People a satisfactory Account of Appearances.Strephon has from the Publication hereof seven Daysto explain the Riddle he presented to Eudamia; andChloris an Hour after this comes to her Hand, to declarewhether she will have Philotas, whom a Woman of noless Merit than her self, and of superior Fortune,languishes to call her own.To the SPECTATOR.
SIR, [1] Since so many Dealers turnAuthors, and write quaint Advertisem*nts in praiseof their Wares, one who from an Author turn’dDealer may be allowed for the Advancement of Tradeto turn Author again. I will not however setup like some of em, for selling cheaper than the mostable honest Tradesman can; nor do I send this tobe better known for Choice and Cheapness of Chinaand Japan Wares, Tea, Fans, Muslins, Pictures, Arrack,and other Indian Goods. Placed as I am in Leadenhall-street,near the India-Company, and the Centre of that Trade,Thanks to my fair Customers, my Warehouse is gracedas well as the Benefit Days of my Plays and Operas;and the foreign Goods I sell seem no less acceptablethan the foreign Books I translated, Rabelais andDon Quixote: This the Criticks allow me, and whilethey like my Wares they may dispraise my Writing.But as tis not so well known yet that I frequentlycross the Seas of late, and speaking Dutch and French,besides other Languages, I have the Conveniency ofbuying and importing rich Brocades, Dutch Atlasses,with Gold and Silver, or without, and other foreignSilks of the newest Modes and best Fabricks, fineFlanders Lace, Linnens, and Pictures, at the best Hand:This my new way of Trade I have fallen into I cannotbetter publish than by an Application to you.My Wares are fit only for such as your Readers;and I would beg of you to print this Address in yourPaper, that those whose Minds you adorn may takethe Ornaments for their Persons and Houses fromme. This, Sir, if I may presume to beg it, willbe the greater Favour, as I have lately received richSilks and fine Lace to a considerable Value, whichwill be sold cheap for a quick Return, and as Ihave also a large Stock of other Goods. IndianSilks were formerly a great Branch of our Trade;and since we must not sell em, we must seek Amendsby dealing in others. This I hope will pleadfor one who would lessen the Number of Teazers of theMuses, and who, suiting his Spirit to his Circ*mstances,humbles the Poet to exalt the Citizen. Likea true Tradesman, I hardly ever look into any Booksbut those of Accompts. To say the Truth, I cannot,I think, give you a better Idea of my being a downrightMan of Traffick, than by acknowledging I oftenerread the Advertisem*nts, than the Matter of evenyour Paper. I am under a great Temptation to takethis Opportunity of admonishing other Writers tofollow my Example, and trouble the Town no more;but as it is my present Business to increase theNumber of Buyers rather than Sellers, I hasten to tellyou that I am, SIR, Your most humble, andmost obedient Servant, Peter Motteux.
T.
[Footnote 1: Peter Anthony Motteux, the writerof this letter, was born in Normandy, and came asa refugee to England at the Revocation of the Edictof Nantes. Here he wrote about 14 plays, translatedBayle’s Dictionary, Montaigne’s Essays,and Don Quixote, and established himself also as atrader in Leadenhall Street. He had a wife anda fine young family when (at the age of 56, and sixyears after the date of this letter) he was founddead in a house of ill fame near Temple Bar undercirc*mstances that caused a reward of fifty poundsto be offered for the discovery of his murderer.]
* * * * *
No. 289. Thursday, January 31,1712. Addison.
Vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoarelongam.
Hor.
Upon taking my Seat in a Coffee-house I often drawthe Eyes of the whole Room upon me, when in the hottestSeasons of News, and at a time that perhaps the DutchMail is just come in, they hear me ask the Coffee-manfor his last Weeks Bill of Mortality: I find thatI have been sometimes taken on this occasion for aParish Sexton, sometimes for an Undertaker, and sometimesfor a Doctor of Physick. In this, however, I amguided by the Spirit of a Philosopher, as I take occasionfrom hence to reflect upon the regular Encrease andDiminution of Mankind, and consider the several variousWays through which we pass from Life to Eternity.I am very well pleased with these Weekly Admonitions,that bring into my Mind such Thoughts as ought tobe the daily Entertainment of every reasonable Creature;and can consider, with Pleasure to my self, by whichof those Deliverances, or, as we commonly call them,Distempers, I may possibly make my Escape out of thisWorld of Sorrows, into that Condition of Existence,wherein I hope to be Happier than it is possible forme at present to conceive.
But this is not all the Use I make of the above-mentionedWeekly Paper. A Bill of Mortality [1] is in myOpinion an unanswerable Argument for a Providence.How can we, without supposing our selves under theconstant Care of a Supreme Being, give any possibleAccount for that nice Proportion, which we find inevery great City, between the Deaths and Births ofits Inhabitants, and between the Number of Males andthat of Females, who are brought into the World?What else could adjust in so exact a manner the Recruitsof every Nation to its Losses, and divide these newSupplies of People into such equal Bodies of both Sexes?Chance could never hold the Balance with so steadya Hand. Were we not counted out by an intelligentSupervisor, we should sometimes be over-charged withMultitudes, and at others waste away into a Desart:We should be sometimes a populus virorum, as Floruselegantly expresses it, a Generation of Males, andat others a Species of Women. We may extend thisConsideration to every Species of living Creatures,and consider the whole animal World as an huge Armymade up of innumerable Corps, if I may use that Term,whose Quotas have been kept entire near five thousandYears, in so wonderful a manner, that there is notprobably a single Species lost during this long Tractof Time. Could we have general Bills of Mortalityof every kind of Animal, or particular ones of everySpecies in each Continent and Island, I could almostsay in every Wood, Marsh or Mountain, what astonishingInstances would they be of that Providence which watchesover all its Works?
I have heard of a great Man in the Romish Church,who upon reading those Words in the Vth Chapter ofGenesis, And all the Days that Adam lived were ninehundred and thirty Years, and he died; and all theDays of Seth were nine hundred and twelve Years, andhe died; and all the Days of Methuselah were ninehundred and sixty nine Years, and he died; immediatelyshut himself up in a Convent, and retired from theWorld, as not thinking any thing in this Life worthpursuing, which had not regard to another.
The Truth of it is, there is nothing in History whichis so improving to the Reader, as those Accounts whichwe meet with of the Deaths of eminent Persons, andof their Behaviour in that dreadful Season. Imay also add, that there are no Parts in History whichaffect and please the Reader in so sensible a manner.The Reason I take to be this, because there is noother single Circ*mstance in the Story of any Person,which can possibly be the Case of every one who readsit. A Battle or a Triumph are Conjunctures inwhich not one Man in a Million is likely to be engaged;but when we see a Person at the Point of Death, wecannot forbear being attentive to every thing he saysor does, because we are sure that some time or otherwe shall our selves be in the same melancholy Circ*mstances.The General, the Statesman, or the Philosopher, areperhaps Characters which we may never act in; but thedying Man is one whom, sooner or later, we shall certainlyresemble.
It is, perhaps, for the same kind of Reason that fewBooks, [written [2]] in English, have been so muchperused as Dr. Sherlock’s Discourse upon Death;though at the same time I must own, that he who hasnot perused this Excellent Piece, has not perhapsread one of the strongest Persuasives to a ReligiousLife that ever was written in any Language.
The Consideration, with which I shall close this Essayupon Death, is one of the most ancient and most beatenMorals that has been recommended to Mankind.But its being so very common, and so universally received,though it takes away from it the Grace of Novelty,adds very much to the Weight of it, as it shews thatit falls in with the general Sense of Mankind.In short, I would have every one consider, that heis in this Life nothing more than a Passenger, andthat he is not to set up his Rest here, but to keepan attentive Eye upon that State of Being to whichhe approaches every Moment, and which will be for everfixed and permanent. This single Considerationwould be sufficient to extinguish the Bitterness ofHatred, the Thirst of Avarice, and the Cruelty ofAmbition.
I am very much pleased with the Passage of Antiphanesa very ancient Poet, who lived near an hundred Yearsbefore Socrates, which represents the Life of Manunder this View, as I have here translated it Wordfor Word. Be not grieved, says he, above measurefor thy deceased Friends[. They [3]] are notdead, but have only finished that Journey which itis necessary for every one of us to take: Weourselves must go to that great Place of Receptionin which they are all of them assembled, and in thisgeneral Rendezvous of Mankind, live together in anotherState of Being.
I think I have, in a former Paper, taken notice ofthose beautiful Metaphors in Scripture, where Lifeis termed a Pilgrimage, and those who pass throughit are called Strangers and Sojourners upon Earth.I shall conclude this with a Story, which I have somewhereread in the Travels of Sir John Chardin; [4] thatGentleman after having told us, that the Inns whichreceive the Caravans in Persia, and the Eastern Countries,are called by the Name of Caravansaries, gives us aRelation to the following Purpose.
A Dervise, travelling through Tartary, being arrivedat the Town of Balk, went into the King’s Palaceby Mistake, as thinking it to be a publick Inn orCaravansary. Having looked about him for sometime, he enter’d into a long Gallery, wherehe laid down his Wallet, and spread his Carpet, inorder to repose himself upon it after the Manner ofthe Eastern Nations. He had not been long inthis Posture before he was discovered by some of theGuards, who asked him what was his Business in thatPlace? The Dervise told them he intended to takeup his Night’s Lodging in that Caravansary.The Guards let him know, in a very angry manner, thatthe House he was in was not a Caravansary, but theKing’s Palace. It happened that the King
himself passed through the Gallery during this Debate,and smiling at the Mistake of the Dervise, asked himhow he could possibly be so dull as not to distinguisha Palace from a Caravansary? Sir, says the Dervise,give me leave to ask your Majesty a Question or two.Who were the Persons that lodged in this House whenit was first built? The King replied, His Ancestors.And who, says the Dervise, was the last Person thatlodged here? The King replied, His Father.And who is it, says the Dervise, that lodges here atpresent? The King told him, that it was he himself.And who, says the Dervise, will be here after you?The King answered, The young Prince his Son. AhSir, said the Dervise, a House that changes its Inhabitantsso often, and receives such a perpetual Successionof Guests, is not a Palace but a Caravansary.L.
[Footnote 1: Bills of Mortality, containing theweekly number of Christenings and Deaths, with thecause of Death, were first compiled by the LondonCompany of Parish Clerks (for 109 parishes) after thePlague in 1592. They did not give the age atdeath till 1728.]
[Footnote 2: which have been written]
[Footnote 3: [; for they]]
[Footnote 4: Sir John Chardin was a jewellersson, born at Paris, who came to England and was knightedby Charles II. He travelled into Persia and theEast Indies, and his account of his voyages was translatedinto English, German, and Flemish. He was livingwhen this paper appeared, but died in the followingyear, at the age of 70.]
* * * * *
No. 290. Friday, February 1, 1712. Steele.
[Projicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba.
Hor. [1]]
The Players, who know I am very much their Friend,take all Opportunities to express a Gratitude to mefor being so. They could not have a better Occasionof Obliging me, than one which they lately took holdof. They desired my Friend WILL. HONEYCOMBto bring me to the Reading of a new Tragedy; it iscalled The distressed Mother. [2] I must confess,tho some Days are passed since I enjoyed that Entertainment,the Passions of the several Characters dwell stronglyupon my Imagination; and I congratulate to the Age,that they are at last to see Truth and humane Liferepresented in the Incidents which concern Heroesand Heroines. The Stile of the Play is such asbecomes those of the first Education, and the Sentimentsworthy those of the highest Figure. It was amost exquisite Pleasure to me, to observe real Tearsdrop from the Eyes of those who had long made it theirProfession to dissemble Affliction; and the Player,who read, frequently throw down the Book, till hehad given vent to the Humanity which rose in him atsome irresistible Touches of the imagined Sorrow.We have seldom had any Female Distress on the Stage,which did not, upon cool Examination, appear to flow
from the Weakness rather than the Misfortune of thePerson represented: But in this Tragedy you arenot entertained with the ungoverned Passions of suchas are enamoured of each other merely as they areMen and Women, but their Regards are founded upon highConceptions of each others Virtue and Merit; and theCharacter which gives Name to the Play, is one whohas behaved her self with heroic Virtue in the mostimportant Circ*mstances of a Female Life, those ofa Wife, a Widow, and a Mother. If there be thosewhose Minds have been too attentive upon the Affairsof Life, to have any Notion of the Passion of Lovein such Extremes as are known only to particular Tempers,yet, in the above-mentioned Considerations, the Sorrowof the Heroine will move even the Generality of Mankind.Domestick Virtues concern all the World, and thereis no one living who is not interested that Andromacheshould be an imitable Character. The generousAffection to the Memory of her deceased Husband, thattender Care for her Son, which is ever heightned withthe Consideration of his Father, and these Regardspreserved in spite of being tempted with the Possessionof the highest Greatness, are what cannot but be venerableeven to such an Audience as at present frequents theEnglish Theatre. My Friend WILL HONEYCOMB commendedseveral tender things that were said, and told me theywere very genteel; but whisper’d me, that hefeared the Piece was not busy enough for the presentTaste. To supply this, he recommended to the Playersto be very careful in their Scenes, and above allThings, that every Part should be perfectly new dressed.I was very glad to find that they did not neglectmy Friends Admonition, because there are a great manyin his Class of Criticism who may be gained by it;but indeed the Truth is, that as to the Work it self,it is every where Nature. The Persons are ofthe highest Quality in Life, even that of Princes;but their Quality is not represented by the Poet withDirection that Guards and Waiters should follow themin every Scene, but their Grandeur appears in Greatnessof Sentiment[s], flowing from Minds worthy their Condition.To make a Character truly Great, this Author understandsthat it should have its Foundation in superior Thoughtsand Maxims of Conduct. It is very certain, thatmany an honest Woman would make no Difficulty, thoshe had been the Wife of Hector, for the sake of aKingdom, to marry the Enemy of her Husbands Familyand Country; and indeed who can deny but she mightbe still an honest Woman, but no Heroine? Thatmay be defensible, nay laudable in one Character,which would be in the highest Degree exceptionablein another. When Cato Uticensis killed himself,Cottius a Roman of ordinary Quality and Character didthe same thing; upon which one said, smiling, Cottiusmight have lived, tho Caesar has seized the RomanLiberty. Cottius’s Condition might havebeen the same, let things at the upper End of theWorld pass as they would. What is further veryextraordinary in this Work, is, that the Persons areall of them laudable, and their Misfortunes ariserather from unguarded Virtue than Propensity to Vice.The Town has an Opportunity of doing itself Justicein supporting the Representation of Passion, Sorrow,Indignation, even Despair itself, within the Rulesof Decency, Honour and Good-breeding; and since thereis no one can flatter himself his Life will be alwaysfortunate, they may here see Sorrow as they wouldwish to bear it whenever it arrives.Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am appointed to act a Part in the newTragedy called The Distressed Mother: It isthe celebrated Grief of Orestes which I am to personate;but I shall not act it as I ought, for I shall feelit too intimately to be able to utter it. Iwas last Night repeating a Paragraph to my self,which I took to be an Expression of Rage, and in themiddle of the Sentence there was a Stroke of Self-pitywhich quite unmanned me. Be pleased, Sir, toprint this Letter, that when I am oppressed in thismanner at such an Interval, a certain Part of the Audiencemay not think I am out; and I hope with this Allowanceto do it to Satisfaction. I am, SIR, Yourmost humble Servant, George Powell.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
As I was walking tother Day in the Park,I saw a Gentleman with a
very short Face; I desire to know whetherit was you. Pray inform me
as soon as you can, lest I become themost heroick Hecatissa’s Rival.
Your humble Servant to command,
SOPHIA.
Dear Madam,
It is not me you are in love with, for I was veryill and kept my
Chamber all that Day.
Your most humble Servant,
The SPECTATOR.
T.
[Footnote 1:
[Spirat Tragicum satis, et foeliciterAudet.
Hor.]]
[Footnote 2: This is a third blast of the Trumpeton behalf of Ambrose Philips, who had now been adaptingRacine’s Andromaque.]
* * * * *
No. 291. Saturday, February 2, 1712. Addison.
Ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis
Offendor maculis, quas aut Incuria fudit,
Aut Humana parum cavit Natura.
Hor.
I have now considered Milton’s Paradise Lostunder those four great Heads of the Fable, the Characters,the Sentiments, and the Language; and have shewn thathe excels, in general, under each of these Heads.I hope that I have made several Discoveries whichmay appear new, even to those who are versed in CriticalLearning. Were I indeed to chuse my Readers,by whose Judgment I would stand or fall, they shouldnot be such as are acquainted only with the Frenchand Italian Criticks, but also with the Ancient andModerns who have written in either of the learnedLanguages. Above all, I would have them well versedin the Greek and Latin Poets, without which a Manvery often fancies that he understands a Critick,when in Reality he does not comprehend his Meaning.
It is in Criticism, as in all other Sciences and Speculations;one who brings with him any implicit Notions and Observationswhich he has made in his reading of the Poets, willfind his own Reflections methodized and explained,and perhaps several little Hints that had passed inhis Mind, perfected and improved in the Works of agood Critick; whereas one who has not these previousLights is very often an utter Stranger to what hereads, and apt to put a wrong Interpretation upon it.
Nor is it sufficient, that a Man who sets up for aJudge in Criticism, should have perused the Authorsabove mentioned, unless he has also a clear and LogicalHead. Without this Talent he is perpetually puzzledand perplexed amidst his own Blunders, mistakes theSense of those he would confute, or if he chancesto think right, does not know how to convey his Thoughtsto another with Clearness and Perspicuity. Aristotle,who was the best Critick, was also one of the bestLogicians that ever appeared in the World.
Mr. Locks Essay on Human Understanding [1] would bethought a very odd Book for a Man to make himselfMaster of, who would get a Reputation by CriticalWritings; though at the same time it is very certain,that an Author who has not learned the Art of distinguishingbetween Words and Things, and of ranging his Thoughts,and setting them in proper Lights, whatever Notionshe may have, will lose himself in Confusion and Obscurity.I might further observe, that there is not a Greekor Latin Critick who has not shewn, even in the Styleof his Criticisms, that he was a Master of all theElegance and Delicacy of his Native Tongue.
The Truth of it is, there is nothing more absurd,than for a Man to set up for a Critick, without agood Insight into all the Parts of Learning; whereasmany of those who have endeavoured to signalize themselvesby Works of this Nature among our English Writers,are not only defective in the above-mentioned Particulars,but plainly discover, by the Phrases which they makeuse of, and by their confused way of thinking, thatthey are not acquainted with the most common and ordinarySystems of Arts and Sciences. A few general Rulesextracted out of the French Authors, [2] with a certainCant of Words, has sometimes set up an Illiterate heavyWriter for a most judicious and formidable Critick.
One great Mark, by which you may discover a Critickwho has neither Taste nor Learning, is this, thathe seldom ventures to praise any Passage in an Authorwhich has not been before received and applauded bythe Publick, and that his Criticism turns wholly uponlittle Faults and Errors. This part of a Critickis so very easie to succeed in, that we find everyordinary Reader, upon the publishing of a new Poem,has Wit and Ill-nature enough to turn several Passagesof it into Ridicule, and very often in the right Place.This Mr. Dryden has very agreeably remarked in thosetwo celebrated Lines,
Errors, like Straws, upon the Surfaceflow;
He who would search for Pearls must divebelow. [3]
A true Critick ought to dwell rather upon Excellenciesthan Imperfections, to discover the concealed Beautiesof a Writer, and communicate to the World such thingsas are worth their Observation. The most exquisiteWords and finest Strokes of an Author are those whichvery often appear the most doubtful and exceptionableto a Man who wants a Relish for polite Learning; andthey are these, which a sower undistinguishing Critickgenerally attacks with the greatest Violence.Tully observes, that it is very easie to brand or fixa Mark upon what he calls Verbum ardens, [4] or, asit may be rendered into English, a glowing bold Expression,and to turn it into Ridicule by a cold ill-naturedCriticism. A little Wit is equally capable ofexposing a Beauty, and of aggravating a Fault; andthough such a Treatment of an Author naturally producesIndignation in the Mind of an understanding Reader,it has however its Effect among the Generality of thosewhose Hands it falls into, the Rabble of Mankind beingvery apt to think that every thing which is laughedat with any Mixture of Wit, is ridiculous in it self.
Such a Mirth as this is always unseasonable in a Critick,as it rather prejudices the Reader than convinceshim, and is capable of making a Beauty, as well asa Blemish, the Subject of Derision. A Man, whocannot write with Wit on a proper Subject, is dulland stupid, but one who shews it in an improper Place,is as impertinent and absurd. Besides, a Manwho has the Gift of Ridicule is apt to find Fault withany thing that gives him an Opportunity of exertinghis beloved Talent, and very often censures a Passage,not because there is any Fault in it, but becausehe can be merry upon it. Such kinds of Pleasantryare very unfair and disingenuous in Works of Criticism,in which the greatest Masters, both Ancient and Modern,have always appeared with a serious and instructiveAir.
As I intend in my next Paper to shew the Defects inMilton’s Paradise Lost, I thought fit to premisethese few Particulars, to the End that the Readermay know I enter upon it, as on a very ungrateful Work,and that I shall just point at the Imperfections,without endeavouring to enflame them with Ridicule.I must also observe with Longinus, [5] that the Productionsof a great Genius, with many Lapses and Inadvertencies,are infinitely preferable to the Works of an inferiorkind of Author, which are scrupulously exact and conformableto all the Rules of correct Writing.
I shall conclude my Paper with a Story out of Boccalini[6] which sufficiently shews us the Opinion that judiciousAuthor entertained of the sort of Criticks I havebeen here mentioning. A famous Critick, sayshe, having gathered together all the Faults of an eminentPoet, made a Present of them to Apollo, who receivedthem very graciously, and resolved to make the Authora suitable Return for the Trouble he had been at incollecting them. In order to this, he set beforehim a Sack of Wheat, as it had been just threshedout of the Sheaf. He then bid him pick out theChaff from among the Corn, and lay it aside by it self.The Critick applied himself to the Task with greatIndustry and Pleasure, and after having made the dueSeparation, was presented by Apollo with the Chafffor his Pains. [7]
L.
[Footnote 1: First published in 1690.]
[Footnote 2: Dryden accounted among critics thegreatest of his age to be Boilean and Rapin.Boileau was the great master of French criticism.Rene Rapin, born at Tours in 1621, taught Belles Lettreswith extraordinary success among his own order ofJesuits, wrote famous critical works, was one of thebest Latin poets of his time, and died at Paris in1687. His Whole Critical Works were translatedby Dr. Basil Kennett in two volumes, which appearedin 1705. The preface of their publisher saidof Rapin that
he has long dictated in this part of letters.He is acknowledged as the great arbitrator betweenthe merits of the best writers; and during the courseof almost thirty years there have been few appealsfrom his sentence.
(See also a note on p. 168, vol. i. [Footnote 3 ofNo. 44.]) Rene le Bossu, the great French authorityon Epic Poetry, born in 1631, was a regular canonof St. Genevieve, and taught the Humanities in severalreligious houses of his order. He died, subpriorof the Abbey of St. Jean de Cartres, in 1680.He wrote, besides his Treatise upon Epic Poetry, aparallel between the philosophies of Aristotle andDescartes, which appeared a few months earlier (in1674) with less success. Another authority wasFather Bouhours, of whom see note on p. 236, vol. i.[Footnote 4 of No. 62.] Another was Bernard le Bovierde Fontenelle. called by Voltaire the most universalgenius of his age. He was born at Rouen in 1657,looking so delicate that he was baptized in a hurry,and at 16 was unequal to the exertion of a game atbilliards, being caused by any unusual exercise tospit blood, though he lived to the age of a hundred,less one month and two days. He was taught bythe Jesuits, went to the bar to please his father,pleaded a cause, lost it, and gave up the professionto devote his time wholly to literature and philosophy.He went to Paris, wrote plays and the Dialogues ofthe Dead, living then with his uncle, Thomas Corneille.A discourse on the Eclogue prefixed to his pastoral
poems made him an authority in this manner of composition.It was translated by Motteux for addition to the Englishtranslation of Bossu on the Epic, which had also appendedto it an Essay on Satire by another of these Frenchcritics, Andre Dacier. Dacier, born at Castresin 1651, was educated at Saumur under Taneguy le Fevre,who was at the same time making a scholar of his owndaughter Anne. Dacier and the young lady becamewarmly attached to one another, married, united inabjuring Protestantism, and were for forty years, inthe happiest concord, man and wife and fellow-scholars.Dacier and his wife, as well as Fontenelle, were alivewhen the Spectator was appearing; his wife dying,aged 69, in 1720, the husband, aged 71, in 1722.Andre Dacier translated and annotated the Poeticsof Aristotle in 1692, and that critical work was regardedas his best performance.][Footnote 3: Annus Mirabilis, st. 39.]
[Footnote 4: Ad Brutum. Orator. Towardsthe beginning:
Facile est enim verbum aliquod ardens(ut ita dicam) notare, idque
restinctis jam animorum incendiis, irridere.]
[Footnote 5: On the Sublime, Sec. 36.]
[Footnote 6: Trajan Boccalini, born at Romein 1554, was a satirical writer famous in Italy forhis fine criticism and bold satire. CardinalsBorghese and Cajetan were his patrons. His Ragguaglidi Parnasso and la Secretaria di Parnasso, in whichApollo heard the complaints of the world, and dispensedjustice in his court on Parnassus, were received withdelight. Afterwards, in his Pietra di Parangone,he satirized the Court of Spain, and, fearing consequences,retired to Venice, where in 1613 he was attacked inhis bed by four ruffians, who beat him to death withsand-bags. Boccalini’s Ragguagli di Parnassohas been translated into English, in 1622, as Newsfrom Parnassus. Also, in 1656, as Advertisem*ntsfrom Parnassus, by H. Carey, Earl of Monmouth.This translation was reprinted in 1669 and 1674, andagain in 1706 by John Hughes, one of the contributorsto the Spectator.]
[Footnote 7: To this number of the Spectator,and to several numbers since that for January 8, inwhich it first appeared, is added an advertisem*ntthat, The First and Second Volumes of the SPECTATORin 8vo are now ready to be delivered to the subscribersby J. Tonson, at Shakespeare’s Head, over-againstCatherine Street in the Strand.]
* * * * *
No. 292. Monday, February 4, 1712.
Illam, quicquid agit, quoquo Vestigiaflectit,
Componit furlim, subsequiturque decor.
Tibull. L. 4.
As no one can be said to enjoy Health, who is onlynot sick, without he feel within himself a lightsomeand invigorating Principle, which will not sufferhim to remain idle, but still spurs him on to Action:so in the Practice of every Virtue, there is someadditional Grace required, to give a Claim of excellingin this or that particular Action. A Diamondmay want polishing, though the Value be still intrinsicallythe same; and the same Good may be done with differentDegrees of Lustre. No man should be contentedwith himself that he barely does well, but he shouldperform every thing in the best and most becoming Mannerthat he is able.
Tully tells us he wrote his Book of Offices, becausethere was no Time of Life in which some correspondentDuty might not be practised; nor is there a Duty withouta certain Decency accompanying it, by which everyVirtue tis join’d to will seem to be doubled.Another may do the same thing, and yet the Actionwant that Air and Beauty which distinguish it fromothers; like that inimitable Sun-shine Titian is saidto have diffused over his Landschapes; which denotesthem his, and has been always unequalled by any otherPerson.
There is no one Action in which this Quality I amspeaking of will be more sensibly perceived, thanin granting a Request or doing an Office of Kindness.Mummius, by his Way of consenting to a Benefaction,shall make it lose its Name; while Carus doubles theKindness and the Obligation: From the first thedesired Request drops indeed at last, but from sodoubtful a Brow, that the Obliged has almost as muchReason to resent the Manner of bestowing it, as tobe thankful for the Favour it self. Carus inviteswith a pleasing Air, to give him an Opportunity ofdoing an Act of Humanity, meets the Petition half Way,and consents to a Request with a Countenance whichproclaims the Satisfaction of his Mind in assistingthe Distressed.
The Decency then that is to be observed in Liberality,seems to consist in its being performed with suchCheerfulness, as may express the God-like Pleasureis to be met with in obliging ones Fellow-Creatures;that may shew Good-nature and Benevolence overflowed,and do not, as in some Men, run upon the Tilt, andtaste of the Sediments of a grutching uncommunicativeDisposition.
Since I have intimated that the greatest Decorum isto be preserved in the bestowing our good Offices,I will illustrate it a little by an Example drawnfrom private Life, which carries with it such a Profusionof Liberality, that it can be exceeded by nothing butthe Humanity and Good-nature which accompanies it.It is a Letter of Pliny’s[1] which I shall heretranslate, because the Action will best appear in itsfirst Dress of Thought, without any foreign or ambitiousOrnaments.
PLINY to QUINTILIAN.
Tho I am fully acquainted with the Contentmentand just Moderation of your Mind, and the Conformitythe Education you have given your Daughter bearsto your own Character; yet since she is suddenly tobe married to a Person of Distinction, whose Figurein the World makes it necessary for her to be ata more than ordinary Expence in Cloaths and Equipagesuitable to her Husbands Quality; by which, tho herintrinsick Worth be not augmented, yet will it receiveboth Ornament and Lustre: And knowing yourEstate to be as moderate as the Riches of your Mindare abundant, I must challenge to my self some partof the Burthen; and as a Parent of your Child.I present her with Twelve hundred and fifty Crownstowards these Expences; which Sum had been muchlarger, had I not feared the Smallness of it wouldbe the greatest Inducement with you to accept ofit. Farewell.
Thus should a Benefaction be done with a good Grace,and shine in the strongest Point of Light; it shouldnot only answer all the Hopes and Exigencies of theReceiver, but even out-run his Wishes: Tis thishappy manner of Behaviour which adds new Charms toit, and softens those Gifts of Art and Nature, whichotherwise would be rather distasteful than agreeable.Without it, Valour would degenerate into Brutality,Learning into Pedantry, and the genteelest Demeanourinto Affectation. Even Religion its self, unlessDecency be the Handmaid which waits upon her, is aptto make People appear guilty of Sourness and ill Humour:But this shews Virtue in her first original Form,adds a Comeliness to Religion, and gives its Professorsthe justest Title to the Beauty of Holiness. AMan fully instructed in this Art, may assume a thousandShapes, and please in all: He may do a thousandActions shall become none other but himself; not thatthe Things themselves are different, but the Mannerof doing them.
If you examine each Feature by its self, Aglaura andCallidea are equally handsome; but take them in theWhole, and you cannot suffer the Comparison:Tho one is full of numberless nameless Graces, theother of as many nameless Faults.
The Comeliness of Person, and Decency of Behaviour,add infinite Weight to what is pronounced by any one.Tis the want of this that often makes the Rebukesand Advice of old rigid Persons of no Effect, and leavea Displeasure in the Minds of those they are directedto: But Youth and Beauty, if accompanied witha graceful and becoming Severity, is of mighty Forceto raise, even in the most Profligate, a Sense of Shame.In Milton, the Devil is never described ashamed butonce, and that at the Rebuke of a beauteous Angel.
So spake the Cherub, and his grave Rebuke,
Severe in youthful Beauty, added Grace
Invincible: Abash’d the Devilstood,
And felt how awful Goodness is, and saw
Virtue in her own Shape how lovely I saw,and pin’d
His Loss. [2]
The Care of doing nothing unbecoming has accompaniedthe greatest Minds to their last Moments. Theyavoided even an indecent Posture in the very Articleof Death. Thus Caesar gathered his Robe abouthim, that he might not fall in a manner unbecomingof himself: and the greatest Concern that appearedin the Behaviour of Lucretia, when she stabbed herself, was, that her Body should lie in an Attitudeworthy the Mind which had inhabited it.
Ne non procumbat honeste
Extrema haec etiam cura, cadentis erat.[3]
Twas her last Thought, How decently tofall.
Mr. SPECTATOR, I am a young Woman withouta Fortune; but of a very high Mind: That is,Good Sir, I am to the last degree Proud and Vain.I am ever railing at the Rich, for doing Things,which, upon Search into my Heart, I find I am onlyangry because I cannot do the same my self. Iwear the hooped Petticoat, and am all in Callicoeswhen the finest are in Silks. It is a dreadfulthing to be poor and proud; therefore if you please,a Lecture on that Subject for the Satisfaction ofYour Uneasy Humble Servant, JEZEBEL.
Z.
[Footnote 1: Bk. vi. ep. 32.]
[Footnote 2: Par. L., Bk. iv. 11. 844-9.]
[Footnote 3: Ovid. Fast., iii. 833.]
* * * * *
No. 293.] Tuesday, February 5, 1712. [Addison.
[Greek: Pasin gar euphronousi summacheituchae.]
The famous Gratian [1] in his little Book whereinhe lays down Maxims for a Man’s advancing himselfat Court, advises his Reader to associate himselfwith the Fortunate, and to shun the Company of theUnfortunate; which, notwithstanding the Baseness ofthe Precept to an honest Mind, may have somethinguseful in it for those who push their Interest in theWorld. It is certain a great Part of what we callgood or ill Fortune, rises out of right or wrong Measures,and Schemes of Life. When I hear a Man complainof his being unfortunate in all his Undertakings, Ishrewdly suspect him for a very weak Man in his Affairs.In Conformity with this way of thinking, CardinalRichelieu used to say, that Unfortunate and Imprudentwere but two Words for the same Thing. As theCardinal himself had a great Share both of Prudenceand Good-Fortune, his famous Antagonist, the Countd’Olivarez, was disgraced at the Court of Madrid,because it was alledged against him that he had neverany Success in his Undertakings. This, says anEminent Author, was indirectly accusing him of Imprudence.
Cicero recommended Pompey to the Romans for theirGeneral upon three Accounts, as he was a Man of Courage,Conduct, and Good-Fortune. It was perhaps, forthe Reason above-mentioned, namely, that a Series ofGood-Fortune supposes a prudent Management in the Personwhom it befalls, that not only Sylla the Dictator,but several of the Roman Emperors, as is still tobe seen upon their Medals, among their other Titles,gave themselves that of Felix or Fortunate. TheHeathens, indeed, seem to have valued a Man more forhis Good-Fortune than for any other Quality, whichI think is very natural for those who have not a strongBelief of another World. For how can I conceivea Man crowned with many distinguishing Blessings,that has not some extraordinary Fund of Merit andPerfection in him, which lies open to the Supreme Eye,tho perhaps it is not discovered by my Observation?What is the Reason Homers and Virgil’s Heroesdo not form a Resolution, or strike a Blow, withoutthe Conduct and Direction of some Deity? Doubtless,because the Poets esteemed it the greatest Honourto be favoured by the Gods, and thought the best Wayof praising a Man was to recount those Favours whichnaturally implied an extraordinary Merit in the Personon whom they descended.
Those who believe a future State of Rewards and Punishmentsact very absurdly, if they form their Opinions ofa Man’s Merit from his Successes. But certainly,if I thought the whole Circle of our Being was concludedbetween our Births and Deaths, I should think a Man’sGood-Fortune the Measure and Standard of his real Merit,since Providence would have no Opportunity of rewardinghis Virtue and Perfections, but in the present Life.A Virtuous Unbeliever, who lies under the Pressureof Misfortunes, has reason to cry out, as they sayBrutus did a little before his Death, O Virtue, I haveworshipped thee as a Substantial Good, but I findthou art an empty Name.
But to return to our first Point. Tho Prudencedoes undoubtedly in a great measure produce our goodor ill Fortune in the World, it is certain there aremany unforeseen Accidents and Occurrences, which veryoften pervert the finest Schemes that can be laid byHuman Wisdom. The Race is not always to the Swift,nor the Battle to the Strong. Nothing less thaninfinite Wisdom can have an absolute Command over Fortune;the highest Degree of it which Man can possess, isby no means equal to fortuitous Events, and to suchContingencies as may rise in the Prosecution of ourAffairs. Nay, it very often happens, that Prudence,which has always in it a great Mixture of Caution,hinders a Man from being so fortunate as he mightpossibly have been without it. A Person who onlyaims at what is likely to succeed, and follows closelythe Dictates of Human Prudence, never meets with thosegreat and unforeseen Successes, which are often theeffect of a Sanguine Temper, or a more happy Rashness;and this perhaps may be the Reason, that accordingto the common Observation, Fortune, like other Females,delights rather in favouring the young than the old.
Upon the whole, since Man is so short-sighted a Creature,and the Accidents which may happen to him so various,I cannot but be of Dr. Tillotson’s Opinion inanother Case, that were there any Doubt of a Providence,yet it certainly would be very desirable there shouldbe such a Being of infinite Wisdom and Goodness, onwhose Direction we might rely in the Conduct of HumanLife.
It is a great Presumption to ascribe our Successesto our own Management, and not to esteem our selvesupon any Blessing, rather as it is the Bounty of Heaven,than the Acquisition of our own Prudence. I amvery well pleased with a Medal which was struck byQueen Elizabeth, a little after the Defeat of theInvincible Armada, to perpetuate the Memory of thatextraordinary Event. It is well known how theKing of Spain, and others, who were the Enemies ofthat great Princess, to derogate from her Glory, ascribedthe Ruin of their Fleet rather to the Violence ofStorms and Tempests, than to the Bravery of the English.Queen Elizabeth, instead of looking upon this as aDiminution of her Honour, valued herself upon sucha signal Favour of Providence, and accordingly in[2] the Reverse of the Medal above mentioned, [hasrepresented] a Fleet beaten by a Tempest, and fallingfoul upon one another, with that Religious Inscription,Afflavit Deus et dissipantur. He blew with hisWind, and they were scattered.
It is remarked of a famous Grecian General, whoseName I cannot at present recollect [3], and who hadbeen a particular Favourite of Fortune, that uponrecounting his Victories among his Friends, he addedat the End of several great Actions, And in this Fortunehad no Share. After which it is observed in History,that he never prospered in any thing he undertook.
As Arrogance, and a Conceitedness of our own Abilities,are very shocking and offensive to Men of Sense andVirtue, we may be sure they are highly displeasingto that Being who delights in an humble Mind, andby several of his Dispensations seems purposely toshew us, that our own Schemes or Prudence have noShare in our Advancement[s].
Since on this Subject I have already admitted severalQuotations which have occurred to my Memory upon writingthis Paper, I will conclude it with a little PersianFable. A Drop of Water fell out of a Cloud intothe Sea, and finding it self lost in such an Immensityof fluid Matter, broke out into the following Reflection:Alas! What an [insignificant [4]] Creature amI in this prodigious Ocean of Waters; my Existenceis of no [Concern [5]] to the Universe, I am reducedto a Kind of Nothing, and am less then the least ofthe Works of God. It so happened, that an Oyster,which lay in the Neighbourhood of this Drop, chancedto gape and swallow it up in the midst of this [its[6]] humble Soliloquy. The Drop, says the Fable,lay a great while hardning in the Shell, till by Degreesit was ripen’d into a Pearl, which falling intothe Hands of a Diver, after a long Series of Adventures,is at present that famous Pearl which is fixed onthe Top of the Persian Diadem.
L.
[Footnote 1: Balthasar Gracian, a Spanish Jesuit,who died in 1658, rector of the Jesuits College ofTarragona, wrote many books in Spanish on Politicsand Society, among others the one here referred toon the Courtier; which was known to Addison, doubtless,through the French translation by Amelot de la Houssaye.]
[Footnote 2: Corrected by an erratum to [yousee in], but in reprint altered by the addition of[has represented].
[Footnote 3: Timotheus the Athenian.]
[Footnote 4: Altered by an erratum to [inconsiderable]to avoid the repetition insignificant, and insignificancy;but in the reprint the second word was changed.]
[Footnote 5: [significancy]]
[Footnote 6: [his]]
* * * * *
No. 294. Wednesday, February 6, 1712. Steele.
Difficile est plurimum virtutem revereriqui semper secunda fortuna
sit usus.
Tull. ad Herennium.
Insolence is the Crime of all others which every Manis most apt to rail at; and yet is there one Respectin which almost all Men living are guilty of it, andthat is in the Case of laying a greater Value uponthe Gifts of Fortune than we ought. It is herein England come into our very Language, as a Proprietyof Distinction, to say, when we would speak of Personsto their Advantage, they are People of Condition.There is no doubt but the proper Use of Riches impliesthat a Man should exert all the good Qualities imaginable;and if we mean by a Man of Condition or Quality, onewho, according to the Wealth he is Master of, shewshimself just, beneficent, and charitable, that Termought very deservedly to be had in the highest Veneration;but when Wealth is used only as it is the Supportof Pomp and Luxury, to be rich is very far from beinga Recommendation to Honour and Respect. It isindeed the greatest Insolence imaginable, in a Creature
who would feel the Extreams of Thirst and Hunger,if he did not prevent his Appetites before they callupon him, to be so forgetful of the common Necessityof Human Nature, as never to cast an Eye upon thePoor and Needy. The Fellow who escaped from aShip which struck upon a Rock in the West, and join’dwith the Country People to destroy his Brother Sailorsand make her a Wreck, was thought a most execrableCreature; but does not every Man who enjoys the Possessionof what he naturally wants, and is unmindful of theunsupplied Distress of other Men, betray the same Temperof Mind? When a Man looks about him, and withregard to Riches and Poverty beholds some drawn inPomp and Equipage, and they and their very Servantswith an Air of Scorn and Triumph overlooking the Multitudethat pass by them; and, in the same Street, a Creatureof the same Make crying out in the Name of all thatis Good and Sacred to behold his Misery, and give himsome Supply against Hunger and Nakedness, who wouldbelieve these two Beings were of the same Species?But so it is, that the Consideration of Fortune hastaken up all our Minds, and, as I have often complained,Poverty and Riches stand in our Imaginations in thePlaces of Guilt and Innocence. But in all Seasonsthere will be some Instances of Persons who have Soulstoo large to be taken with popular Prejudices, andwhile the rest of Mankind are contending for Superiorityin Power and Wealth, have their Thoughts bent uponthe Necessities of those below them. The Charity-Schoolswhich have been erected of late Years, are the greatestInstances of publick Spirit the Age has produced:But indeed when we consider how long this Sort ofBeneficence has been on Foot, it is rather from thegood Management of those Institutions, than from theNumber or Value of the Benefactions to them, that theymake so great a Figure. One would think it impossible,that in the Space of fourteen Years there should nothave been five thousand Pounds bestowed in Gifts thisWay, nor sixteen hundred Children, including Malesand Females, put out to Methods of Industry.It is not allowed me to speak of Luxury and Follywith the severe Spirit they deserve; I shall only thereforesay, I shall very readily compound with any Lady ina Hoop-Petticoat, if she gives the Price of one halfYard of the Silk towards Cloathing, Feeding and Instructingan Innocent helpless Creature of her own Sex in oneof these Schools. The Consciousness of such anAction will give her Features a nobler Life on thisillustrious Day, [1] than all the Jewels that canhang in her Hair, or can be clustered at her Bosom.It would be uncourtly to speak in harsher Words tothe Fair, but to Men one may take a little more Freedom.It is monstrous how a Man can live with so littleReflection, as to fancy he is not in a Condition veryunjust and disproportioned to the rest of Mankind,while he enjoys Wealth, and exerts no Benevolenceor Bounty to others. As for this particular Occasionof these Schools, there cannot any offer more worthya generous Mind. Would you do an handsome thingwithout Return? do it for an Infant that is not sensibleof the Obligation: Would you do it for publickGood? do it for one who will be an honest Artificer:Would you do it for the Sake of Heaven? give it toone who shall be instructed in the Worship of himfor whose Sake you gave it. It is methinks a mostlaudable Institution this, if it were of no other Expectationthan that of producing a Race of good and useful Servants,who will have more than a liberal, a religious Education.What would not a Man do, in common Prudence, to layout in Purchase of one about him, who would add toall his Orders he gave the Weight of the Commandmentsto inforce an Obedience to them? for one who wouldconsider his Master as his Father, his Friend, andBenefactor, upon the easy Terms, and in Expectationof no other Return but moderate Wages and gentle Usage?It is the common Vice of Children to run too muchamong the Servants; from such as are educated in thesePlaces they would see nothing but Lowliness in theServant, which would not be disingenuous in the Child.All the ill Offices and defamatory Whispers whichtake their Birth from Domesticks, would be prevented,if this Charity could be made universal; and a goodMan might have a Knowledge of the whole Life of thePersons he designs to take into his House for hisown Service, or that of his Family or Children, longbefore they were admitted. This would create endearingDependencies: and the Obligation would have apaternal Air in the Master, who would be relievedfrom much Care and Anxiety from the Gratitude andDiligence of an humble Friend attending him as hisServant. I fall into this Discourse from a Lettersent to me, to give me Notice that Fifty Boys wouldbe Cloathed, and take their Seats (at the Charge ofsome generous Benefactors) in St. Brides Church onSunday next. I wish I could promise to my selfany thing which my Correspondent seems to expect froma Publication of it in this Paper; for there can benothing added to what so many excellent and learnedMen have said on this Occasion: But that theremay be something here which would move a generousMind, like that of him who writ to me, I shall transcribean handsome Paragraph of Dr. Snape’s Sermonon these Charities, which my Correspondent enclosedwith this Letter.The wise Providence has amply compensatedthe Disadvantages of the Poor and Indigent, in wantingmany of the Conveniencies of this Life, by a moreabundant Provision for their Happiness in the next.Had they been higher born, or more richly endowed,they would have wanted this Manner of Education,of which those only enjoy the Benefit, who are lowenough to submit to it; where they have such Advantageswithout Money, and without Price, as the Rich cannotpurchase with it. The Learning which is given,is generally more edifying to them, than that whichis sold to others: Thus do they become more exaltedin Goodness, by being depressed in Fortune, andtheir Poverty is, in Reality, their Preferment.[2]
T.
[Footnote 1: Queen Anne’s birthday.She was born Feb. 6, 1665, and died Aug. 1, 1714,aged 49.]
[Footnote 2: From January 24 there occasionallyappears the advertisem*nt.
Just Published.
A very neat Pocket Edition of the SPECTATOR,in two volumes 12mo.
Printed for S. Buckley, at the Dolphin,in Little Britain, and J.
Tonson, at Shakespear’s Head, over-againstCatherine-Street in the
Strand.]
* * * * *
No. 295. Thursday, February 7, 1712. Addison.
Prodiga non sentit pereuntem faemina censum:
At velut exhausta redivivus pullulet arca
Nummus, et e pleno semper tollatur acervo,
Non unquam reputat quanti sibi gandiaconstent.
Juv.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am turned of my great Climacteric, andam naturally a Man of a meek Temper. Abouta dozen Years ago I was married, for my Sins, to ayoung Woman of a good Family, and of an high Spirit;but could not bring her to close with me, beforeI had entered into a Treaty with her longer thanthat of the Grand Alliance. Among other Articles,it was therein stipulated, that she should haveL400 a Year for Pin-money, which I obliged my selfto pay Quarterly into the hands of one who had actedas her Plenipotentiary in that Affair. I haveever since religiously observed my part in thissolemn Agreement. Now, Sir, so it is, that theLady has had several Children since I married her;to which, if I should credit our malicious Neighbours,her Pin-money has not a little contributed.The Education of these my Children, who, contrary tomy Expectation, are born to me every Year, streightensme so much, that I have begged their Mother to freeme from the Obligation of the above-mentioned Pin-money,that it may go towards making a Provision for herFamily. This Proposal makes her noble Blood swellin her Veins, insomuch that finding me a littletardy in her last Quarters Payment, she threatensme every Day to arrest me; and proceeds so far asto tell me, that if I do not do her Justice, I shalldie in a Jayl. To this she adds, when her Passionwill let her argue calmly, that she has severalPlay-Debts on her Hand, which must be discharged verysuddenly, and that she cannot lose her Money as becomesa Woman of her Fashion, if she makes me any Abatementsin this Article. I hope, Sir, you will takean Occasion from hence to give your Opinion upon aSubject which you have not yet touched, and informus if there are any Precedents for this Usage amongour Ancestors; or whether you find any mention ofPin-money in Grotius, Puffendorf, or any other of theCivilians.
I am ever
the humblest of your Admirers,
Josiah Fribble, Esq.
As there is no Man living who is a more professedAdvocate for the Fair Sex than my self, so there isnone that would be more unwilling to invade any oftheir ancient Rights and Privileges; but as the Doctrineof Pin-money is of a very late Date, unknown to ourGreat Grandmothers, and not yet received by many ofour Modern Ladies, I think it is for the Interestof both Sexes to keep it from spreading.
Mr. Fribble may not, perhaps, be much mistaken wherehe intimates, that the supplying a Man’s Wifewith Pin-money, is furnishing her with Arms againsthimself, and in a manner becoming accessary to hisown Dishonour. We may indeed, generally observe,that in proportion as a Woman is more or less Beautiful,and her Husband advanced in Years, she stands in needof a greater or less number of Pins, and upon a Treatyof Marriage, rises or falls in her Demands accordingly.It must likewise be owned, that high Quality in aMistress does very much inflame this Article in theMarriage Reckoning.
But where the Age and Circ*mstances of both Partiesare pretty much upon a level, I cannot but think theinsisting upon Pin-money is very extraordinary; andyet we find several Matches broken off upon this veryHead. What would a Foreigner, or one who is aStranger to this Practice, think of a Lover that forsakeshis Mistress, because he is not willing to keep herin Pins; but what would he think of the Mistress, shouldhe be informed that she asks five or six hundred Poundsa Year for this use? Should a Man unacquaintedwith our Customs be told the Sums which are allowedin Great Britain, under the Title of Pin-money, whata prodigious Consumption of Pins would he think therewas in this Island? A Pin a Day, says our frugalProverb, is a Groat a Year, so that according to thisCalculation, my Friend Fribbles Wife must every Yearmake use of Eight Millions six hundred and forty thousandnew Pins.
I am not ignorant that our British Ladies allege theycomprehend under this general Term several other Convenienciesof Life; I could therefore wish, for the Honour ofmy Countrywomen, that they had rather called it Needle-Money,which might have implied something of Good-housewifry,and not have given the malicious World occasion tothink, that Dress and Trifles have always the uppermostPlace in a Woman’s Thoughts.
I know several of my fair Reasoners urge, in defenceof this Practice, that it is but a necessary Provisionthey make for themselves, in case their Husband provesa Churl or a Miser; so that they consider this Allowanceas a kind of Alimony, which they may lay their Claimto, without actually separating from their Husbands.But with Submission, I think a Woman who will giveup her self to a Man in Marriage, where there is theleast Room for such an Apprehension, and trust herPerson to one whom she will not rely on for the commonNecessaries of Life, may very properly be accused(in the Phrase of an homely Proverb) of being Pennywise and Pound foolish.
It is observed of over-cautious Generals, that theynever engage in a Battel without securing a Retreat,in case the Event should not answer their Expectations;on the other hand, the greatest Conquerors have burnttheir Ships, or broke down the Bridges behind them,as being determined either to succeed or die in theEngagement. In the same manner I should verymuch suspect a Woman who takes such Precautions forher Retreat, and contrives Methods how she may livehappily, without the Affection of one to whom shejoins herself for Life. Separate Purses betweenMan and Wife are, in my Opinion, as unnatural as separateBeds. A Marriage cannot be happy, where the Pleasures,Inclinations, and Interests of both Parties are notthe same. There is no greater Incitement to Lovein the Mind of Man, than the Sense of a Persons dependingupon him for her Ease and Happiness; as a Woman usesall her Endeavours to please the Person whom she looksupon as her Honour, her Comfort, and her Support.
For this Reason I am not very much surprized at theBehaviour of a rough Country Squire, who, being nota little shocked at the Proceeding of a young Widowthat would not recede from her Demands of Pin-money,was so enraged at her mercenary Temper, that he toldher in great Wrath, As much as she thought him herSlave, he would shew all the World he did not carea Pin for her. Upon which he flew out of the Room,and never saw her more.
Socrates, in Plato’s Altibiades, says, he wasinformed by one, who had travelled through Persia,that as he passed over a great Tract of Lands, andenquired what the Name of the Place was, they toldhim it was the Queens Girdle; to which he adds, thatanother wide Field which lay by it, was called theQueens Veil; and that in the same Manner there wasa large Portion of Ground set aside for every partof Her Majesty’s Dress. These Lands mightnot be improperly called the Queen of Persia’sPin-money.
I remember my Friend Sir ROGER, who I dare say neverread this Passage in Plato, told me some time since,that upon his courting the Perverse Widow (of whomI have given an Account in former Papers) he had disposedof an hundred Acres in a Diamond-Ring, which he wouldhave presented her with, had she thought fit to acceptit; and that upon her Wedding-Day she should havecarried on her Head fifty of the tallest Oaks uponhis Estate. He further informed me that he wouldhave given her a Cole-pit to keep her in clean Linnen,that he would have allowed her the Profits of a Windmillfor her Fans, and have presented her once in threeYears with the Sheering of his Sheep [for her [1]]Under-Petticoats. To which the Knight alwaysadds, that though he did not care for fine Cloathshimself, there should not have been a Woman in theCountry better dressed than my Lady Coverley.Sir ROGER perhaps, may in this, as well as in manyother of his Devices, appear something odd and singular,but if the Humour of Pin-money prevails, I think itwould be very proper for every Gentleman of an Estateto mark out so many Acres of it under the Title ofThe Pins.
L.
[Footnote 1: [to keep her in]]
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No. 296. Friday, February 8, 1712. Steele.
Nugis addere pondus.
Hor.
Dear SPEC.
Having lately conversed much with theFair Sex on the Subject of your Speculations, (whichsince their Appearance in Publick, have been the chiefExercise of the Female loquacious Faculty) I foundthe fair Ones possess’d with a Dissatisfactionat your prefixing Greek Mottos to the Frontispieceof your late Papers; and, as a Man of Gallantry, Ithought it a Duty incumbent on me to impart it toyou, in Hopes of a Reformation, which is only tobe effected by a Restoration of the Latin to theusual Dignity in your Papers, which of late, the Greek,to the great Displeasure of your Female Readers,has usurp’d; for tho the Latin has the Recommendationof being as unintelligible to them as the Greek,yet being written of the same Character with theirMother-Tongue, by the Assistance of a Spelling-Bookits legible; which Quality the Greek wants:And since the Introduction of Operas into this Nation,the Ladies are so charmed with Sounds abstracted fromtheir Ideas, that they adore and honour the Sound ofLatin as it is old Italian. I am a Sollicitorfor the Fair Sex, and therefore think my self inthat Character more likely to be prevalent in thisRequest, than if I should subscribe myself by myproper Name. J.M.
I desire you may insert this in one ofyour Speculations, to shew my
Zeal for removing the Dissatisfactionof the Fair Sex, and restoring
you to their Favour.
SIR,
I was some time since in Company witha young Officer, who entertained us with the Conquesthe had made over a Female Neighbour of his; when aGentleman who stood by, as I suppose, envying the Captainsgood Fortune, asked him what Reason he had to believethe Lady admired him? Why, says he, my Lodgingsare opposite to hers, and she is continually ather Window either at Work, Reading, taking Snuff, orputting her self in some toying Posture on purposeto draw my Eyes that Way. The Confession ofthis vain Soldier made me reflect on some of my ownActions; for you must know, Sir, I am often at aWindow which fronts the Apartments of several Gentlemen,who I doubt not have the same Opinion of me.I must own I love to look at them all, one for beingwell dressed, a second for his fine Eye, and oneparticular one, because he is the least Man I eversaw; but there is something so easie and pleasantin the Manner of my little Man, that I observe heis a Favourite of all his Acquaintance. I couldgo on to tell you of many others that I believethink I have encouraged them from my Window:But pray let me have your Opinion of the Use of theWindow in a beautiful Lady: and how often shemay look out at the same Man, without being supposedto have a Mind to jump out to him. Yours, AureliaCareless.
Twice.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I have for some Time made Love to a Lady,who received it with all the kind Returns I oughtto expect. But without any Provocation, thatI know of, she has of late shunned me with the utmostAbhorrence, insomuch that she went out of Churchlast Sunday in the midst of Divine Service, uponmy coming into the same Pew. Pray, Sir, what mustI do in this Business? Your Servant, Euphues.
Let her alone Ten Days.
York, Jan. 20, 1711-12.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
We have in this Town a sort of Peoplewho pretend to Wit and write Lampoons: I havelately been the Subject of one of them. The Scriblerhad not Genius enough in Verse to turn my Age, asindeed I am an old Maid, into Raillery, for affectinga youthier Turn than is consistent with my Timeof Day; and therefore he makes the Title to his Madrigal,The Character of Mrs. Judith Lovebane, born in theYear [1680. [1]] What I desire of you is, That youdisallow that a Coxcomb who pretends to write Verse,should put the most malicious Thing he can say inProse. This I humbly conceive will disable ourCountry Wits, who indeed take a great deal of Painsto say any thing in Rhyme, tho they say it veryill. I am, SIR, Your Humble Servant, SusannaLovebane.
Mr. SPECTATOR, We are several of us,Gentlemen and Ladies, who Board in the same House,and after Dinner one of our Company (an agreeable Manenough otherwise) stands up and reads your Paperto us all. We are the civillest People in theWorld to one another, and therefore I am forcedto this way of desiring our Reader, when he is doingthis Office, not to stand afore the Fire. Thiswill be a general Good to our Family this cold Weather.He will, I know, take it to be our common Requestwhen he comes to these Words, Pray, Sir, sit down;which I desire you to insert, and you will particularlyoblige Your Daily Reader, Charity Frost.
SIR,
I am a great Lover of Dancing, but cannotperform so well as some others; however, by my Out-of-the-WayCapers, and some original Grimaces, I don’tfail to divert the Company, particularly the Ladies,who laugh immoderately all the Time. Some, whopretend to be my Friends, tell me they do it inDerision, and would advise me to leave it off, withalthat I make my self ridiculous. I don’tknow what to do in this Affair, but I am resolvednot to give over upon any Account, till I have theOpinion of the SPECTATOR. Your humble Servant,John Trott.
If Mr. Trott is not awkward out of Time, he has aRight to Dance let who will Laugh: But if hehas no Ear he will interrupt others; and I am of Opinionhe should sit still.
Given under my Hand this Fifth of February, 1711-12.
The SPECTATOR.
T.
[Footnote 1: 1750]
* * * * *
No. 297. Saturday, February 9, 1712. Addison
—velut si
Egregio inspersos reprendas corpore naevos.
Hor.
After what I have said in my last Saturdays Paper,I shall enter on the Subject of this without furtherPreface, and remark the several Defects which appearin the Fable, the Characters, the Sentiments, and theLanguage of Milton’s Paradise Lost; not doubtingbut the Reader will pardon me, if I alledge at thesame time whatever may be said for the Extenuationof such Defects. The first Imperfection whichI shall observe in the Fable is that the Event ofit is unhappy.
The Fable of every Poem is, according to Aristotle’sDivision, either Simple or Implex [1]. It iscalled Simple when there is no change of Fortune init: Implex, when the Fortune of the chief Actorchanges from Bad to Good, or from Good to Bad.The Implex Fable is thought the most perfect; I suppose,because it is more proper to stir up the Passions ofthe Reader, and to surprize him with a greater Varietyof Accidents.
The Implex Fable is therefore of two kinds: Inthe first the chief Actor makes his Way through along Series of Dangers and Difficulties, till he arrivesat Honour and Prosperity, as we see in the [Story ofUlysses. [2]] In the second, the chief Actor in thePoem falls from some eminent Pitch of Honour and Prosperity,into Misery and Disgrace. Thus we see Adam andEve sinking from a State of Innocence and Happiness,into the most abject Condition of Sin and Sorrow.
The most taking Tragedies among the Ancients werebuilt on this last sort of Implex Fable, particularlythe Tragedy of Oedipus, which proceeds upon a Story,if we may believe Aristotle, the most proper for Tragedythat could be invented by the Wit of Man. [3] I havetaken some Pains in a former Paper to shew, that thiskind of Implex Fable, wherein the Event is unhappy,is more apt to affect an Audience than that of thefirst kind; notwithstanding many excellent Pieces amongthe Ancients, as well as most of those which havebeen written of late Years in our own Country, areraised upon contrary Plans. I must however own,that I think this kind of Fable, which is the mostperfect in Tragedy, is not so proper for an HeroicPoem.
Milton seems to have been sensible of this Imperfectionin his Fable, and has therefore endeavoured to cureit by several Expedients; particularly by the Mortificationwhich the great Adversary of Mankind meets with uponhis Return to the Assembly of Infernal Spirits, asit is described in [a, [4]] beautiful Passage of theTenth Book; and likewise by the Vision wherein Adamat the close of the Poem sees his Off-spring triumphingover his great Enemy, and himself restored to a happierParadise than that from which he fell.
There is another Objection against Milton’sFable, which is indeed almost the same with the former,tho placed in a different Light, namely, That theHero in the Paradise Lost is unsuccessful, and by nomeans a Match for his Enemies. This gave Occasionto Mr. Dryden’s Reflection, that the Devil wasin reality Milton’s Hero. [5]
I think I have obviated this Objection in my firstPaper. The Paradise Lost is an Epic [or a] NarrativePoem, [and] he that looks for an Hero in it, searchesfor that which Milton never intended; [but [6]] ifhe will needs fix the Name of an Hero upon any Personin it, tis certainly the Messiah who is the Hero,both in the Principal Action, and in the [chief Episodes.][7] Paganism could not furnish out a real Action fora Fable greater than that of the Iliad or AEneid,and therefore an Heathen could not form a higher Notionof a Poem than one of that kind, which they call anHeroic. Whether Milton’s is not of a [sublimer[8]] Nature I will not presume to determine:It is sufficient that I shew there is in the ParadiseLost all the Greatness of Plan, Regularity of Design,and masterly Beauties which we discover in Homer andVirgil.
I must in the next Place observe, that Milton hasinterwoven in the Texture of his Fable some Particularswhich do not seem to have Probability enough for anEpic Poem, particularly in the Actions which he ascribesto Sin and Death, and the Picture which he draws ofthe Limbo of Vanity, with other Passages in the secondBook. Such Allegories rather savour of the Spiritof Spenser and Ariosto, than of Homer and Virgil.
In the Structure of his Poem he has likewise admittedof too many Digressions. It is finely observedby Aristotle, that the Author of an Heroic Poem shouldseldom speak himself, but throw as much of his Workas he can into the Mouths of those who are his PrincipalActors. [9]
Aristotle has given no reason for this Precept; butI presume it is because the Mind of the Reader ismore awed and elevated when he hears AEneas or Achillesspeak, than when Virgil or Homer talk in their ownPersons. Besides that assuming the Character ofan eminent Man is apt to fire the Imagination, andraise the Ideas of the Author. Tully tells us[10], mentioning his Dialogue of Old Age, in whichCato is the chief Speaker, that upon a Review of ithe was agreeably imposed upon, and fancied that itwas Cato, and not he himself, who uttered his Thoughtson that Subject.
If the Reader would be at the Pains to see how theStory of the Iliad and the AEneid is delivered bythose Persons who act in it, he will be surprizedto find how little in either of these Poems proceedsfrom the Authors. Milton has, in the generaldisposition of his Fable, very finely observed thisgreat Rule; insomuch that there is scarce a thirdPart of it which comes from the Poet; the rest is spokeneither by Adam and Eve, or by some Good or Evil Spiritwho is engaged either in their Destruction or Defence.
From what has been here observed it appears, thatDigressions are by no means to be allowed of in anEpic Poem. If the Poet, even in the ordinarycourse of his Narration, should speak as little aspossible, he should certainly never let his Narrationsleep for the sake of any Reflections of his own.I have often observed, with a secret Admiration, thatthe longest Reflection in the AEneid is in that Passageof the Tenth Book, where Turnus is represented asdressing himself in the Spoils of Pallas, whom hehad slain. Virgil here lets his Fable stand stillfor the-sake of the following Remark. How is theMind of Man ignorant of Futurity, and unable to bearprosperous Fortune with Moderation? The Timewill come when Turnus shall wish that he had leftthe Body of Pallas untouched, and curse the Day onwhich he dressed himself in these Spoils. Asthe great Event of the AEneid, and the Death of Turnus,whom AEneas slew because he saw him adorned with theSpoils of Pallas, turns upon this Incident, Virgilwent out of his way to make this Reflection upon it,without which so small a Circ*mstance might possiblyhave slipped out of his Readers Memory. Lucan,who was an Injudicious Poet, lets drop his Story veryfrequently for the sake of his unnecessary Digressions,or his Diverticula, as Scaliger calls them. [11] Ifhe gives us an Account of the Prodigies which precededthe Civil War, he declaims upon the Occasion, andshews how much happier it would be for Man, if hedid not feel his Evil Fortune before it comes to pass;and suffer not only by its real Weight, but by theApprehension of it. Milton’s Complaint[for [12]] his Blindness, his Panegyrick on Marriage,his Reflections on Adam and Eves going naked, of theAngels eating, and several other Passages in his Poem,are liable to the same Exception, tho I must confessthere is so great a Beauty in these very Digressions,that I would not wish them out of his Poem.
I have, in a former Paper, spoken of the Charactersof Milton’s Paradise Lost, and declared my Opinion,as to the Allegorical Persons who are introduced init.
If we look into the Sentiments, I think they are sometimesdefective under the following Heads: First, asthere are several of them too much pointed, and somethat degenerate even into Punns. Of this lastkind I am afraid is that in the First Book, wherespeaking of the Pigmies, he calls them,
—The small Infantry
Warrdon by Cranes—
Another Blemish [that [13]] appears in some of hisThoughts, is his frequent Allusion to Heathen Fables,which are not certainly of a Piece with the DivineSubject, of which he treats. I do not find faultwith these Allusions, where the Poet himself representsthem as fabulous, as he does in some Places, but wherehe mentions them as Truths and Matters of Fact.The Limits of my Paper will not give me leave to beparticular in Instances of this kind; the Reader willeasily remark them in his Perusal of the Poem.
A third fault in his Sentiments, is an unnecessaryOstentation of Learning, which likewise occurs veryfrequently. It is certain that both Homer andVirgil were Masters of all the Learning of their Times,but it shews it self in their Works after an indirectand concealed manner. Milton seems ambitiousof letting us know, by his Excursions on Free-Willand Predestination, and his many Glances upon History,Astronomy, Geography, and the like, as well as by theTerms and Phrases he sometimes makes use of, thathe was acquainted with the whole Circle of Arts andSciences.
If, in the last place, we consider the Language ofthis great Poet, we must allow what I have hintedin a former Paper, that it is often too much laboured,and sometimes obscured by old Words, Transpositions,and Foreign Idioms. Senecas Objection to theStyle of a great Author, Riget ejus oratio, nihilin ea placidum nihil lene, is what many Criticks maketo Milton: As I cannot wholly refuse it, so Ihave already apologized for it in another Paper; towhich I may further add, that Milton’s Sentimentsand Ideas were so wonderfully Sublime, that it wouldhave been impossible for him to have represented themin their full Strength and Beauty, without havingrecourse to these Foreign Assistances. Our Languagesunk under him, and was unequal to that Greatness ofSoul, which furnished him with such glorious Conceptions.
A second Fault in his Language is, that he often affectsa kind of Jingle in his Words, as in the followingPassages, and many others:
And brought into the World a World ofWoe.
—Begirt th’ Almighty throne
Beseeching or besieging—
This tempted our attempt—
At one slight bound high overleapt allbound.
I know there are Figures for this kind of Speech,that some of the greatest Ancients have been guiltyof it, and that Aristotle himself has given it a placein his Rhetorick among the Beauties of that Art. [14]But as it is in its self poor and trifling, it is Ithink at present universally exploded by all the Mastersof Polite Writing.
The last Fault which I shall take notice of in Milton’sStyle, is the frequent use of what the Learned callTechnical Words, or Terms of Art. It is one ofthe great Beauties of Poetry, to make hard thingsintelligible, and to deliver what is abstruse [of [15]]it self in such easy Language as may be understoodby ordinary Readers: Besides, that the Knowledgeof a Poet should rather seem born with him, or inspired,than drawn from Books and Systems. I have oftenwondered how Mr. Dryden could translate a Passageout of Virgil after the following manner.
Tack to the Larboard, and stand off toSea.
Veer Star-board Sea and Land.
Milton makes use of Larboard in the same manner.When he is upon Building he mentions Doric Pillars,Pilasters, Cornice, Freeze, Architrave. Whenhe talks of Heavenly Bodies, you meet with Ecclipticand Eccentric, the trepidation, Stars dropping fromthe Zenith, Rays culminating from the Equator.To which might be added many Instances of the likekind in several other Arts and Sciences.
I shall in my next [Papers [16]] give an Account ofthe many particular Beauties in Milton, which wouldhave been too long to insert under those general HeadsI have already treated of, and with which I intendto conclude this Piece of Criticism.
L.
[Footnote 1: Poetics, cap. x. Addison gothis affected word implex by reading Aristotle throughthe translation and notes of Andre Dacier. Implexwas the word used by the French, but the natural Englishtranslation of Aristotle’s [Greek: haploi]and [Greek: peplegmenoi] is into simple and complicated.]
[Footnote 2: [Stories of Achilles, Ulysses, andAEneas.]]
[Footnote 3: Poetics, cap. xi.]
[Footnote 4: that]
[Footnote 5: Dediction of the AEneid; where,after speaking of small claimants of the honours ofthe Epic, he says,
Spencer has a better for his “FairyQueen” had his action been finished, or beenone; and Milton if the Devil had not been his hero,instead of Adam; if the giant had not foiled theknight, and driven him out of his stronghold, towander through the world with his lady-errant; andif there had not been more machining persons thathuman in his poem.]
[Footnote 6: [or]]
[Footnote 7: [Episode]]
[Footnote 8: [greater]]
[Footnote 9: Poetics, cap. xxv. The reasonhe gives is that when the Poet speaks in his own personhe is not then the Imitator. Other Poets thanHomer, Aristotle adds,
ambitious to figure throughout themselves,imitate but little and
seldom. Homer, after a few preparatorylines, immediately introduces a
man or woman or some other character,for all have their character.
Of Lucan, as an example of the contrary practice,Hobbes said in his Discourse concerning the Virtuesof an Heroic Poem:
No Heroic Poem raises such admirationof the Poet, as his hath done,
though not so great admiration of thepersons he introduceth.]
[Footnote 10: Letters to Atticus, Bk. xiii.,Ep. 44.]
[Footnote 11: Poetices, Lib. iii. cap. 25.]
[Footnote 12: [of]]
[Footnote 13: [which]]
[Footnote 14: Rhetoric, iii. ch. II, wherehe cites such verbal jokes as, You wish him [Greek:persai] (i.e. to side with Persia—to ruinhim), and the saying of Isocrates concerning Athens,that its sovereignty [Greek: archae] was to thecity a beginning [Greek: archae] of evils.As this closes Addison’s comparison of Milton’spractice with Aristotle’s doctrine (the followingpapers being expressions of his personal appreciationof the several books of Paradise Lost), we may notehere that Milton would have been quite ready to havehis work tried by the test Addison has been applying.In his letter to Samuel Hartlib, sketching his idealof a good Education, he assigns to advanced pupilslogic and then
rhetoric taught out of the rules of Plato,Aristotle, Phalereus, Cicero, Hermogenes, Longinus.To which poetry would be made subsequent, or, indeed,rather precedent, as being less subtile and fine,but more simple, sensuous, and passionate. I meannot here the prosody of a verse, which they couldnot but have hit on before among the rudiments ofgrammar; but that sublime art which in Aristotle’sPoetics, in Horace, and the Italian commentariesof Castelvetro, Tasso, Mazzoni, and others, teacheswhat the laws are of a true epic poem, what of adramatic, what of a lyric, what decorum is, which isthe grand masterpiece to observe. This wouldmake them soon perceive what despicable creaturesour common rhymers and play-writers be; and showthem what religious, what glorious and magnificentuse might be made of poetry, both in divine andhuman things.]
[Footnote 15: [in]]
[Footnote 16: [Saturdays Paper]]
* * * * *
No. 298. Monday, February 11, 1712. Steele.
Nusquam Tuta fides.
Virg.
London, Feb. 9, 1711-12.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a Virgin, and in no Case despicable;but yet such as I am I must remain, or else become,tis to be feared, less happy: for I find notthe least good Effect from the just Correction yousome time since gave, that too free, that looserPart of our Sex which spoils the Men; the same Connivanceat the Vices, the same easie Admittance of Addresses,the same vitiated Relish of the Conversation of thegreatest of Rakes (or in a more fashionable Way ofexpressing ones self, of such as have seen the Worldmost) still abounds, increases, multiplies.
The humble Petition therefore of manyof the most strictly virtuous, and of my self, is,That you’ll once more exert your Authority, andthat according to your late Promise, your full, yourimpartial Authority, on this sillier Branch of ourKind: For why should they be the uncontroulableMistresses of our Fate? Why should they withImpunity indulge the Males in Licentiousness whilstsingle, and we have the dismal Hazard and Plagueof reforming them when married? Strike home,Sir, then, and spare not, or all our maiden Hopes,our gilded Hopes of nuptial Felicity are frustrated,are vanished, and you your self, as well as Mr.Courtly, will, by smoothing over immodest Practiceswith the Gloss of soft and harmless Names, for everforfeit our Esteem. Nor think that I’mherein more severe than need be: If I havenot reason more than enough, do you and the World judgefrom this ensuing Account, which, I think, willprove the Evil to be universal.
You must know then, that since your Reprehensionof this Female Degeneracy came out, I’ve hada Tender of Respects from no less than five Persons,of tolerable Figure too as Times go: But the Misfortuneis, that four of the five are professed Followersof the Mode. They would face me down, thatall Women of good Sense ever were, and ever willbe, Latitudinarians in Wedlock; and always did, andwill, give and take what they profanely term ConjugalLiberty of Conscience.
The two first of them, a Captain and aMerchant, to strengthen their Argument, pretendto repeat after a Couple, a Brace of Ladies of Qualityand Wit, That Venus was always kind to Mars; and whatSoul that has the least spark of Generosity, candeny a Man of Bravery any thing? And how pitifula Trader that, whom no Woman but his own Wife willhave Correspondence and Dealings with? Thus these;whilst the third, the Country Squire, confessed,That indeed he was surprized into good Breeding,and entered into the Knowledge of the World unawares.That dining tother Day at a Gentleman’s House,the Person who entertained was obliged to leavehim with his Wife and Nieces; where they spoke withso much Contempt of an absent Gentleman for beingslow at a Hint, that he had resolved never to be drowsy,unmannerly, or stupid for the future at a FriendsHouse; and on a hunting Morning, not to pursue theGame either with the Husband abroad, or with theWife at home.
The next that came was a Tradesman, [no[1]] less full of the Age than the former; for hehad the Gallantry to tell me, that at a late Junketwhich he was invited to, the Motion being made, andthe Question being put, twas by Maid, Wife and Widowresolved nemine contradicente, That a young sprightlyJourneyman is absolutely necessary in their Wayof Business: To which they had the Assent andConcurrence of the Husbands present. I droppedhim a Curtsy, and gave him to understand that washis Audience of Leave.
I am reckoned pretty, and have had verymany Advances besides these; but have been veryaverse to hear any of them, from my Observation onthese above-mentioned, till I hoped some Good fromthe Character of my present Admirer, a Clergyman.But I find even amongst them there are indirectPractices in relation to Love, and our Treaty is atpresent a little in Suspence, till some Circ*mstancesare cleared. There is a Charge against himamong the Women, and the Case is this: It isalledged, That a certain endowed Female would haveappropriated her self to and consolidated her selfwith a Church, which my Divine now enjoys; (or,which is the same thing, did prostitute her self toher Friends doing this for her): That my Ecclesiastick,to obtain the one, did engage himself to take offthe other that lay on Hand; but that on his Successin the Spiritual, he again renounced the Carnal.
I put this closely to him, and taxed himwith Disingenuity. He to clear himself madethe subsequent Defence, and that in the most solemnManner possible: That he was applied to andinstigated to accept of a Benefice: That aconditional Offer thereof was indeed made him at first,but with Disdain by him rejected: That when nothing(as they easily perceived) of this Nature couldbring him to their Purpose, Assurance of his beingentirely unengaged before-hand, and safe from alltheir After-Expectations (the only Stratagem left todraw him in) was given him: That pursuant tothis the Donation it self was without Delay, beforeseveral reputable Witnesses, tendered to him gratis,with the open Profession of not the least Reserve,or most minute Condition; but that yet immediatelyafter Induction, his insidious Introducer (or hercrafty Procurer, which you will) industriously spreadthe Report, which had reached my Ears, not only inthe Neighbourhood of that said Church, but in London,in the University, in mine and his own County, andwhere-ever else it might probably obviate his Applicationto any other Woman, and so confine him to this alone:And, in a Word, That as he never did make any previousOffer of his Service, or the least Step to her Affection;so on his Discovery of these Designs thus laid totrick him, he could not but afterwards, in Justiceto himself, vindicate both his Innocence and Freedomby keeping his proper Distance.
This is his Apology, and I think I shallbe satisfied with it. But I cannot concludemy tedious Epistle, without recommending to you notonly to resume your former Chastisem*nt, but to addto your Criminals the Simoniacal Ladies, who seducethe sacred Order into the Difficulty of either breakinga mercenary Troth made to them whom they ought notto deceive, or by breaking or keeping it offendingagainst him whom they cannot deceive. YourAssistance and Labours of this sort would be ofgreat Benefit, and your speedy Thoughts on this Subjectwould be very seasonable to,
SIR, Your most obedient Servant,
Chastity Loveworth.
T.
[Footnote 1: [nor]]
* * * * *
No. 299. Tuesday, February 12, 1712. Addison.
Malo Venusinam, quam te, Cornelia, Mater
Gracchorum, si cum magnis virtutibus affers
Grande supercilium, et numeras in dotetriumphos.
Tolle tuum precor Annibalem victumqueSyphacem
In castris, et cum tota Carthagine migra.
Juv.
It is observed, that a Man improves more by readingthe Story of a Person eminent for Prudence and Virtue,than by the finest Rules and Precepts of Morality.In the same manner a Representation of those Calamitiesand Misfortunes which a weak Man suffers from wrongMeasures, and ill-concerted Schemes of Life, is aptto make a deeper Impression upon our Minds, than thewisest Maxims and Instructions that can be given us,for avoiding the like Follies and Indiscretions onour own private Conduct. It is for this Reasonthat I lay before my Reader the following Letter,and leave it with him to make his own use of it, withoutadding any Reflections of my own upon the Subject Matter.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Having carefully perused a Letter sentyou by Josiah Fribble, Esq., with your subsequentDiscourse upon Pin-Money, I do presume to troubleyou with an Account of my own Case, which I lookupon to be no less deplorable than that of SquireFribble. I am a Person of no Extraction, havingbegun the World with a small parcel of Rusty Iron,and was for some Years commonly known by the Nameof Jack Anvil. [1] I have naturally a very happyGenius for getting Money, insomuch that by the Ageof Five and twenty I had scraped together Four thousandtwo hundred Pounds Five Shillings, and a few oddPence. I then launched out into considerableBusiness, and became a bold Trader both by Sea andLand, which in a few Years raised me a very [great[2]] Fortune. For these my Good Services Iwas Knighted in the thirty fifth Year of my Age,and lived with great Dignity among my City-Neighboursby the Name of Sir John Anvil. Being in myTemper very Ambitious, I was now bent upon makinga Family, and accordingly resolved that my Descendantsshould have a Dash of Good Blood in their Veins.In order to this, I made Love to the Lady Mary Oddly,an Indigent young Woman of Quality. To cutshort the Marriage Treaty, I threw her a Charte Blanche,as our News Papers call it, desiring her to write uponit her own Terms. She was very concise in herDemands, insisting only that the Disposal of myFortune, and the Regulation of my Family, should beentirely in her Hands. Her Father and Brothersappeared exceedingly averse to this Match, and wouldnot see me for some time; but at present are sowell reconciled, that they Dine with me almost everyDay, and have borrowed considerable Sums of me; whichmy Lady Mary very often twits me with, when shewould shew me how kind her Relations are to me.She had no Portion, as I told you before, but whatshe wanted in Fortune, she makes up in Spirit.She at first changed my Name to Sir John Envil,and at present writes her self Mary Enville.I have had some Children by her, whom she has Christenedwith the Sirnames of her Family, in order, as shetells me, to wear out the Homeliness of their Parentageby the Fathers Side. Our eldest Son is theHonourable Oddly Enville, Esq., and our eldest DaughterHarriot Enville. Upon her first coming intomy Family, she turned off a parcel of very carefulServants, who had been long with me, and introducedin their stead a couple of Black-a-moors, and threeor four very genteel Fellows in Laced Liveries,besides her French woman, who is perpetually makinga Noise in the House in a Language which no body understands,except my Lady Mary. She next set her self toreform every Room of my House, having glazed allmy Chimney-pieces with Looking-glass, and plantedevery Corner with such heaps of China, that I amobliged to move about my own House with the greatestCaution and Circ*mspection, for fear of hurtingsome of our Brittle Furniture. She makes anIllumination once a Week with Wax-Candles in one ofthe largest Rooms, in order, as she phrases it,to see Company. At which time she always desiresme to be Abroad, or to confine my self to the co*ck-loft,that I may not disgrace her among her Visitants ofQuality. Her Footmen, as I told you before,are such Beaus that I do not much care for askingthem Questions; when I do, they answer me with a sawcyFrown, and say that every thing, which I find Faultwith, was done by my Lady Marys Order. Shetells me that she intends they shall wear Swordswith their next Liveries, having lately observed theFootmen of two or three Persons of Quality hangingbehind the Coach with Swords by their Sides.As soon as the first Honey-Moon was over, I representedto her the Unreasonableness of those daily Innovationswhich she made in my Family, but she told me I wasno longer to consider my self as Sir John Anvil,but as her Husband; and added, with a Frown, thatI did not seem to know who she was. I was surprizedto be treated thus, after such Familiarities as hadpassed between us. But she has since givenme to know, that whatever Freedoms she may sometimesindulge me in, she expects in general to be treatedwith the Respect that is due to her Birth and Quality.Our Children have been trained up from their Infancywith so many Accounts of their Mothers Family, thatthey know the Stories of all the great Men and Womenit has produced. Their Mother tells them, thatsuch an one commanded in such a Sea Engagement,that their Great Grandfather had a Horse shot underhim at Edge-hill, that their Uncle was at the Siegeof Buda, and that her Mother danced in a Ball atCourt with the Duke of Monmouth; with abundanceof Fiddle-faddle of the same Nature. I was, theother Day, a little out of Countenance at a Questionof my little Daughter Harriot, who asked me, witha great deal of Innocence, why I never told themof the Generals and Admirals that had been in my Family.As for my Eldest Son Oddly, he has been so spiritedup by his Mother, that if he does not mend his MannersI shall go near to disinherit him. He drewhis Sword upon me before he was nine years old, andtold me, that he expected to be used like a Gentleman;upon my offering to correct him for his Insolence,my Lady Mary stept in between us, and told me, thatI ought to consider there was some Difference betweenhis Mother and mine. She is perpetually findingout the Features of her own Relations in every oneof my Children, tho, by the way, I have a littleChubfaced Boy as like me as he can stare, if I durstsay so; but what most angers me, when she sees meplaying with any of them upon my Knee, she has beggedme more than once to converse with the Childrenas little as possibly, that they may not learn anyof my awkward Tricks.
You must farther know, since I am openingmy Heart to you, that she thinks her self my Superiorin Sense, as much as she is in Quality, and thereforetreats me like a plain well-meaning Man, who does notknow the World. She dictates to me in my ownBusiness, sets me right in Point of Trade, and ifI disagree with her about any of my Ships at Sea,wonders that I will dispute with her, when I know verywell that her Great Grandfather was a Flag Officer.
To compleat my Sufferings, she has teazedme for this Quarter of [a [3]] Year last past, toremove into one of the Squares at the other Endof the Town, promising for my Encouragement, that Ishall have as good a co*ck-loft as any Gentlemanin the Square; to which the Honourable Oddly Enville,Esq., always adds, like a Jack-a-napes as he is,that he hopes twill be as near the Court as possible.
In short, Mr. SPECTATOR, I am so muchout of my natural Element, that to recover my oldWay of Life I would be content to begin the Worldagain, and be plain Jack Anvil; but alas! Iam in for Life, and am bound to subscribe my self,with great Sorrow of Heart,
Your humble Servant,
John Enville, Knt.
L.
[Footnote 1: This has been said to refer to aSir Ambrose Crowley, who changed his name to Crawley.]
[Footnote 2: [considerable] corrected by an erratumin No. 301.]
[Footnote 3: [an]]
* * * * *
No. 300. Wednesday, February 13, 1712. Steele.
Diversum vitio vitium prope majus.
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
When you talk of the Subject of Love,and the Relations arising from it, methinks youshould take Care to leave no Fault unobserved whichconcerns the State of Marriage. The great Vexationthat I have observed in it, is, that the weddedCouple seem to want Opportunities of being oftenenough alone together, and are forced to quarrel andbe fond before Company. Mr. Hotspur and hisLady, in a Room full of their Friends, are eversaying something so smart to each other, and thatbut just within Rules, that the whole Company standin the utmost Anxiety and Suspence for fear of theirfalling into Extremities which they could not bepresent at. On the other Side, Tom Faddle andhis pretty Spouse where-ever they come are billingat such a Rate, as they think must do our Heartsgood who behold em. Cannot you possibly proposea Mean between being Wasps and Doves in Publick?I should think if you advised to hate or love sincerelyit would be better: For if they would be sodiscreet as to hate from the very Bottom of theirHearts, their Aversion would be too strong for littleGibes every Moment; and if they loved with thatcalm and noble Value which dwells in the Heart,with a Warmth like that of Life-Blood, they would notbe so impatient of their Passion as to fall intoobservable Fondness. This Method, in each Case,would save Appearances; but as those who offendon the fond Side are by much the fewer, I would haveyou begin with them, and go on to take Notice ofa most impertinent Licence married Women take, notonly to be very loving to their Spouses in Publick,but also make nauseous Allusions to private Familiarities,and the like. Lucina is a Lady of the greatestDiscretion, you must know, in the World; and withalvery much a Physician: Upon the Strength ofthese two Qualities there is nothing she will not speakof before us Virgins; and she every Day talks witha very grave Air in such a Manner, as is very improperso much as to be hinted at but to obviate the greatestExtremity. Those whom they call good Bodies,notable People, hearty Neighbours, and the purestgoodest Company in the World, are the great Offendersin this Kind. Here I think I have laid beforeyou an open Field for Pleasantry; and hope you willshew these People that at least they are not witty:In which you will save from many a Blush a dailySufferer, who is very much
Your most humble Servant,
Susanna Loveworth.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
In yours of Wednesday the 30th past, youand your Correspondent are very severe on a sortof Men, whom you call Male Coquets; but without anyother Reason, in my Apprehension, than that of payinga shallow Compliment to the fair Sex, by accusingsome Men of imaginary Faults, that the Women maynot seem to be the more faulty Sex; though at thesame time you suppose there are some so weak as tobe imposed upon by fine Things and false Addresses.I cant persuade my self that your Design is to debarthe Sexes the Benefit of each others Conversationwithin the Rules of Honour; nor will you, I daresay, recommend to em, or encourage the common Tea-TableTalk, much less that of Politicks and Matters ofState: And if these are forbidden Subjects ofDiscourse, then, as long as there are any Women inthe World who take a Pleasure in hearing themselvespraised, and can bear the Sight of a Man prostrateat their Feet, so long I shall make no Wonder thatthere are those of the other Sex who will pay themthose impertinent Humiliations. We should havefew People such Fools as to practise Flattery, ifall were so wise as to despise it. I don’tdeny but you would do a meritorious Act, if youcould prevent all Impositions on the Simplicityof young Women; but I must confess I don’t apprehendyou have laid the Fault on the proper Person, andif I trouble you with my Thoughts upon it I promisemy self your Pardon. Such of the Sex as areraw and innocent, and most exposed to these Attacks,have, or their Parents are much to blame if theyhave not, one to advise and guard em, and are obligedthemselves to take Care of em: but if these,who ought to hinder Men from all Opportunities of thissort of Conversation, instead of that encourageand promote it, the Suspicion is very just thatthere are some private Reasons for it; and Ill leaveit to you to determine on which Side a Part is thenacted. Some Women there are who are arrivedat Years of Discretion, I mean are got out of theHands of their Parents and Governours, and are setup for themselves, who yet are liable to these Attempts;but if these are prevailed upon, you must excuseme if I lay the Fault upon them, that their Wisdomis not grown with their Years. My Client, Mr.Strephon, whom you summoned to declare himself,gives you Thanks however for your Warning, and begsthe Favour only to inlarge his Time for a Week, orto the last Day of the Term, and then hell appear gratis,and pray no Day over. Yours, Philanthropes.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I was last Night to visit a Lady who Imuch esteem, and always took for my Friend; butmet with so very different a Reception from what Iexpected, that I cannot help applying my self toyou on this Occasion. In the room of that Civilityand Familiarity I used to be treated with by her,an affected Strangeness in her Looks, and Coldnessin her Behaviour, plainly told me I was not thewelcome Guest which the Regard and Tenderness shehas often expressed for me gave me Reason to flattermy self to think I was. Sir, this is certainlya great Fault, and I assure you a very common one;therefore I hope you will think it a fit Subjectfor some Part of a Spectator. Be pleased to acquaintus how we must behave our selves towards this valetudinaryFriendship, subject to so many Heats and Colds,and you will oblige, SIR, Your humble Servant,Miranda.
SIR,
I cannot forbear acknowledging the Delightyour late Spectators on Saturdays have given me;for it is writ in the honest Spirit of Criticism,and called to my Mind the following four Lines I hadread long since in a Prologue to a Play called JuliusCaesar [1] which has deserved a better Fate.The Verses are addressed to the little Criticks.
Shew your small Talent, andlet that suffice ye;
But grow not vain upon it,I advise ye.
For every Fop can find outFaults in Plays:
You’ll ne’er arriveat Knowing when to praise.
Yours, D. G.
T.
[Footnote 1: By William Alexander, Earl of Stirling(who died in 1640); one of his four Monarchicke Tragedies.He received a grant of Nova Scotia to colonize, andwas secretary of state for Scotland.]
* * * * *
No. 301. Thursday, February 14, 1712. Budgell.
Possint ut Juvenes visere fervidi
Multo non sine risu,
Dilapsam in cineres facem.
Hor.
We are generally so much pleased with any little Accomplishments,either of Body or Mind, which have once made us remarkablein the World, that we endeavour to perswade our selvesit is not in the Power of Time to rob us of them.We are eternally pursuing the same Methods which firstprocured us the Applauses of Mankind. It is fromthis Notion that an Author writes on, tho he is cometo Dotage; without ever considering that his Memoryis impaired, and that he has lost that Life, and thoseSpirits, which formerly raised his Fancy, and firedhis Imagination. The same Folly hinders a Manfrom submitting his Behaviour to his Age, and makesClodius, who was a celebrated Dancer at five and twenty,still love to hobble in a Minuet, tho he is past Threescore.It is this, in a Word, which fills the Town with elderlyFops, and superannuated Coquets.
Canidia, a Lady of this latter Species, passed byme Yesterday in her Coach. Canidia was an haughtyBeauty of the last Age, and was followed by Crowdsof Adorers, whose Passions only pleased her, as theygave her Opportunities of playing the Tyrant.She then contracted that awful Cast of the Eye andforbidding Frown, which she has not yet laid aside,and has still all the Insolence of Beauty withoutit* Charms. If she now attracts the Eyes of anyBeholders, it is only by being remarkably ridiculous;even her own Sex laugh at her Affectation; and theMen, who always enjoy an ill-natured Pleasure in seeingan imperious Beauty humbled and neglected, regardher with the same Satisfaction that a free Nationsees a Tyrant in Disgrace.
WILL. HONEYCOMB, who is a great Admirer of theGallantries in King Charles the Seconds Reign, latelycommunicated to me a Letter written by a Wit of thatAge to his Mistress, who it seems was a Lady of Canidia’sHumour; and tho I do not always approve of my FriendWILLS Taste, I liked this Letter so well, that I tooka Copy of it, with which I shall here present my Reader.
To CLOE.
MADAM,
Since my waking Thoughts have never beenable to influence you in my Favour, I am resolvedto try whether my Dreams can make any Impression onyou. To this end I shall give you an Account ofa very odd one which my Fancy presented to me lastNight, within a few Hours after I left you.
Methought I was unaccountably conveyedinto the most delicious Place mine Eyes ever beheld,it was a large Valley divided by a River of the purestWater I had ever seen. The Ground on each Sideof it rose by an easie Ascent, and was covered withFlowers of an infinite Variety, which as they werereflected in the Water doubled the Beauties of thePlace, or rather formed an Imaginary Scene more beautifulthan the real. On each Side of the River wasa Range of lofty Trees, whose Boughs were loadenwith almost as many Birds as Leaves. Every Treewas full of Harmony.
I had not gone far in this pleasant Valley,when I perceived that it was terminated by a mostmagnificent Temple. The Structure was ancient,and regular. On the Top of it was figured theGod Saturn, in the same Shape and Dress that thePoets usually represent Time.
As I was advancing to satisfie my Curiosityby a nearer View, I was stopped by an Object farmore beautiful than any I had before discoveredin the whole Place. I fancy, Madam, you will easilyguess that this could hardly be any thing but yourself; in reality it was so; you lay extended onthe Flowers by the side of the River, so that yourHands which were thrown in a negligent Posture, almosttouched the Water. Your Eyes were closed; butif your Sleep deprived me of the Satisfaction ofseeing them, it left me at leisure to contemplateseveral other Charms, which disappear when your Eyesare open. I could not but admire the Tranquilityyou slept in, especially when I considered the Uneasinessyou produce in so many others.
While I was wholly taken up in these Reflections,the Doors of the Temple flew open, with a very greatNoise; and lifting up my Eyes, I saw two Figures,in human Shape, coming into the Valley. Upon anearer Survey, I found them to be YOUTH and LOVE.The first was encircled with a kind of Purple Light,that spread a Glory over all the Place; the otherheld a flaming Torch in his Hand. I could observe,that all the way as they came towards us, the Coloursof the Flowers appeared more lively, the Trees shotout in Blossoms, the Birds threw themselves intoPairs, and Serenaded them as they passed: Thewhole Face of Nature glowed with new Beauties.They were no sooner arrived at the Place where youlay, when they seated themselves on each Side ofyou. On their Approach, methought I saw a newBloom arise in your Face, and new Charms diffusethemselves over your whole Person. You appearedmore than Mortal; but, to my great Surprise, continuedfast asleep, tho the two Deities made several gentleEfforts to awaken you.
After a short Time, YOUTH (displayinga Pair of Wings, which I had not before taken noticeof) flew off. LOVE still remained, and holdingthe Torch which he had in his Hand before your Face,you still appeared as beautiful as ever. Theglaring of the Light in your Eyes at length awakenedyou; when, to my great Surprise, instead of acknowledgingthe Favour of the Deity, you frowned upon him, andstruck the Torch out of his Hand into the River.The God after having regarded you with a Look thatspoke at [once [1]] his Pity and Displeasure, flewaway. Immediately a kind of Gloom overspread thewhole Place. At the same time I saw an hideousSpectre enter at one end of the Valley. HisEyes were sunk into his Head, his Face was pale andwithered, and his Skin puckered up in Wrinkles.As he walked on the sides of the Bank the Riverfroze, the Flowers faded, the Trees shed their Blossoms,the Birds dropped from off the Boughs, and fell deadat his Feet. By these Marks I knew him to be OLD-AGE.You were seized with the utmost Horror and Amazementat his Approach. You endeavoured to have fled,but the Phantome caught you in his Arms. Youmay easily guess at the Change you suffered in thisEmbrace. For my own Part, though I am stilltoo full of the [frightful [2]] Idea, I will notshock you with a Description of it. I was so startledat the Sight that my Sleep immediately left me,and I found my self awake, at leisure to considerof a Dream which seems too extraordinary to be withouta Meaning. I am, Madam, with the greatest Passion,Your most Obedient, most Humble Servant, &c.
X.
[Footnote 1: [the same time]]
[Footnote 2: [dreadful]]
* * * * *
No. 302. Friday, February 15, 1712. Steele.
Lachrymaeque decorae,
Gratior et pulchro veniens in corporeVirtus.
Vir. AEn. 5.
I read what I give for the Entertainment of this Daywith a great deal of Pleasure, and publish it justas it came to my Hands. I shall be very gladto find there are many guessed at for Emilia.
Mr. SPECTATOR, [1]
If this Paper has the good Fortune tobe honoured with a Place in your Writings, I shallbe the more pleased, because the Character of Emiliais not an imaginary but a real one. I have industriouslyobscured the whole by the Addition of one or twoCirc*mstances of no Consequence, that the Personit is drawn from might still be concealed; and thatthe Writer of it might not be in the least suspected,and for [other [2]] Reasons, I chuse not to giveit the Form of a Letter: But if, besides theFaults of the Composition, there be any thing in itmore proper for a Correspondent than the SPECTATORhimself to write, I submit it to your better Judgment,to receive any other Model you think fit.I am, SIR, Your very humble Servant.
There is nothing which gives one sopleasing a Prospect of human Nature, as the Contemplationof Wisdom and Beauty: The latter is the peculiarPortion of that Sex which is therefore called Fair;but the happy Concurrence of both these Excellenciesin the same Person, is a Character too celestialto be frequently met with. Beauty is an over-weaningself-sufficient thing, careless of providing it selfany more substantial Ornaments; nay so little doesit consult its own Interests, that it too oftendefeats it self by betraying that Innocence whichrenders it lovely and desirable. As thereforeVirtue makes a beautiful Woman appear more beautiful,so Beauty makes a virtuous Woman really more virtuous.Whilst I am considering these two Perfectionsgloriously united in one Person, I cannot help representingto my Mind the Image of Emilia.
Who ever beheld the charming Emilia,without feeling in his Breast at once the Glowof Love and the Tenderness of virtuous Friendship?The unstudied Graces of her Behaviour, and thepleasing Accents of her Tongue, insensibly drawyou on to wish for a nearer Enjoyment of them;but even her Smiles carry in them a silent Reproofto the Impulses of licentious Love. Thus,tho the Attractives of her Beauty play almostirresistibly upon you and create Desire, you immediatelystand corrected not by the Severity but the Decencyof her Virtue. That Sweetness and Good-humourwhich is so visible in her Face, naturally diffusesit self into every Word and Action: A Manmust be a Savage, who at the Sight of Emilia, is notmore inclined to do her Good than gratifie himself.Her Person, as it is thus studiously embellishedby Nature, thus adorned with unpremeditated Graces,is a fit Lodging for a Mind so fair and lovely;there dwell rational Piety, modest Hope, and chearfulResignation.
Many of the prevailing Passions of Mankinddo undeservedly pass under the Name of Religion;which is thus made to express itself in Action,according to the Nature of the Constitution in whichit resides: So that were we to make a Judgmentfrom Appearances, one would imagine Religion insome is little better than Sullenness and Reserve,in many Fear, in others the Despondings of a melanchollyComplexion, in others the Formality of insignificantunaffecting Observances, in others Severity, inothers Ostentation. In Emilia it is a Principlefounded in Reason and enlivened with Hope; it doesnot break forth into irregular Fits and Salliesof Devotion, but is an uniform and consistentTenour of Action; It is strict without Severity,compassionate without Weakness; it is the Perfectionof that good Humour which proceeds from the Understanding,not the Effect of an easy Constitution.
By a generous Sympathy in Nature, wefeel our selves disposed to mourn when any ofour Fellow-Creatures are afflicted; but injured Innocenceand Beauty in Distresses an Object that carries init something inexpressibly moving: It softensthe most manly Heart with the tenderest Sensationsof Love and Compassion, till at length it confessesits Humanity, and flows out into Tears.
Were I to relate that part of Emilia’sLife which has given her an Opportunity of exertingthe Heroism of Christianity, it would make toosad, too tender a Story: But when I consider heralone in the midst of her Distresses, lookingbeyond this gloomy Vale of Affliction and Sorrowinto the Joys of Heaven and Immortality, and whenI see her in Conversation thoughtless and easie asif she were the most happy Creature in the World,I am transported with Admiration. Surelynever did such a Philosophic Soul inhabit such a beauteousForm! For Beauty is often made a Privilege againstThought and Reflection; it laughs at Wisdom, andwill not abide the Gravity of its Instructions.
Were I able to represent Emilia’sVirtues in their proper Colours and their dueProportions, Love or Flattery might perhaps be thoughtto have drawn the Picture larger than Life; butas this is but an imperfect Draught of so excellenta Character, and as I cannot, will not hope tohave any Interest in her Person, all that I can sayof her is but impartial Praise extorted from meby the prevailing Brightness of her Virtues.So rare a Pattern of Female Excellence ought notto be concealed, but should be set out to the Viewand Imitation of the World; for how amiable doesVirtue appear thus as it were made visible tous in so fair an Example!
Honoria’s Disposition is of avery different Turn: Her Thoughts are whollybent upon Conquest and arbitrary Power. That shehas some Wit and Beauty no Body denies, and thereforehas the Esteem of all her Acquaintance as a Womanof an agreeable Person and Conversation; but (whateverher Husband may think of it) that is not sufficientfor Honoria: She waves that Title to Respectas a mean Acquisition, and demands Venerationin the Right of an Idol; for this Reason her naturalDesire of Life is continually checked with an inconsistentFear of Wrinkles and old Age.
Emilia cannot be supposed ignorant ofher personal Charms, tho she seems to be so; butshe will not hold her Happiness upon so precariousa Tenure, whilst her Mind is adorned with Beautiesof a more exalted and lasting Nature. Whenin the full Bloom of Youth and Beauty we saw hersurrounded with a Crowd of Adorers, she took no Pleasurein Slaughter and Destruction, gave no false deludingHopes which might encrease the Torments of herdisappointed Lovers; but having for some Timegiven to the Decency of a Virgin Coyness, and examinedthe Merit of their several Pretensions, she at lengthgratified her own, by resigning herself to theardent Passion of Bromius. Bromius was thenMaster of many good Qualities and a moderate Fortune,which was soon after unexpectedly encreased to a plentifulEstate. This for a good while proved his Misfortune,as it furnished his unexperienced Age with theOpportunities of Evil Company and a sensual Life.He might have longer wandered in the Labyrinthsof Vice and Folly, had not Emilia’s prudent Conductwon him over to the Government of his Reason.Her Ingenuity has been constantly employed inhumanizing his Passions and refining his Pleasures.She shewed him by her own Example, that Virtue isconsistent with decent Freedoms and good Humour,or rather, that it cannot subsist without em.Her good Sense readily instructed her, that asilent Example and an easie unrepining Behaviour, willalways be more perswasive than the Severity ofLectures and Admonitions; and that there is somuch Pride interwoven into the Make of human Nature,that an obstinate Man must only take the Hint fromanother, and then be left to advise and correcthimself. Thus by an artful Train of Managementand unseen Perswasions, having at first brought himnot to dislike, and at length to be pleased with thatwhich otherwise he would not have bore to hearof, she then knew how to press and secure thisAdvantage, by approving it as his Thoughts, andseconding it as his Proposal. By this Means shehas gained an Interest in some of his leadingPassions, and made them accessary to his Reformation.
There is another Particular of Emilia’sConduct which I cant forbear mentioning:To some perhaps it may at first Sight appear but atrifling inconsiderable Circ*mstance but for my Part,I think it highly worthy of Observation, and tobe recommended to the Consideration of the fairSex. I have often thought wrapping Gowns anddirty Linnen, with all that huddled Oeconomy of Dresswhich passes under the general Name of a Mob,the Bane of conjugal Love, and one of the readiestMeans imaginable to alienate the Affection ofan Husband, especially a fond one. I have heardsome Ladies, who have been surprized by Companyin such a Deshabille, apologize for it after thisManner; Truly I am ashamed to be caught in this Pickle;but my Husband and I were sitting all alone by ourselves, and I did not expect to see such goodCompany—This by the way is a fine Complimentto the good Man, which tis ten to one but he returnsin dogged Answers and a churlish Behaviour, withoutknowing what it is that puts him out of Humour.
Emilia’s Observation teaches her,that as little Inadvertencies and Neglects casta Blemish upon a great Character; so the Neglect ofApparel, even among the most intimate Friends,does insensibly lessen their Regards to each other,by creating a Familiarity too low and contemptible.She understands the Importance of those Things whichthe Generality account Trifles; and considers everything as a Matter of Consequence, that has theleast Tendency towards keeping up or abating theAffection of her Husband; him she esteems as a fitObject to employ her Ingenuity in pleasing, becausehe is to be pleased for Life.
By the Help of these, and a thousandother nameless Arts, which tis easier for herto practise than for another to express, by the Obstinacyof her Goodness and unprovoked Submission, in spightof all her Afflictions and ill Usage, Bromiusis become a Man of Sense and a kind Husband, andEmilia a happy Wife.
Ye guardian Angels to whose Care Heavenhas entrusted its dear Emilia, guide her stillforward in the Paths of Virtue, defend her fromthe Insolence and Wrongs of this undiscerning World;at length when we must no more converse with suchPurity on Earth, lead her gently hence innocentand unreprovable to a better Place, where by aneasie Transition from what she now is, she may shineforth an Angel of Light.
T.
[Footnote 1: The character of Emilia in thispaper was by Dr. Bromer, a clergyman. The ladyis said to have been the mother of Mr. Ascham, ofConington, in Cambridgeshire, and grandmother of LadyHatton. The letter has been claimed also forJohn Hughes (Letters of John Hughes, &c., vol. iii.p. 8), and Emilia identified with Anne, Countess ofCoventry.]
[Footnote 2: [some other]]
* * * * *
No. 303. Saturday, February 16,1712. Addison.
—volet haec sub luce videri,
Judicis argulum quae non formidat acumen.
Hor.
I have seen in the Works of a Modern Philosopher,a Map of the Spots in the Sun. My last Paperof the Faults and Blemishes in Milton’s ParadiseLost, may be considered as a Piece of the same Nature.To pursue the Allusion: As it is observed, thatamong the bright Parts of the Luminous Body abovementioned, there are some which glow more intensely,and dart a stronger Light than others; so, notwithstandingI have already shewn Milton’s Poem to be verybeautiful in general, I shall now proceed to takeNotice of such Beauties as appear to me more exquisitethan the rest. Milton has proposed the Subjectof his Poem in the following Verses.
Of Man’s first disobedience, andthe fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought Death into the World and all ourwoe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blisful Seat,
Sing Heavenly Muse—
These Lines are perhaps as plain, simple and unadornedas any of the whole Poem, in which Particular theAuthor has conformed himself to the Example of Homerand the Precept of Horace.
His Invocation to a Work which turns in a great measureupon the Creation of the World, is very properly madeto the Muse who inspired Moses in those Books fromwhence our Author drew his Subject, and to the HolySpirit who is therein represented as operating aftera particular manner in the first Production of Nature.This whole Exordium rises very happily into nobleLanguage and Sentiment, as I think the Transition tothe Fable is exquisitely beautiful and natural.
The Nine Days Astonishment, in which the Angels layentranced after their dreadful Overthrow and Fallfrom Heaven, before they could recover either theuse of Thought or Speech, is a noble Circ*mstance,and very finely imagined. The Division of Hellinto Seas of Fire, and into firm Ground impregnatedwith the same furious Element, with that particularCirc*mstance of the Exclusion of Hope from those InfernalRegions, are Instances of the same great and fruitfulInvention.
The Thoughts in the first Speech and Description ofSatan, who is one of the Principal Actors in thisPoem, are wonderfully proper to give us a full Ideaof him. His Pride, Envy and Revenge, Obstinacy,Despair and Impenitence, are all of them very artfullyinterwoven. In short, his first Speech is a Complicationof all those Passions which discover themselves separatelyin several other of his Speeches in the Poem.The whole part of this great Enemy of Mankind is filledwith such Incidents as are very apt to raise and terrifiethe Readers Imagination. Of this nature, in theBook now before us, is his being the first that awakensout of the general Trance, with his Posture on theburning Lake, his rising from it, and the Descriptionof his Shield and Spear.
Thus Satan talking to his nearest Mate,
With head up-lift above the wave, andeyes
That sparkling blazed, his other partsbeside
Prone on the Flood, extended long andlarge,
Lay floating many a rood—
Forthwith upright he rears from off thepool
His mighty Stature; on each hand the flames
Drivn backward slope their pointing Spires,and roared
In Billows, leave i’th midst a horridvale.
Then with expanded wings he steers hisflight
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky Air
That felt unusual weight—
—His pondrous Shield
Ethereal temper, massie, large and round,
Behind him cast; the broad circumference
Hung on his Shoulders like the Moon, whoseorb
Thro Optick Glass the Tuscan Artist views
At Evning, from the top of Fesole,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new Lands,
Rivers, or Mountains, on her spotted Globe.
His Spear (to equal which the tallestpine
Hewn on Norwegian Hills to be the Mast
Of some great Admiral, were but a wand)
He walk’d with, to support uneasieSteps
Over the burning Marl—
To which we may add his Call to the fallen Angelsthat lay plunged and stupified in the Sea of Fire.
He call’d so loud, that all thehollow deep
Of Hell resounded—
But there is no single Passage in the whole Poem workedup to a greater Sublimity, than that wherein his Personis described in those celebrated Lines:
—He, above the rest
In shape and gesture proudly eminent
Stood like a Tower, &c.
His Sentiments are every way answerable to his Character,and suitable to a created Being of the most exaltedand most depraved Nature. Such is that in whichhe takes Possession of his Place of Torments.
—Hail Horrors! hail
Infernal World! and thou profoundest Hell
Receive thy new Possessor, one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.
And Afterwards,
—Here at least
We shall be free; th’Almighty hathnot built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reign secure; and in my choice
To reign is worth Ambition, tho in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell, than serve inHeavn.
Amidst those Impieties which this Enraged Spirit uttersin other places of the Poem, the Author has takencare to introduce none that is not big with absurdity,and incapable of shocking a Religious Reader; his Words,as the Poet himself describes them, bearing only aSemblance of Worth, not Substance. He is likewisewith great Art described as owning his Adversary tobe Almighty. Whatever perverse Interpretationhe puts on the Justice, Mercy, and other Attributesof the Supreme Being, he frequently confesses hisOmnipotence, that being the Perfection he was forcedto allow him, and the only Consideration which couldsupport his Pride under the Shame of his Defeat.
Nor must I here omit that beautiful Circ*mstance ofhis bursting out in Tears, upon his Survey of thoseinnumerable Spirits whom he had involved in the sameGuilt and Ruin with himself.
—He now prepared
To speak; whereat their doubled ranksthey bend
From wing to wing, and half enclose himround
With all his Peers: Attention heldthem mute.
Thrice he assayed, and thrice in spiteof Scorn
Tears such as Angels weep, burst forth—
The Catalogue of Evil Spirits has abundance of Learningin it, and a very agreeable turn of Poetry, whichrises in a great measure from [its [1]] describingthe Places where they were worshipped, by those beautifulMarks of Rivers so frequent among the Ancient Poets.The Author had doubtless in this place Homers Catalogueof Ships, and Virgil’s List of Warriors, inhis View. The Characters of Moloch and Belialprepare the Readers Mind for their respective Speechesand Behaviour in the second and sixth Book. TheAccount of Thammuz is finely Romantick, and suitableto what we read among the Ancients of the Worshipwhich was paid to that Idol.
—Thammuz came next behind.
Whose annual Wound in Lebanon allured
The Syrian Damsels to lament his fate,
In amorous Ditties all a Summers day,
While smooth Adonis from his native Rock
Ran purple to the Sea, supposed with Blood
Of Thammuz yearly wounded: the Lovetale
Infected Zion’s Daughters with likeHeat,
Whose wanton Passions in the sacred Porch
Ezekiel saw, when by the Vision led
His Eye survey’d the dark Idolatries
Of alienated Judah.—
The Reader will pardon me if I insert as a Note onthis beautiful Passage, the Account given us by thelate ingenious Mr. Maundrell [2] of this Ancient Pieceof Worship, and probably the first Occasion of sucha Superstition.
We came to a fair large River—doubtlessthe Ancient River Adonis, so famous for the IdolatrousRites performed here in Lamentation of Adonis.We had the Fortune to see what may be supposed to bethe Occasion of that Opinion which Lucian relates,concerning this River, viz. That thisStream, at certain Seasons of the Year, especiallyabout the Feast of Adonis, is of a bloody Colour;which the Heathens looked upon as proceeding froma kind of Sympathy in the River for the Death ofAdonis, who was killed by a wild Boar in the Mountains,out of which this Stream rises. Something likethis we saw actually come to pass; for the Waterwas stain’d to a surprizing Redness; and, aswe observ’d in Travelling, had discolour’dthe Sea a great way into a reddish Hue, occasion’ddoubtless by a sort of Minium, or red Earth, washedinto the River by the Violence of the Rain, and notby any Stain from Adonis’s Blood.
The Passage in the Catalogue, explaining the mannerhow Spirits transform themselves by Contractions orEnlargement of their Dimensions, is introduced with
great Judgment, to make way for several surprizingAccidents in the Sequel of the Poem. There followsone, at the very End of the first Book, which is whatthe French Criticks call Marvellous, but at the sametime probable by reason of the Passage last mentioned.As soon as the Infernal Palace is finished, we aretold the Multitude and Rabble of Spirits immediatelyshrunk themselves into a small Compass, that theremight be Room for such a numberless Assembly in thiscapacious Hall. But it is the Poets Refinementupon this Thought which I most admire, and which isindeed very noble in its self. For he tells us,that notwithstanding the vulgar, among the fallen Spirits,contracted their Forms, those of the first Rank andDignity still preserved their natural Dimensions.Thus incorporeal Spirits to smallest Forms
Reduced their Shapes immense, and wereat large,
Though without Number, still amidst theHall
Of that Infernal Court. But far within,
And in their own Dimensions like themselves,
The great Seraphick Lords and Cherubim,
In close recess and secret conclave sate,
A thousand Demy-Gods on Golden Seats,
Frequent and full—
The Character of Mammon and the Description of thePandaemonium, are full of Beauties.
There are several other Strokes in the first Bookwonderfully poetical, and Instances of that SublimeGenius so peculiar to the Author. Such is theDescription of Azazel’s Stature, and of the InfernalStandard, which he unfurls; as also of that ghastlyLight, by which the Fiends appear to one another intheir Place of Torments.
The Seat of Desolation, void of Light,
Save what the glimmring of those lividFlames
Casts pale and dreadful—
The Shout of the whole Host of fallen Angels whendrawn up in Battel Array:
—The universal Host up sent
A Shout that tore Hells Concave, and beyond
Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.
The Review, which the Leader makes of his InfernalArmy:
—He thro the armed files
Darts his experienc’d eye, and soontraverse
The whole Battalion mews, their Orderdue,
Their Visages and Stature as of Gods.
Their Number last he sums; and now hisHeart
Distends with Pride, and hardning in hisstrength
Glories—
The Flash of Light which appear’d upon the drawingof their Swords:
He spake: and to confirm his wordsoutflew
Millions of flaming Swords, drawn fromthe thighs
Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden Blaze
Far round illumin’d Hell—
The sudden Production of the Pandaemonium;
Anon out of the Earth a Fabrick huge
Rose like an Exhalation, with the Sound
Of dulcet Symphonies and Voices sweet.
The Artificial Illuminations made in it:
—From the arched Roof
Pendent by subtle Magick, many a Row
Of Starry Lamps and blazing Crescets,fed
With Naphtha and Asphaltus, yielded Light
As from a Sky—
There are also several noble Similes and Allusionsin the First Book of Paradise Lost. And hereI must observe, that when Milton alludes either toThings or Persons, he never quits his Simile till itrises to some very great Idea, which is often foreignto the Occasion that gave Birth to it. The Resemblancedoes not, perhaps, last above a Line or two, but thePoet runs on with the Hint till he has raised out ofit some glorious Image or Sentiment, proper to inflamethe Mind of the Reader, and to give it that sublimekind of Entertainment, which is suitable to the Natureof an Heroick Poem. Those who are acquainted withHomers and Virgil’s way of Writing, cannot butbe pleased with this kind of Structure in Milton’sSimilitudes. I am the more particular on thisHead, because ignorant Readers, who have formed theirTaste upon the quaint Similes, and little Turns ofWit, which are so much in Vogue among Modern Poets,cannot relish these Beauties which are of a much higherNature, and are therefore apt to censure Milton’sComparisons in which they do not see any surprizingPoints of Likeness. Monsieur Perrault was a Manof this viciated Relish, and for that very Reason hasendeavoured to turn into Ridicule several of HomersSimilitudes, which he calls Comparisons a longue queue,Long-tail’s Comparisons. [3] I shall concludethis Paper on the First Book of Milton with the Answerwhich Monsieur Boileau makes to Perrault on this Occasion;
Comparisons, says he, in Odes and EpicPoems, are not introduced only to illustrate andembellish the Discourse, but to amuse and relax theMind of the Reader, by frequently disengaging himfrom too painful an Attention to the Principal Subject,and by leading him into other agreeable Images.Homer, says he, excelled in this Particular, whoseComparisons abound with such Images of Nature asare proper to relieve and diversifie his Subjects.He continually instructs the Reader, and makes himtake notice, even in Objects which are every Day beforeour Eyes, of such Circ*mstances as we should nototherwise have observed.
To this he adds, as a Maxim universally acknowledged,
That it is not necessary in Poetry forthe Points of the Comparison to correspond withone another exactly, but that a general Resemblanceis sufficient, and that too much Nicety in this Particularfavours of the Rhetorician and Epigrammatist.
In short, if we look into the Conduct of Homer, Virgiland Milton, as the great Fable is the Soul of eachPoem, so to give their Works an agreeable Variety,their Episodes are so many short Fables, and theirSimiles so many short Episodes; to which you may add,if you please, that their Metaphors are so many shortSimiles. If the Reader considers the Comparisonsin the first Book of Milton, of the Sun in an Eclipse,of the Sleeping Leviathan, of the Bees swarming abouttheir Hive, of the Fairy Dance, in the view whereinI have here placed them, he will easily discover thegreat Beauties that are in each of those Passages.
L.
[Footnote 1: [his]]
[Footnote 2: A journey from Aleppo to Jerusalemat Easter, A.D. 1697. By Henry Maundrell, M.A.It was published at Oxford in 1703, and was in a newedition in 1707. It reached a seventh editionin 1749. Maundrell was a Fellow of Exter College,which he left to take the appointment of chaplainto the English factory at Aleppo. The brief accountof his journey is in the form of a diary, and thepassage quoted is under the date, March 15, when theywere two days journey from Tripoli. The streamhe identifies with the Adonis was called, he says,by Turks Ibrahim Pasha. It is near Gibyle, calledby the Greeks Byblus, a place once famous for thebirth and temple of Adonis. The extract fromParadise Lost and the passage from Maundrell were interpolatedin the first reprint of the Spectator.]
[Footnote 3: See note to No. 279. CharlesPerrault made himself a lasting name by his FairyTales, a charming embodiment of French nursery traditions.The four volumes of his Paraliele des Anciens et desModernes 1692-6, included the good general idea ofhuman progress, but worked it out badly, dealing irreverentlywith Plato as well as Homer and Pindar, and exaltingamong the moderns not only Moliere and Corneille,but also Chapelain, Scuderi, and Quinault, whom hecalled the greatest lyrical and dramatic poet thatFrance ever had. The battle had begun with adebate in the Academy: Racine having ironicallycomplimented Perrault on the ingenuity with which hehad elevated little men above the ancients in hispoem (published 1687), le Siecle de Louis le Grand.Fontenelle touched the matter lightly, as Perraultsally, in his Digression sur les Anciens et les Modernesbut afterwards drew back, saying, I do not belongto the party which claims me for its chief. Theleaders on the respective sides, unequally matched,were Perrault and Boileau.]
* * * * *
No. 304. Monday, February 18, 1712. Steele.
Vulnus alit venis et caeco carpitur igni.
Virg.
The Circ*mstances of my Correspondent, whose LetterI now insert, are so frequent, that I cannot wantCompassion so much as to forbear laying it beforethe Town. There is something so mean and inhumanin a direct Smithfield Bargain for Children, thatif this Lover carries his Point, and observes theRules he pretends to follow, I do not only wish himSuccess, but also that it may animate others to followhis Example. I know not one Motive relating tothis Life which would produce so many honourable andworthy Actions, as the Hopes of obtaining a Woman ofMerit: There would ten thousand Ways of Industryand honest Ambition be pursued by young Men, who believedthat the Persons admired had Value enough for theirPassion to attend the Event of their good Fortune inall their Applications, in order to make their Circ*mstancesfall in with the Duties they owe to themselves, theirFamilies, and their Country; All these Relations aMan should think of who intends to go into the Stateof Marriage, and expects to make it a State of Pleasureand Satisfaction.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I have for some Years indulged a Passionfor a young Lady of Age and Quality suitable tomy own, but very much superior in Fortune. Itis the Fashion with Parents (how justly I leaveyou to judge) to make all Regards give way to theArticle of Wealth. From this one Considerationit is that I have concealed the ardent Love I havefor her; but I am beholden to the Force of my Lovefor many Advantages which I reaped from it towardsthe better Conduct of my Life. A certain Complacencyto all the World, a strong Desire to oblige where-everit lay in my Power, and a circ*mspect Behaviourin all my Words and Actions, have rendered me moreparticularly acceptable to all my Friends and Acquaintance.Love has had the same good Effect upon my Fortune;and I have encreased in Riches in proportion tomy Advancement in those Arts which make a man agreeableand amiable. There is a certain Sympathy whichwill tell my Mistress from these Circ*mstances, thatit is I who writ this for her Reading, if you willplease to insert it. There is not a downrightEnmity, but a great Coldness between our Parents; sothat if either of us declared any kind Sentimentfor each other, her Friends would be very backwardto lay an Obligation upon our Family, and mine toreceive it from hers. Under these delicate Circ*mstancesit is no easie Matter to act with Safety. Ihave no Reason to fancy my Mistress has any Regardfor me, but from a very disinterested Value whichI have for her. If from any Hint in any futurePaper of yours she gives me the least Encouragement,I doubt not but I shall surmount all other Difficulties;and inspired by so noble a Motive for the Care ofmy Fortune, as the Belief she is to be concerned init, I will not despair of receiving her one Dayfrom her Fathers own Hand.
I am, SIR,
Your most obedient humble Servant,
Clytander.
To his Worship the SPECTATOR,
The humble Petition of Anthony Title-Page,Stationer, in the Centre of
Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields,
Sheweth, That your Petitioner and hisFore-Fathers have been Sellers of Books for Timeimmemorial; That your Petitioners Ancestor, CrouchbackTitle-Page, was the first of that Vocation in Britain;who keeping his Station (in fair Weather) at theCorner of Lothbury, was by way of Eminency calledthe Stationer, a Name which from him all succeedingBooksellers have affected to bear: That theStation of your Petitioner and his Father has beenin the Place of his present Settlement ever sincethat Square has been built: That your Petitionerhas formerly had the Honour of your Worships Custom,and hopes you never had Reason to complain of yourPenny-worths; that particularly he sold you yourfirst Lilly’s Grammar, and at the same Time aWits Commonwealth almost as good as new: Moreover,that your first rudimental Essays in Spectatorshipwere made in your Petitioners Shop, where you oftenpractised for Hours together, sometimes on his Booksupon the Rails, sometimes on the little Hieroglyphickseither gilt, silvered, or plain, which the EgyptianWoman on the other Side of the Shop had wroughtin Gingerbread, and sometimes on the English Youth,who in sundry Places there were exercising themselvesin the traditional Sports of the Field.
From these Considerations it is, thatyour Petitioner is encouraged to apply himself toyou, and to proceed humbly to acquaint your Worship,That he has certain Intelligence that you receivegreat Numbers of defamatory Letters designed bytheir Authors to be published, which you throw asideand totally neglect: Your Petitioner thereforeprays, that you will please to bestow on him thoseRefuse Letters, and he hopes by printing them toget a more plentiful Provision for his Family; orat the worst, he may be allowed to sell them by thePound Weight to his good Customers the Pastry-Cooksof London and Westminster. And your Petitionershall ever pray, &c.
To the SPECTATOR,
The humble Petition of Bartholomew Ladylove,of Round-Court in the
Parish of St. Martins in the Fields, inBehalf of himself and
Neighbours,
Sheweth,
That your Petitioners have with greatIndustry and Application arrived at the most exactArt of Invitation or Entreaty: That by a beseechingAir and perswasive Address, they have for many Yearslast past peaceably drawn in every tenth Passenger,whether they intended or not to call at their Shops,to come in and buy; and from that Softness of Behaviour,have arrived among Tradesmen at the gentle Appellationof the Fawners.
That there have of late set up amongstus certain Persons of Monmouth-street and Long-lane,who by the Strength of their Arms, and Loudnessof their Throats, draw off the Regard of all Passengersfrom your said Petitioners; from which Violencethey are distinguished by the Name of the Worriers.
That while your Petitioners stand readyto receive Passengers with a submissive Bow, andrepeat with a gentle Voice, Ladies, what do you want?pray look in here; the Worriers reach out their Handsat Pistol-shot, and seize the Customers at ArmsLength.
That while the Fawners strain and relaxthe Muscles of their Faces in making Distinctionbetween a Spinster in a coloured Scarf and an Handmaidin a Straw-Hat, the Worriers use the same Roughnessto both, and prevail upon the Easiness of the Passengers,to the Impoverishment of your Petitioners.
Your Petitioners therefore most humblypray, that the Worriers may not be permitted toinhabit the politer Parts of the Town; and that Round-Courtmay remain a Receptacle for Buyers of a more softEducation.
And your Petitioners, &c.
The Petition of the New-Exchange, concerning the Artsof Buying and Selling, and particularly valuing Goodsby the Complexion of the Seller, will be consideredon another Occasion.
T.
* * * * *
No. 305. Tuesday, February 19, 1712. Addison.
Non tali auxilio, nec defensoribus istis
Tempus eget.
Virg.
Our late News-Papers being full of the Project nowon foot in the Court of France, for Establishing aPolitical Academy, and I my self having received Lettersfrom several Virtuosos among my Foreign Correspondents,which give some Light into that Affair, I intend tomake it the Subject of this Days Speculation.A general Account of this Project may be met within the Daily Courant of last Friday in the followingWords, translated from the Gazette of Amsterdam.
Paris, February 12. Tis confirmedthat the King has resolved to establish a new Academyfor Politicks, of which the Marquis de Torcy, Ministerand Secretary of State, is to be Protector.Six Academicians are to be chosen, endowed withproper Talents, for beginning to form this Academy,into which no Person is to be admitted under Twenty-fiveYears of Age: They must likewise each havean Estate of Two thousand Livres a Year, eitherin Possession, or to come to em by Inheritance.The King will allow to each a Pension of a ThousandLivres. They are likewise to have able Mastersto teach em the necessary Sciences, and to instructthem in all the Treaties of Peace, Alliance, andothers, which have been made in several Ages past.These Members are to meet twice a Week at the Louvre.From this Seminary are to be chosen Secretaries toAmbassies, who by degrees may advance to higher Employments.
Cardinal Richelieus Politicks made France the Terrorof Europe. The Statesmen who have appeared inthe Nation of late Years, have on the contrary renderedit either the Pity or Contempt of its Neighbours.The Cardinal erected that famous Academy which hascarried all the Parts of Polite Learning to the greatestHeight. His chief Design in that Institutionwas to divert the Men of Genius from meddling withPoliticks, a Province in which he did not care to haveany one else interfere with him. On the contrary,the Marquis de Torcy seems resolved to make severalyoung Men in France as Wise as himself, and is thereforetaken up at present in establishing a Nursery of Statesmen.
Some private Letters add, that there will also beerected a Seminary of Petticoat Politicians, who areto be brought up at the Feet of Madam de Maintenon,and to be dispatched into Foreign Courts upon any Emergenciesof State; but as the News of this last Project hasnot been yet confirmed, I shall take no farther Noticeof it.
Several of my Readers may doubtless remember thatupon the Conclusion of the last War, which had beencarried on so successfully by the Enemy, their Generalswere many of them transformed into Ambassadors; butthe Conduct of those who have commanded in the presentWar, has, it seems, brought so little Honour and Advantageto their great Monarch, that he is resolved to trusthis Affairs no longer in the Hands of those MilitaryGentlemen.
The Regulations of this new Academy very much deserveour Attention. The Students are to have in Possession,or Reversion, an Estate of two thousand French Livresper Annum, which, as the present Exchange runs, willamount to at least one hundred and twenty six PoundsEnglish. This, with the Royal Allowance of aThousand Livres, will enable them to find themselvesin Coffee and Snuff; not to mention News-Papers, Penand Ink, Wax and Wafers, with the like Necessariesfor Politicians.
A Man must be at least Five and Twenty before he canbe initiated into the Mysteries of this Academy, thothere is no Question but many grave Persons of a muchmore advanced Age, who have been constant Readers ofthe Paris Gazette, will be glad to begin the Worlda-new, and enter themselves upon this List of Politicians.
The Society of these hopeful young Gentlemen is tobe under the Direction of six Professors, who, itseems, are to be Speculative Statesmen, and drawnout of the Body of the Royal Academy. These sixwise Masters, according to my private Letters, areto have the following Parts allotted them.
The first is to instruct the Students in State Legerdemain,as how to take off the Impression of a Seal, to splita Wafer, to open a Letter, to fold it up again, withother the like ingenious Feats of Dexterity and Art.When the Students have accomplished themselves in thisPart of their Profession, they are to be deliveredinto the Hands of their second Instructor, who isa kind of Posture-Master.
This Artist is to teach them how to nod judiciously,to shrug up their Shoulders in a dubious Case, toconnive with either Eye, and in a Word, the wholePractice of Political Grimace.
The Third is a sort of Language-Master, who is toinstruct them in the Style proper for a Foreign Ministerin his ordinary Discourse. And to the End thatthis College of Statesmen may be thoroughly practisedin the Political Style, they are to make use of itin their common Conversations, before they are employedeither in Foreign or Domestick Affairs. If oneof them asks another, what a-clock it is, the otheris to answer him indirectly, and, if possible, toturn off the Question. If he is desired to changea Louis d’or, he must beg Time to consider ofit. If it be enquired of him, whether the Kingis at Versailles or Marly, he must answer in a Whisper.If he be asked the News of the late Gazette, or theSubject of a Proclamation, he is to reply, that hehas not yet read it: Or if he does not care forexplaining himself so far, he needs only draw hisBrow up in Wrinkles, or elevate the Left Shoulder.
The Fourth Professor is to teach the whole Art ofPolitical Characters and Hieroglyphics; and to theEnd that they may be perfect also in this Practice,they are not to send a Note to one another (tho itbe but to borrow a Tacitus or a Machiavil) which isnot written in Cypher.
Their Fifth Professor, it is thought, will be chosenout of the Society of Jesuits, and is to be well readin the Controversies of probable Doctrines, mentalReservation, and the Rights of Princes. This LearnedMan is to instruct them in the Grammar, Syntax, andconstruing Part of Treaty-Latin; how to distinguishbetween the Spirit and the Letter, and likewise demonstratehow the same Form of Words may lay an Obligation uponany Prince in Europe, different from that which itlays upon his Most Christian Majesty. He is likewiseto teach them the Art of finding Flaws, Loop-holes,and Evasions, in the most solemn Compacts, and particularlya great Rabbinical Secret, revived of late Years bythe Fraternity of Jesuits, namely, that contradictoryInterpretations, of the same Article may both of thembe true and valid.
When our Statesmen are sufficiently improved by theseseveral Instructors, they are to receive their lastPolishing from one who is to act among them as Masterof the Ceremonies. This Gentleman is to givethem Lectures upon those important Points of the ElbowChair, and the Stair Head, to instruct them in thedifferent Situations of the Right-Hand, and to furnishthem with Bows and Inclinations of all Sizes, Measuresand Proportions. In short, this Professor is togive the Society their Stiffening, and infuse intotheir Manners that beautiful Political Starch, whichmay qualifie them for Levees, Conferences, Visits,and make them shine in what vulgar Minds are apt tolook upon as Trifles. I have not yet heard anyfurther Particulars, which are to be observed in thisSociety of unfledged Statesmen; but I must confess,had I a Son of five and twenty, that should take itinto his Head at that Age to set up for a Politician,I think I should go near to disinherit him for a Block-head.Besides, I should be apprehensive lest the same Artswhich are to enable him to negotiate between Potentatesmight a little infect his ordinary behaviour betweenMan and Man. There is no Question but these youngMachiavil’s will, in a little time, turn theirCollege upside-down with Plots and Stratagems, andlay as many Schemes to Circumvent one another in aFrog or a Sallad, as they may hereafter put in Practiceto over-reach a Neighbouring Prince or State.
We are told, that the Spartans, tho they punishedTheft in their young Men when it was discovered, lookedupon it as Honourable if it succeeded. Providedthe Conveyance was clean and unsuspected, a Youthmight afterwards boast of it. This, say the Historians,was to keep them sharp, and to hinder them from beingimposed upon, either in their publick or private Negotiations.Whether any such Relaxations of Morality, such littlejeux desprit, ought not to be allowed in this intendedSeminary of Politicians, I shall leave to the Wisdomof their Founder.
In the mean time we have fair Warning given us bythis doughty Body of Statesmen: and as Syllasaw many Marius’s in Caesar, so I think we maydiscover many Torcys in this College of Academicians.Whatever we think of our selves, I am afraid neitherour Smyrna or St. James’s will be a Match forit. Our Coffee-houses are, indeed, very good Institutions,but whether or no these our British Schools of Politicksmay furnish out as able Envoys and Secretaries asan Academy that is set apart for that Purpose, willdeserve our serious Consideration, especially if weremember that our Country is more famous for producingMen of Integrity than Statesmen; and that on the contrary,French Truth and British Policy make a ConspicuousFigure in NOTHING, as the Earl of Rochester has verywell observed in his admirable Poem upon that BarrenSubject.
L.
* * * * *
No. 306. Wednesday, February 20, 1712. Steele.
Quae forma, ut se tibi semper
Imputet?
Juv.
Mr. SPECTATOR, [1]
I write this to communicate to you a Misfortunewhich frequently happens, and therefore deservesa consolatory Discourse on the Subject. I waswithin this Half-Year in the Possession of as muchBeauty and as many Lovers as any young Lady in England.But my Admirers have left me, and I cannot complainof their Behaviour. I have within that Timehad the Small-Pox; and this Face, which (accordingto many amorous Epistles which I have by me) was theSeat of all that is beautiful in Woman, is now disfiguredwith Scars. It goes to the very Soul of meto speak what I really think of my Face; and thoI think I did not over-rate my Beauty while I had it,it has extremely advanc’d in its value withme now it is lost. There is one Circ*mstancewhich makes my Case very particular; the ugliest Fellowthat ever pretended to me, was and is most in myFavour, and he treats me at present the most unreasonably.If you could make him return an Obligation whichhe owes me, in liking a Person that is not amiable;—Butthere is, I fear, no Possibility of making Passionmove by the Rules of Reason and Gratitude.But say what you can to one who has survived herself, and knows not how to act in a new Being.My Lovers are at the Feet of my Rivals, my Rivalsare every Day bewailing me, and I cannot enjoy whatI am, by reason of the distracting Reflection uponwhat I was. Consider the Woman I was did not dieof old Age, but I was taken off in the Prime ofmy Youth, and according to the Course of Naturemay have Forty Years After-Life to come. I havenothing of my self left which I like, but that Iam, SIR, Your most humble Servant, Parthenissa.
When Lewis of France had lost the Battle of Ramelies,the Addresses to him at that time were full of hisFortitude, and they turned his Misfortune to his Glory;
in that, during his Prosperity, he could never havemanifested his heroick Constancy under Distresses,and so the World had lost the most eminent Part ofhis Character. Parthenissa’s Conditiongives her the same Opportunity; and to resign Conquestsis a Task as difficult in a Beauty as an Hero.In the very Entrance upon this Work she must burnall her Love-Letters; or since she is so candid asnot to call her Lovers who follow her no longer Unfaithful,it would be a very good beginning of a new Life fromthat of a Beauty, to send them back to those who writthem, with this honest Inscription, Articles of aMarriage Treaty broken off by the Small-Pox. Ihave known but one Instance, where a Matter of thisKind went on after a like Misfortune, where the Lady,who was a Woman of Spirit, writ this Billet to herLover.SIR, If you flattered me before I hadthis terrible Malady, pray come and see me now:But if you sincerely liked me, stay away; for I amnot the same Corinna.
The Lover thought there was something so sprightlyin her Behaviour, that he answered,
Madam, I am not obliged, since youare not the same Woman, to let you know whetherI flattered you or not; but I assure you, I do not,when I tell you I now like you above all your Sex,and hope you will bear what may befall me when weare both one, as well as you do what happens toyour self now you are single; therefore I am readyto take such a Spirit for my Companion as soon asyou please. Amilcar.
If Parthenissa can now possess her own Mind, and thinkas little of her Beauty as she ought to have donewhen she had it, there will be no great Diminutionof her Charms; and if she was formerly affected toomuch with them, an easie Behaviour will more thanmake up for the Loss of them. Take the wholeSex together, and you find those who have the strongestPossession of Mens Hearts are not eminent for theirBeauty: You see it often happen that those whoengage Men to the greatest Violence, are such as thosewho are Strangers to them would take to be remarkablydefective for that End. The fondest Lover I know,said to me one Day in a Crowd of Women at an Entertainmentof Musick, You have often heard me talk of my Beloved:That Woman there, continued he, smiling when he hadfixed my Eye, is her very Picture. The Lady heshewed me was by much the least remarkable for Beautyof any in the whole Assembly; but having my Curiosityextremely raised, I could not keep my Eyes off of her.Her Eyes at last met mine, and with a sudden Surprizeshe looked round her to see who near her was remarkablyhandsome that I was gazing at. This little Actexplain’d the Secret: She did not understandherself for the Object of Love, and therefore shewas so. The Lover is a very honest plain Man;and what charmed him was a Person that goes along withhim in the Cares and Joys of Life, not taken up withher self, but sincerely attentive with a ready andchearful Mind, to accompany him in either.
I can tell Parthenissa for her Comfort, That the Beauties,generally speaking, are the most impertinent and disagreeableof Women. An apparent Desire of Admiration, aReflection upon their own Merit, and a precious Behaviourin their general Conduct, are almost inseparable Accidentsin Beauties. All you obtain of them is grantedto Importunity and Sollicitation for what did notdeserve so much of your Time, and you recover fromthe Possession of it, as out of a Dream.
You are ashamed of the Vagaries of Fancy which sostrangely mis-led you, and your Admiration of a Beauty,merely as such, is inconsistent with a tolerable Reflectionupon your self: The chearful good-humoured Creatures,into whose Heads it never entred that they could makeany Man unhappy, are the Persons formed for makingMen happy. There’s Miss Liddy can dancea Jigg, raise Paste, write a good Hand, keep an Account,give a reasonable Answer, and do as she is bid; whileher elder Sister Madam Martha is out of Humour, hasthe Spleen, learns by Reports of People of higherQuality new Ways of being uneasie and displeased.And this happens for no Reason in the World, but thatpoor Liddy knows she has no such thing as a certainNegligence that is so becoming, that there is notI know not what in her Air: And that if she talkslike a Fool, there is no one will say, Well!I know not what it is, but every Thing pleases whenshe speaks it.
Ask any of the Husbands of your great Beauties, andthey’ll tell you that they hate their WivesNine Hours of every Day they pass together. Thereis such a Particularity for ever affected by them,that they are incumbered with their Charms in allthey say or do. They pray at publick Devotionsas they are Beauties. They converse on ordinaryOccasions as they are Beauties. Ask Belinda whatit is a Clock, and she is at a stand whether so greata Beauty should answer you. In a Word, I think,instead of offering to administer Consolation to Parthenissa,I should congratulate her Metamorphosis; and howevershe thinks she was not in the least insolent in theProsperity of her Charms, she was enough so to findshe may make her self a much more agreeable Creaturein her present Adversity. The Endeavour to pleaseis highly promoted by a Consciousness that the Approbationof the Person you would be agreeable to, is a Favouryou do not deserve; for in this Case Assurance of Successis the most certain way to Disappointment. Good-Naturewill always supply the Absence of Beauty, but Beautycannot long supply the Absence of Good-Nature.
P. S.
Madam, February 18.
I have yours of this Day, wherein you twice bid menot to disoblige
you, but you must explain yourself further beforeI know what to do.
Your most obedient Servant,
The SPECTATOR.
T.
[Footnote 1: Mr. John Duncombe ascribed thisletter to his relative, John Hughes, and said thatby Parthenissa was meant a Miss Rotherham, afterwardsmarried to the Rev. Mr. Wyatt, master of Felsted School,in Essex. The name of Parthenissa is from theheroine of a romance by Roger Boyle, Earl of Orrery.]
* * * * *
No. 307. Thursday, February 21, 1712. Budgell.
—Versate diu quid ferre recusent
Quid valeant humeri—
Hor.
I am so well pleased with the following Letter, thatI am in hopes it will not be a disagreeable Presentto the Publick.
Sir, Though I believe none of yourReaders more admire your agreeable manner of workingup Trifles than my self, yet as your Speculationsare now swelling into Volumes, and will in all Probabilitypass down to future Ages, methinks I would haveno single Subject in them, wherein the general Goodof Mankind is concern’d, left unfinished.
I have a long time expected with greatImpatience that you would enlarge upon the ordinaryMistakes which are committed in the Education ofour Children. I the more easily flattered my selfthat you would one time or other resume this Consideration,because you tell us that your 168th Paper was onlycomposed of a few broken Hints; but finding myselfhitherto disappointed, I have ventur’d to sendyou my own Thoughts on this Subject.
I remember Pericles in his famous Orationat the Funeral of those Athenian young Men who perishedin the Samian Expedition, has a Thought very muchcelebrated by several Ancient Criticks, namely, Thatthe Loss which the Commonwealth suffered by the Destructionof its Youth, was like the Loss which the Year wouldsuffer by the Destruction of the Spring. ThePrejudice which the Publick sustains from a wrongEducation of Children, is an Evil of the same Nature,as it in a manner starves Posterity, and defraudsour Country of those Persons who, with due Care,might make an eminent Figure in their respectivePosts of Life.
I have seen a Book written by Juan Huartes,[1]a Spanish Physician, entitled Examen de Ingenios,wherein he lays it down as one of his first Positions,that Nothing but Nature can qualifie a Man for Learning;and that without a proper Temperament for the particularArt or Science which he studies, his utmost Painsand Application, assisted by the ablest Masters,will be to no purpose.
He illustrates this by the Example ofTully’s Son Marcus.
Cicero, in order to accomplish his Sonin that sort of Learning which he designed him for,sent him to Athens, the most celebrated Academy atthat time in the World, and where a vast Concourse,out of the most Polite Nations, could not but furnisha young Gentleman with a Multitude of great Examples,and Accidents that might insensibly have instructedhim in his designed Studies: He placed him underthe Care of Cratippus, who was one of the greatestPhilosophers of the Age, and, as if all the Bookswhich were at that time written had not been sufficientfor his Use, he composed others on purpose for him:Notwithstanding all this, History informs us, thatMarcus proved a meer Blockhead, and that Nature,(who it seems was even with the Son for her Prodigalityto the Father) rendered him incapable of improvingby all the Rules of Eloquence, the Precepts of Philosophy,his own Endeavours, and the most refined Conversationin Athens. This Author therefore proposes,that there should be certain Tryers or Examiners appointedby the State to inspect the Genius of every particularBoy, and to allot him the Part that is most suitableto his natural Talents.
Plato in one of his Dialogues tells us,that Socrates, who was the Son of a Midwife, usedto say, that as his Mother, tho she was very skilfulin her Profession, could not deliver a Woman, unlessshe was first with Child; so neither could he himselfraise Knowledge out of a Mind, where Nature hadnot planted it.
Accordingly the Method this Philosophertook, of instructing his
Scholars by several Interrogatories orQuestions, was only helping the
Birth, and bringing their own Thoughtsto Light.
The Spanish Doctor above mentioned, ashis Speculations grow more refined, asserts thatevery kind of Wit has a particular Science correspondingto it, and in which alone it can be truly Excellent.As to those Genius’s, which may seem to havean equal Aptitude for several things, he regardsthem as so many unfinished Pieces of Nature wroughtoff in haste.
There are, indeed, but very few to whomNature has been so unkind, that they are not capableof shining in some Science or other. There isa certain Byass towards Knowledge in every Mind, whichmay be strengthened and improved by proper Applications.
The Story of Clavius [2] is very wellknown; he was entered in a College of Jesuits, andafter having been tryed at several Parts of Learning,was upon the Point of being dismissed as an hopelessBlockhead, till one of the Fathers took it into hisHead to make an assay of his Parts in Geometry,which it seems hit his Genius so luckily that heafterwards became one of the greatest Mathematiciansof the Age. It is commonly thought that theSagacity of these Fathers, in discovering the Talentof a young Student, has not a little contributedto the Figure which their Order has made in the World.
How different from this manner of Educationis that which prevails in our own Country?Where nothing is more usual than to see forty or fiftyBoys of several Ages, Tempers and Inclinations, rangedtogether in the same Class, employed upon the sameAuthors, and enjoyned the same Tasks? Whatevertheir natural Genius may be, they are all to be madePoets, Historians, and Orators alike. They areall obliged to have the same Capacity, to bringin the same Tale of Verse, and to furnish out thesame Portion of Prose. Every Boy is bound to haveas good a Memory as the Captain of the Form.To be brief, instead of adapting Studies to theparticular Genius of a Youth, we expect from theyoung Man, that he should adapt his Genius to his Studies.This, I must confess, is not so much to be imputedto the Instructor, as to the Parent, who will neverbe brought to believe, that his Son is not capableof performing as much as his Neighbours, and that hemay not make him whatever he has a Mind to.
If the present Age is more laudable thanthose which have gone before it in any single Particular,it is in that generous Care which several well-disposedPersons have taken in the Education of poor Children;and as in these Charity-Schools there is no Placeleft for the over-weening Fondness of a Parent,the Directors of them would make them beneficialto the Publick, if they considered the Precept whichI have been thus long inculcating. They mighteasily, by well examining the Parts of those undertheir Inspection, make a just Distribution of theminto proper Classes and Divisions, and allot to themthis or that particular Study, as their Genius qualifiesthem for Professions, Trades, Handicrafts, or Serviceby Sea or Land.
How is this kind of Regulation wantingin the three great
Professions!
Dr. South complaining of Persons who tookupon them Holy Orders, tho altogether unqualifiedfor the Sacred Function, says somewhere, that manya Man runs his Head against a Pulpit, who might havedone his Country excellent Service at a Plough-tail.
In like manner many a Lawyer, who makesbut an indifferent Figure at
the Bar, might have made a very elegantWaterman, and have shined at
the Temple Stairs, tho he can get no Businessin the House.
I have known a Corn-cutter, who with aright Education would have
been an excellent Physician.
To descend lower, are not our Streetsfilled with sagacious Draymen, and Politicians inLiveries? We have several Taylors of six Foothigh, and meet with many a broad pair of Shouldersthat are thrown away upon a Barber, when perhapsat the same time we see a pigmy Porter reeling undera Burthen, who might have managed a Needle with muchDexterity, or have snapped his Fingers with greatEase to himself, and Advantage to the Publick.
The Spartans, tho they acted with theSpirit which I am here speaking of, carried it muchfarther than what I propose: Among them itwas not lawful for the Father himself to bring up hisChildren after his own Fancy. As soon as theywere seven Years old they were all listed in severalCompanies, and disciplined by the Publick. Theold Men were Spectators of their Performances, whooften raised Quarrels among them, and set them atStrife with one another, that by those early Discoveriesthey might see how their several Talents lay, andwithout any regard to their Quality, dispose of themaccordingly for the Service of the Commonwealth.By this Means Sparta soon became the Mistress ofGreece, and famous through the whole World for herCivil and Military Discipline.
If you think this Letter deserves a placeamong your Speculations, I
may perhaps trouble you with some otherThoughts on the same Subject.
I am, &c.
X.
[Footnote 1: Juan Huarte was born in French Navarre,and obtained much credit in the sixteenth centuryfor the book here cited. It was translated intoLatin and French. The best edition is of Cologne,1610.]
[Footnote 2: Christopher Clavius, a native ofBamberg, died in 1612, aged 75, at Rome, whither hehad been sent by the Jesuits, and where he was regardedas the Euclid of his age. It was Clavius whomPope Gregory XIII. employed in 1581 to effect thereform in the Roman Calendar promulgated in 1582,when the 5th of October became throughout Catholiccountries the 15th of the New Style, an improvementthat was not admitted into Protestant England until1752. Clavius wrote an Arithmetic and Commentarieson Euclid, and justified his reform of the Calendaragainst the criticism of Scaliger.]
* * * * *
No. 308. Friday, February 22, 1712. Steele.
Jam proterva
Fronte petet Lalage maritum.
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I give you this Trouble in order to proposemy self to you as an Assistant in the weighty Careswhich you have thought fit to undergo for the publickGood. I am a very great Lover of Women, that isto say honestly, and as it is natural to study whatone likes, I have industriously applied my selfto understand them. The present Circ*mstancerelating to them, is, that I think there wants underyou, as SPECTATOR, a Person to be distinguishedand vested in the Power and Quality of a Censoron Marriages. I lodge at the Temple, and know,by seeing Women come hither, and afterwards observingthem conducted by their Council to Judges Chambers,that there is a Custom in Case of making Conveyanceof a Wife’s Estate, that she is carried to aJudges Apartment and left alone with him, to beexamined in private whether she has not been frightenedor sweetned by her Spouse into the Act she is goingto do, or whether it is of her own free Will.Now if this be a Method founded upon Reason andEquity, why should there not be also a proper Officerfor examining such as are entring into the State ofMatrimony, whether they are forced by Parents onone Side, or moved by Interest only on the other,to come together, and bring forth such awkward Heirsas are the Product of half Love and constrained Compliances?There is no Body, though I say it my self, would befitter for this Office than I am: For I am anugly Fellow of great Wit and Sagacity. My Fatherwas an hail Country-Squire, my Mother a witty Beautyof no Fortune: The Match was made by Consent ofmy Mothers Parents against her own: and I amthe Child of a Rape on the Wedding-Night; so thatI am as healthy and as homely as my Father, but assprightly and agreeable as my Mother. It wouldbe of great Ease to you if you would use me underyou, that Matches might be better regulated forthe future, and we might have no more Children ofSquabbles. I shall not reveal all my Pretensionstill I receive your Answer; and am, Sir, Yourmost humble Servant, Mules Palfrey.
Mr. Spectator,
I am one of those unfortunate Men withinthe City-Walls, who am married to a Woman of Quality,but her Temper is something different from thatof Lady Anvil. My Lady’s whole Time andThoughts are spent in keeping up to the Mode bothin Apparel and Furniture. All the Goods inmy House have been changed three times in seven Years.I have had seven Children by her; and by our MarriageArticles she was to have her Apartment new furnishedas often as she lay in. Nothing in our Houseis useful but that which is fashionable; my Pewterholds out generally half a Year, my Plate a fullTwelvemonth; Chairs are not fit to sit in that weremade two Years since, nor Beds fit for any thing butto sleep in that have stood up above that Time.My Dear is of Opinion that an old-fashioned Grateconsumes Coals, but gives no Heat: If she drinksout of Glasses of last Year, she cannot distinguishWine from Small-Beer. Oh dear Sir you may guessall the rest. Yours.
P. S. I could bear even all this, if Iwere not obliged also to eat fashionably. Ihave a plain Stomach, and have a constant Loathingof whatever comes to my own Table; for which ReasonI dine at the Chop-House three Days a Week:Where the good Company wonders they never see youof late. I am sure by your unprejudiced Discoursesyou love Broth better than Soup.
Wills, Feb. 19.
Mr. Spectator, You may believe youare a Person as much talked of as any Man in Town.I am one of your best Friends in this House, andhave laid a Wager you are so candid a Man and sohonest a Fellow, that you will print this Letter,tho it is in Recommendation of a new Paper called TheHistorian. [1] I have read it carefully, and findit written with Skill, good Sense, Modesty, andFire. You must allow the Town is kinder toyou than you deserve; and I doubt not but you haveso much Sense of the World, Change of Humour, andinstability of all humane Things, as to understand,that the only Way to preserve Favour, is to communicateit to others with Good-Nature and Judgment. Youare so generally read, that what you speak of willbe read. This with Men of Sense and Taste isall that is wanting to recommend The Historian.I am, Sir, Your daily Advocate, Reader Gentle.
I was very much surprised this Morning, that any oneshould find out my Lodging, and know it so well, asto come directly to my Closet-Door, and knock at it,to give me the following Letter. When I came outI opened it, and saw by a very strong Pair of Shoesand a warm Coat the Bearer had on, that he walkedall the Way to bring it me, tho dated from York.My Misfortune is that I cannot talk, and I found theMessenger had so much of me, that he could think betterthan speak. He had, I observed, a polite Discerninghid under a shrewd Rusticity: He delivered thePaper with a Yorkshire Tone and a Town Leer.
Mr. Spectator, The Privilege you haveindulged John Trot has proved of very bad Consequenceto our illustrious Assembly, which, besides the manyexcellent Maxims it is founded upon, is remarkablefor the extraordinary Decorum always observed init. One Instance of which is that the Carders,(who are always of the first Quality) never begin toplay till the French-Dances are finished, and theCountry-Dances begin: But John Trot havingnow got your Commission in his Pocket, (which everyone here has a profound Respect for) has the Assuranceto set up for a Minuit-Dancer. Not only so,but he has brought down upon us the whole Body ofthe Trots, which are very numerous, with their Auxiliariesthe Hobblers and the Skippers, by which Means the Timeis so much wasted, that unless we break all Rulesof Government, it must redound to the utter Subversionof the Brag-Table, the discreet Members of whichvalue Time as Fribble’s Wife does her Pin-Money.We are pretty well assured that your Indulgenceto Trot was only in relation to Country-Dances;however we have deferred the issuing an Order ofCouncil upon the Premisses, hoping to get you to joinwith us, that Trot, nor any of his Clan, presumefor the future to dance any but Country-Dances,unless a Horn-Pipe upon a Festival-Day. If youwill do this you will oblige a great many Ladies,and particularly Your most humble Servant, Eliz.Sweepstakes. York, Feb. 16.
I never meant any other than that Mr. Trott shouldconfine himself to Country-Dances. And I furtherdirect, that he shall take out none but his own Relationsaccording to their Nearness of Blood, but any Gentlewomanmay take out him.
London, Feb. 21.
The Spectator.
T.
[Footnote 1: Steele’s papers had many imitations,as the Historian, here named; the Rhapsody, Observator,Moderator, Growler, Censor, Hermit, Surprize, SilentMonitor, Inquisitor, Pilgrim, Restorer, Instructor,Grumbler, &c. There was also in 1712 a Rambler,anticipating the name of Dr. Johnsons Rambler of 1750-2.]
* * * * *
No. 309. Saturday, February 23, 1712. Addison.
Di, quibus imperium est animarum, umbraequesilentes,
Et Chaos, et Phlegethon, loca nocte silentialate;
Sit mihi fas audita loqui! sit numinevestro
Pandere res alta terra et caligine mersas.
Virg.
I have before observed in general, that the Personswhom Milton introduces into his Poem always discoversuch Sentiments and Behaviour, as are in a peculiarmanner conformable to their respective Characters.Every Circ*mstance in their Speeches and Actions iswith great Justness and Delicacy adapted to the Personswho speak and act. As the Poet very much excelsin this Consistency of his Characters, I shall begLeave to consider several Passages of the Second Bookin this Light. That superior Greatness and Mock-Majesty,
which is ascribed to the Prince of the fallen Angels,is admirably preserved in the Beginning of this Book.His opening and closing the Debate; his taking on himselfthat great Enterprize at the Thought of which thewhole Infernal Assembly trembled; his encounteringthe hideous Phantom who guarded the Gates of Hell,and appeared to him in all his Terrors, are Instancesof that proud and daring Mind which could not brookSubmission even to Omnipotence.Satan was now at hand, and from his Seat
The Monster moving onward came as fast
With horrid strides, Hell trembled ashe strode,
Th’ undaunted Fiend what this mightbe admir’d,
Admired, not fear’d—
The same Boldness and Intrepidity of Behaviour discoversit self in the several Adventures which he meets withduring his Passage through the Regions of unformedMatter, and particularly in his Address to those tremendousPowers who are described as presiding over it.
The Part of Moloch is likewise in all its Circ*mstancesfull of that Fire and Fury which distinguish thisSpirit from the rest of the fallen Angels. Heis described in the first Book as besmeared with theBlood of Human Sacrifices, and delighted with theTears of Parents and the Cries of Children. Inthe Second Book he is marked out as the fiercest Spiritthat fought in Heaven: and if we consider theFigure which he makes in the Sixth Book, where theBattle of the Angels is described, we find it everyway answerable to the same furious enraged Character.
—Where the might of Gabriel fought,
And with fierce Ensigns pierc’dthe deep array
Of Moloc, furious King, who him defy’d,
And at his chariot wheels to drag himbound
Threatened, nor from the Holy one of Heavn
Refrain’d his tongue blasphemous;but anon
Down cloven to the waste, with shatter’darms
And uncouth pain fled bellowing.—
It may be worth while to observe, that Milton hasrepresented this violent impetuous Spirit, who ishurried only by such precipitate Passions, as thefirst that rises in that Assembly, to give his Opinionupon their present Posture of Affairs. Accordinglyhe declares himself abruptly for War, and appearsincensed at his Companions, for losing so much Timeas even to deliberate upon it. All his Sentimentsare Rash, Audacious and Desperate. Such is thatof arming themselves with their Tortures, and turningtheir Punishments upon him who inflicted them.
—No, let us rather chuse,
Arm’d with Hell flames and fury,all at once
O’er Heavens high tow’rs toforce resistless way,
Turning our tortures into horrid arms
Against the Torturer; when to meet theNoise
Of his almighty Engine he shall hear
Infernal Thunder, and for Lightning see
Black fire and horror shot with equalrage
Among his Angels; and his throne it self
Mixt with Tartarean Sulphur, and strangeFire,
His own invented Torments—
His preferring Annihilation to Shame or Misery, isalso highly suitable to his Character; as the Comforthe draws from their disturbing the Peace of Heaven,that if it be not Victory it is Revenge, is a Sentimenttruly Diabolical, and becoming the Bitterness of thisimplacable Spirit.
Belial is described in the first Book, as the Idolof the Lewd and Luxurious. He is in the SecondBook, pursuant to that Description, characterisedas timorous and slothful; and if we look in the SixthBook, we find him celebrated in the Battel of Angelsfor nothing but that scoffing Speech which he makesto Satan, on their supposed Advantage over the Enemy.As his Appearance is uniform, and of a Piece, in thesethree several Views, we find his Sentiments in theInfernal Assembly every way conformable to his Character.Such are his Apprehensions of a second Battel, hisHorrors of Annihilation, his preferring to be miserablerather than not to be. I need not observe, thatthe Contrast of Thought in this Speech, and that whichprecedes it, gives an agreeable Variety to the Debate.
Mammon’s Character is so fully drawn in theFirst Book, that the Poet adds nothing to it in theSecond. We were before told, that he was thefirst who taught Mankind to ransack the Earth for Goldand Silver, and that he was the Architect of Pandaemonium,or the Infernal Place, where the Evil Spirits wereto meet in Council. His Speech in this Book isevery way suitable to so depraved a Character.How proper is that Reflection, of their being unableto taste the Happiness of Heaven were they actuallythere, in the Mouth of one, who while he was in Heaven,is said to have had his Mind dazled with the outwardPomps and Glories of the Place, and to have been moreintent on the Riches of the Pavement, than on theBeatifick Vision. I shall also leave the Readerto judge how agreeable the following Sentiments areto the same Character.
—This deep World
Of Darkness do we dread? How oftamidst
Thick cloud and dark doth Heavns all-rulingSire
Chuse to reside, his Glory umobscured,
And with the Majesty of Darkness round
Covers his Throne; from whence deep Thundersroar
Mustering their Rage, and Heavn resemblesHell?
As he our Darkness, cannot we his Light
Imitate when we please? This desartSoil
Wants not her hidden Lustre, Gems andGold;
Nor want we Skill or Art, from whenceto raise
Magnificence; and what can Heavn shewmore?
Beelzebub, who is reckoned the second in Dignity thatfell, and is, in the First Book, the second that awakensout of the Trance, and confers with Satan upon theSituation of their Affairs, maintains his Rank inthe Book now before us. There is a wonderful Majestydescribed in his rising up to speak. He actsas a kind of Moderator between the two opposite Parties,and proposes a third Undertaking, which the wholeAssembly gives into. The Motion he makes of detachingone of their Body in search of a new World is groundedupon a Project devised by Satan, and cursorily proposedby him in the following Lines of the first Book.
Space may produce new Worlds, whereofso rife
There went a Fame in Heavn, that he erelong
Intended to create, and therein plant
A Generation, whom his choice Regard
Should favour equal to the Sons of Heaven:
Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps
Our first Eruption, thither or elsewhere:
For this Infernal Pit shall never hold
Celestial Spirits in Bondage, nor th’Abyss
Long under Darkness cover. But theseThoughts
Full Counsel must mature:—
It is on this Project that Beelzebub grounds his Proposal.
—What if we find
Some easier Enterprise? There isa Place
(If ancient and prophetick Fame in Heavn
Err not) another World, the happy Seat
Of some new Race call’d MAN, aboutthis Time
To be created like to us, though less
In Power and Excellence, but favouredmore
Of him who rules above; so was his Will
Pronounc’d among the Gods, and byan Oath,
That shook Heavns whole Circumference,confirm’d.
The Reader may observe how just it was not to omitin the First Book the Project upon which the wholePoem turns: As also that the Prince of the fallenAngels was the only proper Person to give it Birth,and that the next to him in Dignity was the fittestto second and support it.
There is besides, I think, something wonderfully Beautiful,and very apt to affect the Readers Imagination inthis ancient Prophecy or Report in Heaven, concerningthe Creation of Man. Nothing could shew more theDignity of the Species, than this Tradition which ranof them before their Existence. They are representedto have been the Talk of Heaven, before they werecreated. Virgil, in compliment to the Roman Commonwealth,makes the Heroes of it appear in their State of Pre-existence;but Milton does a far greater Honour to Man-kind ingeneral, as he gives us a Glimpse of them even beforethey are in Being.
The rising of this great Assembly is described ina very Sublime and Poetical Manner.
Their rising all at once was as the Sound
Of Thunder heard remote—
The Diversions of the fallen Angels, with the particularAccount of their Place of Habitation, are describedwith great Pregnancy of Thought, and Copiousness ofInvention. The Diversions are every way suitableto Beings who had nothing left them but Strength andKnowledge misapplied. Such are their Contentionsat the Race, and in Feats of Arms, with their Entertainmentin the following Lines.
Others with vast Typhaean rage more fell
Rend up both Rocks and Hills, and ridethe Air
In Whirlwind; Hell scarce holds the wildUproar.
Their Musick is employed in celebrating their owncriminal Exploits, and their Discourse in soundingthe unfathomable Depths of Fate, Free-will and Fore-knowledge.
The several Circ*mstances in the Description of Hellare finely imagined; as the four Rivers which disgorgethemselves into the Sea of Fire, the Extreams of Coldand Heat, and the River of Oblivion. The monstrousAnimals produced in that Infernal World are representedby a single Line, which gives us a more horrid Ideaof them, than a much longer Description would havedone.
—Nature breeds,
Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigiousThings,
Abominable, inutterable, and worse
Than Fables yet have feign’d, orFear conceiv’d,
Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimeras dire.
This Episode of the fallen Spirits, and their Placeof Habitation, comes in very happily to unbend theMind of the Reader from its Attention to the Debate.An ordinary Poet would indeed have spun out so manyCirc*mstances to a great Length, and by that meanshave weakned, instead of illustrated, the principalFable.
The Flight of Satan to the Gates of Hell is finelyimaged. I have already declared my Opinion ofthe Allegory concerning Sin and Death, which is howevera very finished Piece in its kind, when it is notconsidered as a Part of an Epic Poem. The Genealogyof the several Persons is contrived with great Delicacy.Sin is the Daughter of Satan, and Death the Offspringof Sin. The incestuous Mixture between Sin andDeath produces those Monsters and Hell-hounds whichfrom time to time enter into their Mother, and tearthe Bowels of her who gave them Birth. Theseare the Terrors of an evil Conscience, and the properFruits of Sin, which naturally rise from the Apprehensionsof Death. This last beautiful Moral is, I think,clearly intimated in the Speech of Sin, where complainingof this her dreadful Issue, she adds,
Before mine Eyes in Opposition sits
Grim Death my Son and Foe, who sets themon,
And me his Parent would full soon devour
For want of other Prey, but that he knows
His End with mine involv’d—
I need not mention to the Reader the beautiful Circ*mstancein the last Part of this Quotation. He will likewiseobserve how naturally the three Persons concernedin this Allegory are tempted by one common Interestto enter into a Confederacy together, and how properlySin is made the Portress of Hell, and the only Beingthat can open the Gates to that World of Tortures.
The descriptive Part of this Allegory is likewisevery strong, and full of Sublime Ideas. The Figureof Death, [the Regal Crown upon his Head,] his Menaceof Satan, his advancing to the Combat, the Outcry athis Birth, are Circ*mstances too noble to be pastover in Silence, and extreamly suitable to this Kingof Terrors. I need not mention the Justness ofThought which is observed in the Generation of theseseveral Symbolical Persons; that Sin was producedupon the first Revolt of Satan, that Death appear’dsoon after he was cast into Hell, and that the Terrorsof Conscience were conceived at the Gate of this Placeof Torments. The Description of the Gates isvery poetical, as the opening of them is full of Milton’sSpirit.
—On a sudden open fly
With impetuous Recoil and jarring Sound
Th’ infernal Doors, and on theirHinges grate
Harsh Thunder, that the lowest Bottomshook
Of Erebus. She open’d, butto shut
Excell’d her Powr; the Gates wide
That with extended Wings a banner’dHost
Under spread Ensigns marching might passthrough
With Horse and Chariots rank’d inloose Array;
So wide they stood, and like a FurnaceMouth
Cast forth redounding Smoak and ruddyFlame.
In Satan’s Voyage through the Chaos there areseveral Imaginary Persons described, as residing inthat immense Waste of Matter. This may perhapsbe conformable to the Taste of those Criticks who arepleased with nothing in a Poet which has not Lifeand Manners ascribed to it; but for my own Part, Iam pleased most with those Passages in this Descriptionwhich carry in them a greater Measure of Probability,and are such as might possibly have happened.Of this kind is his first mounting in the Smoke thatrises from the Infernal Pit, his falling into a Cloudof Nitre, and the like combustible Materials, thatby their Explosion still hurried him forward in hisVoyage; his springing upward like a Pyramid of Fire,with his laborious Passage through that Confusion ofElements which the Poet calls
The Womb of Nature, and perhaps her Grave.
The Glimmering Light which shot into the Chaos fromthe utmost Verge of the Creation, with the distantdiscovery of the Earth that hung close by the Moon,are wonderfully Beautiful and Poetical.
L.
* * * * *
No. 310. Monday, February 25,1712. Steele.
Connubio Jungam stabili—
Virg.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a certain young Woman that love acertain young Man very heartily; and my Father andMother were for it a great while, but now they sayI can do better, but I think I cannot. They bidme love him, and I cannot unlove him. Whatmust I do? speak quickly.
Biddy Dow-bake.
Dear SPEC,
Feb. 19, 1712.
I have lov’d a Lady entirely forthis Year and Half, tho for a great Part of theTime (which has contributed not a little to my Pain)I have been debarred the Liberty of conversing withher. The Grounds of our Difference was this;that when we had enquired into each others Circ*mstances,we found that at our first setting out into the World,we should owe five hundred Pounds more than her Fortunewould pay off. My Estate is seven hundred Poundsa Year, besides the benefit of Tin-Mines. Now,dear SPEC, upon this State of the Case, and the Lady’spositive Declaration that there is still no otherObjection, I beg you’ll not fail to insertthis, with your Opinion as soon as possible, whetherthis ought to be esteemed a just Cause or Impedimentwhy we should not be join’d, and you willfor ever oblige
Yours sincerely,
Dick Lovesick.
P. S. Sir, if I marry this Lady by theAssistance of your Opinion, you
may expect a Favour for it.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I have the misfortune to be one of thoseunhappy Men who are distinguished by the Name ofdiscarded Lovers; but I am the less mortified atmy Disgrace, because the young Lady is one of thoseCreatures who set up for Negligence of Men, are forsooththe most rigidly Virtuous in the World, and yettheir Nicety will permit them, at the Command ofParents, to go to Bed to the most utter Stranger thatcan be proposed to them. As to me my self, I wasintroduced by the Father of my Mistress; but findI owe my being at first received to a Comparisonof my Estate with that of a former Lover, and thatI am now in like manner turned off, to give Wayto an humble Servant still richer than I am.What makes this Treatment the more extravagant is,that the young Lady is in the Management of this wayof Fraud, and obeys her Fathers Orders on theseOccasions without any Manner of Reluctance, anddoes it with the same Air that one of your Men of theWorld would signifie the Necessity of Affairs forturning another out of Office. When I camehome last Night I found this Letter from my Mistress.
SIR,
I hope you will not think it is anymanner of Disrespect to your Person or Merit,that the intended Nuptials between us are interrupted.My Father says he has a much better Offer for me thanyou can make, and has ordered me to break off theTreaty between us. If it had proceeded, Ishould have behaved my self with all suitable Regardto you, but as it is, I beg we may be Strangers forthe Future. Adieu.
LYDIA.
This great Indifference on this Subject,and the mercenary Motives for making Alliances,is what I think lies naturally before you, and I begof you to give me your Thoughts upon it. MyAnswer to Lydia was as follows, which I hope youwill approve; for you are to know the Woman’sFamily affect a wonderful Ease on these Occasions,tho they expect it should be painfully receivedon the Man’s Side.
MADAM,
“I have received yours, and knewthe Prudence of your House so well, that I alwaystook Care to be ready to obey your Commands, tho theyshould be to see you no more. Pray give myService to all the good Family.
Adieu,
The Opera Subscription isfull.
cl*tophon.”
Memorandum. The Censor of Marriage to considerthis Letter, and report the common Usages on suchTreaties, with how many Pounds or Acres are generallyesteemed sufficient Reason for preferring a new toan old Pretender; with his Opinion what is properto be determined in such Cases for the future.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
There is an elderly Person, lately leftoff Business and settled in our Town, in order,as he thinks, to retire from the World; but he hasbrought with him such an Inclination to Talebearing,that he disturbs both himself and all our Neighbourhood.Notwithstanding this Frailty, the honest Gentlemanis so happy as to have no Enemy: At the same timehe has not one Friend who will venture to acquainthim with his Weakness. It is not to be doubtedbut if this Failing were set in a proper Light,he would quickly perceive the Indecency and evil Consequencesof it. Now, Sir, this being an Infirmity whichI hope may be corrected, and knowing that he paysmuch Deference to you, I beg that when you are atLeisure to give us a Speculation on Gossiping, youwould think of my Neighbour: You will hereby obligeseveral who will be glad to find a Reformation intheir gray-hair’d Friend: And how becomingwill it be for him, instead of pouring forth Wordsat all Adventures to set a Watch before the Doorof his Mouth, to refrain his Tongue, to check itsImpetuosity, and guard against the Sallies of thatlittle, pert, forward, busie Person; which, under asober Conduct, might prove a useful Member of aSociety. In Compliance with whose Intimations,I have taken the Liberty to make this Address to you.
I am, SIR,
Your most obscure Servant
Philanthropos.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Feb. 16, 1712.
This is to Petition you in Behalf of myself and many more of your gentle Readers, thatat any time when you have private Reasons againstletting us know what you think your self, you wouldbe pleased to pardon us such Letters of your Correspondentsas seem to be of no use but to the Printer.
It is further our humble Request, thatyou would substitute Advertisem*nts in the Placeof such Epistles; and that in order hereunto Mr.Buckley may be authorized to take up of your zealousFriend Mr. Charles Lillie, any Quantity of Wordshe shall from time to time have occasion for.
The many useful parts of Knowledge whichmay be communicated to the
Publick this Way, will, we hope, be aConsideration in favour of your
Petitioners.
And your Petitioners, &c.
Note, That particular Regard be had to this Petition;and the Papers marked Letter R may be carefully examinedfor the future. [1]
T.
[Footnote 1: R. is one of Steele’s signatures,but he had not used it since No. 134 for August 3,1711, every paper of his since that date having beenmarked with a T.]
* * * * *
No. 311. Tuesday, February 26,1712. Addison.
Nec Veneris pharetris macer est; aut lampadefervet:
Inde faces ardent, veniunt a dote sagittae.
Juv.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am amazed that among all the Varietyof Characters, with which you have enriched yourSpeculations, you have never given us a Picture ofthose audacious young Fellows among us, who commonlygo by the Name of Fortune-Stealers. You mustknow, Sir, I am one who live in a continual Apprehensionof this sort of People that lye in wait, Day and Night,for our Children, and may be considered as a kindof Kidnappers within the Law. I am the Fatherof a Young Heiress, whom I begin to look upon asMarriageable, and who has looked upon her self as suchfor above these Six Years. She is now in theEighteenth Year of her Age. The Fortune-huntershave already cast their Eyes upon her, and take careto plant themselves in her View whenever she appearsin any Publick Assembly. I have my self caughta young Jackanapes with a pair of Silver FringedGloves, in the very Fact. You must know, Sir,I have kept her as a Prisoner of State ever sinceshe was in her Teens. Her Chamber Windows arecross-barred, she is not permitted to go out of theHouse but with her Keeper, who is a stay’d Relationof my own; I have likewise forbid her the use ofPen and Ink for this Twelve-Month last past, anddo not suffer a Ban-box to be carried into her Roombefore it has been searched. Notwithstandingthese Precautions, I am at my Wits End for fearof any sudden Surprize. There were, two or threeNights ago, some Fiddles heard in the Street, whichI am afraid portend me no Good; not to mention atall Irish-Man, that has been seen walking beforemy House more than once this Winter. My Kinswomanlikewise informs me, that the Girl has talked toher twice or thrice of a Gentleman in a Fair Wig,and that she loves to go to Church more than evershe did in her Life. She gave me the slip abouta Week ago, upon which my whole House was in Alarm.I immediately dispatched a Hue and Cry after herto the Change, to her Mantua-maker, and to the youngLadies that Visit her; but after above an Hours searchshe returned of herself, having been taking a Walk,as she told me, by Rosamond’s Pond. Ihave hereupon turned off her Woman, doubled her Guards,and given new Instructions to my Relation, who,to give her her due, keeps a watchful Eye over allher Motions. This, Sir, keeps me in a perpetualAnxiety, and makes me very often watch when my Daughtersleeps, as I am afraid she is even with me in herturn. Now, Sir, what I would desire of youis, to represent to this fluttering Tribe of youngFellows, who are for making their Fortunes by theseindirect Means, that stealing a Man’s Daughterfor the sake of her Portion, is but a kind of ToleratedRobbery; and that they make but a poor Amends tothe Father, whom they plunder after this Manner, bygoing to bed with his Child. Dear Sir, be speedyin your Thoughts on this Subject, that, if possible,they may appear before the Disbanding of the Army.
I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
Tim. Watchwell.
Themistocles, the great Athenian General, being askedwhether he would chuse to marry his Daughter to anindigent Man of Merit, or to a worthless Man of anEstate, replied, That he should prefer a Man withoutan Estate, to an Estate without a Man. The worstof it is, our Modern Fortune-Hunters are those whoturn their Heads that way, because they are good fornothing else. If a young Fellow finds he can makenothing of Cook and Littleton, he provides himselfwith a Ladder of Ropes, and by that means very oftenenters upon the Premises.
The same Art of Scaling has likewise been practisedwith good Success by many military Ingineers.Stratagems of this nature make Parts and Industrysuperfluous, and cut short the way to Riches.
Nor is Vanity a less Motive than Idleness to thiskind of Mercenary Pursuit. A Fop who admireshis Person in a Glass, soon enters into a Resolutionof making his Fortune by it, not questioning but everyWoman that falls in his way will do him as much Justiceas he does himself. When an Heiress sees a Manthrowing particular Graces into his Ogle, or talkingloud within her Hearing, she ought to look to her self;but if withal she observes a pair of Red-Heels, aPatch, or any other Particularity in his Dress, shecannot take too much care of her Person. Theseare Baits not to be trifled with, Charms that havedone a world of Execution, and made their way intoHearts which have been thought impregnable. TheForce of a Man with these Qualifications is so wellknown, that I am credibly informed there are severalFemale Undertakers about the Change, who upon theArrival of a likely Man out of a neighbouring Kingdom,will furnish him with proper Dress from Head to Foot,to be paid for at a double Price on the Day of Marriage.
We must however distinguish between Fortune-Huntersand Fortune-Stealers. The first are those assiduousGentlemen who employ their whole Lives in the Chace,without ever coming at the Quarry. Suffenus hascombed and powdered at the Ladies for thirty Yearstogether, and taken his Stand in a Side Box, till hehas grown wrinkled under their Eyes. He is nowlaying the same Snares for the present Generationof Beauties, which he practised on their Mothers.Cottilus, after having made his Applications to morethan you meet with in Mr. Cowley’s Ballad ofMistresses, was at last smitten with a City Lady of20,000L. Sterling: but died of old Age beforehe could bring Matters to bear. Nor must I hereomit my worthy Friend Mr. HONEYCOMB, who has oftentold us in the Club, that for twenty years successively,upon the death of a Childless rich Man, he immediatelydrew on his Boots, called for his Horse, and madeup to the Widow. When he is rallied upon his illSuccess, WILL, with his usual Gaiety tells us, thathe always found [her [1]] Pre-engaged.
Widows are indeed the great Game of your Fortune-Hunters.There is scarce a young Fellow in the Town of sixFoot high, that has not passed in Review before oneor other of these wealthy Relicts. Hudibrass’sCupid, who
—took his Stand
Upon a Widows Jointure Land, [2]
is daily employed in throwing Darts, and kindlingFlames. But as for Widows, they are such a SubtleGeneration of People, that they may be left to theirown Conduct; or if they make a false Step in it, theyare answerable for it to no Body but themselves.The young innocent Creatures who have no Knowledgeand Experience of the World, are those whose SafetyI would principally consult in this Speculation.The stealing of such an one should, in my Opinion,be as punishable as a Rape. Where there is noJudgment there is no Choice; and why the inveiglinga Woman before she is come to Years of Discretion,should not be as Criminal as the seducing of her beforeshe is ten Years old, I am at a Loss to comprehend.
L.
[Footnote 1: them]
[Footnote 2: Hudibras, Part I., Canto 3, II.310-11.]
* * * * *
No. 312. Wednesday, February 27,1712. Steele.
Quod huic Officium, quae laus, quod Decuserit tanti, quod adipisci cum colore Corporis velit,qui dolorem summum malum sibi persuaserit? Quamporro quis ignominiam, quam turpitudinem non pertulerit,ut effugiat dolorem, si id summum malum esse decrevit?
Tull. de Dolore tolerando.
It is a very melancholy Reflection, that Men are usuallyso weak, that it is absolutely necessary for themto know Sorrow and Pain to be in their right Senses.Prosperous People (for Happy there are none) are hurriedaway with a fond Sense of their present Condition,and thoughtless of the Mutability of Fortune:Fortune is a Term which we must use in such Discoursesas these, for what is wrought by the unseen Hand ofthe Disposer of all Things. But methinks the Dispositionof a Mind which is truly great, is that which makesMisfortunes and Sorrows little when they befall ourselves, great and lamentable when they befall otherMen. The most unpardonable Malefactor in the Worldgoing to his Death and bearing it with Composure,would win the Pity of those who should behold him;and this not because his Calamity is deplorable, butbecause he seems himself not to deplore it: Wesuffer for him who is less sensible of his own Misery,and are inclined to despise him who sinks under theWeight of his Distresses. On the other hand, withoutany Touch of Envy, a temperate and well-govern’dMind looks down on such as are exalted with Success,with a certain Shame for the Imbecility of human Nature,that can so far forget how liable it is to Calamity,as to grow giddy with only the Suspence of Sorrow,which is the Portion of all Men. He thereforewho turns his Face from the unhappy Man, who will notlook again when his Eye is cast upon modest Sorrow,who shuns Affliction like a Contagion, does but pamperhimself up for a Sacrifice, and contract in himselfa greater Aptitude to Misery by attempting to escape
it. A Gentleman where I happened to be last Night,fell into a Discourse which I thought shewed a goodDiscerning in him: He took Notice that wheneverMen have looked into their Heart for the Idea of trueExcellency in human Nature, they have found it to consistin Suffering after a right Manner and with a goodGrace. Heroes are always drawn bearing Sorrows,struggling with Adversities, undergoing all kinds ofHardships, and having in the Service of Mankind a kindof Appetite to Difficulties and Dangers. TheGentleman went on to observe, that it is from thissecret Sense of the high Merit which there is in Patienceunder Calamities, that the Writers of Romances, whenthey attempt to furnish out Characters of the highestExcellence, ransack Nature for things terrible; theyraise a new Creation of Monsters, Dragons, and Giants:Where the Danger ends, the Hero ceases; when he wonan Empire, or gained his Mistress, the rest of hisStory is not worth relating. My Friend carriedhis Discourse so far as to say, that it was for higherBeings than Men to join Happiness and Greatness inthe same Idea; but that in our Condition we have noConception of superlative Excellence, or Heroism,but as it is surrounded with a Shade of Distress.It is certainly the proper Education we should giveour selves, to be prepared for the ill Events andAccidents we are to meet with in a Life sentencedto be a Scene of Sorrow: But instead of this Expectation,we soften our selves with Prospects of constant Delight,and destroy in our Minds the Seeds of Fortitude andVirtue, which should support us in Hours of Anguish.The constant Pursuit of Pleasure has in it somethinginsolent and improper for our Being. There isa pretty sober Liveliness in the Ode of Horace toDelius, where he tells him, loud Mirth, or immoderateSorrow, Inequality of Behaviour either in Prosperityor Adversity, are alike ungraceful in Man that isborn to die. Moderation in both Circ*mstancesis peculiar to generous Minds: Men of that Sortever taste the Gratifications of Health, and all otherAdvantages of Life, as if they were liable to partwith them, and when bereft of them, resign them witha Greatness of Mind which shews they know their Valueand Duration. The Contempt of Pleasure is a certainPreparatory for the Contempt of Pain: Withoutthis, the Mind is as it were taken suddenly by anyunforeseen Event; but he that has always, during Healthand Prosperity, been abstinent in his Satisfactions,enjoys, in the worst of Difficulties, the Reflection,that his Anguish is not aggravated with the Comparisonof past Pleasures which upbraid his present Condition.Tully tells us a Story after Pompey, which gives usa good Taste of the pleasant Manner the Men of Witand Philosophy had in old Times of alleviating theDistresses of Life by the Force of Reason and Philosophy.Pompey, when he came to Rhodes, had a Curiosity tovisit the famous Philosopher Possidonius; but findinghim in his sick Bed, he bewailed the Misfortune thathe should not hear a Discourse from him: Butyou may, answered Possidonius; and immediately enteredinto the Point of Stoical Philosophy, which says Painis not an Evil. During the Discourse, upon everyPuncture he felt from his Distemper, he smiled andcried out, Pain, Pain, be as impertinent and troublesomeas you please, I shall never own that thou art anEvil.
Mr. Spectator, Having seen in severalof your Papers, a Concern for the Honour of the Clergy,and their doing every thing as becomes their Character,and particularly performing the publick Servicewith a due Zeal and Devotion; I am the more encouragedto lay before them, by your Means, several Expressionsused by some of them in their Prayers before Sermon,which I am not well satisfied in: As their givingsome Titles and Epithets to great Men, which areindeed due to them in their several Ranks and Stations,but not properly used, I think, in our Prayers.Is it not Contradiction to say, Illustrious, Right,Reverend, and Right Honourable poor Sinners?These Distinctions are suited only to our Statehere, and have no place in Heaven: We see theyare omitted in the Liturgy; which I think the Clergyshould take for their Pattern in their own Formsof [Devotion. [1]] There is another Expression whichI would not mention, but that I have heard it severaltimes before a learned Congregation, to bring inthe last Petition of the Prayer in these Words,O let not the Lord be angry and I will speak butthis once; as if there was no Difference between Abraham’sinterceding for Sodom, for which he had no Warrantas we can find, and our asking those Things whichwe are required to pray for; they would thereforehave much more Reason to fear his Anger if they didnot make such Petitions to him. There is anotherpretty Fancy: When a young Man has a Mind tolet us know who gave him his Scarf, he speaks a Parenthesisto the Almighty, Bless, as I am in Duty bound to pray,the right honourable the Countess; is not that asmuch as to say, Bless her, for thou knowest I amher Chaplain?
Your humble Servant,
J. O.
T.
[Footnote 1: Devotion. Another Expressionwhich I take to be improper, is this, the whole Raceof Mankind, when they pray for all Men; for Race signifiesLineage or Descent; and if the Race of Mankind maybe used for the present generation, (though I thinknot very fitly) the whole Race takes in all from theBeginning to the End of the World. I don’tremember to have met with that Expression in theirsense anywhere but in the old Version of Psal. 14,which those Men, I suppose, have but little Esteemfor. And some, when they have prayed for all Schoolsand Nurserys of good Learning and True Religion, especiallythe two Universities, add these Words, Grant thatfrom them and all other Places dedicated to thy Worshipand Service, may come forth such Persons. Butwhat do they mean by all other Places? It seemsto me that this is either a Tautology, as being thesame with all Schools and Nurserys before expressed,or else it runs too far; for there are general Placesdedicated to the Divine Service which cannot properlybe intended here.]
* * * * *
No. 313. Thursday, February 28, 1712. Budgell.
Exigite ut mores teneros ceu pollice ducat,
Ut si quis cera vultum facit.
Juv.
I shall give the following Letter no other Recommendation,than by telling my Readers that it comes from thesame Hand with that of last Thursday.
Sir,
I send you, according to my Promise, somefarther Thoughts on the Education of Youth, in whichI intend to discuss that famous Question, Whetherthe Education at a publick School, or under a privateTutor, is to be preferred?
As some of the greatest Men in most Ageshave been of very different Opinions in this Matter,I shall give a short Account of what I think maybe best urged on both sides, and afterwards leave everyPerson to determine for himself.
It is certain from Suetonius, thatthe Romans thought the Education of their Childrena business properly belonging to the Parents themselves;and Plutarch, in the Life of Marcus Cato, tells us,that as soon as his Son was capable of Learning,Cato would suffer no Body to Teach him but himself,tho he had a Servant named Chilo, who was an excellentGrammarian, and who taught a great many other Youths.
On the contrary, the Greeks seemed moreinclined to Publick Schools
and Seminaries.
A private Education promises inthe first place Virtue and
Good-Breeding; a publick School ManlyAssurance, and an early
Knowledge in the Ways of the World.
Mr. Locke in his celebrated Treatiseof Education [1], confesses
that there are Inconveniencies to be fearedon both sides; If, says
he, I keep my Son at Home, he is in dangerof becoming my young
Master; If I send him Abroad, it is scarcepossible to keep him from
the reigning Contagion of Rudeness andVice. He will perhaps be more
Innocent at Home, but more ignorant ofthe World, and more sheepish
when he comes Abroad. However, asthis learned Author asserts, That
Virtue is much more difficult to be attainedthan Knowledge of the
World; and that Vice is a more stubborn,as well as a more dangerous
Fault than Sheepishness, he is altogetherfor a private Education; and
the more so, because he does not see whya Youth, with right
Management, might not attain the sameAssurance in his Fathers House,
as at a publick School. To this endhe advises Parents to accustom
their Sons to whatever strange Faces cometo the House; to take them
with them when they Visit their Neighbours,and to engage them in
Conversation with Men of Parts and Breeding.
It may be objected to this Method, thatConversation is not the only thing necessary, butthat unless it be a Conversation with such as arein some measure their Equals in Parts and Years,there can be no room for Emulation, Contention,and several of the most lively Passions of the Mind;which, without being sometimes moved by these means,may possibly contract a Dulness and Insensibility.
One of the greatest Writers our Nationever produced observes, That a Boy who forms Parties,and makes himself Popular in a School or a College,would act the same Part with equal ease in a Senateor a Privy Council; and Mr. Osborn speaking likea Man versed in the Ways of the World, affirms,that the well laying and carrying on of a designto rob an Orchard, trains up a Youth insensibly toCaution, Secrecy and Circ*mspection, and fits himfor Matters of greater Importance.
In short, a private Education seems themost natural Method for the forming of a virtuousMan; a Publick Education for making a Man of Business.The first would furnish out a good Subject for Plato’sRepublick, the latter a Member for a Community over-runwith Artifice and Corruption.
It must however be confessed, that a Personat the head of a publick School has sometimes somany Boys under his Direction, that it is impossiblehe should extend a due proportion of his Care to eachof them. This is, however, in reality, theFault of the Age, in which we often see twenty Parents,who tho each expects his Son should be made a Scholar,are not contented altogether to make it worth whilefor any Man of a liberal Education to take uponhim the Care of their Instruction.
In our great Schools indeed this Faulthas been of late Years rectified, so that we haveat present not only Ingenious Men for the chiefMasters, but such as have proper Ushers and Assistantsunder them; I must nevertheless own, that for wantof the same Encouragement in the Country, we havemany a promising Genius spoiled and abused in thoseSeminaries.
I am the more inclined to this Opinion,having my self experienced the Usage of two RuralMasters, each of them very unfit for the Trust theytook upon them to discharge. The first imposedmuch more upon me than my Parts, tho none of theweakest, could endure; and used me barbarously fornot performing Impossibilities. The latter wasof quite another Temper; and a Boy, who would runupon his Errands, wash his Coffee-pot, or ring theBell, might have as little Conversation with anyof the Classicks as he thought fit. I have knowna Lad at this Place excused his Exercise for assistingthe Cook-maid; and remember a Neighbouring Gentleman’sSon was among us five Years, most of which timehe employed in airing and watering our Masters greyPad. I scorned to Compound for my Faults, bydoing any of these Elegant Offices, and was accordinglythe best Scholar, and the worst used of any Boyin the School.
I shall conclude this Discourse with anAdvantage mentioned by Quintilian, as accompanyinga Publick way of Education, which I have not yettaken notice of; namely, That we very often contractsuch Friendships at School, as are a Service tous all the following Part of our Lives.
I shall give you, under this Head, a Storyvery well known to several
Persons, and which you may depend uponas a real Truth.
Every one, who is acquainted with Westminster-School,knows that there is a Curtain which used to be drawna-cross the Room, to separate the upper School fromthe lower. A Youth happened, by some Mischance,to tear the above-mentioned Curtain: The Severityof the Master [2] was too well known for the Criminalto expect any Pardon for such a Fault; so that theBoy, who was of a meek Temper, was terrified toDeath at the Thoughts of his Appearance, when his Friend,who sat next to him, bad him be of good Cheer, forthat he would take the Fault on himself. Hekept his word accordingly. As soon as they weregrown up to be Men the Civil War broke out, in whichour two Friends took the opposite Sides, one ofthem followed the Parliament, the other the RoyalParty.
As their Tempers were different, the Youth,who had torn the Curtain, endeavoured to raise himselfon the Civil List, and the other, who had born theBlame of it, on the Military: The first succeededso well, that he was in a short time made a Judgeunder the Protector. The other was engagedin the unhappy Enterprize of Penruddock and Grovesin the West. I suppose, Sir, I need not acquaintyou with the Event of that Undertaking. Everyone knows that the Royal Party was routed, and allthe Heads of them, among whom was the Curtain Champion,imprisoned at Exeter. It happened to be hisFriends Lot at that time to go to the Western Circuit:The Tryal of the Rebels, as they were then called,was very short, and nothing now remained but to passSentence on them; when the Judge hearing the Nameof his old Friend, and observing his Face more attentively,which he had not seen for many Years, asked him,if he was not formerly a Westminster-Scholar; by theAnswer, he was soon convinced that it was his formergenerous Friend; and, without saying any thing moreat that time, made the best of his Way to London,where employing all his Power and Interest with theProtector, he saved his Friend from the Fate of hisunhappy Associates.
The Gentleman, whose Life was thus preserv’dby the Gratitude of his School-Fellow, was afterwardsthe Father of a Son, whom he lived to see promotedin the Church, and who still deservedly fills one ofthe highest Stations in it. [3]
X.
[Footnote 1: Some Thoughts concerning Education,Sec. 70. The references to Suetonius and Plutarch’sLife of Cato are from the preceding section.]
[Footnote 2: Richard Busby; appointed in 1640.]
[Footnote 3: The allusion is to Colonel Wake,father of Dr. William Wake, who was Bishop of Lincolnwhen this paper was written, and because in 1716 Archbishopof Canterbury. The trials of Penruddock and hisfriends were in 1685.]
* * * * *
No. 314. Friday, February 29,1712. Steele.
Tandem desine Matrem
Tempestiva sequi viro.
Hor. Od. 23.
Feb. 7, 1711-12.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a young Man about eighteen Yearsof Age, and have been in Love with a young Womanof the same Age about this half Year. I go tosee her six Days in the Week, but never could havethe Happiness of being with her alone. If anyof her Friends are at home, she will see me in theirCompany; but if they be not in the Way, she flies toher Chamber. I can discover no Signs of herAversion; but either a Fear of falling into theToils of Matrimony, or a childish Timidity, deprivesus of an Interview apart, and drives us upon theDifficulty of languishing out our Lives in fruitlessExpectation. Now, Mr. SPECTATOR, if you thinkus ripe for Oeconomy, perswade the dear Creature,that to pine away into Barrenness and Deformity undera Mothers Shade, is not so honourable, nor doesshe appear so amiable, as she would in full Bloom.[There is a great deal left out before he concludes]Mr. SPECTATOR, Your humble Servant, BobHarmless.
If this Gentleman be really no more than Eighteen,I must do him the Justice to say he is the most knowingInfant I have yet met with. He does not, I fear,yet understand, that all he thinks of is another Woman;therefore, till he has given a further Account of himself,the young Lady is hereby directed to keep close toher Mother. The SPECTATOR.
I cannot comply with the Request in Mr. Trott’sLetter; but let it go just as it came to my Hands,for being so familiar with the old Gentleman, as roughas he is to him. Since Mr. Trott has an Ambitionto make him his Father-in-Law, he ought to treat himwith more Respect; besides, his Style to me mighthave been more distant than he has thought fit toafford me: Moreover, his Mistress shall continuein her Confinement, till he has found out which Wordin his Letter is not wrightly spelt.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I shall ever own my self your obligedhumble Servant for the Advice you gave me concerningmy Dancing; which unluckily came too late: For,as I said, I would not leave off Capering till Ihad your Opinion of the Matter; was at our famousAssembly the Day before I received your Papers,and there was observed by an old Gentleman, who wasinformed I had a Respect for his Daughter; toldme I was an insignificant little Fellow, and saidthat for the future he would take Care of his Child;so that he did not doubt but to crosse my amorousInclinations. The Lady is confined to her Chamber,and for my Part, am ready to hang my self with theThoughts that I have danced my self out of Favour withher Father. I hope you will pardon the TroubleI give; but shall take it for a mighty Favour, ifyou will give me a little more of your Advice toput me in a write Way to cheat the old Dragon and obtainmy Mistress. I am once more,
SIR,
Your obliged humble Servant, John Trott.
York, Feb. 23, 1711-12.
Let me desire you to make what Alterationsyou please, and insert this
as soon as possible. Pardon Mistakeby Haste.
I never do pardon Mistakes by Haste. The SPECTATOR.
Feb. 27, 1711-12.
SIR,
Pray be so kind as to let me know whatyou esteem to be the chief
Qualification of a good Poet, especiallyof one who writes Plays; and
you will very much oblige,
SIR, Your very humble Servant, N. B.
To be a very well-bred Man. The SPECTATOR.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
You are to know that I am naturally Brave,and love Fighting as well as any Man in England.This gallant Temper of mine makes me extremely delightedwith Battles on the Stage. I give you this Troubleto complain to you, that Nicolini refused to gratifieme in that Part of the Opera for which I have mostTaste. I observe its become a Custom, thatwhenever any Gentlemen are particularly pleased witha Song, at their crying out Encore or Altro Volto,the Performer is so obliging as to sing it overagain. I was at the Opera the last time Hydaspeswas performed. At that Part of it where theHeroe engages with the Lion, the graceful Mannerwith which he put that terrible Monster to Deathgave me so great a Pleasure, and at the same time sojust a Sense of that Gentleman’s Intrepidityand Conduct, that I could not forbear desiring aRepetition of it, by crying out Altro Volto in a veryaudible Voice; and my Friends flatter me, that I pronouncedthose Words with a tolerable good Accent, consideringthat was but the third Opera I had ever seen inmy Life. Yet, notwithstanding all this, therewas so little Regard had to me, that the Lion wascarried off, and went to Bed, without being killedany more that Night. Now, Sir, pray considerthat I did not understand a Word of what Mr. Nicolinisaid to this cruel Creature; besides, I have noEar for Musick; so that during the long Disputebetween em, the whole Entertainment I had was frommy Eye; Why then have not I as much Right to havea graceful Action repeated as another has a pleasingSound, since he only hears as I only see, and weneither of us know that there is any reasonable thinga doing? Pray, Sir, settle the Business of thisClaim in the Audience, and let us know when we maycry Altro Volto, Anglice, again, again, for theFuture. I am an Englishman, and expect some Reasonor other to be given me, and perhaps an ordinaryone may serve; but I expect your Answer.
I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
Toby Rentfree.
Nov. 29.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
You must give me Leave, amongst the restof your Female Correspondents, to address you aboutan Affair which has already given you many a Speculation;and which, I know, I need not tell you have hada very happy Influence over the adult Part of our Sex:But as many of us are either too old to learn, ortoo obstinate in the Pursuit of the Vanities whichhave been bred up with us from our Infancy, and allof us quitting the Stage whilst you are promptingus to act our Part well; you ought, methinks, ratherto turn your Instructions for the Benefit of thatPart of our Sex, who are yet in their native Innocence,and ignorant of the Vices and that Variety of Unhappinessesthat reign amongst us.
I must tell you, Mr. SPECTATOR, that itis as much a Part of your Office to oversee theEducation of the female Part of the Nation, as wellas of the Male; and to convince the World you are notpartial, pray proceed to detect the Male Administrationof Governesses as successfully as you have exposedthat of Pedagogues; and rescue our Sex from thePrejudice and Tyranny of Education as well as thatof your own, who without your seasonable Interpositionare like to improve upon the Vices that are nowin vogue.
I who know the Dignity of your Post, asSPECTATOR, and the Authority a skilful Eye oughtto bear in the Female World, could not forbear consultingyou, and beg your Advice in so critical a Point, asis that of the Education of young Gentlewomen.Having already provided myself with a very convenientHouse in a good Air, I’m not without Hope butthat you will promote this generous Design.I must farther tell you, Sir, that all who shallbe committed to my Conduct, beside the usual Accomplishmentsof the Needle, Dancing, and the French Tongue, shallnot fail to be your constant Readers. It istherefore my humble Petition, that you will entertainthe Town on this important Subject, and so far obligea Stranger, as to raise a Curiosity and Enquiry inmy Behalf, by publishing the following Advertisem*nt.
I am, SIR,
Your constant Admirer,
M. W.
T.
* * * * *
ADVERTIsem*nT.
The Boarding-School for young Gentlewomen, which wasformerly kept on Mile-End-Green, being laid down,there is now one set up almost opposite to it at thetwo Golden-Balls, and much more convenient in everyRespect; where, beside the common Instructions givento young Gentlewomen, they will be taught the wholeArt of Paistrey and Preserving, with whatever mayrender them accomplished. Those who please tomake Tryal of the Vigilance and Ability of the Personsconcerned may enquire at the two Golden-Balls on Mile-End-Greennear Stepney, where they will receive further Satisfaction.
This is to give Notice, that the SPECTATOR has takenupon him to be Visitant of all Boarding-Schools, whereyoung Women are educated; and designs to proceed inthe said Office after the same Manner that the Visitantsof Colleges do in the two famous Universities of thisLand.
All Lovers who write to the SPECTATOR, are desiredto forbear one Expression which is in most of theLetters to him, either out of Laziness, or want ofInvention, and is true of not above two thousand Womenin the whole World; viz. She has in her allthat is valuable in Woman.
* * * * *
No. 315 Saturday, March 1, 1712. Addison.
Nec deus intersit, nisi dignus vindicenodus
Inciderit.
Hor.
Horace advises a Poet to consider thoroughly the Natureand Force of his Genius. [1] Milton seems to haveknown perfectly well, wherein his Strength lay, andhas therefore chosen a Subject entirely conformableto those Talents, of which he was Master. Ashis Genius was wonderfully turned to the Sublime,his Subject is the noblest that could have enteredinto the Thoughts of Man. Every thing that istruly great and astonishing, has a place in it.The whole System of the intellectual World; the Chaos,and the Creation; Heaven, Earth and Hell; enter intothe Constitution of his Poem.
Having in the First and Second Books represented theInfernal World with all its Horrors, the Thread ofhis Fable naturally leads him into the opposite Regionsof Bliss and Glory.
If Milton’s Majesty forsakes him any where,it is in those Parts of his Poem, where the DivinePersons are introduced as Speakers. One may, Ithink, observe that the Author proceeds with a kindof Fear and Trembling, whilst he describes the Sentimentsof the Almighty. He dares not give his Imaginationits full Play, but chuses to confine himself to suchThoughts as are drawn from the Books of the most OrthodoxDivines, and to such Expressions as may be met within Scripture. The Beauties, therefore, whichwe are to look for in these Speeches, are not of aPoetical Nature, nor so proper to fill the Mind withSentiments of Grandeur, as with Thoughts of Devotion.The Passions, which they are designed to raise, area Divine Love and Religious Fear. The ParticularBeauty of the Speeches in the Third Book, consistsin that Shortness and Perspicuity of Style, in whichthe Poet has couched the greatest Mysteries of Christianity,and drawn together, in a regular Scheme, the wholeDispensation of Providence, with respect to Man.He has represented all the abstruse Doctrines of Predestination,Free-Will and Grace, as also the great Points of Incarnationand Redemption, (which naturally grow up in a Poemthat treats of the Fall of Man) with great Energyof Expression, and in a clearer and stronger Lightthan I ever met with in any other Writer. Asthese Points are dry in themselves to the generalityof Readers, the concise and clear manner in which hehas treated them, is very much to be admired, as islikewise that particular Art which he has made useof in the interspersing of all those Graces of Poetry,which the Subject was capable of receiving.
The Survey of the whole Creation, and of every thingthat is transacted in it, is a Prospect worthy ofOmniscience; and as much above that, in which Virgilhas drawn his Jupiter, as the Christian Idea of theSupreme Being is more Rational and Sublime than thatof the Heathens. The particular Objects on whichhe is described to have cast his Eye, are representedin the most beautiful and lively Manner.
Now had th’ Almighty Father fromabove,
(From the pure Empyrean where he sits
High thron’d above all height) bentdown his Eye,
His own Works and their Works at onceto view.
About him all the Sanctities of Heavn
Stood thick as Stars, and from his Sightreceived
Beatitude past uttrance: On his right
The radiant Image of his Glory sat,
His only Son. On earth he first beheld
Our two first Parents, yet the only two
Of Mankind, in the happy garden plac’d,
Reaping immortal fruits of Joy and Love;
Uninterrupted Joy, unrival’d Love
In blissful Solitude. He then surveyed
Hell and the Gulph between, and Satanthere
Coasting the Wall of Heaven on this sideNight,
In the dun air sublime; and ready now
To stoop with wearied wings, and willingfeel
On the bare outside of this world, thatseem’d
Firm land imbosom’d without firmament;
Uncertain which, in Ocean or in Air.
Him God beholding from his prospect high,
Wherein past, present, future he beholds,
Thus to his only Son foreseeing spake.
Satan’s Approach to the Confines of the Creation,is finely imaged in the beginning of the Speech, whichimmediately follows. The Effects of this Speechin the blessed Spirits, and in the Divine Person towhom it was addressed, cannot but fill the Mind ofthe Reader with a secret Pleasure and Complacency.
Thus while God spake, ambrosial fragrancefill’d
All Heavn, and in the blessed Spiritselect
Sense of new Joy ineffable diffus’d.
Beyond compare the Son of God was seen
Most glorious, in him all his Father shone
Substantially expressed, and in his face
Divine Compassion visibly appeared,
Love without end, and without measureGrace.
I need not point out the Beauty of that Circ*mstance,wherein the whole Host of Angels are represented asstanding Mute; nor shew how proper the Occasion wasto produce such a Silence in Heaven. The Closeof this Divine Colloquy, with the Hymn of Angels thatfollows upon it, are so wonderfully Beautiful andPoetical, that I should not forbear inserting thewhole Passage, if the Bounds of my Paper would giveme leave.
No sooner had th’ Almighty ceas’d,but all
The multitudes of Angels with a shout
(Loud as from numbers without number,sweet
As from blest Voices) uttring Joy, Heavnrung
With Jubilee, and loud Hosannas fill’d
Th’ eternal regions; &c. &c.—
Satan’s Walk upon the Outside of the Universe,which, at a Distance, appeared to him of a globularForm, but, upon his nearer Approach, looked like anunbounded Plain, is natural and noble: As hisRoaming upon the Frontiers of the Creation betweenthat Mass of Matter, which was wrought into a World,and that shapeless unformed Heap of Materials, whichstill lay in Chaos and Confusion, strikes the Imaginationwith something astonishingly great and wild.I have before spoken of the Limbo of Vanity, whichthe Poet places upon this outermost Surface of theUniverse, and shall here explain my self more at largeon that, and other Parts of the Poem, which are ofthe same Shadowy Nature.
Aristotle observes[1], that the Fable of an Epic Poemshould abound in Circ*mstances that are both credibleand astonishing; or as the French Criticks chuse tophrase it, the Fable should be filled with the Probableand the Marvellous. This Rule is as fine and justas any in Aristotle’s whole Art of Poetry.
If the Fable is only Probable, it differs nothingfrom a true History; if it is only Marvellous, itis no better than a Romance. The great Secrettherefore of Heroic Poetry is to relate such Circ*mstances,as may produce in the Reader at the same time bothBelief and Astonishment. This is brought to passin a well-chosen Fable, by the Account of such thingsas have really happened, or at least of such thingsas have happened according to the received Opinionsof Mankind. Milton’s Fable is a Masterpieceof this Nature; as the War in Heaven, the Conditionof the fallen Angels, the State of Innocence, andTemptation of the Serpent, and the Fall of Man, thoughthey are very astonishing in themselves, are not onlycredible, but actual Points of Faith.
The next Method of reconciling Miracles with Credibility,is by a happy Invention of the Poet; as in particular,when he introduces Agents of a superior Nature, whoare capable of effecting what is wonderful, and whatis not to be met with in the ordinary course of things.Ulysses’s Ship being turned into a Rock, andAEneas’s Fleet into a Shoal of Water Nymphs;though they are very surprising Accidents, are neverthelessprobable, when we are told that they were the Godswho thus transformed them. It is this kind ofMachinery which fills the Poems both of Homer andVirgil with such Circ*mstances as are wonderful, butnot impossible, and so frequently produce in the Readerthe most pleasing Passion that can rise in the Mindof Man, which is Admiration. If there be anyInstance in the AEneid liable to Exception upon thisAccount, it is in the Beginning of the Third Book,where AEneas is represented as tearing up the Myrtlethat dropped Blood. To qualifie this wonderfulCirc*mstance, Polydorus tells a Story from the Rootof the Myrtle, that the barbarous Inhabitants of theCountry having pierced him with Spears and Arrows,the Wood which was left in his Body took Root in hisWounds, and gave Birth to that bleeding Tree.
This Circ*mstance seems to have the Marvellous withoutthe Probable, because it is represented as proceedingfrom Natural Causes, without the Interposition of anyGod, or other Supernatural Power capable of producingit. The Spears and Arrows grow of themselves,without so much as the Modern Help of an Enchantment.If we look into the Fiction of Milton’s Fable,though we find it full of surprizing Incidents, theyare generally suited to our Notions of the Thingsand Persons described, and tempered with a due Measureof Probability. I must only make an Exceptionto the Limbo of Vanity, with his Episode of Sin andDeath, and some of the imaginary Persons in his Chaos.These Passages are astonishing, but not credible;the Reader cannot so far impose upon himself as tosee a Possibility in them; they are the Descriptionof Dreams and Shadows, not of Things or Persons.I know that many Criticks look upon the Stories ofCirce, Polypheme, the Sirens, nay the whole Odysseyand Iliad, to be Allegories; but allowing this tobe true, they are Fables, which considering the Opinionsof Mankind that prevailed in the Age of the Poet,might possibly have been according to the Letter.The Persons are such as might have acted what is ascribedto them, as the Circ*mstances in which they are represented,might possibly have been Truths and Realities.This Appearance of Probability is so absolutely requisitein the greater kinds of Poetry, that Aristotle observesthe Ancient Tragick Writers made use of the Namesof such great Men as had actually lived in the World,tho the Tragedy proceeded upon Adventures they werenever engaged in, on purpose to make the Subject moreCredible. In a Word, besides the hidden Meaningof an Epic Allegory, the plain litteral Sense oughtto appear Probable. The Story should be such asan ordinary Reader may acquiesce in, whatever Natural,Moral, or Political Truth may be discovered in itby Men of greater Penetration.Satan, after having long wandered upon the Surface,or outmost Wall of the Universe, discovers at lasta wide Gap in it, which led into the Creation, andis described as the Opening through which the Angelspass to and fro into the lower World, upon their Errandsto Mankind. His Sitting upon the Brink of thisPassage, and taking a Survey of the whole Face ofNature that appeared to him new and fresh in all itsBeauties, with the Simile illustrating this Circ*mstance,fills the Mind of the Reader with as surprizing andglorious an Idea as any that arises in the whole Poem.He looks down into that vast Hollow of the Universewith the Eye, or (as Milton calls it in his firstBook) with the Kenn of an Angel. He surveys allthe Wonders in this immense Amphitheatre that lyebetween both the Poles of Heaven, and takes in at oneView the whole Round of the Creation.
His Flight between the several Worlds that shinedon every side of him, with the particular Descriptionof the Sun, are set forth in all the Wantonness ofa luxuriant Imagination. His Shape, Speech andBehaviour upon his transforming himself into an Angelof Light, are touched with exquisite Beauty.The Poets Thought of directing Satan to the Sun, whichin the vulgar Opinion of Mankind is the most conspicuousPart of the Creation, and the placing in it an Angel,is a Circ*mstance very finely contrived, and the moreadjusted to a Poetical Probability, as it was a receivedDoctrine among the most famous Philosophers, that everyOrb had its Intelligence; and as an Apostle in SacredWrit is said to have seen such an Angel in the Sun.In the Answer which this Angel returns to the disguisedevil Spirit, there is such a becoming Majesty as isaltogether suitable to a Superior Being. The Partof it in which he represents himself as present atthe Creation, is very noble in it self, and not onlyproper where it is introduced, but requisite to preparethe Reader for what follows in the Seventh Book.
I saw when at his Word the formless Mass,
This Worlds material Mould, came to aHeap:
Confusion heard his Voice, and wild Uproar
Stood rul’d, stood vast Infinitudeconfin’d.
Till at his second Bidding Darkness fled,
Light shon, &c.
In the following Part of the Speech he points outthe Earth with such Circ*mstances, that the Readercan scarce forbear fancying himself employed on thesame distant View of it.
Look downward on the Globe whose hitherSide
With Light from hence, tho but reflected,shines;
That place is Earth, the Seat of Man,that Light
His Day, &c.
I must not conclude my Reflections upon this ThirdBook of Paradise Lost, without taking Notice of thatcelebrated Complaint of Milton with which it opens,and which certainly deserves all the Praises that havebeen given it; tho as I have before hinted, it mayrather be looked upon as an Excrescence, than as anessential Part of the Poem. The same Observationmight be applied to that beautiful Digression uponHypocrisie, in the same Book.
L.
[Footnote 1: De Arte Poetica. II. 38-40.]
[Footnote 2: Poetics, iii. 4.
The surprising is necessary in tragedy;but the Epic Poem goes farther, and admits eventhe improbable and incredible, from which the highestdegree of the surprising results, because there theaction is not seen.]
* * * * *
No. 316. Monday, March 3, 1712. John Hughes.
Libertas; quae sera tamen respexit Inertem.
Virg. Ecl. I.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
If you ever read a Letter which is sentwith the more Pleasure for the Reality of its Complaints,this may have Reason to hope for a favourable Acceptance;and if Time be the most irretrievable Loss, the Regretswhich follow will be thought, I hope, the most justifiable.The regaining of my Liberty from a long State ofIndolence and Inactivity, and the Desire of resistingthe further Encroachments of Idleness, make me applyto you; and the Uneasiness with which I I recollectthe past Years, and the Apprehensions with which Iexpect the Future, soon determined me to it.
Idleness is so general a Distemper thatI cannot but imagine a Speculation on this Subjectwill be of universal Use. There is hardly anyone Person without some Allay of it; and thousandsbesides my self spend more Time in an idle Uncertaintywhich to begin first of two Affairs, that wouldhave been sufficient to have ended them both.The Occasion of this seems to be the Want of somenecessary Employment, to put the Spirits in Motion,and awaken them out of their Lethargy. If I hadless Leisure, I should have more; for I should thenfind my Time distinguished into Portions, some forBusiness, and others for the indulging of Pleasures:But now one Face of Indolence overspreads the whole,and I have no Land-mark to direct my self by.Were ones Time a little straitned by Business, likeWater inclosed in its Banks, it would have somedetermined Course; but unless it be put into someChannel it has no Current, but becomes a Deluge withouteither Use or Motion.
When Scanderbeg Prince of Epirus was dead,the Turks, who had but too often felt the Forceof his Arm in the Battels he had won from them, imaginedthat by wearing a piece of his Bones near their Heart,they should be animated with a Vigour and Forcelike to that which inspired him when living.As I am like to be but of little use whilst I live,I am resolved to do what Good I can after my Decease;and have accordingly ordered my Bones to be disposedof in this Manner for the Good of my Countrymen,who are troubled with too exorbitant a Degree ofFire. All Fox-hunters upon wearing me, would ina short Time be brought to endure their Beds ina Morning, and perhaps even quit them with Regretat Ten: Instead of hurrying away to teaze a poorAnimal, and run away from their own Thoughts, aChair or a Chariot would be thought the most desirableMeans of performing a Remove from one Place to another.I should be a Cure for the unnatural Desire of JohnTrott for Dancing, and a Specifick to lessen theInclination Mrs. Fidget has to Motion, and causeher always to give her Approbation to the presentPlace she is in. In fine, no Egyptian Mummywas ever half so useful in Physick, as I shouldbe to these feaverish Constitutions, to repress theviolent Sallies of Youth, and give each Action itsproper Weight and Repose.
I can stifle any violent Inclination,and oppose a Torrent of Anger, or the Sollicitationsof Revenge, with Success. But Indolence is aStream which flows slowly on, but yet underminesthe Foundation of every Virtue. A Vice of amore lively Nature were a more desirable Tyrantthan this Rust of the Mind, which gives a Tinctureof its Nature to every Action of ones Life.It were as little Hazard to be lost in a Storm,as to lye thus perpetually becalmed: And it isto no Purpose to have within one the Seeds of athousand good Qualities, if we want the Vigour andResolution necessary for the exerting them. Deathbrings all Persons back to an Equality; and this Imageof it, this Slumber of the Mind, leaves no Differencebetween the greatest Genius and the meanest Understanding:A Faculty of doing things remarkably praise-worthythus concealed, is of no more use to the Owner,than a Heap of Gold to the Man who dares not use it.
To-Morrow is still the fatal Time whenall is to be rectified: To-Morrow comes, itgoes, and still I please my self with the Shadow,whilst I lose the Reality; unmindful that the presentTime alone is ours, the future is yet unborn, andthe past is dead, and can only live (as Parentsin their Children) in the Actions it has produced.
The Time we live ought not to be computedby the Numbers of Years, but by the Use has beenmade of it; thus tis not the Extent of Ground, butthe yearly Rent which gives the Value to the Estate.Wretched and thoughtless Creatures, in the only Placewhere Covetousness were a Virtue we turn Prodigals!Nothing lies upon our Hands with such Uneasiness,nor has there been so many Devices for any one Thing,as to make it slide away imperceptibly and to no purpose.A Shilling shall be hoarded up with Care, whilstthat which is above the Price of an Estate, is flungaway with Disregard and Contempt. There isnothing now-a-days so much avoided, as a sollicitousImprovement of every part of Time; tis a Reportmust be shunned as one tenders the Name of a Witand a fine Genius, and as one fears the Dreadful Characterof a laborious Plodder: But notwithstanding this,the greatest Wits any Age has produced thought farotherwise; for who can think either Socrates orDemosthenes lost any Reputation, by their continualPains both in overcoming the Defects and improvingthe Gifts of Nature. All are acquainted withthe Labour and Assiduity with which Tully acquiredhis Eloquence.
Seneca in his Letters to Lucelius[1] assureshim, there was not a Day in which he did not eitherwrite something, or read and epitomize some goodAuthor; and I remember Pliny in one of his Letters,where he gives an Account of the various Methodshe used to fill up every Vacancy of Time, afterseveral Imployments which he enumerates; sometimes,says he, I hunt; but even then I carry with me a Pocket-Book,that whilst my Servants are busied in disposing ofthe Nets and other Matters I may be employed insomething that may be useful to me in my Studies;and that if I miss of my Game, I may at the leastbring home some of my own Thoughts with me, and nothave the Mortification of having caught nothingall Day.[2]
Thus, Sir, you see how many Examples Irecall to Mind, and what Arguments I use with myself, to regain my Liberty: But as I am afraidtis no Ordinary Perswasion that will be of Service,I shall expect your Thoughts on this Subject, withthe greatest Impatience, especially since the Goodwill not be confined to me alone, but will be ofUniversal Use. For there is no Hopes of Amendmentwhere Men are pleased with their Ruin, and whilstthey think Laziness is a desirable Character:Whether it be that they like the State it self, orthat they think it gives them a new Lustre whenthey do exert themselves, seemingly to be able todo that without Labour and Application, which othersattain to but with the greatest Diligence.
I am, SIR,
Your most obliged humble Servant,
Samuel Slack.
Clytander to Cleone.
Madam, Permission to love you is allI desire, to conquer all the Difficulties thoseabout you place in my Way, to surmount and acquireall those Qualifications you expect in him who pretendsto the Honour of being,
Madam,
Your most humble Servant,
Clytander.
Z.
[Footnote 1: Ep. 2.]
[Footnote 2: Ep. I. 6.]
* * * * *
No. 317. Tuesday, March 4, 1712 Addison.
—fruges consumere nati.
Hor.
Augustus, a few Moments before his Death, asked hisFriends who stood about him, if they thought he hadacted his Part well; and upon receiving such an Answeras was due to his extraordinary Merit, Let me then,says he, go off the Stage with your Applause; usingthe Expression with which the Roman Actors made theirExit at the Conclusion of a Dramatick Piece.I could wish that Men, while they are in Health, wouldconsider well the Nature of the Part they are engagedin, and what Figure it will make in the Minds of thosethey leave behind them: Whether it was worthcoming into the World for; whether it be suitableto a reasonable Being; in short, whether it appearsGraceful in this Life, or will turn to an Advantagein the next. Let the Sycophant, or Buffoon, theSatyrist, or the Good Companion, consider with himself,when his Body shall be laid in the Grave, and his Soulpass into another State of Existence, how much itwill redound to his Praise to have it said of him,that no Man in England eat better, that he had an admirableTalent at turning his Friends into Ridicule, that noBody out-did him at an Ill-natured Jest, or that henever went to Bed before he had dispatched his thirdBottle. These are, however, very common FuneralOrations, and Elogiums on deceased Persons who haveacted among Mankind with some Figure and Reputation.
But if we look into the Bulk of our Species, theyare such as are not likely to be remembred a Momentafter their Disappearance. They leave behindthem no Traces of their Existence, but are forgottenas tho they had never been. They are neitherwanted by the Poor, regretted by the Rich, [n]or celebratedby the Learned. They are neither missed in theCommonwealth, nor lamented by private Persons.Their Actions are of no Significancy to Mankind, andmight have been performed by Creatures of much lessDignity, than those who are distinguished by the Facultyof Reason. An eminent French Author speaks somewhereto the following Purpose: I have often seen frommy Chamber-window two noble Creatures, both of themof an erect Countenance and endowed with Reason.These two intellectual Beings are employed from Morningto Night, in rubbing two smooth Stones one upon another;that is, as the Vulgar phrase it, in polishing Marble.
My Friend, Sir ANDREW FREEPORT, as we were sittingin the Club last Night, gave us an Account of a soberCitizen, who died a few Days since. This honestMan being of greater Consequence in his own Thoughts,than in the Eye of the World, had for some Years pastkept a Journal of his Life. Sir ANDREW shewedus one Week of it. [Since [1]] the Occurrences setdown in it mark out such a Road of Action as that Ihave been speaking of, I shall present my Reader witha faithful Copy of it; after having first inform’dhim, that the Deceased Person had in his Youth beenbred to Trade, but finding himself not so well turnedfor Business, he had for several Years last past livedaltogether upon a moderate Annuity.
MONDAY, Eight-a-Clock. I put on myCloaths and walked into the
Parlour.
Nine a-Clock, ditto. Tied my Knee-strings,and washed my Hands.
Hours Ten, Eleven and Twelve. Smoakedthree Pipes of Virginia. Read
the Supplement and Daily Courant.Things go ill in the North. Mr.
Nisby’s Opinion thereupon.
One a-Clock in the Afternoon. ChidRalph for mislaying my Tobacco-Box.
Two a-Clock. Sate down to Dinner.Mem. Too many Plumbs, and no Sewet.
From Three to Four. Took my AfternoonsNap.
From Four to Six. Walked into theFields. Wind, S. S. E.
From Six to Ten. At the Club.Mr. Nisby’s Opinion about the Peace.
Ten a-Clock. Went to Bed, slept sound.
TUESDAY, BEING HOLIDAY, Eight a-Clock.Rose as usual.
Nine a-Clock. Washed Hands and Face,shaved, put on my double-soaled
Shoes.
Ten, Eleven, Twelve. Took a Walkto Islington.
One. Took a Pot of Mother Cobs Mild.
Between Two and Three. Return’d,dined on a Knuckle of Veal and Bacon.
Mem. Sprouts wanting.
Three. Nap as usual.
From Four to Six. Coffee-house.Read the News. A Dish of Twist. Grand
Vizier strangled.
From Six to Ten. At the Club.Mr. Nisby’s Account of the Great Turk.
Ten. Dream of the Grand Vizier.Broken Sleep.
WEDNESDAY, Eight a-Clock. Tongueof my Shooe-Buckle broke. Hands but
not Face.
Nine. Paid off the Butchers Bill.Mem. To be allowed for the last Leg
of Mutton.
Ten, Eleven. At the Coffee-house.More Work in the North. Stranger in
a black Wigg asked me how Stocks went.
From Twelve to One. Walked in theFields. Wind to the South.
From One to Two. Smoaked a Pipe andan half.
Two. Dined as usual. Stomachgood.
Three. Nap broke by the falling ofa Pewter Dish. Mem. Cook-maid in
Love, and grown careless.
From Four to Six. At the Coffee-house.Advice from Smyrna, that the
Grand Vizier was first of all strangled,and afterwards beheaded.
Six a-Clock in the Evening. Was halfan Hour in the Club before any
Body else came. Mr. Nisby of Opinionthat the Grand Vizier was not
strangled the Sixth Instant.
Ten at Night. Went to Bed. Sleptwithout waking till Nine next
Morning.
THURSDAY, Nine a-Clock. Staid withintill Two a-Clock for Sir Timothy;
who did not bring me my Annuity accordingto his Promise.
Two in the Afternoon. Sate down toDinner. Loss of Appetite. Small
Beer sour. Beef over-corned.
Three. Could not take my Nap.
Four and Five. Gave Ralph a box onthe Ear. Turned off my Cookmaid.
Sent a Message to Sir Timothy. Mem.I did not go to the Club to-night.
Went to Bed at Nine a-Clock.
FRIDAY, Passed the Morning in Meditationupon Sir Timothy, who was
with me a Quarter before Twelve.
Twelve a-Clock. Bought a new Headto my Cane, and a Tongue to my
Buckle. Drank a Glass of Purl torecover Appetite.
Two and Three. Dined, and Slept well.
From Four to Six. Went to the Coffee-house.Met Mr. Nisby there.
Smoaked several Pipes. Mr. Nisbyof opinion that laced Coffee is bad
for the Head.
Six a-Clock. At the Club as Steward.Sate late.
Twelve a-Clock. Went to Bed, dreamtthat I drank Small Beer with the
Grand Vizier.
SATURDAY. Waked at Eleven, walkedin the Fields. Wind N. E.
Twelve. Caught in a Shower.
One in the Afternoon. Returned home,and dryed my self.
Two. Mr. Nisby dined with me.First Course Marrow-bones, Second
Ox-Cheek, with a Bottle of Brooks andHellier.
Three a-Clock. Overslept my self.
Six. Went to the Club. Liketo have fal’n into a Gutter. Grand Vizier
certainly Dead. etc.
I question not but the Reader will be surprized tofind the above-mentioned Journalist taking so muchcare of a Life that was filled with such inconsiderableActions, and received so very small Improvements;and yet, if we look into the Behaviour of many whomwe daily converse with, we shall find that most oftheir Hours are taken up in those three ImportantArticles of Eating, Drinking and Sleeping. I donot suppose that a Man loses his Time, who is not engagedin publick Affairs, or in an Illustrious Course ofAction. On the Contrary, I believe our Hoursmay very often be more profitably laid out in suchTransactions as make no Figure in the World, than insuch as are apt to draw upon them the Attention ofMankind. One may become wiser and better by severalMethods of Employing ones Self in Secrecy and Silence,and do what is laudable without Noise, or Ostentation.I would, however, recommend to every one of my Readers,the keeping a Journal of their Lives for one Week,and setting down punctually their whole Series ofEmployments during that Space of Time. This Kindof Self-Examination would give them a true State ofthemselves, and incline them to consider seriouslywhat they are about. One Day would rectifie theOmissions of another, and make a Man weigh all thoseindifferent Actions, which, though they are easilyforgotten, must certainly be accounted for.
L.
[Footnote 1: [As]]
* * * * *
No. 318. Wednesday, March 5, 1712. Steele.
[—non omnia possumus omnes.
Virg. [1]]
Mr. SPECTATOR,
A certain Vice which you have lately attacked,has not yet been considered by you as growing sodeep in the Heart of Man, that the Affectation outlivesthe Practice of it. You must have observed thatMen who have been bred in Arms preserve to the mostextreme and feeble old Age a certain Daring in theirAspect: In like manner, they who have pass’dtheir Time in Gallantry and Adventure, keep up, aswell as they can, the Appearance of it, and carrya petulant Inclination to their last Moments.Let this serve for a Preface to a Relation I am goingto give you of an old Beau in Town, that has not onlybeen amorous, and a Follower of Women in general,but also, in Spite of the Admonition of grey Hairs,been from his sixty-third Year to his present seventieth,in an actual Pursuit of a young Lady, the Wife ofhis Friend, and a Man of Merit. The gay oldEscalus has Wit, good Health, and is perfectly wellbred; but from the Fashion and Manners of the Courtwhen he was in his Bloom, has such a natural Tendencyto amorous Adventure, that he thought it would bean endless Reproach to him to make no use of a Familiarityhe was allowed at a Gentleman’s House, whosegood Humour and Confidence exposed his Wife to theAddresses of any who should take it in their Headto do him the good Office. It is not impossiblethat Escalus might also resent that the Husbandwas particularly negligent of him; and tho he gavemany Intimations of a Passion towards the Wife,the Husband either did not see them, or put himto the Contempt of over-looking them. In the meantime Isabella, for so we shall call our Heroine,saw his Passion, and rejoiced in it as a Foundationfor much Diversion, and an Opportunity of indulgingher self in the dear Delight of being admired, addressedto, and flattered, with no ill Consequence to herReputation. This Lady is of a free and disengagedBehaviour, ever in good Humour, such as is the Imageof Innocence with those who are innocent, and an Encouragementto Vice with those who are abandoned. From thisKind of Carriage, and an apparent Approbation ofhis Gallantry, Escalus had frequent Opportunitiesof laying amorous Epistles in her Way, of fixinghis Eyes attentively upon her Action, of performinga thousand little Offices which are neglected bythe Unconcerned, but are so many Approaches towardsHappiness with the Enamoured. It was now, as isabove hinted, almost the End of the seventh Yearof his Passion, when Escalus from general Terms,and the ambiguous Respect which criminal Loversretain in their Addresses, began to bewail that hisPassion grew too violent for him to answer any longerfor his Behaviour towards her; and that he hopedshe would have Consideration for his long and patientRespect, to excuse the Motions of a Heart now no longerunder the Direction of the unhappy Owner of it.Such for some Months had been the Language of Escalusboth in his Talk and his Letters to Isabella; whor*turned all the Profusion of kind Things whichhad been the Collection of fifty Years with I mustnot hear you; you will make me forget that you area Gentleman, I would not willingly lose you as aFriend; and the like Expressions, which the Skilfulinterpret to their own Advantage, as well knowing thata feeble Denial is a modest Assent. I shouldhave told you, that Isabella, during the whole Progressof this Amour, communicated it to her Husband; andthat an Account of Escalus’s Love was their usualEntertainment after half a Days Absence: Isabellatherefore, upon her Lovers late more open Assaults,with a Smile told her Husband she could hold outno longer, but that his Fate was now come to a Crisis.After she had explained her self a little farther,with her Husbands Approbation she proceeded in thefollowing Manner. The next Time that Escaluswas alone with her, and repeated his Importunity, thecrafty Isabella looked on her Fan with an Air ofgreat Attention, as considering of what Importancesuch a Secret was to her; and upon the Repetitionof a warm Expression, she looked at him with an Eyeof Fondness, and told him he was past that Timeof Life which could make her fear he would boastof a Lady’s Favour; then turned away her Headwith a very well-acted Confusion, which favouredthe Escape of the aged Escalus. This Adventurewas Matter of great Pleasantry to Isabella and herSpouse; and they had enjoyed it two Days before Escaluscould recollect himself enough to form the followingLetter.
MADAM,
“What happened the other Day,gives me a lively Image of the Inconsistency ofhuman Passions and Inclinations. We pursue whatwe are denied, and place our Affections on whatis absent, tho we neglected it when present.As long as you refused my Love, your Refusal didso strongly excite my Passion, that I had not oncethe Leisure to think of recalling my Reason toaid me against the Design upon your Virtue.But when that Virtue began to comply in my Favour,my Reason made an Effort over my Love, and letme see the Baseness of my Behaviour in attemptinga Woman of Honour. I own to you, it was notwithout the most violent Struggle that I gained thisVictory over my self; nay, I will confess my Shame,and acknowledge I could not have prevailed butby Flight. However, Madam, I beg that you willbelieve a Moments Weakness has not destroyed the EsteemI had for you, which was confirmed by so manyYears of Obstinate Virtue. You have Reasonto rejoice that this did not happen within the Observationof one of the young Fellows, who would have exposedyour Weakness, and gloried in his own BrutishInclinations. I am, Madam, Your mostdevoted Humble Servant.”
Isabella, with the Help of her Husband,returned the following Answer.
SIR,
“I cannot but account my selfa very happy Woman, in having a Man for a Loverthat can write so well, and give so good a Turn toa Disappointment. Another Excellence youhave above all other Pretenders I ever heard of;on Occasions where the most reasonable Men loseall their Reason, you have yours most powerful.We are each of us to thank our Genius, that thePassion of one abated in Proportion as that ofthe other grew violent. Does it not yet comeinto your Head, to imagine that I knew my Compliancewas the greatest Cruelty I could be guilty oftowards you? In Return for your long andfaithful Passion, I must let you know that you areold enough to become a little more Gravity; butif you will leave me and coquet it any where else,may your Mistress yield.
ISABELLA.”
T.
[Footnote 1:
Rideat et pulset Lasciva decentius AEtas.
Hor.]
* * * * *
No. 319. Thursday, March 6, 1712. Budgell.
Quo teneam vultus mutantem Protea nodo?
Hor.
I have endeavoured, in the Course of my Papers, todo Justice to the Age, and have taken care as muchas possible to keep my self a Neuter between bothSexes. I have neither spared the Ladies out ofComplaisance, nor the Men out of Partiality; but notwithstandingthe great Integrity with which I have acted in thisParticular, I find my self taxed with an Inclinationto favour my own half of the Species. Whetherit be that the Women afford a more fruitful Field forSpeculation, or whether they run more in my Head thanthe Men, I cannot tell, but I shall set down the Chargeas it is laid against me in the following Letter.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I always make one among a Company of youngFemales, who peruse your Speculations every Morning.I am at present Commissioned, by our whole Assembly,to let you know, that we fear you are a little enclinedto be partial towards your own Sex. We musthowever acknowledge, with all due Gratitude, thatin some Cases you have given us our Revenge on theMen, and done us Justice. We could not easilyhave forgiven you several Strokes in the Dissectionof the Coquets Heart, if you had not, much aboutthe same time, made a Sacrifice to us of a Beaus Scull.
You may, however, Sir, please to remember,that long since you attacked our Hoods and Commodesin such manner, as, to use your own Expression,made very many of us ashamed to shew our Heads.We must, therefore, beg leave to represent to you,that we are in Hopes, if you would please to makea due Enquiry, the Men in all Ages would be foundto have been little less whimsical in adorning thatPart, than our selves. The different Formsof their Wiggs, together with the various co*cksof their Hats, all flatter us in this Opinion.
I had an humble Servant last Summer, whothe first time he declared himself, was in a Full-Bottom’dWigg; but the Day after, to my no small Surprize,he accosted me in a thin Natural one. I receivedhim, at this our second Interview, as a perfectStranger, but was extreamly confounded, when hisSpeech discovered who he was. I resolved, therefore,to fix his Face in my Memory for the future; but asI was walking in the Park the same Evening, he appearedto me in one of those Wiggs that I think you calla Night-cap, which had altered him more effectuallythan before. He afterwards played a Couple ofBlack Riding Wiggs upon me, with the same Success;and, in short, assumed a new Face almost every Dayin the first Month of his Courtship.
I observed afterwards, that the Varietyof co*cks into which he
moulded his Hat, had not a little contributedto his Impositions upon
me.
Yet, as if all these ways were not sufficientto distinguish their Heads, you must, doubtless,Sir, have observed, that great Numbers of youngFellows have, for several Months last past, taken uponthem to wear Feathers.
We hope, therefore, that these may, withas much Justice, be called
Indian Princes, as you have styled a Womanin a coloured Hood an
Indian Queen; and that you will, in duetime, take these airy
Gentlemen into Consideration.
We the more earnestly beg that you wouldput a Stop to this Practice, since it has alreadylost us one of the most agreeable Members of our Society,who after having refused several good Estates, andtwo Titles, was lured from us last Week by a mixedFeather.
I am ordered to present you the Respectsof our whole Company, and am, SIR, Your veryhumble Servant, DORINDA.
Note, The Person wearing the Feather,tho our Friend took him for an
Officer in the Guards, has proved to be[an arrant Linnen-Draper. [1]]
I am not now at leisure to give my Opinion upon theHat and Feather; however to wipe off the present Imputation,and gratifie my Female Correspondent, I shall hereprint a Letter which I lately received from a Manof Mode, who seems to have a very extraordinary Geniusin his way.
SIR, I presume I need not inform you,that among Men of Dress it is a common Phrase tosay Mr. Such an one has struck a bold Stroke; by whichwe understand, that he is the first Man who has hadCourage enough to lead up a Fashion. Accordingly,when our Taylors take Measure of us, they alwaysdemand whether we will have a plain Suit, or strikea bold Stroke. 1 think I may without Vanity say, thatI have struck some of the boldest and most successfulStrokes of any Man in Great Britain. I wasthe first that struck the Long Pocket about two Yearssince: I was likewise the Author of the FrostedButton, which when I saw the Town came readily into,being resolved to strike while the Iron was hot,I produced much about the same time the Scallop Flap,the knotted Cravat, and made a fair Push for the Silver-clockedStocking.
A few Months after I brought up the modishJacket, or the Coat with close Sleeves. I struckthis at first in a plain Doily; but that failing,I struck it a second time in blue Camlet; and repeatedthe Stroke in several kinds of Cloth, till at lastit took effect. There are two or three youngFellows at the other End of the Town, who have alwaystheir Eye upon me, and answer me Stroke for Stroke.I was once so unwary as to mention my Fancy in relationto the new-fashioned Surtout before one of theseGentlemen, who was disingenuous enough to stealmy Thought, and by that means prevented my intendedStroke.
I have a Design this Spring to make veryconsiderable Innovations in
the Wastcoat, and have already begun witha Coup dessai upon the
Sleeves, which has succeeded very well.
I must further inform you, if you willpromise to encourage or at
least to connive at me, that it is myDesign to strike such a Stroke
the Beginning of the next Month, as shallsurprise the whole Town.
I do not think it prudent to acquaintyou with all the Particulars of my intended Dress;but will only tell you, as a Sample of it, that Ishall very speedily appear at Whites in a Cherry-colouredHat. I took this Hint from the Ladies Hoods,which I look upon as the boldest Stroke that Sexhas struck for these hundred Years last past.
I am, SIR,
Your most Obedient, most Humble Servant,
Will. Sprightly.
[I have not Time at present to make any Reflectionson this Letter, but must not however omit that havingshewn it to WILL. HONEYCOMB, he desires to beacquainted with the Gentleman who writ it.]
X.
[Footnote 1: only an Ensign in the Train Bands.]
* * * * *
No. 320. Friday, March 7, 1712. Steele.
[—non pronuba Juno,
Non Hymenaeus adest, non illi Gratia lecto,
Eumenides stravere torum.
Ovid. [1]]
Mr. SPECTATOR,
You have given many Hints in your Papersto the Disadvantage of Persons of your own Sex,who lay Plots upon Women. Among other hard Wordsyou have published the Term Male-Coquets, and beenvery severe upon such as give themselves the Libertyof a little Dalliance of Heart, and playing fastand loose, between Love and Indifference, till perhapsan easie young Girl is reduced to Sighs, Dreams andTears; and languishes away her Life for a carelessCoxcomb, who looks astonished, and wonders at suchan Effect from what in him was all but common Civility.Thus you have treated the Men who are irresolute inMarriage; but if you design to be impartial, praybe so honest as to print the Information I now giveyou, of a certain Set of Women who never Coquetfor the Matter, but with an high Hand marry whom theyplease to whom they please. As for my Part,I should not have concerned my self with them, butthat I understand I am pitched upon by them, tobe married, against my Will, to one I never saw inmy Life. It has been my Misfortune, Sir, veryinnocently, to rejoice in a plentiful Fortune, ofwhich I am Master, to bespeak a fine Chariot, to giveDirection for two or three handsome Snuff-Boxes, andas many Suits of fine Cloaths; but before any ofthese were ready, I heard Reports of my being tobe married to two or three different young Women.Upon my taking Notice of it to a young Gentleman whois often in my Company he told me smiling, I wasin the Inquisition. You may believe I was nota little startled at what he meant, and more so whenhe asked me if I had bespoke any thing of late thatwas fine. I told him several; upon which heproduced a Description of my Person from the Tradesmenwhom I had employed, and told me that they had certainlyinformed against me. Mr. SPECTATOR, Whateverthe World may think of me, I am more Coxcomb thanFool, and I grew very inquisitive upon this Head,not a little pleased with the Novelty. My Friendtold me there were a certain Set of Women of Fashionwhereof the Number of Six made a Committee, whosat thrice a Week, under the Title of the Inquisitionon Maids and Batchelors. It seems, wheneverthere comes such an unthinking gay Thing as my selfto Town, he must want all Manner of Necessaries,or be put into the Inquisition by the first Tradesmanhe employs. They have constant Intelligencewith Cane-Shops, Perfumers, Toymen, Coach-makers,and China-houses. From these several Places,these Undertakers for Marriages have as constantand regular Correspondence, as the Funeral-men havewith Vintners and Apothecaries. All Batchelorsare under their immediate Inspection, and my Friendproduced to me a Report given into their Board, whereinan old Unkle of mine, who came to Town with me,and my self, were inserted, and we stood thus; theUnkle smoaky, rotten, poor; the Nephew raw, butno Fool, sound at present, very rich. My Informationdid not end here, but my Friends Advices are so good,that he could shew me a Copy of the Letter sentto the young Lady who is to have me which I encloseto you.
Madam,
This is to let you know, thatyou are to be Married to a Beau that
comes out on Thursday Sixin the Evening. Be at the Park. You cannot
but know a Virgin Fop; theyhave a Mind to look saucy, but are out
of Countenance. The Boardhas denied him to several good Families. I
wish you Joy.
Corinna.
What makes my Correspondents Case the more deplorable,is, that as I find by the Report from my Censor ofMarriages, the Friend he speaks of is employed bythe Inquisition to take him in, as the Phrase is.After all that is told him, he has Information onlyof one Woman that is laid for him, and that the wrongone; for the Lady-Commissioners have devoted him toanother than the Person against whom they have employedtheir Agent his Friend to alarm him. The Plotis laid so well about this young Gentleman, that hehas no Friend to retire to, no Place to appear in,or Part of the Kingdom to fly into, but he must fallinto the Notice, and be subject to the Power of theInquisition. They have their Emissaries and Substitutesin all Parts of this united Kingdom. The firstStep they usually take, is to find from a Correspondence,by their Messengers and Whisperers with some Domestickof the Batchelor (who is to be hunted into the Toilsthey have laid for him) what are his Manners, hisFamiliarities, his good Qualities or Vices; not asthe Good in him is a Recommendation, or the ill aDiminution, but as they affect or contribute to themain Enquiry, What Estate he has in him? Whenthis Point is well reported to the Board, they cantake in a wild roaring Fox-hunter, as easily as asoft, gentle young Fop of the Town. The Way isto make all Places uneasie to him, but the Scenes inwhich they have allotted him to act. His BrotherHuntsmen, Bottle Companions, his Fraternity of Fops,shall be brought into the Conspiracy against him.Then this Matter is not laid in so bare-faced a Mannerbefore him, as to have it intimated Mrs. Such-a-onewould make him a very proper Wife; but by the Forceof their Correspondence they shall make it (as Mr.Waller said of the Marriage of the Dwarfs) as impracticableto have any Woman besides her they design him, asit would have been in Adam to have refused Eve.The Man named by the Commission for Mrs. Such-a-one,shall neither be in Fashion, nor dare ever to appearin Company, should he attempt to evade their Determination.
The Female Sex wholly govern domestick Life; and bythis Means, when they think fit, they can sow Dissentionsbetween the dearest Friends, nay make Father and Sonirreconcilable Enemies, in spite of all the Ties ofGratitude on one Part, and the Duty of Protection tobe paid on the other. The Ladies of the Inquisitionunderstand this perfectly well; and where Love isnot a Motive to a Man’s chusing one whom theyallot, they can, with very much Art, insinuate Storiesto the Disadvantage of his Honesty or Courage, tillthe Creature is too much dispirited to bear up againsta general ill Reception, which he every where meetswith, and in due time falls into their appointed Wedlockfor Shelter. I have a long Letter bearing Datethe fourth Instant, which gives me a large Accountof the Policies of this Court; and find there is nowbefore them a very refractory Person who has escapedall their Machinations for two Years last past:But they have prevented two successive Matches whichwere of his own Inclination, the one, by a Reportthat his Mistress was to be married, and the veryDay appointed, Wedding-Clothes bought, and all thingsready for her being given to another; the second time,by insinuating to all his Mistresss Friends and Acquaintance,that he had been false to several other Women, andthe like. The poor Man is now reduced to professhe designs to lead a single Life; but the Inquisitiongives out to all his Acquaintance, that nothing isintended but the Gentleman’s own Welfare andHappiness. When this is urged, he talks stillmore humbly, and protests he aims only at a Life withoutPain or Reproach; Pleasure, Honour or Riches, arethings for which he has no taste. But notwithstandingall this and what else he may defend himself with,as that the Lady is too old or too young, of a suitableHumour, or the quite contrary, and that it is impossiblethey can ever do other than wrangle from June to January,Every Body tells him all this is Spleen, and he musthave a Wife; while all the Members of the Inquisitionare unanimous in a certain Woman for him, and theythink they all together are better able to judge,than he or any other private Person whatsoever.
Temple, March 3, 1711.
Sir, Your Speculation this Day on theSubject of Idleness, has employed me, ever sinceI read it, in sorrowful Reflections on my having loiteredaway the Term (or rather the Vacation) of ten Yearsin this Place, and unhappily suffered a good Chamberand Study to lie idle as long. My Books (exceptthose I have taken to sleep upon) have been totallyneglected, and my Lord co*ke and other venerable Authorswere never so slighted in their Lives. I spentmost of the Day at a Neighbouring Coffee-House,where we have what I may call a lazy Club. Wegenerally come in Night-Gowns, with our Stockingsabout our Heels, and sometimes but one on.Our Salutation at Entrance is a Yawn and a Stretch,and then without more Ceremony we take our Placeat the Lolling Table; where our Discourse is, whatI fear you would not read out, therefore shall notinsert. But I assure you, Sir, I heartily lamentthis Loss of Time, and am now resolved (if possible,with double Diligence) to retrieve it, being effectuallyawakened by the Arguments of Mr. Slack out of theSenseless Stupidity that has so long possessed me.And to demonstrate that Penitence accompanies myConfession, and Constancy my Resolutions, I havelocked my Door for a Year, and desire you would letmy Companions know I am not within. I am withgreat Respect,
SIR, Your most obedient Servant,
N. B.
T.
[Footnote 1:
Hae sunt qui tenui sudant in Cyclade.
Hor.]
* * * * *
No. 321.[1] Saturday, March 8, 1712. Addison.
Nec satis est pulchra esse poemata, dulciasunto.
Hor.
Those, who know how many Volumes have been writtenon the Poems of Homer and Virgil, will easily pardonthe Length of my Discourse upon Milton. The ParadiseLost is looked upon, by the best Judges, as the greatestProduction, or at least the noblest Work of Geniusin our Language, and therefore deserves to be setbefore an English Reader in its full Beauty.For this Reason, tho I have endeavoured to give a generalIdea of its Graces and Imperfections in my Six FirstPapers, I thought my self obliged to bestow one uponevery Book in particular. The Three first BooksI have already dispatched, and am now entering uponthe Fourth. I need not acquaint my Reader thatthere are Multitudes of Beauties in this great Author,especially in the Descriptive Parts of his Poem, whichI have not touched upon, it being my Intention to pointout those only, which appear to me the most exquisite,or those which are not so obvious to ordinary Readers.Every one that has read the Criticks who have writtenupon the Odyssey, the Iliad and the Aeneid, knowsvery well, that though they agree in their Opinionsof the great Beauties in those Poems, they have neverthelesseach of them discovered several Master-Strokes, whichhave escaped the Observation of the rest. Inthe same manner, I question not, but any Writer whoshall treat of this Subject after me, may find severalBeauties in Milton, which I have not taken noticeof. I must likewise observe, that as the greatestMasters of Critical Learning differ among one another,as to some particular Points in an Epic Poem, I havenot bound my self scrupulously to the Rules whichany one of them has laid down upon that Art, but havetaken the Liberty sometimes to join with one, and sometimeswith another, and sometimes to differ from all ofthem, when I have thought that the Reason of the thingwas on my side.
We may consider the Beauties of the Fourth Book underthree Heads. In the first are those Picturesof Still-Life, which we meet with in the Descriptionof Eden, Paradise, Adams Bower, &c. In the nextare the Machines, which comprehend the Speeches andBehaviour of the good and bad Angels. In thelast is the Conduct of Adam and Eve, who are the PrincipalActors in the Poem.
In the Description of Paradise, the Poet has observedAristotle’s Rule of lavishing all the Ornamentsof Diction on the weak unactive Parts of the Fable,which are not supported by the Beauty of Sentimentsand Characters. [2] Accordingly the Reader may observe,that the Expressions are more florid and elaboratein these Descriptions, than in most other Parts ofthe Poem. I must further add, that tho the Drawingsof Gardens, Rivers, Rainbows, and the like dead Piecesof Nature, are justly censured in an Heroic Poem,when they run out into an unnecessary length; theDescription of Paradise would have been faulty, hadnot the Poet been very particular in it, not onlyas it is the Scene of the Principal Action, but asit is requisite to give us an Idea of that Happinessfrom which our first Parents fell. The Plan ofit is wonderfully Beautiful, and formed upon the shortSketch which we have of it in Holy Writ. Milton’sExuberance of Imagination has poured forth such aRedundancy of Ornaments on this Seat of Happiness andInnocence, that it would be endless to point out eachParticular.
I must not quit this Head, without further observing,that there is scarce a Speech of Adam or Eve in thewhole Poem, wherein the Sentiments and Allusions arenot taken from this their delightful Habitation.The Reader, during their whole Course of Action, alwaysfinds himself in the Walks of Paradise. In short,as the Criticks have remarked, that in those Poems,wherein Shepherds are Actors, the Thoughts ought alwaysto take a Tincture from the Woods, Fields and Rivers,so we may observe, that our first Parents seldom loseSight of their happy Station in any thing they speakor do; and, if the Reader will give me leave to usethe Expression, that their Thoughts are always Paradisiacal.
We are in the next place to consider the Machinesof the Fourth Book. Satan being now within Prospectof Eden, and looking round upon the Glories of theCreation, is filled with Sentiments different fromthose which he discovered whilst he was in Hell.The Place inspires him with Thoughts more adaptedto it: He reflects upon the happy Condition fromwhich he fell, and breaks forth into a Speech thatis softned with several transient Touches of Remorseand Self-accusation: But at length he confirmshimself in Impenitence, and in his Design of drawingMan into his own State of Guilt and Misery. ThisConflict of Passions is raised with a great deal ofArt, as the opening of his Speech to the Sun is verybold and noble.
O thou that with surpassing Glory crown’d,
Look’st from thy sole Dominion likethe God
Of this new World; at whose Sight allthe Stars
Hide their diminish’d Heads; tothee I call,
But with no friendly Voice, and add thyname,
O Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams,
That bring to my Remembrance from whatState
I fell, how glorious once above thy Sphere.
This Speech is, I think, the finest that is ascribedto Satan in the whole Poem. The Evil Spirit afterwardsproceeds to make his Discoveries concerning our firstParents, and to learn after what manner they may bebest attacked. His bounding over the Walls ofParadise; his sitting in the Shape of a Cormorantupon the Tree of Life, which stood in the Center ofit, and overtopped all the other Trees of the Garden,his alighting among the Herd of Animals, which areso beautifully represented as playing about Adam andEve, together with his transforming himself into differentShapes, in order to hear their Conversation, are Circ*mstancesthat give an agreeable Surprize to the Reader, andare devised with great Art, to connect that Seriesof Adventures in which the Poet has engaged [this[3]] Artificer of Fraud.
The Thought of Satan’s Transformation into aCormorant, and placing himself on the Tree of Life,seems raised upon that Passage in the Iliad, wheretwo Deities are described, as perching on the Top ofan Oak in the shape of Vulturs.
His planting himself at the Ear of Eve under the [form[4]] of a Toad, in order to produce vain Dreams andImaginations, is a Circ*mstance of the same Nature;as his starting up in his own Form is wonderfully fine,both in the Literal Description, and in the Moral whichis concealed under it. His Answer upon his beingdiscovered, and demanded to give an Account of himself,[is [5]] conformable to the Pride and Intrepidity ofhis Character.
Know ye not then, said Satan, fill’dwith Scorn,
Know ye not Me? ye knew me once no mate
For you, there sitting where you durstnot soar;
Not to know Me argues your selves unknown,
The lowest of your throng;—
Zephon’s Rebuke, with the Influence it had onSatan, is exquisitely Graceful and Moral. Satanis afterwards led away to Gabriel, the chief of theGuardian Angels, who kept watch in Paradise. Hisdisdainful Behaviour on this Occasion is so remarkablea Beauty, that the most ordinary Reader cannot buttake Notice of it. Gabriel’s discoveringhis Approach at a Distance, is drawn with great strengthand liveliness of Imagination.
O Friends, I hear the tread of nimbleFeet
Hasting this Way, and now by glimps discern
Ithuriel and Zephon through the shade;
And with them comes a third of Regal Port,
But faded splendor wan; who by his gait
And fierce demeanor seems the Prince ofHell;
Not likely to part hence without contest:
Stand firm, for in his look defiance lours.
The Conference between Gabriel and Satan abounds withSentiments proper for the Occasion, and suitable tothe Persons of the two Speakers. Satan cloathinghimself with Terror when he prepares for the Combatis truly sublime, and at least equal to Homers Descriptionof Discord celebrated by Longinus, or to that of Famein Virgil, who are both represented with their Feetstanding upon the Earth, and their Heads reaching abovethe Clouds.
While thus he spake, th’ AngelicSquadron bright
Turn’d fiery red, sharpning in moonedHorns
Their Phalanx, and began to hem him round
With ported Spears, &c.
—On the other side Satan alarm’d,
Collecting all his might dilated stood
Like Teneriff, or Atlas, unremov’d.
His Stature reached the Sky, and on hisCrest
Sat horror plum’d;—
I must here take [notice, [6]] that Milton is everywhere full of Hints and sometimes literal Translations,taken from the greatest of the Greek and Latin Poets.But this I may reserve for a Discourse by it self,because I would not break the Thread of these Speculations,that are designed for English Readers, with such Reflectionsas would be of no use but to the Learned.
I must however observe in this Place, that the breakingoff the Combat between Gabriel and Satan, by the hangingout of the Golden Scales in Heaven, is a Refinementupon Homers Thought, who tells us, that before theBattle between Hector and Achilles, Jupiter weighedthe Event of it in a pair of Scales. The Readermay see the whole Passage in the 22nd Iliad.
Virgil, before the last decisive Combat, describesJupiter in the same manner, as weighing the Fatesof Turnus and AEneas. Milton, though he fetchedthis beautiful Circ*mstance from the Iliad and AEneid,does not only insert it as a Poetical Embellishment,like the Authors above-mentioned; but makes an artfuluse of it for the proper carrying on of his Fable,and for the breaking off the Combat between the twoWarriors, who were upon the point of engaging. [Tothis we may further add, that Milton is the more justifiedin this Passage, as we find the same noble Allegoryin Holy Writ, where a wicked Prince, some few Hoursbefore he was assaulted and slain, is said to havebeen weighed in the Scales, and to have been foundwanting.]
I must here take Notice under the Head of the Machines,that Uriel’s gliding down to the Earth upona Sunbeam, with the Poets Device to make him descend,as well in his return to the Sun, as in his comingfrom it, is a Prettiness that might have been admiredin a little fanciful Poet, but seems below the Geniusof Milton. The Description of the Host of armedAngels walking their nightly Round in Paradise, isof another Spirit.
So saying, on he led his radiant files,
Dazling the Moon;—
as that Account of the Hymns which our first Parentsused to hear them sing in these their Midnight Walks,is altogether Divine, and inexpressibly amusing tothe Imagination.
We are, in the last place, to consider the Parts whichAdam and Eve act in the Fourth Book. The Descriptionof them as they first appeared to Satan, is exquisitelydrawn, and sufficient to make the fallen Angel gazeupon them with all that Astonishment, and those Emotionsof Envy, in which he is represented.
Two of far nobler Shape erect and tall,
God-like erect! with native honour clad
In naked Majesty, seem’d lords ofall;
And worthy seem’d: for in theirlooks divine
The image of their glorious Maker shon,
Truth, Wisdom, Sanctitude severe and pure;
Severe, but in true filial freedom plac’d:
For contemplation he and valour form’d,
For softness she and sweet attractivegrace;
He for God only, she for God in him.
His fair large front, and eye sublime,declar’d
Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung
Clustring, but not beneath his Shouldersbroad.
She, as a Veil, down to her slender waste
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Dis-shevel’d, but in wanton ringletswav’d.
So pass’d they naked on, nor shun’dthe Sight
Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill:
So hand in hand they passed, the loveliestpair
That ever since in loves embraces met.
There is a fine Spirit of Poetry in the Lines whichfollow, wherein they are described as sitting on aBed of Flowers by the side of a Fountain, amidst amixed Assembly of Animals.
The Speeches of these two first Lovers flow equallyfrom Passion and Sincerity. The Professions theymake to one another are full of Warmth: but atthe same time founded on Truth. In a Word, theyare the Gallantries of Paradise:
—When Adam first of Men—
Sole partner and sole part of all thesejoys,
Dearer thy self than all;—
But let us ever praise him, and extol
His bounty, following our delightful Task,
To prune these growing plants, and tendthese flowrs;
Which were it toilsome, yet with theewere sweet.
To whom thus Eve reply’d. Othou for whom,
And from whom I was form’d, fleshof thy flesh,
And without whom am to no end, my Guide
And Head, what thou hast said is justand right.
For we to him indeed all praises owe.
And daily thanks; I chiefly, who enjoy
So far the happier Lot, enjoying thee
Preeminent by so much odds, while thou
Like consort to thy self canst no wherefind, &c.
The remaining part of Eves Speech, in which she givesan Account of her self upon her first Creation, andthe manner in which she was brought to Adam, is Ithink as beautiful a Passage as any in Milton, or perhapsin any other Poet whatsoever. These Passagesare all worked off with so much Art, that they arecapable of pleasing the most delicate Reader, withoutoffending the most severe.
That Day I oft remember, when from Sleep,&c.
A Poet of less Judgment and Invention than this greatAuthor, would have found it very difficult to havefilled [these [7]] tender Parts of the Poem with Sentimentsproper for a State of Innocence; to have describedthe Warmth of Love, and the Professions of it, withoutArtifice or Hyperbole: to have made the Man speakthe most endearing things, without descending fromhis natural Dignity, and the Woman receiving themwithout departing from the Modesty of her Character;in a Word, to adjust the Prerogatives of Wisdom andBeauty, and make each appear to the other in its properForce and Loveliness. This mutual Subordinationof the two Sexes is wonderfully kept up in the wholePoem, as particularly in the Speech of Eve I havebefore mentioned, and upon the Conclusion of it inthe following Lines.
So spake our general Mother, and witheyes
Of Conjugal attraction unreproved,
And meek surrender, half embracing lean’d
On our first father; half her swellingbreast
Naked met his under the flowing Gold
Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight
Both of her beauty and submissive charms
Smil’d with superior Love.—
The Poet adds, that the Devil turned away with Envyat the sight of so much Happiness.
We have another View of our first Parents in theirEvening Discourses, which is full of pleasing Imagesand Sentiments suitable to their Condition and Characters.The Speech of Eve, in particular, is dressed up insuch a soft and natural Turn of Words and Sentiments,as cannot be sufficiently admired.
I shall close my Reflections upon this Book, withobserving the Masterly Transition which the Poet makesto their Evening Worship in the following Lines.
Thus at their shady Lodge arriv’d,both stood,
Both turn’d, and under open Sky,ador’d
The God that made both [Sky,] Air, Earthand Heaven,
Which they beheld, the Moons resplendentGlobe,
And Starry Pole: Thou also madstthe Night,
Maker Omnipotent, and thou the Day, &c.
Most of the Modern Heroick Poets have imitated theAncients, in beginning a Speech without premising,that the Person said thus or thus; but as it is easieto imitate the Ancients in the Omission of two orthree Words, it requires Judgment to do it in sucha manner as they shall not be missed, and that theSpeech may begin naturally without them. Thereis a fine Instance of this Kind out of Homer, in theTwenty Third Chapter of Longinus.
L.
[Footnote 1: From this date to the end of theseries the Saturday papers upon Milton exceed theusual length of a Spectator essay. That they maynot occupy more than the single leaf of the originalissue, they are printed in smaller type; the columnsalso, when necessary, encroach on the bottom marginof the paper, and there are few advertisem*nts inserted.]
[Footnote 2: At the end of the third Book ofthe Poetics.
The diction should be most laboured inthe idle parts of the poem;
those in which neither manners nor sentimentsprevail; for the manners
and the sentiments are only obscured bytoo splendid a diction.]
[Footnote 3: [this great]]
[Footnote 4: [shape]]
[Footnote 5: [are]]
[Footnote 6: notice by the way]
[Footnote 7: [those]]
* * * * *
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THOMAS EARL OF WHARTON.[1]
My LORD,
The Author of the Spectator having prefixed beforeeach of his Volumes the Name of some great Personto whom he has particular Obligations, lays his Claimto your Lordships Patronage upon the same Account.I must confess, my Lord, had not I already receivedgreat Instances of your Favour, I should have beenafraid of submitting a Work of this Nature to yourPerusal. You are so thoroughly acquainted withthe Characters of Men, and all the Parts of humanLife, that it is impossible for the least Misrepresentationof them to escape your Notice. It is Your Lordshipsparticular Distinction that you are Master of thewhole Compass of Business, and have signalized YourSelf in all the different Scenes of it. We admiresome for the Dignity, others for the Popularity oftheir Behaviour; some for their Clearness of Judgment,others for their Happiness of Expression; some forthe laying of Schemes, and others for the puttingof them in Execution: It is Your Lordship onlywho enjoys these several Talents united, and that tooin as great Perfection as others possess them singly.Your Enemies acknowledge this great Extent in yourLordships Character, at the same time that they usetheir utmost Industry and Invention to derogate fromit. But it is for Your Honour that those who arenow Your Enemies were always so. You have actedin so much Consistency with Your Self, and promotedthe Interests of your Country in so uniform a Manner,that even those who would misrepresent your GenerousDesigns for the Publick Good, cannot but approve theSteadiness and Intrepidity with which You pursue them.It is a most sensible Pleasure to me that I have thisOpportunity of professing my self one of your greatAdmirers, and, in a very particular Manner,
My LORD,
Your Lordships
Most Obliged,
And most Obedient,
Humble Servant,
THE SPECTATOR.
[Footnote 1: This is the Thomas, Earl of Wharton,who in 1708 became Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, andtook Addison for his Chief Secretary. He wasthe son of Philip, Baron Wharton, a firm Presbyterian,sometimes called the good Lord Wharton, to distinguishhim from his son and grandson. Philip Whartonhad been an opponent of Stuart encroachments, a friendof Algernon Sidney, and one of the first men to welcomeWilliam III. to England. He died, very old, in1694. His son Thomas did not inherit the religious
temper of his father, and even a dedication couldhardly have ventured to compliment him on his privatemorals. But he was an active politician, waswith his father in the secret of the landing of thePrince of Orange, and was made by William Comptrollerof the Household. Thwarted in his desire to becomea Secretary of State, he made himself formidable asa bold, sarcastic speaker and by the strength of hisparliamentary interest. He is said to have returnedat one time thirty members, and to have spent eightythousand pounds upon the maintenance of his politicalposition. He was apt, by his manners, to makefriends of the young men of influence. He spentmoney freely also on the turf, and upon his seat ofWinchenden, in Wilts. Queen Anne, on her accession,struck his name with her own hand from the list ofPrivy Councillors, but he won his way not only torestoration of that rank, but also in December, 1706,at the age of 67, to his title of Viscount Winchendonand Earl of Wharton. In November, 1708, he becameLord-lieutenant of Ireland, with Addison for secretary.He took over with him also Clayton the musician, andkept a gay court, easily accessible, except to RomanCatholics, whom he would not admit to his presence,and against whom he enforced the utmost rigour of thepenal code. He had himself conformed to the Churchof England. Swift accused him, as Lord-lieutenant,of shameless depravity of manners, of injustice, greed,and gross venality. This Lord Wharton died in1715, and was succeeded by his son Philip, whom GeorgeI., in 1718, made Duke of Wharton for his fathersvigorous support of the Hanoverian succession.His character was much worse than that of his father,the energetic politician and the man of cultivatedtaste and ready wit to whom Steele and Addison herededicated the Fifth Volume of the Spectator.]* * * * *
No. 322. Monday, March 10, 1712. Steele.
Ad humum maerore gravi deducit et angit.
Hor.
It is often said, after a Man has heard a Story withextraordinary Circ*mstances, It is a very good oneif it be true: But as for the following Relation,I should be glad were I sure it were false. Itis told with such Simplicity, and there are so manyartless Touches of Distress in it, that I fear itcomes too much from the Heart.
Mr. SPECTATOR, Some Years ago it happenedthat I lived in the same House with a young Gentlemanof Merit; with whose good Qualities I was so muchtaken, as to make it my Endeavour to shew as many asI was able in my self. Familiar Converse improvedgeneral Civilities into an unfeigned Passion onboth Sides. He watched an Opportunity to declarehimself to me; and I, who could not expect a Manof so great an Estate as his, received his Addressesin such Terms, as gave him no reason to believeI was displeased by them, tho I did nothing to makehim think me more easy than was decent. HisFather was a very hard worldly Man, and proud; sothat there was no reason to believe he would easilybe brought to think there was any thing in any Woman’sPerson or Character that could ballance the Disadvantageof an unequal Fortune. In the mean time theSon continued his Application to me, and omitted noOccasion of demonstrating the most disinterested Passionimaginable to me; and in plain direct Terms offer’dto marry me privately, and keep it so till he shouldbe so happy as to gain his Fathers Approbation,or become possessed of his Estate. I passionatelyloved him, and you will believe I did not deny sucha one what was my Interest also to grant. HoweverI was not so young, as not to take the Precautionof carrying with me a faithful Servant, who had beenalso my Mothers Maid, to be present at the Ceremony.When that was over I demanded a Certificate, signedby the Minister, my Husband, and the Servant I justnow spoke of. After our Nuptials, we conversedtogether very familiarly in the same House; butthe Restraints we were generally under, and theInterviews we had, being stolen and interrupted,made our Behaviour to each other have rather the impatientFondness which is visible in Lovers, than the regularand gratified Affection which is to be observedin Man and Wife. This Observation made theFather very anxious for his Son, and press him toa Match he had in his Eye for him. To relievemy Husband from this Importunity, and conceal theSecret of our Marriage, which I had reason to knowwould not be long in my power in Town, it was resolvedthat I should retire into a remote Place in the Country,and converse under feigned Names by Letter.We long continued this Way of Commerce; and I withmy Needle, a few Books, and reading over and over myHusbands Letters, passed my Time in a resigned Expectationof better Days. Be pleased to take notice,that within four Months after I left my HusbandI was delivered of a Daughter, who died within fewHours after her Birth. This Accident, and theretired Manner of Life I led, gave criminal Hopesto a neighbouring Brute of a Country Gentle-man, whoseFolly was the Source of all my Affliction. ThisRustick is one of those rich Clowns, who supplythe Want of all manner of Breeding by the Neglectof it, and with noisy Mirth, half Understanding, andample Fortune, force themselves upon Persons andThings, without any Sense of Time and Place.The poor ignorant People where I lay conceal’d,and now passed for a Widow, wondered I could beso shy and strange, as they called it, to the Squire;and were bribed by him to admit him whenever hethought fit. I happened to be sitting in a littleParlour which belonged to my own Part of the House,and musing over one of the fondest of my HusbandsLetters, in which I always kept the Certificateof my Marriage, when this rude Fellow came in, andwith the nauseous Familiarity of such unbred Brutes,snatched the Papers out of my Hand. I was immediatelyunder so great a Concern, that I threw my self athis Feet, and begged of him to return them. Hewith the same odious Pretence to Freedom and Gaiety,swore he would read them. I grew more importunate,he more curious, till at last, with an Indignationarising from a Passion I then first discovered in him,he threw the Papers into the Fire, swearing thatsince he was not to read them, the Man who writthem should never be so happy as to have me readthem over again. It is insignificant to tell youmy Tears and Reproaches made the boisterous Calfleave the Room ashamed and out of Countenance, whenI had leisure to ruminate on this Accident with morethan ordinary Sorrow: However, such was thenmy Confidence in my Husband, that I writ to himthe Misfortune, and desired another Paper of thesame kind. He deferred writing two or three Posts,and at last answered me in general, That he couldnot then send me what I asked for, but when he couldfind a proper Conveyance, I should be sure to haveit. From this time his Letters were more coldevery Day than the other, and as he grew indifferentI grew jealous. This has at last brought meto Town, where I find both the Witnesses of my Marriagedead, and that my Husband, after three Months Cohabitation,has buried a young Lady whom he married in Obedienceto his Father. In a word, he shuns and disownsme. Should I come to the House and confront him,the Father would join in supporting him againstme, though he believed my Story; should I talk itto the World, what Reparation can I expect for anInjury I cannot make out? I believe he means tobring me, through Necessity, to resign my Pretentionsto him for some Provision for my Life; but I willdie first. Pray bid him remember what he said,and how he was charmed when he laughed at the heedlessDiscovery I often made of my self; let him rememberhow awkward he was in my dissembled Indifferencetowards him before Company; ask him how I, who couldnever conceal my Love for him, at his own Request,can part with him for ever? Oh, Mr. SPECTATOR,sensible Spirits know no Indifference in Marriage;what then do you think is my piercing Affliction?—–Ileave you to represent my Distress your own way,in which I desire you to be speedy, if you haveCompassion for Innocence exposed to Infamy. Octavia.
T.
* * * * *
No. 323. Tuesday, March 11, 1712. Addison.
Modo Vir, modo Foemina. [1]
Virg.
The journal with which I presented my Reader on Tuesdaylast, has brought me in several Letters, with Accountsof many private Lives cast into that Form. Ihave the Rakes Journal, the Sots Journal, the whor*mastersJournal, and among several others a very curious Piece,entituled, The Journal of a Mohock. By these InstancesI find that the Intention of my last Tuesdays Paperhas been mistaken by many of my Readers. I didnot design so much to expose Vice as Idleness, andaimed at those Persons who pass away their Time ratherin Trifle and Impertinence, than in Crimes and Immoralities.Offences of this latter kind are not to be dalliedwith, or treated in so ludicrous a manner. Inshort, my Journal only holds up Folly to the Light,and shews the Disagreeableness of such Actions asare indifferent in themselves, and blameable onlyas they proceed from Creatures endow’d with Reason.
My following Correspondent, who calls her self Clarinda,is such a Journalist as I require: She seemsby her Letter to be placed in a modish State of Indifferencebetween Vice and Virtue, and to be susceptible ofeither, were there proper Pains taken with her.Had her Journal been filled with Gallantries, or suchOccurrences as had shewn her wholly divested of hernatural Innocence, notwithstanding it might have beenmore pleasing to the Generality of Readers, I shouldnot have published it; but as it is only the Pictureof a Life filled with a fashionable kind of Gaietyand Laziness, I shall set down five Days of it, asI have received it from the Hand of my fair Correspondent.
Dear Mr. SPECTATOR, You having setyour Readers an Exercise in one of your last WeeksPapers, I have perform’d mine according toyour Orders, and herewith send it you enclosed.You must know, Mr. SPECTATOR, that I am a Maiden Ladyof a good Fortune, who have had several Matches offeredme for these ten Years last past, and have at presentwarm Applications made to me by a very pretty Fellow.As I am at my own Disposal, I come up to Town everyWinter, and pass my Time in it after the manner youwill find in the following Journal, which I begunto write upon the very Day after your Spectatorupon that Subject.
TUESDAY Night. Couldnot go to sleep till one in the Morning for
thinking of my Journal.
WEDNESDAY. From Eighttill Ten, Drank two Dishes of Chocolate in
Bed, and fell asleep afterem.
From Ten to Eleven. Eata Slice of Bread and Butter, drank a Dish of
Bohea, read the Spectator.
From Eleven to One. Atmy Toilet, try’d a new Head. Gave Ordersfor
Veny to be combed and washed.Mem. I look best in Blue.
From One till Half an Hourafter Two. Drove to the Change. Cheapned
a Couple of Fans.
Till Four. At Dinner.Mem. Mr. Froth passed by in his new Liveries.
From Four to Six. Dressed,paid a Visit to old Lady Blithe and her
Sister, having before heardthey were gone out of Town that Day.
From Six to Eleven. AtBasset. Mem. Never set again upon the Aceof
Diamonds.
THURSDAY. From Elevenat Night to Eight in the Morning. Dream’dthat
I punted to Mr. Froth.
From Eight to Ten. Chocolate.Read two Acts in Aurenzebe [2] abed.
From Ten to Eleven. Tea-Table.Sent to borrow Lady Faddles Cupid
for Veny. Read the Play-Bills.Received a Letter from Mr. Froth.
Mem. locked it up in my strongBox.
Rest of the Morning. Fontange,the Tire-woman, her Account of my Lady Blithe’sWash. Broke a Tooth in my little Tortoise-shellComb. Sent Frank to know how my Lady Hectickrested after her Monky’s leaping out atWindow. Looked pale. Fontange tells me myGlass is not true. Dressed by Three.
From Three to Four. Dinnercold before I sat down.
From Four to Eleven. Saw Company.Mr. Froths Opinion of Milton. His Accountof the Mohocks. His Fancy for a Pin-cushion.Picture in the Lid of his Snuff-box. OldLady Faddle promises me her Woman to cut my Hair.Lost five Guineas at Crimp.
Twelve a-Clock at Night.Went to Bed.
FRIDAY. Eight in theMorning. Abed. Read over all Mr. Froths
Letters. Cupid and Veny.
Ten a-Clock. Stay’dwithin all day, not at home.
From Ten to Twelve. InConference with my Mantua-Maker. Sorted a
Suit of Ribbands. Brokemy Blue China Cup.
From Twelve to One. Shutmy self up in my Chamber, practised Lady
Betty Modely’s Skuttle.
One in the Afternoon.Called for my flowered Handkerchief. Worked
half a Violet-Leaf in it.Eyes aked and Head out of Order. Threw by
my Work, and read over theremaining Part of Aurenzebe.
From Three to Four. Dined.
From Four to Twelve. Changed myMind, dressed, went abroad, and play’d atCrimp till Midnight. Found Mrs. Spitely at home.Conversation: Mrs. Brilliants Necklace falseStones. Old Lady Loveday going to be marriedto a young Fellow that is not worth a Groat.Miss Prue gone into the Country. Tom Townley hasred Hair. Mem. Mrs. Spitely whisperedin my Ear that she had something to tell me aboutMr. Froth, I am sure it is not true.
Between Twelve and One.Dreamed that Mr. Froth lay at my Feet, and
called me Indamora. [3]
SATURDAY. Rose at Eighta-Clock in the Morning. Sate down to my
Toilet.
From Eight to Nine. Shifteda Patch for Half an Hour before I could
determine it. Fixed itabove my left Eye-brow.
From Nine to Twelve.Drank my Tea, and dressed.
From Twelve to Two. AtChappel. A great deal of good Company. Mem.
The third Air in the new Opera.Lady Blithe dressed frightfully.
From Three to Four. Dined.Miss Kitty called upon me to go to the
Opera before I was risen fromTable.
From Dinner to Six. DrankTea. Turned off a Footman for being rude
to Veny.
Six a-Clock. Went to the Opera.I did not see Mr. Froth till the beginning ofthe second Act. Mr. Froth talked to a Gentlemanin a black Wig. Bowed to a Lady in the frontBox. Mr. Froth and his Friend clapp’dNicolini in the third Act. Mr. Froth cried outAncora. Mr. Froth led me to my Chair.I think he squeezed my Hand.
Eleven at Night. Wentto Bed. Melancholy Dreams. Methought Nicolini
said he was Mr. Froth.
SUNDAY. Indisposed.
MONDAY. Eight a-Clock.Waked by Miss Kitty. Aurenzebe lay upon the
Chair by me. Kitty repeatedwithout Book the Eight best Lines in the
Play. Went in our Mobbsto the dumb Man [4], according to
Appointment. Told methat my Lovers Name began with a G. Mem. The
Conjurer was within a Letterof Mr. Froths Name, &c.
Upon looking back into this my Journal,I find that I am at a loss to know whether I passmy Time well or ill; and indeed never thought of consideringhow I did it before I perused your Speculation uponthat Subject. I scarce find a single Actionin these five Days that I can thoroughly approveof, except the working upon the Violet-Leaf, whichI am resolved to finish the first Day I am at leisure.As for Mr. Froth and Veny I did not think they tookup so much of my Time and Thoughts, as I find theydo upon my Journal. The latter of them I willturn off, if you insist upon it; and if Mr. Frothdoes not bring Matters to a Conclusion very suddenly,I will not let my Life run away in a Dream.Your humble Servant, Clarinda.
To resume one of the Morals of my first Paper, andto confirm Clarinda in her good Inclinations, I wouldhave her consider what a pretty Figure she would makeamong Posterity, were the History of her whole Lifepublished like these five Days of it. I shallconclude my Paper with an Epitaph written by an uncertainAuthor [5] on Sir Philip Sidney’s Sister, aLady who seems to have been of a Temper very much differentfrom that of Clarinda. The last Thought of itis so very noble, that I dare say my Reader will pardonme the Quotation.
On the Countess Dowager of Pembroke.
Underneath this Marble Hearse
Lies the Subject of all Verse,
Sidney’s Sister, Pembroke’sMother:
Death, ere thou hast kill’d another,
Fair, and learn’d, and good as she,
Time shall throw a Dart at thee.
[Footnote 1: A quotation from memory of Virgil’s Et juvenis quondam nunc foemina. AEn. vi. 448.]
[Footnote 2: Dryden’s.]
[Footnote 3: The heroine of Aurengzebe.]
[Footnote 4: Duncan Campbell, said to be deafand dumb, and to tell fortunes by second sight.In 1732 there appeared Secret Memoirs of the lateMr. D. Campbell.... written by himself... with an Appendixby way of vindicating Mr. C. against the groundlessaspersion cast upon him, that he but pretended tobe deaf and dumb.]
[Footnote 5: Ben Jonson.]
* * * * *
No. 324. Wednesday, March 12, 1712. Steele.
[O curvae in terris animae, et coelestiuminanes.
Pers [1].]
Mr. SPECTATOR,
The Materials you have collected togethertowards a general History of Clubs, make so brighta Part of your Speculations, that I think it isbut a Justice we all owe the learned World to furnishyou with such Assistances as may promote that usefulWork. For this Reason I could not forbear communicatingto you some imperfect Informations of a Set of Men(if you will allow them a place in that Species ofBeing) who have lately erected themselves into aNocturnal Fraternity, under the Title of the MohockClub, a Name borrowed it seems from a sort of Cannibalsin India, who subsist by plundering and devouring allthe Nations about them. The President is styledEmperor of the Mohocks; and his Arms are a TurkishCrescent, which his Imperial Majesty bears at presentin a very extraordinary manner engraven upon his Forehead.Agreeable to their Name, the avowed design of theirInstitution is Mischief; and upon this Foundationall their Rules and Orders are framed. An outrageousAmbition of doing all possible hurt to their Fellow-Creatures,is the great Cement of their Assembly, and the onlyQualification required in the Members. In orderto exert this Principle in its full Strength andPerfection, they take care to drink themselves toa pitch, that is, beyond the Possibility of attendingto any Motions of Reason and Humanity; then makea general Sally, and attack all that are so unfortunateas to walk the Streets through which they patrole.Some are knock’d down, others stabb’d,others cut and carbonado’d. To put theWatch to a total Rout, and mortify some of thoseinoffensive Militia, is reckon’d a Coup d’eclat.The particular Talents by which these Misanthropesare distinguished from one another, consist in thevarious kinds of Barbarities which they executeupon their Prisoners. Some are celebrated fora happy Dexterity in tipping the Lion upon them;which is performed by squeezing the Nose flat tothe Face, and boring out the Eyes with their Fingers:Others are called the Dancing-Masters, and teach theirScholars to cut Capers by running Swords thro theirLegs; a new Invention, whether originally FrenchI cannot tell: A third sort are the Tumblers,whose office it is to set Women on their Heads, andcommit certain Indecencies, or rather Barbarities,on the Limbs which they expose. But these Iforbear to mention, because they cant but be veryshocking to the Reader as well as the SPECTATOR.In this manner they carry on a War against Mankind;and by the standing Maxims of their Policy, areto enter into no Alliances but one, and that is Offensiveand Defensive with all Bawdy-Houses in general, ofwhich they have declared themselves Protectors andGuarantees. [2]
I must own, Sir, these are only brokenincoherent Memoirs of this wonderful Society, butthey are the best I have been yet able to procure;for being but of late Establishment, it is not ripefor a just History; And to be serious, the chiefDesign of this Trouble is to hinder it from everbeing so. You have been pleas’d, out ofa concern for the good of your Countrymen, to actunder the Character of SPECTATOR, not only the Partof a Looker-on, but an Overseer of their Actions;and whenever such Enormities as this infest the Town,we immediately fly to you for Redress. I havereason to believe, that some thoughtless Youngsters,out of a false Notion of Bravery, and an immoderateFondness to be distinguished for Fellows of Fire, areinsensibly hurry’d into this senseless scandalousProject: Such will probably stand correctedby your Reproofs, especially if you inform them,that it is not Courage for half a score Fellows, madwith Wine and Lust, to set upon two or three sobererthan themselves; and that the Manners of IndianSavages are no becoming Accomplishments to an Englishfine Gentleman. Such of them as have been Bulliesand Scowrers of a long standing, and are grown Veteransin this kind of Service, are, I fear, too hardnedto receive any Impressions from your Admonitions.But I beg you would recommend to their Perusal yourninth Speculation: They may there be taughtto take warning from the Club of Duellists; andbe put in mind, that the common Fate of those Men ofHonour was to be hang’d.
I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
Philanthropos
March the 10th, 1711-12.
The following Letter is of a quite contrary nature;but I add it here, that the Reader may observe atthe same View, how amiable Ignorance may be when itis shewn in its Simplicities, and how detestable inBarbarities. It is written by an honest Countrymanto his Mistress, and came to the Hands of a Lady ofgood Sense wrapped about a Thread-Paper, who has longkept it by her as an Image of artless Love.
To her I very much respect, Mrs. MargaretClark.
Lovely, and oh that I could write lovingMrs. Margaret Clark, I pray you let Affection excusePresumption. Having been so happy as to enjoythe Sight of your sweet Countenance and comely Body,sometimes when I had occasion to buy Treacle orLiquorish Powder at the Apothecary’s Shop,I am so enamoured with you, that I can no more keepclose my flaming Desire to become your Servant.And I am the more bold now to write to your sweetself, because I am now my own Man, and may match whereI please; for my Father is taken away, and now I amcome to my Living, which is Ten Yard Land, and aHouse; and there is never a Yard of Land in ourField but it is as well worth ten Pound a Year, asa Thief is worth a Halter; and all my Brothers andSisters are provided for: Besides I have goodHoushold-stuff, though I say it, both Brass andPewter, Linnens and Woollens; and though my House bethatched, yet, if you and I match, it shall go hardbut I will have one half of it slated. If youthink well of this Motion, I will wait upon you assoon as my new Cloaths is made and Hay Harvest isin. I could, though I say it, have good—
The rest is torn off; [3] and Posterity must be contentedto know, that Mrs. Margaret Clark was very pretty,but are left in the dark as to the Name of her Lover.
T.
[Footnote 1:
[Saevis inter se convenit Ursis.
Juv.]]
[Footnote 2: Gay tells also in his Trivia thatthe Mohocks rolled women in hogs-heads down Snow hill.Swift wrote of the Mohocks, at this time, in his Journalto Stella,
Grub-street papers about them fly likelightning, and a list printed
of near eighty put into several prisons,and all a lie, and I begin to
think there is no truth, or very little,in the whole story.
On the 18th of March an attempt was made to put theMohocks down by Royal Proclamation.]
[Footnote 3: This letter is said to have beenreally sent to one who married Mr. Cole, a Northamptonattorney, by a neighbouring freeholder named GabrielBullock, and shown to Steele by his friend the antiquary,Browne Willis. See also No. 328.]
* * * * *
No. 325. Thursday, March 13, 1712. Budgell
Quid frustra Simulacra fugacia captas?
Quod petis, est nusquam: quod amasavertere, perdes.
Ista repercussae quam cernis imaginisumbra est,
Nil habet ista sui; tecum venitque, manetque,
Tecum discedet si tu discedere possis.
Ovid.
WILL. HONEYCOMB diverted us last Night with anAccount of a young Fellows first discovering his Passionto his Mistress. The young Lady was one, it seems,who had long before conceived a favourable Opinionof him, and was still in hopes that he would sometime or other make his Advances. As he was oneday talking with her in Company of her two Sisters,the Conversation happening to turn upon Love, eachof the young Ladies was by way of Raillery, recommendinga Wife to him; when, to the no small Surprize of herwho languished for him in secret, he told them witha more than ordinary Seriousness, that his Heart hadbeen long engaged to one whose Name he thought himselfobliged in Honour to conceal; but that he could shewher Picture in the Lid of his Snuff-box. Theyoung Lady, who found herself the most sensibly touchedby this Confession, took the first Opportunity thatoffered of snatching his Box out of his Hand.He seemed desirous of recovering it, but finding herresolved to look into the Lid, begged her, that ifshe should happen to know the Person, she would notreveal her Name. Upon carrying it to the Window,she was very agreeably surprized to find there wasnothing within the Lid but a little Looking-Glass,in which, after she had view’d her own Facewith more Pleasure than she had ever done before,she returned the Box with a Smile, telling him, shecould not but admire at his Choice.
WILL. fancying that his Story took, immediately fellinto a Dissertation on the Usefulness of Looking-Glasses,and applying himself to me, asked, if there were anyLooking Glasses in the Times of the Greeks and Romans;for that he had often observed in the Translationsof Poems out of those Languages, that People generallytalked of seeing themselves in Wells, Fountains, Lakes,and Rivers: Nay, says he, I remember Mr. Drydenin his Ovid tells us of a swingeing Fellow, calledPolypheme, that made use of the Sea for his Looking-Glass,and could never dress himself to Advantage but ina Calm.
My Friend WILL, to shew us the whole Compass of hisLearning upon this Subject, further informed us, thatthere were still several Nations in the World so verybarbarous as not to have any Looking-Glasses amongthem; and that he had lately read a Voyage to the South-Sea,in which it is said, that the Ladies of Chili alwaysdress their Heads over a Bason of Water.
I am the more particular in my Account of WILL’Slast Night’s Lecture on these natural Mirrors,as it seems to bear some Relation to the followingLetter, which I received the Day before.
SIR,
I have read your last Saturdays Observationson the Fourth Book of Milton with great Satisfaction,and am particularly pleased with the hidden Moral,which you have taken notice of in several Parts ofthe Poem. The Design of this Letter is to desireyour Thoughts, whether there may not also be someMoral couched under that Place in the same Bookwhere the Poet lets us know, that the first Woman immediatelyafter her Creation ran to a Looking-Glass, and becameso enamoured of her own Face, that she had neverremoved to view any of the other Works of Nature,had not she been led off to a Man. If you thinkfit to set down the whole Passage from Milton, yourReaders will be able to judge for themselves, andthe Quotation will not a little contribute to thefilling up of your Paper. Your humble Servant,R. T.
The last Consideration urged by my Querist is so strong,that I cannot forbear closing with it. The Passagehe alludes to, is part of Eves Speech to Adam, andone of the most beautiful Passages in the whole Poem.
That Day I oft remember, when from sleep
I first awaked, and found my self reposd
Under a shade of flowrs, much wonderingwhere
And what I was, whence thither brought,and how.
Not distant far from thence a murmuringSound
Of Waters issu’d from a Cave, andspread
Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmoved
Pure as th’ Expanse of Heavn:I thither went
With unexperienced Thought, and laid medown
On the green Bank, to look into the clear
Smooth Lake, that to me seemed anotherSky.
As I bent down to look, just opposite,
A Shape within the watry Gleam appeared
Bending to look on me; I started back,
It started back; but pleas’d I soonreturned,
Pleas’d it return’d as soonwith answering Looks
Of Sympathy and Love; there I had fixd
Mine Eyes till now, and pined with vainDesire,
Had not a Voice thus warn’d me,What thou seest,
What there thou seest, fair Creature,is thy self,
With thee it came and goes: but followme,
And I will bring thee where no Shadowstays
Thy coming, and thy soft Embraces, he
Whose Image thou art, him thou shalt enjoy
Inseparably thine, to him shalt bear
Multitudes like thy self, and thence becall’d
Mother of Human Race. What couldI do,
But follow streight, invisibly thus led?
Till I espy’d thee, fair indeedand tall,
Under a Platan, yet methought less fair,
Less winning soft, less amiably mild,
Than that smooth watry Image: backI turn’d,
Thou following crydst aloud, Return fairEve,
Whom flyst thou? whom thou flyst, of himthou art,
His Flesh, his Bone; to give thee Being,
Out of my Side to thee, nearest my Heart,
Substantial Life, to have thee by my side
Henceforth an individual Solace dear.
Part of my Soul I seek thee, and theeclaim
My other half!—–Withthat thy gentle hand
Seized mine, I yielded, and from thattime see
How Beauty is excell’d by manlyGrace,
And Wisdom, which alone is truly fair.
So spake our general Mother,—
X.
* * * * *
No. 326. Friday, March 14, 1712. Steele.
Inclusam Danaen turris ahenea
Robustaeque fores, et vigilum canum
Tristes exubiae, munierant satis
Nocturnis ab adulteris;
Si non—
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Your Correspondents Letter relating toFortune-Hunters, and your subsequent Discourse uponit, have given me Encouragement to send you a Stateof my Case, by which you will see, that the Mattercomplained of is a common Grievance both to Cityand Country.
I am a Country Gentleman of between fiveand six thousand a Year. It is my Misfortuneto have a very fine Park and an only Daughter; uponwhich account I have been so plagu’d with Deer-Stealersand Fops, that for these four Years past I havescarce enjoy’d a Moments Rest. I lookupon my self to be in a State of War, and am forc’dto keep as constant watch in my Seat, as a Governourwould do that commanded a Town on the Frontier ofan Enemy’s Country. I have indeed prettywell secur’d my Park, having for this purposeprovided my self of four Keepers, who are Left-handed,and handle a Quarter-Staff beyond any other Fellowin the Country. And for the Guard of my House,besides a Band of Pensioner-Matrons and an old MaidenRelation, whom I keep on constant Duty, I have Blunderbussesalways charged, and Fox-Gins planted in privatePlaces about my Garden, of which I have given frequentNotice in the Neighbourhood; yet so it is, that inspite of all my Care, I shall every now and thenhave a saucy Rascal ride by reconnoitring (as Ithink you call it) under my Windows, as sprucely drestas if he were going to a Ball. I am aware of thisway of attacking a Mistress on Horseback, havingheard that it is a common Practice in Spain; andhave therefore taken care to remove my Daughter fromthe Road-side of the House, and to lodge her next theGarden. But to cut short my Story; what cana Man do after all? I durst not stand for Memberof Parliament last Election, for fear of some illConsequence from my being off of my Post. WhatI would therefore desire of you, is, to promotea Project I have set on foot; and upon which I havewrit to some of my Friends; and that is, that caremay be taken to secure our Daughters by Law, aswell as our Deer; and that some honest Gentlemanof a publick Spirit, would move for Leave to bringin a Bill For the better preserving of the Female Game.I am, SIR, Your humble Servant.
Mile-End-Green, March 6, 1711-12.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Here is a young Man walks by our Doorevery Day about the Dusk of the Evening. Helooks up at my Window, as if to see me; and if I stealtowards it to peep at him, he turns another way,and looks frightened at finding what he was lookingfor. The Air is very cold; and pray let himknow that if he knocks at the Door, he will be carry’dto the Parlour Fire; and I will come down soon after,and give him an Opportunity to break his Mind.I am, SIR, Your humble Servant, Mary Comfitt.
If I observe he cannot speak, Ill givehim time to recover himself,
and ask him how he does.
Dear SIR, I beg you to print this withoutDelay, and by the first Opportunity give us thenatural Causes of Longing in Women; or put me out ofFear that my Wife will one time or other be deliveredof something as monstrous as any thing that hasyet appeared to the World; for they say the Childis to bear a Resemblance of what was desir’dby the Mother. I have been marry’d upwardsof six Years, have had four Children, and my Wifeis now big with the fifth. The Expences she hasput me to in procuring what she has longed for duringher Pregnancy with them, would not only have handsomelydefray’d the Charges of the Month, but oftheir Education too; her Fancy being so exorbitantfor the first Year or two, as not to confine itself to the usual Objects of Eatables and Drinkables,but running out after Equipage and Furniture, andthe like Extravagancies. To trouble you only witha few of them: When she was with Child of Tom,my eldest Son, she came home one day just fainting,and told me she had been visiting a Relation, whoseHusband had made her a Present of a Chariot and a statelypair of Horses; and that she was positive she couldnot breathe a Week longer, unless she took the Airin the Fellow to it of her own within that time:This, rather than lose an Heir, I readily comply’dwith. Then the Furniture of her best Room mustbe instantly changed, or she should mark the Childwith some of the frightful Figures in the old-fashion’dTapestry. Well, the Upholsterer was called, andher Longing sav’d that bout. When shewent with Molly, she had fix’d her Mind upona new Set of Plate, and as much China as would havefurnished an India Shop: These also I chearfullygranted, for fear of being Father to an Indian Pagod.Hitherto I found her Demands rose upon every Concession;and had she gone on, I had been ruined: But bygood Fortune, with her third, which was Peggy, theHeight of her Imagination came down to the Cornerof a Venison Pasty, and brought her once even uponher Knees to gnaw off the Ears of a Pig from the Spit.The Gratifications of her Palate were easily preferredto those of her Vanity; and sometimes a Partridgeor a Quail, a Wheat-Ear or the Pestle of a Lark,were chearfully purchased; nay, I could be contentedtho I were to feed her with green Pease in April, orCherries in May. But with the Babe she now goes,she is turned Girl again, and fallen to eating ofChalk, pretending twill make the Child’s Skinwhite; and nothing will serve her but I must bear herCompany, to prevent its having a Shade of my Brown:In this however I have ventur’d to deny her.No longer ago than yesterday, as we were comingto Town, she saw a parcel of Crows so heartily at Break-fastupon a piece of Horse-flesh, that she had an invincibleDesire to partake with them, and (to my infiniteSurprize) begged the Coachman to cut her off a Sliceas if twere for himself, which the Fellow did; andas soon as she came home she fell to it with such anAppetite, that she seemed rather to devour thaneat it. What her next Sally will be, I cannotguess: but in the mean time my Request to youis, that if there be any way to come at these wildunaccountable Rovings of Imagination by Reason andArgument, you’d speedily afford us your Assistance.This exceeds the Grievance of Pin-Money, and I thinkin every Settlement there ought to be a Clause inserted,that the Father should be answerable for the Longingsof his Daughter. But I shall impatiently expectyour Thoughts in this Matter and am SIR, Yourmost Obliged, and most Faithful Humble Servant,T.B.
Let me know whether you think the nextChild will love Horses as much
as Molly does China-Ware.
T.
* * * * *
No. 327. Saturday, March 15, 1712. Addison.
Major rerum mihi nascitur ordo.
Virg.
We were told in the foregoing Book how the evil Spiritpractised upon Eve as she lay asleep, in order toinspire her with Thoughts of Vanity, Pride, and Ambition.The Author, who shews a wonderful Art throughout hiswhole Poem, in preparing the Reader for the severalOccurrences that arise in it, founds upon the above-mention’dCirc*mstance, the first Part of the fifth Book.Adam upon his awaking finds Eve still asleep, withan unusual Discomposure in her Looks. The Posturein which he regards her, is describ’d with aTenderness not to be express’d, as the Whisperwith which he awakens her, is the softest that everwas convey’d to a Lovers Ear.
His wonder was, to find unwaken’dEve
With Tresses discompos’d, and glowingCheek,
As through unquiet Rest: he on hisside
Leaning half-rais’d, with Looksof cordial Love
Hung over her enamour’d, and beheld
Beauty, which whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar Graces: then,with Voice
Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her Hand soft touching, whisper’dthus: Awake
My Fairest, my Espous’d, my latestfound,
Heavns last best Gift, my ever new Delight!
Awake: the Morning shines, and thefresh Field
Calls us, we lose the Prime, to mark howspring
Our tended Plants, how blows the CitronGrove,
What drops the Myrrh, and what the balmyReed,
How Nature paints her Colours, how theBee
Sits on the Bloom, extracting liquid Sweets.
Such whispering wak’d her, but withstartled Eye
On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake:
O Sole, in whom my Thoughts find all Repose,
My Glory, my Perfection! glad I see
Thy Face, and Morn return’d——
I cannot but take notice that Milton, in the Conferencesbetween Adam and Eve, had his Eye very frequentlyupon the Book of Canticles, in which there is a nobleSpirit of Eastern Poetry; and very often not unlikewhat we meet with in Homer, who is generally placednear the Age of Solomon. I think there is noquestion but the Poet in the preceding Speech remember’dthose two Passages which are spoken on the like occasion,and fill’d with the same pleasing Images of Nature.
My beloved spake, and said unto me, Riseup, my Love, my Fair one, and come away; for lothe Winter is past, the Rain is over and gone, theFlowers appear on the Earth, the Time of the singingof Birds is come, and the Voice of the Turtle isheard in our Land. The Fig-tree putteth forthher green Figs, and the Vines with the tender Grapegive a good Smell. Arise my Love, my Fair-oneand come away.
Come, my Beloved, let us go forth intothe Field; let us get up early
to the Vineyards, let us see if the Vineflourish, whether the tender
Grape appear, and the Pomegranates budforth.
His preferring the Garden of Eden, to that
—Where the Sapient King
Held Dalliance with his fair EgyptianSpouse,
shews that the Poet had this delightful Scene in hismind.
Eves Dream is full of those high Conceits engendringPride, which, we are told, the Devil endeavour’dto instill into her. Of this kind is that Partof it where she fancies herself awaken’d by Adamin the following beautiful Lines.
Why sleepst thou Eve? now is the pleasantTime,
The cool, the silent, save where Silenceyields
To the night-warbling Bird, that now awake
Tunes sweetest his love-labour’dSong; now reigns
Full orb’d the Moon, and with more[pleasing [1]] Light
Shadowy sets off the Face of things:In vain,
If none regard. Heavn wakes withall his Eyes,
Whom to behold but thee, Natures Desire,
In whose sight all things joy, with Ravishment,
Attracted by thy Beauty still to gaze!
An injudicious Poet would have made Adam talk throthe whole Work in such Sentiments as these: ButFlattery and Falshood are not the Courtship of Milton’sAdam, and could not be heard by Eve in her State ofInnocence, excepting only in a Dream produc’don purpose to taint her Imagination. Other vainSentiments of the same kind in this Relation of herDream, will be obvious to every Reader. Tho theCatastrophe of the Poem is finely presag’d onthis Occasion, the Particulars of it are so artfullyshadow’d, that they do not anticipate the Storywhich follows in the ninth Book. I shall onlyadd, that tho the Vision it self is founded upon Truth,the Circ*mstances of it are full of that Wildnessand Inconsistency which are natural to a Dream.Adam, conformable to his superior Character for Wisdom,instructs and comforts Eve upon this occasion.
So chear’d he his fair Spouse, andshe was chear’d,
But silently a gentle Tear let fall
From either Eye, and wiped them with herhair;
Two other precious Drops, that ready stood
Each in their chrystal Sluice, he erethey fell
Kiss’d, as the gracious Sign ofsweet Remorse
And pious Awe, that fear’d to haveoffended.
The Morning Hymn is written in Imitation of one ofthose Psalms, where, in the overflowings of Gratitudeand Praise, the Psalmist calls not only upon the Angels,but upon the most conspicuous Parts of the inanimateCreation, to join with him in extolling their commonMaker. Invocations of this nature fill the Mindwith glorious Ideas of Gods Works, and awaken thatDivine Enthusiasm, which is so natural to Devotion.But if this calling upon the dead Parts of Nature,is at all times a proper kind of Worship, it was ina particular manner suitable to our first Parents,who had the Creation fresh upon their Minds, and hadnot seen the various Dispensations of Providence,nor consequently could be acquainted with those manyTopicks of Praise which might afford Matter to theDevotions of their Posterity. I need not remarkthe beautiful Spirit of Poetry, which runs throughthis whole Hymn, nor the Holiness of that Resolutionwith which it concludes.
Having already mentioned those Speeches which areassigned to the Persons in this Poem, I proceed tothe Description which the Poet [gives [2]] of Raphael.His Departure from before the Throne, and the Flightthrough the Choirs of Angels, is finely imaged.As Milton every where fills his Poem with Circ*mstancesthat are marvellous and astonishing, he describesthe Gate of Heaven as framed after such a manner, thatit opened of it self upon the Approach of the Angelwho was to pass through it.
Till at the Gate
Of Heavn arriv’d, the Gate self-open’dwide,
On golden Hinges turning, as by Work
Divine, the Sovereign Architect had framed.
The Poet here seems to have regarded two or threePassages in the 18th Iliad, as that in particular,where speaking of Vulcan, Homer says, that he hadmade twenty Tripodes running on Golden Wheels; which,upon occasion, might go of themselves to the Assemblyof the Gods, and, when there was no more Use for them,return again after the same manner. Scaligerhas rallied Homer very severely upon this Point, asM. Dacier has endeavoured to defend it. I willnot pretend to determine, whether in this particularof Homer the Marvellous does not lose sight of theProbable. As the miraculous Workmanship of Milton’sGates is not so extraordinary as this of the Tripodes,so I am persuaded he would not have mentioned it,had not he been supported in it by a Passage in theScripture, which speaks of Wheels in Heaven that hadLife in them, and moved of themselves, or stood still,in conformity with the Cherubims, whom they accompanied.
There is no question but Milton had this Circ*mstancein his Thoughts, because in the following Book hedescribes the Chariot of the Messiah with living Wheels,according to the Plan in Ezekiel’s Vision.
—Forth rush’d with Whirlwindsound
The Chariot of paternal Deity
Flashing thick flames?, Wheel within Wheelundrawn,
Itself instinct with Spirit—
I question not but Bossu, and the two Daciers, whoare for vindicating every thing that is censured inHomer, by something parallel in Holy Writ, would havebeen very well pleased had they thought of confrontingVulcan’s Tripodes with Ezekiel’s Wheels.
Raphael’s Descent to the Earth, with the Figureof his Person, is represented in very lively Colours.Several of the French, Italian and English Poets havegiven a Loose to their Imaginations in the Descriptionof Angels: But I do not remember to have met withany so finely drawn, and so conformable to the Notionswhich are given of them in Scripture, as this in Milton.After having set him forth in all his Heavenly Plumage,and represented him as alighting upon the Earth, thePoet concludes his Description with a Circ*mstance,which is altogether new, and imagined with the greatestStrength of Fancy.
—Like Maia’s Son he stood,
And shook his Plumes, that Heavnly Fragrancefill’d
The Circuit wide.—
Raphael’s Reception by the Guardian Angels;his passing through the Wilderness of Sweets; hisdistant Appearance to Adam, have all the Graces thatPoetry is capable of bestowing. The Author afterwardsgives us a particular Description of Eve in her DomestickEmployments
So saying, with dispatchful Looks in haste
She turns, on hospitable Thoughts intent,
What Choice to chuse for Delicacy best,
What order, so contrived, as not to mix
Tastes, not well join’d, inelegant,but bring
Taste after Taste; upheld with kindliestChange;
Bestirs her then, &c.—
Though in this, and other Parts of the same Book,the Subject is only the Housewifry of our first Parent,it is set off with so many pleasing Images and strongExpressions, as make it none of the least agreeableParts in this Divine Work.
The natural Majesty of Adam, and at the same timehis submissive Behaviour to the Superior Being, whohad vouchsafed to be his Guest; the solemn Hail whichthe Angel bestows upon the Mother of Mankind, withthe Figure of Eve ministring at the Table, are Circ*mstanceswhich deserve to be admired.
Raphael’s Behaviour is every way suitable tothe Dignity of his Nature, and to that Character ofa sociable Spirit, with which the Author has so judiciouslyintroduced him. He had received Instructions toconverse with Adam, as one Friend converses with another,and to warn him of the Enemy, who was contriving hisDestruction: Accordingly he is represented assitting down at Table with Adam, and eating of theFruits of Paradise. The Occasion naturally leadshim to his Discourse on the Food of Angels. Afterhaving thus entered into Conversation with Man uponmore indifferent Subjects, he warns him of his Obedience,and makes natural Transition to the History of thatfallen Angel, who was employ’d in the Circumventionof our first Parents.
Had I followed Monsieur Bossu’s Method in myfirst Paper of Milton, I should have dated the Actionof Paradise Lost from the Beginning of Raphael’sSpeech in this Book, as he supposes the Action of theAEneid to begin in the second Book of that Poem.I could allege many Reasons for my drawing the Actionof the AEneid rather from its immediate Beginningin the first Book, than from its remote Beginning inthe second; and shew why I have considered the sackingof Troy as an Episode, according to the common Acceptationof that Word. But as this would be a dry unentertainingPiece of Criticism, and perhaps unnecessary to thosewho have read my first Paper, I shall not enlargeupon it. Whichever of the Notions be true, theUnity of Milton’s Action is preserved accordingto either of them; whether we consider the Fall ofMan in its immediate Beginning, as proceeding fromthe Resolutions taken in the infernal Council, orin its more remote Beginning, as proceeding from thefirst Revolt of the Angels in Heaven. The Occasionwhich Milton assigns for this Revolt, as it is foundedon Hints in Holy Writ, and on the Opinion of somegreat Writers, so it was the most proper that the Poetcould have made use of.
The Revolt in Heaven is described with great Forceof Imagination and a fine Variety of Circ*mstances.The learned Reader cannot but be pleased with thePoets Imitation of Homer in the last of the followingLines.
At length into the Limits of the North
They came, and Satan took his Royal Seat
High on a Hill, far blazing, as a Mount
Rais’d on a Mount, with Pyramidsand Towrs
From Diamond Quarries hewn, and Rocksof Gold,
The Palace of great Lucifer, (so call
That Structure in the Dialect of Men
Interpreted)—
Homer mentions Persons and Things, which he tellsus in the Language of the Gods are call’d bydifferent Names from those they go by in the Languageof Men. Milton has imitated him with his usualJudgment in this particular Place, wherein he haslikewise the Authority of Scripture to justifie him.The Part of Abdiel, who was the only Spirit that inthis infinite Host of Angels preserved his Allegianceto his Maker, exhibits to us a noble Moral of religiousSingularity. The Zeal of the Seraphim breaksforth in a becoming Warmth of Sentiments and Expressions,as the Character which is given us of him denotesthat generous Scorn and Intrepidity which attendsHeroic Virtue. The Author doubtless designedit as a Pattern to those who live among Mankind intheir present State of Degeneracy and Corruption.
So spake the Seraph Abdiel, faithful found
Among the faithless, faithful only he;
Among innumerable false, unmov’d,
Unshaken, unseduc’d, unterrify’d;
His Loyalty he kept, his Love, his Zeal:
Nor Number, nor Example with him wrought
To swerve from truth, or change his constantMind,
Though single. From amidst them forth
Long way through [hostile] Scorn, whichhe sustain’d
Superior, nor of Violence fear’dought;
And, with retorted Scorn, his Back heturn’d
On those proud Towrs to swift Destructiondoom’d.
L.
[Footnote 1: [pleasant]
[Footnote 2: [gives us]]
* * * * *
No. 328 [1] Monday, March 17, 1712. Steele.
Delectata illa urbanitate tam stulta.
Petron. Arb.
That useful Part of Learning which consists in Emendation,Knowledge of different Readings, and the like, iswhat in all Ages Persons extremely wise and learnedhave had in great Veneration. For this reasonI cannot but rejoyce at the following Epistle, whichlets us into the true Author of the Letter to Mrs.Margaret Clark, part of which I did myself the Honourto publish in a former Paper. I must confess Ido not naturally affect critical Learning; but findingmy self not so much regarded as I am apt to flattermy self I may deserve from some professed Patrons ofLearning, I could not but do my self the Justice toshew I am not a Stranger to such Erudition as theysmile upon, if I were duly encouraged. Howeverthis only to let the World see what I could do; andshall not give my Reader any more of this kind, ifhe will forgive the Ostentation I shew at present.
March 13, 1712.
SIR, Upon reading your Paper of yesterday,[2] I took the Pains to look out a Copy I had formerlytaken, and remembered to be very like your lastLetter: Comparing them, I found they were thevery same, and have, underwritten, sent you thatPart of it which you say was torn off. I hopeyou will insert it, that Posterity may know twas GabrielBullock that made Love in that natural Stile of whichyou seem to be fond. But, to let you see Ihave other Manuscripts in the same Way, I have sentyou Enclosed three Copies, faithfully taken by my ownHand from the Originals, which were writ by a Yorkshiregentleman of a good estate to Madam Mary, and anUncle of hers, a Knight very well known by the mostancient Gentry in that and several other Counties ofGreat Britain. I have exactly followed theForm and Spelling. I have been credibly informedthat Mr. William Bullock, the famous Comedian, isthe descendant of this Gabriel, who begot Mr. WilliamBullocks great grandfather on the Body of the above-mentionedMrs. Margaret Clark. But neither Speed, norBaker, nor Selden, taking notice of it, I will notpretend to be positive; but desire that the lettermay be reprinted, and what is here recovered maybe in Italic. I am, SIR, Your daily Reader.
To her I very much respect,Mrs. Margaret Clark.
Lovely, and oh that I could write lovingMrs. Margaret Clark, I pray you let Affectionexcuse Presumption. Having been so happy as toenjoy the Sight of your sweet Countenance and comelyBody, sometimes when I had occasion to buy Treacleor Liquorish Power at the apothecary’s shop,I am so enamoured with you, that I can no more keepclose my flaming Desire to become your Servant.And I am the more bold now to write to your sweetself, because I am now my own Man, and may matchwhere I please; for my Father is taken away; and nowI am come to my Living, which is ten yard Land, anda House; and there is never a Yard Land [3] inour Field but is as well worth ten Pound a Year,as a Thief’s worth a Halter; and all my Brothersand Sisters are provided for: besides I havegood Household Stuff, though I say it, both Brassand Pewter, Linnens and Woollens; and though myHouse be thatched, yet if you and I match, it shallgo hard but I will have one half of it slated.If you shall think well of this Motion, I willwait upon you as soon as my new Cloaths is made,and Hay-Harvest is in. I could, though I say it,have good Matches in our Town; but my Mother(Gods Peace be with her) charged me upon her Death-Bedto marry a Gentlewoman, one who had been welltrained up in Sowing and Cookery. I do not thinkbut that if you and I can agree to marry, andlay our Means together, I shall be made grandJury-man e’er two or three Years come about,and that will be a great Credit to us. IfI could have got a Messenger for Sixpence, I wouldhave sent one on Purpose, and some Trifle or otherfor a Token of my Love; but I hope there is nothinglost for that neither. So hoping you willtake this Letter in good Part, and answer it withwhat Care and Speed you can, I rest and remain,Yours, if my own, MR. GABRIEL BULLOCK, now my fatheris dead.
Swepston, Leicestershire.
When the Coal Carts come,I shall send oftener; and may come in one
of them my self.
For sir William to go to londonat westminster, remember a
parlement.
Sir William, i hope that you are well.i write to let you know that i am in troubel abbuta lady you nease; and I do desire that you willbe my frend; for when i did com to see her at yourhall, i was mighty Abuesed. i would fain a seeyou at topecliff, and thay would not let me goto you; but i desire that you will be our frends, forit is no dishonor neither for you nor she, forGod did make us all. i wish that i might see you,for thay say that you are a good man: andmany doth wounder at it, but madam norton is abuesedand ceated two i beleive. i might a had many alady, but i con have none but her with a goodconsons, for there is a God that know our harts, ifyou and madam norton will come to York, there ishill meet you if God be willing and if you pleased,so be not angterie till you know the trutes ofthings.
George Nelon I give myto me lady, and to Mr. Aysenby, and to
madam norton March, the 19th;1706.
This is for madam mary nortondisforth Lady she went to York.
Madam Mary. Deare loving sweetlady, i hope you are well. Do not go to london,for they will put you in the nunnery; and heed notMrs. Lucy what she saith to you, for she willly and ceat you. go from to another Place, andwe will gate wed so with speed, mind what i writeto you, for if they gate you to london they willkeep you there; and so let us gate wed, and wewill both go. so if you go to london, you rueingyour self, so heed not what none of them saith to you.let us gate wed, and we shall lie to gader anytime. i will do any thing for you to my poore.i hope the devill will faile them all, for a hellishCompany there be. from there cursed trick and mischiefusways good lord bless and deliver both you and me.
I think to be at york the24 day.
This is for madam mary nortonto go to london for a lady that
belongs to dishforth.
Madam Mary, i hope you are well, i amsoary that you went away from York, deare lovingsweet lady, i writt to let you know that i do remainfaithful; and if can let me know where i can meet you,i will wed you, and I will do any thing to mypoor; for you are a good woman, and will be aloving Misteris. i am in troubel for you, so if youwill come to york i will wed you. so with speed come,and i will have none but you. so, sweet love,heed not what to say to me, and with speed come:heed not what none of them say to you; your Maid makesyou believe ought.
So deare love think of Mr.george Nillson with speed; i sent you 2
or 3 letters before.
I gave misteris elco*ck somenots, and thay put me in pruson all the
night for me pains, and nonnew whear i was, and i did gat cold.
But it is for mrs. Lucy to go agood way from home, for in york and round aboutshe is known; to writ any more her deeds, the samewill tell hor soul is black within, hor corkisstinks of hell. March 19th, 1706.
R.
[Footnote 1: This paper is No. 328 in the originalissue, but Steele omitted it from the reprint andgave in its place the paper by Addison which herestands next to it marked with the same number, 328.The paper of Addison’s had formed no part ofthe original issue. Of the original No. 328 Steeleinserted a censure at the end of No. 330.]
[Footnote 2: See No. 324.]
[Footnote 3: In some counties 20, in some 24,and in others 30 acres of Land.]
* * * * *
No. 328. Monday, March 17, 1712. Addison.
Nullum me a labore reclinat otium.
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
As I believe this is the first Complaintthat ever was made to you of this nature, so youare the first Person I ever could prevail upon myself to lay it before. When I tell you I havea healthy vigorous Constitution, a plentiful Estate,no inordinate Desires, and am married to a virtuouslovely Woman, who neither wants Wit nor Good-Nature,and by whom I have a numerous Offspring to perpetuatemy Family, you will naturally conclude me a happyMan. But, notwithstanding these promising Appearances,I am so far from it, that the prospect of beingruin’d and undone, by a sort of Extravagancewhich of late Years is in a less degree crept intoevery fashionable Family, deprives me of all theComforts of my Life, and renders me the most anxiousmiserable Man on Earth. My Wife, who was the onlyChild and darling Care of an indulgent Mother, employ’dher early Years in learning all those Accomplishmentswe generally understand by good Breeding and politeEducation. She sings, dances, plays on the Luteand Harpsicord, paints prettily, is a perfect Mistressof the French Tongue, and has made a considerableProgress in Italian. She is besides excellentlyskill’d in all domestick Sciences, as Preserving,Pickling, Pastry, making Wines of Fruits of our ownGrowth, Embroydering, and Needleworks of every Kind.Hitherto you will be apt to think there is verylittle Cause of Complaint; but suspend your Opiniontill I have further explain’d my self, and thenI make no question you will come over to mine.You are not to imagine I find fault that she eitherpossesses or takes delight in the Exercise of thoseQualifications I just now mention’d; tis theimmoderate Fondness she has to them that I lament,and that what is only design’d for the innocentAmusem*nt and Recreation of Life, is become the wholeBusiness and Study of hers. The six Months weare in Town (for the Year is equally divided betweenthat and the Country) from almost Break of Day tillNoon, the whole Morning is laid out in practisingwith her several Masters; and to make up the Lossesoccasion’d by her Absence in Summer, everyDay in the Week their Attendance is requir’d;and as they all are People eminent in their Professions,their Skill and Time must be recompensed accordingly:So how far these Articles extend, I leave you tojudge. Limning, one would think, is no expensiveDiversion, but as she manages the Matter, tis a veryconsiderable Addition to her Disbursem*nts; Whichyou will easily believe, when you know she paintsFans for all her Female Acquaintance, and drawsall her Relations Pictures in Miniature; the firstmust be mounted by no body but Colmar, and the otherset by no body but Charles Mather. What follows,is still much worse than the former; for, as I toldyou, she is a great Artist at her Needle, tis incrediblewhat Sums she expends in Embroidery; For besides whatis appropriated to her personal Use, as Mantuas,Petticoats, Stomachers, Handkerchiefs, Purses, Pin-cushions,and Working Aprons, she keeps four French Protestantscontinually employ’d in making divers Piecesof superfluous Furniture, as Quilts, Toilets, Hangingsfor Closets, Beds, Window-Curtains, easy Chairs,and Tabourets: Nor have I any hopes of everreclaiming her from this Extravagance, while she obstinatelypersists in thinking it a notable piece of good Housewifry,because they are made at home, and she has had someshare in the Performance. There would be noend of relating to you the Particulars of the annualCharge, in furnishing her Store-Room with a Profusionof Pickles and Preserves; for she is not contentedwith having every thing, unless it be done everyway, in which she consults an Hereditary Book ofReceipts; for her female Ancestors have been alwaysfam’d for good Housewifry, one of whom is madeimmortal, by giving her Name to an Eye-Water andtwo sorts of Puddings. I cannot undertake torecite all her medicinal Preparations, as Salves,Cerecloths, Powders, Confects, Cordials, Ratafia,Persico, Orange-flower, and Cherry-Brandy, togetherwith innumerable sorts of Simple Waters. Butthere is nothing I lay so much to Heart, as that detestableCatalogue of counterfeit Wines, which derive theirNames from the Fruits, Herbs, or Trees of whoseJuices they are chiefly compounded: They areloathsome to the Taste, and pernicious to the Health;and as they seldom survive the Year, and then are thrownaway, under a false Pretence of Frugality, I mayaffirm they stand me in more than if I entertain’dall our Visiters with the best Burgundy and Champaign.Coffee, Chocolate, Green, Imperial, Peco, and Bohea-Teaseem to be Trifles; but when the proper Appurtenancesof the Tea-Table are added, they swell the Accounthigher than one would imagine. I cannot concludewithout doing her Justice in one Article; where herFrugality is so remarkable, I must not deny her theMerit of it, and that is in relation to her Children,who are all confin’d, both Boys and Girls,to one large Room in the remotest Part of the House,with Bolts on the Doors and Bars to the Windows,under the Care and Tuition of an old Woman, whohad been dry Nurse to her Grandmother. This istheir Residence all the Year round; and as they arenever allow’d to appear, she prudently thinksit needless to be at any Expence in Apparel or Learning.Her eldest Daughter to this day would have neitherread nor writ, if it had not been for the Butler, whobeing the Son of a Country Attorney, has taughther such a Hand as is generally used for engrossingBills in Chancery. By this time I have sufficientlytired your Patience with my domestick Grievances; whichI hope you will agree could not well be contain’din a narrower Compass, when you consider what aParadox I undertook to maintain in the Beginningof my Epistle, and which manifestly appears to be buttoo melancholy a Truth. And now I heartilywish the Relation I have given of my Misfortunesmay be of Use and Benefit to the Publick. By theExample I have set before them, the truly virtuousWives may learn to avoid those Errors which haveso unhappily mis-led mine, and which are visiblythese three. First, in mistaking the proper Objectsof her Esteem, and fixing her Affections upon suchthings as are only the Trappings and Decorationsof her Sex. Secondly, In not distinguishing whatbecomes the different Stages of Life. And, Lastly,The Abuse and Corruption of some excellent Qualities,which, if circ*mscrib’d within just Bounds,would have been the Blessing and Prosperity of herFamily, but by a vicious Extreme are like to be theBane and Destruction of it.
L.
* * * * *
No. 329. Tuesday, March 18, 1712. Addison.
Ire tamen restat, Numa quo devenit etAncus.
Hor.
My friend Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY told me tother Night,that he had been reading my Paper upon WestminsterAbby, in which, says he, there are a great many ingeniousFancies. He told me at the same time, that heobserved I had promised another Paper upon the Tombs,and that he should be glad to go and see them withme, not having visited them since he had read History.I could not at first imagine how this came into theKnights Head, till I recollected that he had been verybusy all last Summer upon Bakers Chronicle, whichhe has quoted several times in his Disputes with SirANDREW FREEPORT since his last coming to Town.Accordingly I promised to call upon him the next Morning,that we might go together to the Abby.
I found the Knight under his Butlers Hands, who alwaysshaves him. He was no sooner Dressed, than hecalled for a Glass of the Widow Trueby’s Water,which he told me he always drank before he went abroad.He recommended me to a Dram of it at the same time,with so much Heartiness, that I could not forbeardrinking it. As soon as I had got it down, Ifound it very unpalatable; upon which the Knight observingthat I [had] made several wry Faces, told me that heknew I should not like it at first, but that it wasthe best thing in the World against the Stone or Gravel.
I could have wished indeed that he had acquaintedme with the Virtues of it sooner; but it was too lateto complain, and I knew what he had done was out ofGood-will. Sir ROGER told me further, that helooked upon it to be very good for a Man whilst hestaid in Town, to keep off Infection, and that hegot together a Quantity of it upon the first Newsof the Sickness being at Dautzick: When of a suddenturning short to one of his Servants, who stood behindhim, he bid him call [a [1]] Hackney Coach, and takecare it was an elderly Man that drove it.
He then resumed his Discourse upon Mrs. Trueby’sWater, telling me that the Widow Trueby was one whodid more good than all the Doctors and Apothecariesin the County: That she distilled every Poppythat grew within five Miles of her; that she distributedher Water gratis among all Sorts of People; to whichthe Knight added, that she had a very great Jointure,and that the whole Country would fain have it a Matchbetween him and her; and truly, says Sir ROGER, ifI had not been engaged, perhaps I could not have donebetter.
His Discourse was broken off by his Man’s tellinghim he had called a Coach. Upon our going toit, after having cast his Eye upon the Wheels, heasked the Coachman if his Axeltree was good; upon theFellows telling him he would warrant it, the Knightturned to me, told me he looked like an honest Man,and went in without further Ceremony.
We had not gone far, when Sir ROGER popping out hisHead, called the Coach-man down from his Box, andupon his presenting himself at the Window, asked himif he smoaked; as I was considering what this wouldend in, he bid him stop by the way at any good Tobacconists,and take in a Roll of their best Virginia. Nothingmaterial happened in the remaining part of our Journey,till we were set down at the Westend of the Abby.
As we went up the Body of the Church, the Knight pointedat the Trophies upon one of the new Monuments, andcry’d out, A brave Man, I warrant him!Passing afterwards by Sir Cloudsly Shovel, he flunghis Hand that way, and cry’d Sir Cloudsly Shovel!a very gallant Man! As we stood before Busby’sTomb, the Knight utter’d himself again afterthe same Manner, Dr. Busby, a great Man! he whipp’dmy Grandfather; a very great Man! I should havegone to him myself, if I had not been a Blockhead;a very great Man!
We were immediately conducted into the little Chappelon the right hand. Sir ROGER planting himselfat our Historians Elbow, was very attentive to everything he said, particularly to the Account he gaveus of the Lord who had cut off the King of MoroccosHead. Among several other Figures, he was verywell pleased to see the Statesman Cecil upon his Knees;and, concluding them all to be great Men, was conductedto the Figure which represents that Martyr to goodHousewifry, who died by the prick of a Needle.Upon our Interpreters telling us, that she was a Maidof Honour to Queen Elizabeth, the Knight was very inquisitiveinto her Name and Family; and after having regardedher Finger for some time, I wonder, says he, thatSir Richard Baker has said nothing of her in his Chronicle.
We were then convey’d to the two Coronation-Chairs,where my old Friend, after having heard that the Stoneunderneath the most ancient of them, which was broughtfrom Scotland, was called Jacob’s Pillar, sathimself down in the Chair; and looking like the Figureof an old Gothick King, asked our Interpreter, WhatAuthority they had to say, that Jacob had ever beenin Scotland? The Fellow, instead of returninghim an Answer, told him, that he hoped his Honourwould pay his Forfeit. I could observe Sir ROGERa little ruffled upon being thus trepanned; but ourGuide not insisting upon his Demand, the Knight soonrecovered his good Humour, and whispered in my Ear,that if WILL. WIMBLE were with us, and saw thosetwo Chairs, it would go hard but he would get a Tobacco-Stopperout of one or tother of them.
Sir ROGER, in the next Place, laid his Hand upon Edwardthe Thirds Sword, and leaning upon the Pummel of it,gave us the whole History of the Black Prince; concluding,that in Sir Richard Bakers Opinion, Edward the Thirdwas one of the greatest Princes that ever sate uponthe English Throne.
We were then shewn Edward the Confessors Tomb; uponwhich Sir ROGER acquainted us, that he was the firstwho touched for the Evil; and afterwards Henry theFourths, upon which he shook his Head, and told usthere was fine Reading in the Casualties in that Reign.
Our Conductor then pointed to that Monument wherethere is the Figure of one of our English Kings withoutan Head; and upon giving us to know, that the Head,which was of beaten Silver, had been stolen away severalYears since: Some Whig, Ill warrant you, saysSir ROGER; you ought to lock up your Kings better;they will carry off the Body too, if you don’ttake care.
THE glorious Names of Henry the Fifth and Queen Elizabethgave the Knight great Opportunities of shining, andof doing Justice to Sir Richard Baker, who, as ourKnight observed with some Surprize, had a great manyKings in him, whose Monuments he had not seen in theAbby.
For my own part, I could not but be pleased to seethe Knight shew such an honest Passion for the Gloryof his Country, and such a respectful Gratitude tothe Memory of its Princes.
I must not omit, that the Benevolence of my good oldFriend, which flows out towards every one he converseswith, made him very kind to our Interpreter, whomhe looked upon as an extraordinary Man; for whichreason he shook him by the Hand at parting, tellinghim, that he should be very glad to see him at hisLodgings in Norfolk-Buildings, and talk over theseMatters with him more at leisure.
L.
[Footnote 1:[an]]
* * * * *
No. 330. Wednesday, March 19, 1712. Steele.
Maxima debetur pueris reverentia.
Juv.
The following Letters, written by two very considerateCorrespondents, both under twenty Years of Age, arevery good Arguments of the Necessity of taking intoConsideration the many Incidents which affect theEducation of Youth.
SIR, I have long expected, that inthe Course of your Observations upon the severalParts of human Life, you would one time or other fallupon a Subject, which, since you have not, I takethe liberty to recommend to you. What I mean,is the Patronage of young modest Men to such as areable to countenance and introduce them into the World.For want of such Assistances, a Youth of Merit languishesin Obscurity or Poverty, when his Circ*mstancesare low, and runs into Riot and Excess when his Fortunesare plentiful. I cannot make my self better understood,than by sending you an History of my self, whichI shall desire you to insert in your Paper, it beingthe only Way I have of expressing my Gratitude forthe highest Obligations imaginable.
I am the Son of a Merchant of the Cityof London, who, by many Losses, was reduced froma very luxuriant Trade and Credit to very narrow Circ*mstances,in Comparison to that his former Abundance. Thistook away the Vigour of his Mind, and all mannerof Attention to a Fortune, which he now thoughtdesperate; insomuch that he died without a Will, havingbefore buried my Mother in the midst of his other Misfortunes.I was sixteen Years of Age when I lost my Father;and an Estate of L200 a Year came into my Possession,without Friend or Guardian to instruct me in theManagement or Enjoyment of it. The natural Consequenceof this was, (though I wanted no Director, and soonhad Fellows who found me out for a smart young Gentleman,and led me into all the Debaucheries of which Iwas capable) that my Companions and I could notwell be supplied without my running in Debt, whichI did very frankly, till I was arrested, and conveyedwith a Guard strong enough for the most desperateAssassine, to a Bayliff’s House, where I layfour Days, surrounded with very merry, but not veryagreeable Company. As soon as I had extricatedmy self from this shameful Confinement, I reflectedupon it with so much Horror, that I deserted allmy old Acquaintance, and took Chambers in an Inn ofCourt, with a Resolution to study the Law with allpossible Application. But I trifled away awhole Year in looking over a thousand Intricacies,without Friend to apply to in any Case of Doubt;so that I only lived there among Men, as littleChildren are sent to School before they are capableof Improvement, only to be out of harms way. Inthe midst of this State of Suspence, not knowinghow to dispose of my self, I was sought for by aRelation of mine, who, upon observing a good Inclinationin me, used me with great Familiarity, and carriedme to his Seat in the Country. When I camethere, he introduced me to all the good Companyin the County; and the great Obligation I have to himfor this kind Notice and Residence with him eversince, has made so strong an Impression upon me,that he has an Authority of a Father over me, foundedupon the Love of a Brother. I have a good Studyof Books, a good Stable of Horses always at my command;and tho I am not now quite eighteen Years of Age,familiar Converse on his Part, and a strong Inclinationto exert my self on mine, have had an effect uponme that makes me acceptable wherever I go. Thus,Mr. SPECTATOR, by this Gentleman’s Favourand Patronage, it is my own fault if I am not wiserand richer every day I live. I speak this as wellby subscribing the initial Letters of my Name tothank him, as to incite others to an Imitation ofhis Virtue. It would be a worthy Work to shewwhat great Charities are to be done without Expence,and how many noble Actions are lost, out of Inadvertencyin Persons capable of performing them, if they wereput in mind of it. If a Gentleman of Figure ina County would make his Family a Pattern of Sobriety,good Sense, and Breeding, and would kindly endeavourto influence the Education and growing Prospectsof the younger Gentry about him, I am apt to believeit would save him a great deal of stale Beer ona publick Occasion, and render him the Leader ofhis Country from their Gratitude to him, insteadof being a Slave to their Riots and Tumults in orderto be made their Representative. The same thingmight be recommended to all who have made any Progressin any Parts of Knowledge, or arrived at any Degreein a Profession; others may gain Preferments and Fortunesfrom their Patrons, but I have, I hope, receiv’dfrom mine good Habits and Virtues. I repeatto you, Sir, my Request to print this, in return forall the Evil an helpless Orphan shall ever escape,and all the Good he shall receive in this Life;both which are wholly owing to this Gentleman’sFavour to,
SIR,
Your most obedient humble Servant,
S. P.
Mr. SPECTATOR, I am a Lad of aboutfourteen. I find a mighty Pleasure in Learning.I have been at the Latin School four Years.I don’t know I ever play’d [truant,[1]] or neglected any Task my Master set me in my Life.I think on what I read in School as I go home atnoon and night, and so intently, that I have oftengone half a mile out of my way, not minding whitherI went. Our Maid tells me, she often hears metalk Latin in my sleep. And I dream two orthree Nights in the Week I am reading Juvenal andHomer. My Master seems as well pleased with myPerformances as any Boys in the same Class.I think, if I know my own Mind, I would chuse ratherto be a Scholar, than a Prince without Learning.I have a very [good [2]] affectionate Father; but thovery rich, yet so mighty near, that he thinks muchof the Charges of my Education. He often tellsme, he believes my Schooling will ruin him; thatI cost him God-knows what in Books. I trembleto tell him I want one. I am forced to keepmy Pocket-Mony, and lay it out for a Book, now andthen, that he don’t know of. He has order’dmy Master to buy no more Books for me, but sayshe will buy them himself. I asked him for Horacetother Day, and he told me in a Passion, he did notbelieve I was fit for it, but only my Master hada Mind to make him think I had got a great way inmy Learning. I am sometimes a Month behindother Boys in getting the Books my Master gives Ordersfor. All the Boys in the School, but I, havethe Classick Authors in usum Delphini, gilt andletter’d on the Back. My Father is oftenreckoning up how long I have been at School, andtells me he fears I do little good. My FathersCarriage so discourages me, that he makes me growdull and melancholy. My Master wonders whatis the matter with me; I am afraid to tell him;for he is a Man that loves to encourage Learning,and would be apt to chide my Father, and, not knowingmy Fathers Temper, may make him worse. Sir,if you have any Love for Learning, I beg you wouldgive me some Instructions in this case, and persuadeParents to encourage their Children when they findthem diligent and desirous of Learning. I haveheard some Parents say, they would do any thingfor their Children, if they would but mind their Learning:I would be glad to be in their place. Dear Sir,pardon my Boldness. If you will but considerand pity my case, I will pray for your Prosperityas long as I live. London, March 2,1711.Your humble Servant,
James Discipulus.
March the 18th.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
The ostentation you showed yesterday wouldhave been pardonable had you provided better forthe two Extremities of your Paper, and placed inone the letter R., in the other Nescio quid meditansnugarum, et lotus in illis. A Word to the wise.
I am your most humble Servant,
T. Trash.
According to the Emendation of the above Correspondent,the Reader is desired in the Paper of the 17th toread R. for T. [3]
T.
[Footnote 1: at truant]
[Footnote 2: loving]
* * * * *
No. 331. Thursday, March 20, 1712. Budgell.
Stolidam praebet tibi vellere barbam.
Pers.
When I was last with my Friend Sir ROGER in Westminster-Abby,I observed that he stood longer than ordinary beforethe Bust of a venerable old Man. I was at a lossto guess the Reason of it, when after some time hepointed to the Figure, and asked me if I did not thinkthat our Fore-fathers looked much wiser in their Beardsthan we do without them? For my part, says he,when I am walking in my Gallery in the Country, andsee my Ancestors, who many of them died before theywere of my Age, I cannot forbear regarding them asso many old Patriarchs, and at the same time lookingupon myself as an idle Smock-fac’d young Fellow.I love to see your Abrahams, your Isaacs, and yourJacob’s, as we have them in old Pieces of Tapestry,with Beards below their Girdles, that cover half theHangings. The Knight added, if I would recommendBeards in one of my Papers, and endeavour to restorehuman Faces to their Ancient Dignity, that upon aMonths warning he would undertake to lead up the Fashionhimself in a pair of Whiskers.
I smiled at my Friends Fancy; but after we parted,could not forbear reflecting on the Metamorphosesour Faces have undergone in this Particular.
The Beard, conformable to the Notion of my FriendSir ROGER, was for many Ages look’d upon asthe Type of Wisdom. Lucian more than once ralliesthe Philosophers of his Time, who endeavour’dto rival one another in Beard; and represents a learnedMan who stood for a Professorship in Philosophy, asunqualify’d for it by the Shortness of his Beard.
AElian, in his Account of Zoilus, the pretended Critick,who wrote against Homer and Plato, and thought himselfwiser than all who had gone before him, tells us thatthis Zoilus had a very long Beard that hung down uponhis Breast, but no Hair upon his Head, which he alwayskept close shaved, regarding, it seems, the Hairsof his Head as so many Suckers, which if they hadbeen suffer’d to grow, might have drawn awaythe Nourishment from his Chin, and by that means havestarved his Beard.
I have read somewhere that one of the Popes refus’dto accept an Edition of a Saints Works, which werepresented to him, because the Saint in his Effigiesbefore the Book, was drawn without a Beard.
We see by these Instances what Homage the World hasformerly paid to Beards; and that a Barber was notthen allow’d to make those Depredations on theFaces of the Learned, which have been permitted himof later Years.
Accordingly several wise Nations have been so extremelyJealous of the least Ruffle offer’d to theirBeard, that they seem to have fixed the Point of Honourprincipally in that Part. The Spaniards were wonderfullytender in this Particular.
Don Quevedo, in his third Vision on the Last Judgment,has carry’d the Humour very far, when he tellsus that one of his vain-glorious Countrymen, afterhaving receiv’d Sentence, was taken into custodyby a couple of evil Spirits; but that his Guides happeningto disorder his Mustachoes, they were forced to recomposethem with a Pair of Curling-irons before they couldget him to file off.
If we look into the History of our own Nation, weshall find that the Beard flourish’d in theSaxon Heptarchy, but was very much discourag’dunder the Norman Line. It shot out, however, fromtime to time, in several Reigns under different Shapes.The last Effort it made seems to have been in QueenMarys Days, as the curious Reader may find, if hepleases to peruse the Figures of Cardinal Poole, andBishop Gardiner; tho at the same time, I think itmay be question’d, if Zeal against Popery hasnot induced our Protestant Painters to extend the Beardsof these two Persecutors beyond their natural Dimensions,in order to make them appear the more terrible.
I find but few Beards worth taking notice of in theReign of King James the First.
During the Civil Wars there appeared one, which makestoo great a Figure in Story to be passed over in Silence;I mean that of the redoubted Hudibras, an Accountof which Butler has transmitted to Posterity in thefollowing Lines:
His tawny Beard was th’ equal Grace
Both of his Wisdom, and his Face;
In Cut and Dye so like a Tyle,
A sudden View it would beguile:
The upper Part thereof was Whey,
The nether Orange mixt with Grey.
The Whisker continu’d for some time among usafter the Expiration of Beards; but this is a Subjectwhich I shall not here enter upon, having discussedit at large in a distinct Treatise, which I keep byme in Manuscript, upon the Mustachoe.
If my Friend Sir ROGERS Project, of introducing Beards,should take effect, I fear the Luxury of the presentAge would make it a very expensive Fashion. Thereis no question but the Beaux would soon provide themselveswith false ones of the lightest Colours, and the mostimmoderate Lengths. A fair Beard, of the Tapestry-SizeSir ROGER seems to approve, could not come under twentyGuineas. The famous Golden Beard of AEsculapiuswould hardly be more valuable than one made in theExtravagance of the Fashion.
Besides, we are not certain that the Ladies wouldnot come into the Mode, when they take the Air onHorse-back. They already appear in Hats and Feathers,Coats and Perriwigs; and I see no reason why we shouldnot suppose that they would have their Riding-Beardson the same Occasion.
I may give the Moral of this Discourse, in anotherPaper,
X.
* * * * *
No. 332. Friday, March 21, 1712. Steele.
Minus aptus acutis
Naribus horum hominum.
Hor.
Dear Short-Face,
In your Speculation of Wednesday last,you have given us some Account of that worthy Societyof Brutes the Mohocks; wherein you have particularlyspecify’d the ingenious Performance of the Lion-Tippers,the Dancing-Masters, and the Tumblers: But asyou acknowledge you had not then a perfect Historyof the whole Club, you might very easily omit oneof the most notable Species of it, the Sweaters, whichmay be reckon’d a sort of Dancing-Masterstoo. It is it seems the Custom for half a dozen,or more, of these well-dispos’d Savages, as soonas they have inclos’d the Person upon whomthey design the Favour of a Sweat, to whip out theirSwords, and holding them parallel to the Horizon,they describe a sort of Magick Circle round about himwith the Points. As soon as this Piece of Conjurationis perform’d, and the Patient without doubtalready beginning to wax warm, to forward the Operation,that Member of the Circle towards whom he is so rudeas to turn his Back first, runs his Sword directlyinto that Part of the Patient wherein School-boysare punished; and, as it is very natural to imaginethis will soon make him tack about to some other Point,every Gentleman does himself the same Justice asoften as he receives the Affront. After thisJig has gone two or three times round, and the Patientis thought to have sweat sufficiently, he is very handsomlyrubb’d down by some Attendants, who carry withthem Instruments for that purpose, and so discharged.This Relation I had from a Friend of mine, who haslately been under this Discipline. He tells mehe had the Honour to dance before the Emperor himself,not without the Applause and Acclamations both ofhis Imperial Majesty, and the whole Ring; tho Idare say, neither I or any of his Acquaintance everdreamt he would have merited any Reputation by hisActivity.
I can assure you, Mr. SPEC, I was verynear being qualify’d to have given you a faithfuland painful Account of this walking Bagnio, if I mayso call it, my self: For going the other nightalong Fleet-street, and having, out of curiosity,just enter’d into Discourse with a wandringFemale who was travelling the same Way, a couple ofFellows advanced towards us, drew their Swords,and cry out to each other, A Sweat! a Sweat!Whereupon suspecting they were some of the Ringleadersof the Bagnio, I also drew my Sword, and demandeda Parly; but finding none would be granted me, andperceiving others behind them filing off with greatdiligence to take me in Flank, I began to sweat forfear of being forced to it: but very luckilybetaking my self to a Pair of Heels, which I hadgood Reason to believe would do me justice, I instantlygot possession of a very snug Corner in a neighbouringAlley that lay in my Rear; which Post I maintain’dfor above half an hour with great Firmness and Resolution,tho not letting this Success so far overcome me,as to make me unmindful of the Circ*mspection thatwas necessary to be observ’d upon my advancingagain towards the Street; by which Prudence andgood Management I made a handsome and orderly Retreat,having suffer’d no other Damage in this Actionthan the Loss of my Baggage, and the Dislocationof one of my Shoe-heels, which last I am just nowinform’d is in a fair way of Recovery. TheseSweaters, by what I can learn from my Friend, andby as near a View as I was able to take of themmy self, seem to me to have at present but a rudekind of Discipline amongst them. It is probable,if you would take a little Pains with them, theymight be brought into better order. But Illleave this to your own Discretion; and will only add,that if you think it worth while to insert this byway of Caution to those who have a mind to preservetheir Skins whole from this sort of Cupping, andtell them at the same time the Hazard of treating withNight-Walkers, you will perhaps oblige others, aswell as
Your very humble Servant,
Jack Lightfoot.
P.S. My Friend will have me acquaintyou, That though he would not willingly detractfrom the Merit of that extra-ordinary Strokes-ManMr. Sprightly, yet it is his real Opinion, that someof those Fellows, who are employ’d as Rubbersto this new-fashioned Bagnio, have struck as boldStrokes as ever he did in his Life.
I had sent this four and twenty Hourssooner, if I had not had the Misfortune of beingin a great doubt about the Orthography of the wordBagnio. I consulted several Dictionaries, butfound no relief; at last having recourse both tothe Bagnio in Newgate-street, and to that in Chancerylane, and finding the original Manuscripts upon theSign-posts of each to agree literally with my ownSpelling, I returned home, full of Satisfaction,in order to dispatch this Epistle.
Mr. SPECTATOR, As you have taken mostof the Circ*mstances of human Life into your Consideration,we, the under-written, thought it not improper forus also to represent to you our Condition.We are three Ladies who live in the Country, andthe greatest Improvements we make is by reading.We have taken a small Journal of our Lives, and findit extremely opposite to your last Tuesdays Speculation.We rise by seven, and pass the beginning of eachDay in Devotion, and looking into those Affairsthat fall within the Occurrences of a retired Life;in the Afternoon we sometimes enjoy the Companyof some Friend or Neighbour, or else work or read;at Night we retire to our Chambers, and take Leaveof each other for the whole Night at Ten of Clock.We take particular Care never to be sick of a Sunday.Mr. SPECTATOR, We are all very good Maids, but areambitious of Characters which we think more laudable,that of being very good Wives. If any of yourCorrespondents enquire for a Spouse for an honestCountry Gentleman, whose Estate is not dipped, andwants a Wife that can save half his Revenue, andyet make a better Figure than any of his Neighboursof the same Estate, with finer bred Women, you shallhave further notice from, SIR, Your courteousReaders, Martha Busie. Deborah Thrifty.Alice Early. [1]
[Footnote 1: To this number there is added aftera repeated advertisem*nt of the Lucubrations of IsaacBickerstaff in 4 vols. 8vo, a repetition in Italictype of the advertisem*nt of the Boarding School onMile-end Green (ending at the words render them accomplish’d)to which a conspicuous place was given, with originaladditions by Steele, in No. 314.]
* * * * *
No. 333. Saturday, March 22, 1712. Addison.
—vocat in Certamina Divos.
Virg.
We are now entering upon the Sixth Book of ParadiseLost, in which the Poet describes the Battel of Angels;having raised his Readers Expectation, and preparedhim for it by several Passages in the preceding Books.I omitted quoting these Passages in my Observationson the former Books, having purposely reserved themfor the opening of this, the Subject of which gaveoccasion to them. The Authors Imagination wasso inflam’d with this great Scene of Action,that wherever he speaks of it, he rises, if possible,above himself. Thus where he mentions Satan inthe Beginning of his Poem:
—Him the Almighty Power
Hurl’d headlong flaming from th’Ethereal Sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless Perdition, there to dwell
In Adamantine Chains and penal Fire,
Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent toArms.
We have likewise several noble Hints of it in theInfernal Conference.
O Prince! O Chief of many thronedPowers,
That led th’ imbattel’d Seraphimto War,
Too well I see and rue the dire Event,
That with sad Overthrow and foul Defeat
Hath lost us Heavn, and all this mightyHost
In horrible Destruction laid thus low.
But see I the angry Victor has recalled
His Ministers of Vengeance and Pursuit,
Back to the Gates of Heavn: The sulphurousHail
Shot after us in Storm, overblown, hathlaid
The fiery Surge, that from the Precipice
Of Heaven receiv’d us falling:and the Thunder,
Winged with red Lightning and impetuousRage,
Perhaps hath spent his Shafts, and ceasesnow
To bellow through the vast and boundlessDeep.
There are several other very sublime Images on thesame Subject in the First Book, as also in the Second.
What when we fled amain, pursued and strook
With Heavns afflicting Thunder, and besought
The Deep to shelter us; this Hell thenseem’d
A Refuge from those Wounds—
In short, the Poet never mentions anything of thisBattel but in such Images of Greatness and Terroras are suitable to the Subject. Among severalothers I cannot forbear quoting that Passage, wherethe Power, who is described as presiding over theChaos, speaks in the Third Book.
Thus Satan; and him thus the Anarch old
With faultring Speech, and Visage incompos’d,
Answer’d, I know thee, Stranger,who thou art,
That mighty leading Angel, who of late
Made Head against Heavens King, tho overthrown.
I saw and heard, for such a numerous Host
Fled not in silence through the frightedDeep
With Ruin upon Ruin, Rout on Rout,
Confusion worse confounded; and HeavnsGates
Pour’d out by Millions her victoriousBands
Pursuing—
It requir’d great Pregnancy of Invention, andStrength of Imagination, to fill this Battel withsuch Circ*mstances as should raise and astonish theMind of the Reader; and at the same time an Exactnessof Judgment, to avoid every thing that might appearlight or trivial. Those who look into Homer,are surprized to find his Battels still rising oneabove another, and improving in Horrour, to the Conclusionof the Iliad. Milton’s Fight of Angelsis wrought up with the same Beauty. It is usher’din with such Signs of Wrath as are suitable to Omnipotenceincensed. The first Engagement is carry’don under a Cope of Fire, occasion’d by the Flightsof innumerable burning Darts and Arrows, which aredischarged from either Host. The second Onsetis still more terrible, as it is filled with thoseartificial Thunders, which seem to make the Victorydoubtful, and produce a kind of Consternation evenin the good Angels. This is follow’d bythe tearing up of Mountains and Promontories; till,in the last place, the Messiah comes forth in theFulness of Majesty and Terror, The Pomp of his Appearanceamidst the Roarings of his Thunders, the Flashes ofhis Lightnings, and the Noise of his Chariot-Wheels,is described with the utmost Flights of Human Imagination.
There is nothing in the first and last Days Engagementwhich does not appear natural, and agreeable enoughto the Ideas most Readers would conceive of a Fightbetween two Armies of Angels.
The second Days Engagement is apt to startle an Imagination,which has not been raised and qualify’d forsuch a Description, by the reading of the ancientPoets, and of Homer in particular. It was certainlya very bold Thought in our Author, to ascribe thefirst Use of Artillery to the Rebel Angels. Butas such a pernicious Invention may be well supposedto have proceeded from such Authors, so it enteredvery properly into the Thoughts of that Being, whois all along describ’d as aspiring to the Majestyof his Maker. Such Engines were the only Instrumentshe could have made use of to imitate those Thunders,that in all Poetry, both sacred and profane, are representedas the Arms of the Almighty. The tearing up the
Hills, was not altogether so daring a Thought as theformer. We are, in some measure, prepared forsuch an Incident by the Description of the GiantsWar, which we meet with among the Ancient Poets.What still made this Circ*mstance the more proper forthe Poets Use, is the Opinion of many learned Men,that the Fable of the Giants War, which makes so greata noise in Antiquity, [and gave birth to the sublimestDescription in Hesiod’s Works was [l]] an Allegoryfounded upon this very Tradition of a Fight betweenthe good and bad Angels.It may, perhaps, be worth while to consider with whatJudgment Milton, in this Narration, has avoided everything that is mean and trivial in the Descriptionsof the Latin and Greek Poets; and at the same timeimproved every great Hint which he met with in theirWorks upon this Subject. Homer in that Passage,which Longinus has celebrated for its Sublimeness,and which Virgil and Ovid have copy’d after him,tells us, that the Giants threw Ossa upon Olympus,and Pelion upon Ossa. He adds an Epithet to Pelion([Greek: einosiphullon]) which very much swellsthe Idea, by bringing up to the Readers Imaginationall the Woods that grew upon it. There is furthera great Beauty in his singling out by Name these threeremarkable Mountains, so well known to the Greeks.This last is such a Beauty as the Scene of Milton’sWar could not possibly furnish him with. Claudian,in his Fragment upon the Giants War, has given fullscope to that Wildness of Imagination which was naturalto him. He tells us, that the Giants tore upwhole Islands by the Roots, and threw them at theGods. He describes one of them in particular takingup Lemnos in his Arms, and whirling it to the Skies,with all Vulcan’s Shop in the midst of it.Another tears up Mount Ida, with the River Enipeus,which ran down the Sides of it; but the Poet, notcontent to describe him with this Mountain upon hisShoulders, tells us that the River flow’d downhis Back, as he held it up in that Posture. Itis visible to every judicious Reader, that such Ideassavour more of Burlesque, than of the Sublime.They proceed from a Wantonness of Imagination, andrather divert the Mind than astonish it. Miltonhas taken every thing that is sublime in these severalPassages, and composes out of them the following greatImage.
From their Foundations loosning to andfro,
They pluck’d the seated Hills, withall their Land,
Rocks, Waters, Woods; and by the shaggyTops
Up-lifting bore them in their Hands—
We have the full Majesty of Homer in this short Description,improv’d by the Imagination of Claudian, withoutit* Puerilities. I need not point out the Descriptionof the fallen Angels seeing the Promontories hangingover their Heads in such a dreadful manner, with theother numberless Beauties in this Book, which areso conspicuous, that they cannot escape the Noticeof the most ordinary Reader.
There are indeed so many wonderful Strokes of Poetryin this Book, and such a variety of Sublime Ideas,that it would have been impossible to have given thema place within the bounds of this Paper. Besidesthat, I find it in a great measure done to my handat the End of my Lord Roscommon’s Essay on TranslatedPoetry. I shall refer my Reader thither for someof the Master Strokes in the Sixth Book of ParadiseLost, tho at the same time there are many others whichthat noble Author has not taken notice of.
Milton, notwithstanding the sublime Genius he wasMaster of, has in this Book drawn to his Assistanceall the Helps he could meet with among the AncientPoets. The Sword of Michael, which makes so great[a [2]] havock among the bad Angels, was given him,we are told, out of the Armory of God.
—But the Sword
Of Michael from the Armory of God
Was given him tempered so, that neitherkeen
Nor solid might resist that Edge:It met
The Sword of Satan, with steep Force tosmite
Descending, and in half cut sheer—
This Passage is a Copy of that in Virgil, whereinthe Poet tells us, that the Sword of AEneas, whichwas given him by a Deity, broke into Pieces the Swordof Turnus, which came from a mortal Forge. Asthe Moral in this Place is divine, so by the way wemay observe, that the bestowing on a Man who is favouredby Heaven such an allegorical Weapon, is very conformableto the old Eastern way of Thinking. Not only Homerhas made use of it, but we find the Jewish Hero inthe Book of Maccabees, who had fought the Battelsof the chosen People with so much Glory and Success,receiving in his Dream a Sword from the Hand of theProphet Jeremiah. The following Passage, whereinSatan is described as wounded by the Sword of Michael,is in imitation of Homer.
The griding Sword with discontinuous Wound
Passed through him; butt the EtherealSubstance closed
Not long divisible; and from the Gash
A Stream of Nectarous Humour issuing flowed
Sanguine, (such as celestial Spirits maybleed)
And all his Armour stained—
Homer tells us in the same manner, that upon Diomedeswounding the Gods, there flow’d from the Woundan Ichor, or pure kind of Blood, which was not bredfrom mortal Viands; and that tho the Pain was exquisitelygreat, the Wound soon closed up and healed in thoseBeings who are vested with Immortality.
I question not but Milton in his Description of hisfurious Moloch flying from the Battel, and bellowingwith the Wound he had received, had his Eye on Marsin the Iliad; who, upon his being wounded, is representedas retiring out of the Fight, and making an Outcrylouder than that of a whole Army when it begins theCharge. Homer adds, that the Greeks and Trojans,who were engaged in a general Battel, were terrify’don each side with the bellowing of this wounded Deity.The Reader will easily observe how Milton has keptall the Horrour of this Image, without running intothe Ridicule of it.
—Where the Might of Gabriel fought,
And with fierce Ensigns pierc’dthe deep Array
Of Moloch, furious King! who him defy’d,
And at his Chariot-wheels to drag himbound
Threaten’d, nor from the Holy Oneof Heavn
Refrained his Tongue blasphemous:but anon
Down cloven to the Waste, with shatteredArms
And uncouth Pain fled bellowing.—
Milton has likewise raised his Description in thisBook with many Images taken out of the poetical Partsof Scripture. The Messiahs Chariot, as I havebefore taken notice, is formed upon a Vision of Ezekiel,who, as Grotius observes, has very much in him ofHomers Spirit in the Poetical Parts of his Prophecy.
The following Lines in that glorious Commission whichis given the Messiah to extirpate the Host of RebelAngels, is drawn from a Sublime Passage in the Psalms.
Go then thou Mightiest in thy FathersMight!
Ascend my Chariot, guide the rapid Wheels
That shake Heavns Basis; bring forth allmy War,
My Bow, my Thunder, my Almighty Arms,
Gird on thy Sword on thy puissant Thigh.
The Reader will easily discover many other Strokesof the same nature.
There is no question but Milton had heated his Imaginationwith the Fight of the Gods in Homer, before he enter’dupon this Engagement of the Angels. Homer theregives us a Scene of Men, Heroes, and Gods, mix’dtogether in Battel. Mars animates the contendingArmies, and lifts up his Voice in such a manner, thatit is heard distinctly amidst all the Shouts and Confusionof the Fight. Jupiter at the same time Thundersover their Heads; while Neptune raises such a Tempest,that the whole Field of Battel and all the Tops ofthe Mountains shake about them. The Poet tellsus, that Pluto himself, whose Habitation was in thevery Center of the Earth, was so affrighted at theShock, that he leapt from his Throne. Homer afterwardsdescribes Vulcan as pouring down a Storm of Fire uponthe River Xanthus, and Minerva as throwing a Rock atMars; who, he tells us, cover’d seven Acresin his Fall.
As Homer has introduced into his Battel of the Godsevery thing that is great and terrible in Nature,Milton has filled his Fight of good and bad Angelswith all the like Circ*mstances of Horrour. TheShout of Armies, the Rattling of Brazen Chariots,the Hurling of Rocks and Mountains, the Earthquake,the Fire, the Thunder, are all of them employ’dto lift up the Readers Imagination, and give him asuitable Idea of so great an Action. With whatArt has the Poet represented the whole Body of theEarth trembling, even before it was created.
All Heaven resounded, and had Earth beenthen,
All Earth had to its Center shook—
In how sublime and just a manner does he afterwardsdescribe the whole Heaven shaking under the Wheelsof the Messiahs Chariot, with that Exception to theThrone of God?
—Under his burning Wheels
The stedfast Empyrean shook throughout,
All but the Throne it self of God—
Notwithstanding the Messiah appears clothed with somuch Terrour and Majesty, the Poet has still foundmeans to make his Readers conceive an Idea of him,beyond what he himself was able to describe.
Yet half his Strength he put not forth,but checkt
His Thunder in mid Volley; for he meant
Not to destroy, but root them out of Heaven.
In a Word, Milton’s Genius, which was so greatin it self, and so strengthened by all the helps ofLearning, appears in this Book every way equal tohis Subject, which was the most Sublime that couldenter into the Thoughts of a Poet. As he knewall the Arts of affecting the Mind, [he knew it wasnecessary to give [3]] it certain Resting-places andOpportunities of recovering it self from time to time:He has [therefore] with great Address interspersedseveral Speeches, Reflections, Similitudes, and thelike Reliefs to diversify his Narration, and easethe Attention of [the [4]] Reader, that he might comefresh to his great Action, and by such a Contrast ofIdeas, have a more lively taste of the nobler Partsof his Description.
L.
[Footnote 1: [is]]
[Footnote 2: [an]]
[Footnote 3: had he not given]
[Footnote 4: his]
* * * * *
No. 334. Monday, March 24, 1712. Steele
Voluisti in suo Genere, unumquemque nostrumquasi quendam esse
Roscium, dixistique non tam ea quae rectaessent probari, quam quae
prava sunt fastidiis adhaerescere.
Cicero de Gestu.
It is very natural to take for our whole Lives a lightImpression of a thing which at first fell into Contemptwith us for want of Consideration. The real Useof a certain Qualification (which the wiser Part ofMankind look upon as at best an indifferent thing,and generally a frivolous Circ*mstance) shews theill Consequence of such Prepossessions. WhatI mean, is the Art, Skill, Accomplishment, or whateveryou will call it, of Dancing. I knew a Gentlemanof great Abilities, who bewail’d the Want ofthis Part of his Education to the End of a very honourableLife. He observ’d that there was not occasionfor the common Use of great Talents; that they arebut seldom in Demand; and that these very great Talentswere often render’d useless to a Man for wantof small Attainments. A good Mein (a becomingMotion, Gesture and Aspect) is natural to some Men;but even these would be highly more graceful in theirCarriage, if what they do from the Force of Naturewere confirm’d and heightned from the Force ofReason. To one who has not at all consideredit, to mention the Force of Reason on such a Subject,will appear fantastical; but when you have a littleattended to it, an Assembly of Men will have quiteanother View: and they will tell you, it is evident
from plain and infallible Rules, why this Man withthose beautiful Features, and well fashion’dPerson, is not so agreeable as he who sits by himwithout any of those Advantages. When we read,we do it without any exerted Act of Memory that presentsthe Shape of the Letters; but Habit makes us do itmechanically, without staying, like Children, to recollectand join those Letters. A Man who has not hadthe Regard of his Gesture in any part of his Education,will find himself unable to act with Freedom beforenew Company, as a Child that is but now learning wouldbe to read without Hesitation. It is for theAdvancement of the Pleasure we receive in being agreeableto each other in ordinary Life, that one would wishDancing were generally understood as conducive asit really is to a proper Deportment in Matters thatappear the most remote from it. A Man of Learningand Sense is distinguished from others as he is such,tho he never runs upon Points too difficult for therest of the World; in like Manner the reaching outof the Arm, and the most ordinary Motion, discoverswhether a Man ever learnt to know what is the trueHarmony and Composure of his Limbs and Countenance.Whoever has seen Booth in the Character of Pyrrhus,march to his Throne to receive Orestes, is convincedthat majestick and great Conceptions are expressedin the very Step; but perhaps, tho no other Man couldperform that Incident as well as he does, he himselfwould do it with a yet greater Elevation were he aDancer. This is so dangerous a Subject to treatwith Gravity, that I shall not at present enter intoit any further; but the Author of the following Letter[1] has treated it in the Essay he speaks of in sucha Manner, that I am beholden to him for a Resolution,that I will never hereafter think meanly of any thing,till I have heard what they who have another Opinionof it have to say in its Defence.Mr. SPECTATOR, Since there are scarceany of the Arts or Sciences that have not been recommendedto the World by the Pens of some of the Professors,Masters, or Lovers of them, whereby the Usefulness,Excellence, and Benefit arising from them, bothas to the Speculative and practical Part, have beenmade publick, to the great Advantage and Improvementof such Arts and Sciences; why should Dancing, anArt celebrated by the Ancients in so extraordinarya Manner, be totally neglected by the Moderns, andleft destitute of any Pen to recommend its variousExcellencies and substantial Merit to Mankind?
The low Ebb to which Dancing is now fallen,is altogether owing to this Silence. The Artis esteem’d only as an amusing Trifle; it liesaltogether uncultivated, and is unhappily fallenunder the Imputation of Illiterate and Mechanick:And as Terence in one of his Prologues, complainsof the Rope-dancers drawing all the Spectators fromhis Play, so may we well say, that Capering andTumbling is now preferred to, and supplies the Placeof just and regular Dancing on our Theatres.It is therefore, in my opinion, high time that someone should come in to its Assistance, and relieveit from the many gross and growing Errors that havecrept into it, and over-cast its real Beauties;and to set Dancing in its true light, would shew theUsefulness and Elegancy of it, with the Pleasureand Instruction produc’d from it; and alsolay down some fundamental Rules, that might so tendto the Improvement of its Professors, and Informationof the Spectators, that the first might be the betterenabled to perform, and the latter render’dmore capable of judging, what is (if there be anything) valuable in this Art.
To encourage therefore some ingeniousPen capable of so generous an Undertaking, and insome measure to relieve Dancing from the Disadvantagesit at present lies under, I, who teach to dance, haveattempted a small Treatise as an Essay towards anHistory of Dancing; in which I have enquired intoits Antiquity, Original, and Use, and shewn whatEsteem the Ancients had for it: I have likewiseconsidered the Nature and Perfection of all itsseveral Parts, and how beneficial and delightfulit is, both as a Qualification and an Exercise; andendeavoured to answer all Objections that have beenmaliciously rais’d against it. I haveproceeded to give an Account of the particular Dancesof the Greeks and Romans, whether religious, warlike,or civil; and taken particular notice of that Partof Dancing relating to the ancient Stage, and inwhich the Pantomimes had so great a share: Norhave I been wanting in giving an historical Accountof some particular Masters excellent in that surprisingArt. After which, I have advanced some Observationson the modern Dancing, both as to the Stage, and thatPart of it so absolutely necessary for the Qualificationof Gentlemen and Ladies; and have concluded withsome short Remarks on the Origin and Progress ofthe Character by which Dances are writ down, andcommunicated to one Master from another. If somegreat Genius after this would arise, and advancethis Art to that Perfection it seems capable ofreceiving, what might not be expected from it?For if we consider the Origin of Arts and Sciences,we shall find that some of them took rise from Beginningsso mean and unpromising, that it is very wonderfulto think that ever such surprizing Structures shouldhave been raised upon such ordinary Foundations.But what cannot a great Genius effect? Whowould have thought that the clangorous Noise ofa Smiths Hammers should have given the first riseto Musick? Yet Macrobius in his second Bookrelates, that Pythagoras, in passing by a SmithsShop, found that the Sounds proceeding from theHammers were either more grave or acute, accordingto the different Weights of the Hammers. ThePhilosopher, to improve this Hint, suspends differentWeights by Strings of the same Bigness, and foundin like manner that the Sounds answered to the Weights.This being discover’d, he finds out thoseNumbers which produc’d Sounds that were Consonants:As, that two Strings of the same Substance and Tension,the one being double the Length, of the other, givethat Interval which is called Diapason, or an Eighth;the same was also effected from two Strings of thesame Length and Size, the one having four timesthe Tension of the other. By these Steps, fromso mean a Beginning, did this great Man reduce,what was only before Noise, to one of the most delightfulSciences, by marrying it to the Mathematicks; andby that means caused it to be one of the most abstractand demonstrative of Sciences. Who knows thereforebut Motion, whether Decorous or Representative,may not (as it seems highly probable it may) betaken into consideration by some Person capableof reducing it into a regular Science, tho not sodemonstrative as that proceeding from Sounds, yetsufficient to entitle it to a Place among the magnify’dArts.
Now, Mr. SPECTATOR, as you have declaredyour self Visitor of Dancing-Schools, and this beingan Undertaking which more immediately respects them,I think my self indispensably obliged, before I proceedto the Publication of this my Essay, to ask yourAdvice, and hold it absolutely necessary to haveyour Approbation; and in order to recommend my Treatiseto the Perusal of the Parents of such as learn todance, as well as to the young Ladies, to whom, asVisitor, you ought to be Guardian.
I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant.
Salop, March 19, 1711-12.
T.
[Footnote 1: John Weaver.]
* * * * *
No. 335. Tuesday, March 25, 1712. Addison.
Respicere exemplar vitae morumque jubebo
Doctum imitatorem, et veras hinc ducerevoces.
Hor.
My Friend Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY, when we last mettogether at the Club, told me, that he had a greatmind to see the new Tragedy [1] with me, assuringme at the same time, that he had not been at a Playthese twenty Years. The last I saw, said SirROGER, was the Committee, which I should not havegone to neither, had not I been told before-hand thatit was a good Church-of-England Comedy. [2] He thenproceeded to enquire of me who this Distrest Motherwas; and upon hearing that she was Hectors Widow,he told me that her Husband was a brave Man, and thatwhen he was a Schoolboy he had read his Life at theend of the Dictionary. My Friend asked me, inthe next place, if there would not be some danger incoming home late, in case the Mohocks should be Abroad.I assure you, says he, I thought I had fallen intotheir Hands last Night; for I observed two or threelusty black Men that follow’d me half way upFleet-street, and mended their pace behind me, inproportion as I put on to get away from them.You must know, continu’d the Knight with a Smile,
I fancied they had a mind to hunt me; for I rememberan honest Gentleman in my Neighbourhood, who was servedsuch a trick in King Charles the Seconds time; forwhich reason he has not ventured himself in Town eversince. I might have shown them very good Sport,had this been their Design; for as I am an old Fox-hunter,I should have turned and dodg’d, and have play’dthem a thousand tricks they had never seen in theirLives before. Sir ROGER added, that if theseGentlemen had any such Intention, they did not succeedvery well in it: for I threw them out, says he,at the End of Norfolk street, where I doubled theCorner, and got shelter in my Lodgings before theycould imagine what was become of me. However,says the Knight, if Captain SENTRY will make one withus to-morrow night, and if you will both of you callupon me about four a-Clock, that we may be at theHouse before it is full, I will have my own Coach inreadiness to attend you, for John tells me he hasgot the Fore-Wheels mended.The Captain, who did not fail to meet me there atthe appointed Hour, bid Sir ROGER fear nothing, forthat he had put on the same Sword which he made useof at the Battel of Steenkirk. Sir ROGERS Servants,and among the rest my old Friend the Butler, had,I found, provided themselves with good Oaken Plants,to attend their Master upon this occasion. Whenhe had placed him in his Coach, with my self at hisLeft-Hand, the Captain before him, and his Butler atthe Head of his Footmen in the Rear, we convoy’dhim in safety to the Play-house, where, after havingmarched up the Entry in good order, the Captain andI went in with him, and seated him betwixt us in thePit. As soon as the House was full, and the Candleslighted, my old Friend stood up and looked about himwith that Pleasure, which a Mind seasoned with Humanitynaturally feels in its self, at the sight of a Multitudeof People who seem pleased with one another, and partakeof the same common Entertainment. I could notbut fancy to myself, as the old Man stood up in themiddle of the Pit, that he made a very proper Centerto a Tragick Audience. Upon the entring of Pyrrhus,the Knight told me, that he did not believe the Kingof France himself had a better Strut. I was indeedvery attentive to my old Friends Remarks, because Ilooked upon them as a Piece of natural Criticism,and was well pleased to hear him at the Conclusionof almost every Scene, telling me that he could notimagine how the Play would end. One while heappeared much concerned for Andromache; and a littlewhile after as much for Hermione: and was extremelypuzzled to think what would become of Pyrrhus.
When Sir ROGER saw Andromache’s obstinate Refusalto her Lovers Importunities, he whisper’d mein the Ear, that he was sure she would never havehim; to which he added, with a more than ordinary Vehemence,you cant imagine, Sir, what tis to have to do witha Widow. Upon Pyrrhus his threatning afterwardsto leave her, the Knight shook his Head, and mutteredto himself, Ay, do if you can. This Part dweltso much upon my Friends Imagination, that at the closeof the Third Act, as I was thinking of something else,he whispered in my Ear, These Widows, Sir, are themost perverse Creatures in the World. But pray,says he, you that are a Critick, is this Play accordingto your Dramatick Rules, as you call them? Shouldyour People in Tragedy always talk to be understood?Why, there is not a single Sentence in this Play thatI do not know the Meaning of.
The Fourth Act very luckily begun before I had timeto give the old Gentleman an Answer: Well, saysthe Knight, sitting down with great Satisfaction,I suppose we are now to see Hectors Ghost. Hethen renewed his Attention, and, from time to time,fell a praising the Widow. He made, indeed, alittle Mistake as to one of her Pages, whom at hisfirst entering, he took for Astyanax; but he quicklyset himself right in that Particular, though, at thesame time, he owned he should have been very gladto have seen the little Boy, who, says he, must needsbe a very fine Child by the Account that is given ofhim. Upon Hermione’s going off with a Menaceto Pyrrhus, the Audience gave a loud Clap; to whichSir ROGER added, On my Word, a notable young Baggage!
As there was a very remarkable Silence and Stillnessin the Audience during the whole Action, it was naturalfor them to take the Opportunity of these Intervalsbetween the Acts, to express their Opinion of thePlayers, and of their respective Parts. Sir ROGERhearing a Cluster of them praise Orestes, struck inwith them, and told them, that he thought his FriendPylades was a very sensible Man; as they were afterwardsapplauding Pyrrhus, Sir ROGER put in a second time;And let me tell you, says he, though he speaks butlittle, I like the old Fellow in Whiskers as wellas any of them. Captain SENTRY seeing two or threeWaggs who sat near us, lean with an attentive Eartowards Sir ROGER, and fearing lest they should Smokethe Knight, pluck’d him by the Elbow, and whisper’dsomething in his Ear. that lasted till the Openingof the Fifth Act. The Knight was wonderfullyattentive to the Account which Orestes gives of Pyrrhushis Death, and at the Conclusion of it, told me itwas such a bloody Piece of Work, that he was gladit was not done upon the Stage. Seeing afterwardsOrestes in his raving Fit, he grew more than ordinaryserious, and took occasion to moralize (in his way)upon an Evil Conscience, adding, that Orestes, inhis Madness, looked as if he saw something.
As we were the first that came into the House, sowe were the last that went out of it; being resolvedto have a clear Passage for our old Friend, whom wedid not care to venture among the justling of the Crowd.Sir ROGER went out fully satisfied with his Entertainment,and we guarded him to his Lodgings in the same mannerthat we brought him to the Playhouse; being highlypleased, for my own part, not only with the Performanceof the excellent Piece which had been presented, butwith the Satisfaction which it had given to the goodold Man.
L.
[Footnote 1: This is a fourth puff (see Nos.223, 229, 290) of Addison’s friend Ambrose Philips.The art of packing a house to secure applause wasalso practised on the first night of the acting ofthis version of Andromaque.]
[Footnote 2: The Committee, or the Faithful Irishman,was written by Sir Robert Howard soon after the Restoration,with for its heroes two Cavalier colonels, whose estatesare sequestered, and their man Teg (Teague), an honestblundering Irishman. The Cavaliers defy the RoundheadCommittee, and the day may come says one of them, whenthose that suffer for their consciences and honourmay be rewarded. Nobody who heard this from thestage in the days of Charles II. could feel that theday had come. Its comic Irishman kept the Committeeon the stage, and in Queen Anne’s time the thoroughTory still relished the stage caricature of the maintainersof the Commonwealth in Mr. Day with his greed, hypocrisy,and private incontinence; his wife, who had been cookmaidto a gentleman, but takes all the State matters onherself; and their empty son Abel, who knows Parliament-menand Sequestrators, and whose profound contemplationsare caused by the constervation of his spirits forthe nations good.]
* * * * *
No. 336. Wednesday, March 26, 1712. Steele.
—Clament periisse pudorem
Cuncti pene patres, ea cum reprehendereconer,
Quae gravis AEsopus, quae doctus Rosciusegit:
Vel quia nil rectum, nisi quod placuitsibi, duc*nt;
Vel quia turpe putant parere minoribus,et, quae
Imberbes didicere, senes perdenda fateri.
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
As you are the daily Endeavourer to promoteLearning and good Sense, I think myself obligedto suggest to your Consideration whatever may promoteor prejudice them.. There is an Evil which hasprevailed from Generation to Generation, which greyHairs and tyrannical Custom continue to support;I hope your Spectatorial Authority will give a seasonableCheck to the Spread of the Infection; I mean old Mensoverbearing the strongest Sense of their Juniorsby the mere Force of Seniority; so that for a youngMan in the Bloom of Life and Vigour of Age to givea reasonable Contradiction to his Elders, is esteemedan unpardonable Insolence, and regarded as a reversingthe Decrees of Nature. I am a young Man, Iconfess, yet I honour the grey Head as much as anyone; however, when in Company with old Men, I hearthem speak obscurely, or reason preposterously (intowhich Absurdities, Prejudice, Pride, or Interest,will sometimes throw the wisest) I count it no Crimeto rectifie their Reasoning, unless Conscience musttruckle to Ceremony, and Truth fall a Sacrifice toComplaisance. The strongest Arguments are enervated,and the brightest Evidence disappears, before thosetremendous Reasonings and dazling Discoveries ofvenerable old Age: You are young giddy-headedFellows, you have not yet had Experience of theWorld. Thus we young Folks find our Ambitioncramp’d, and our Laziness indulged, since,while young, we have little room to display ourselves; and, when old, the Weakness of Nature mustpass for Strength of Sense, and we hope that hoaryHeads will raise us above the Attacks of Contradiction.Now, Sir, as you would enliven our Activity in thepursuit of Learning, take our Case into Consideration;and, with a Gloss on brave Elihus Sentiments, assertthe Rights of Youth, and prevent the perniciousIncroachments of Age. The generous Reasoningsof that gallant Youth would adorn your Paper; and Ibeg you would insert them, not doubting but thatthey will give good Entertainment to the most intelligentof your Readers.
So these three Men ceased to answerJob, because he was righteous in his own Eyes.Then was kindled the Wrath of Elihu the Son of Barachelthe Buzite, of the Kindred of Ram: Against Jobwas his Wrath kindled, because he justified himselfrather than God. Also against his three Friendswas his Wrath kindled, because they had foundno Answer, and yet had condemned Job. Now Elihuhad waited till Job had spoken, because they wereelder than he. When Elihu saw there was noAnswer in the Mouth of these three Men, then his Wrathwas kindled. And Elihu the Son of Barachelthe Buzite answered and said, I am young, andye are very old, wherefore I was afraid, and durstnot shew you mine Opinion. I said, Days shouldspeak, and Multitude of Years should teach Wisdom.But there is a Spirit in Man; and the Inspirationof the Almighty giveth them Understanding. GreatMen are not always wise: Neither do the Aged understandJudgment. Therefore I said, hearken to me,I also will shew mine Opinion. Behold, Iwaited for your Words; I gave ear to your Reasons,whilst you searched out what to say. Yea, I attendedunto you: And behold there was none of youthat convinced Job, or that answered his Words;lest ye should say, we have found out Wisdom:God thrusteth him down, not Man. Now he hathnot directed his Words against me: Neitherwill I answer him with your Speeches. They wereamazed, they answered no more: They left offspeaking. When I had waited (for they spakenot, but stood still and answered no more) I said,I will answer also my Part, I also will shew mine Opinion.For I am full of Matter, the Spirit within meconstraineth me. Behold my Belly is as Winewhich hath no vent, it is ready to burst like newBottles. I will speak that I may be refreshed:I will open my Lips, and answer. Let me not,I pray you, accept any Man’s Person, neitherlet me give flattering Titles unto Man. ForI know not to give flattering Titles; in so doingmy Maker would soon take me away. [1]
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I have formerly read with great Satisfactionyour Papers about Idols, and the Behaviour of Gentlemenin those Coffee-houses where Women officiate, andimpatiently waited to see you take India and ChinaShops into Consideration: But since you havepass’d us over in silence, either that youhave not as yet thought us worth your Notice, orthat the Grievances we lie under have escaped yourdiscerning Eye, I must make my Complaints to you,and am encouraged to do it because you seem a littleat leisure at this present Writing. I am, dearSir, one of the top China-Women about Town; andthough I say it, keep as good Things, and receiveas fine Company as any o this End of the Town, letthe other be who she will: In short, I am in afair Way to be easy, were it not for a Club of FemaleRakes, who under pretence of taking their innocentRambles, forsooth, and diverting the Spleen, seldomfail to plague me twice or thrice a-day to cheapenTea, or buy a Skreen; What else should they mean?as they often repeat it. These Rakes are youridle Ladies of Fashion, who having nothing to do,employ themselves in tumbling over my Ware.One of these No-Customers (for by the way they seldomor never buy any thing) calls for a Set of Tea-Dishes,another for a Bason, a third for my best Green-Tea,and even to the Punch Bowl, there’s scarcea piece in my Shop but must be displaced, and thewhole agreeable Architecture disordered; so that Ican compare em to nothing but to the Night-Goblinsthat take a Pleasure to over-turn the Dispositionof Plates and Dishes in the Kitchens of your housewifelyMaids. Well, after all this Racket and Clutter,this is too dear, that is their Aversion; another thingis charming, but not wanted: The Ladies arecured of the Spleen, but I am not a Shilling thebetter for it. Lord! what signifies one poor Potof Tea, considering the Trouble they put me to?Vapours, Mr. SPECTATOR, are terrible Things; forthough I am not possess’d by them my self, Isuffer more from em than if I were. Now I mustbeg you to admonish all such Day-Goblins to makefewer Visits, or to be less troublesome when theycome to ones Shop; and to convince em, that we honestShop-keepers have something better to do, than tocure Folks of the Vapours gratis. A young Sonof mine, a School-Boy, is my Secretary, so I hopeyou’ll make Allowances. I am, SIR, Yourconstant Reader, and very humble Servant, Rebeccathe Distress’d.
March the 22nd.
T.
[Footnote 1: Job, ch. xii.]
* * * * *
No. 337. Thursday, March 27, 1712. Budgell.
Fingit equum tenera docilem cervice Magister,
Ire viam quam monstrat eques—
Hor.
I have lately received a third Letter from the Gentleman,who has already given the Publick two Essays uponEducation. As his Thoughts seem to be very justand new upon this Subject, I shall communicate themto the Reader.
SIR,
If I had not been hindered by some extraordinaryBusiness, I should have sent you sooner my furtherThoughts upon Education. You may please toremember, that in my last Letter I endeavoured to givethe best Reasons that could be urged in favour ofa private or publick Education. Upon the wholeit may perhaps be thought that I seemed rather enclinedto the latter, though at the same time I confessedthat Virtue, which ought to be our first and principalCare, was more usually acquired in the former.
I intend therefore, in this Letter, tooffer at Methods, by which I
conceive Boys might be made to improvein Virtue, as they advance in
Letters.
I know that in most of our public SchoolsVice is punished and discouraged whenever it isfound out; but this is far from being sufficient,unless our Youth are at the same time taught to forma right Judgment of Things, and to know what isproperly Virtue.
To this end, whenever they read the Livesand Actions of such Men as have been famous in theirGeneration, it should not be thought enough to makethem barely understand so many Greek or Latin Sentences,but they should be asked their Opinion of such anAction or Saying, and obliged to give their Reasonswhy they take it to be good or bad. By thismeans they would insensibly arrive at proper Notionsof Courage, Temperance, Honour and Justice.
There must be great Care taken how theExample of any particular Person is recommendedto them in gross; instead of which, they ought tobe taught wherein such a Man, though great in somerespects, was weak and faulty in others. Forwant of this Caution, a Boy is often so dazzledwith the Lustre of a great Character, that he confoundsits Beauties with its Blemishes, and looks evenupon the faulty Parts of it with an Eye of Admiration.
I have often wondered how Alexander, whowas naturally of a generous and merciful Disposition,came to be guilty of so barbarous an Action as thatof dragging the Governour of a Town after his Chariot.I know this is generally ascribed to his Passionfor Homer; but I lately met with a Passage in Plutarch,which, if I am not very much mistaken, still givesus a clearer Light into the Motives of this Action.Plutarch tells us, that Alexander in his Youth hada Master named Lysimachus, who, tho he was a Mandestitute of all Politeness, ingratiated himselfboth with Philip and his Pupil, and became the secondMan at Court, by calling the King Peleus, the PrinceAchilles, and himself Phoenix. It is no wonderif Alexander having been thus used not only to admire,but to personate Achilles, should think it gloriousto imitate him in this piece of Cruelty and Extravagance.
To carry this Thought yet further, I shallsubmit it to your Consideration, whether insteadof a Theme or Copy of Verses, which are the usualExercises, as they are called in the School-phrase,it would not be more proper that a Boy should betasked once or twice a Week to write down his Opinionof such Persons and Things as occur to him in hisReading; that he should descant upon the Actions ofTurnus and AEneas, shew wherein they excelled orwere defective, censure or approve any particularAction, observe how it might have been carried toa greater Degree of Perfection, and how it exceededor fell short of another. He might at the sametime mark what was moral in any Speech, and howfar it agreed with the Character of the Person speaking.This Exercise would soon strengthen his Judgment inwhat is blameable or praiseworthy, and give himan early Seasoning of Morality.
Next to those Examples which may be metwith in Books, I very much approve Horace’sWay of setting before Youth the infamous or honourableCharacters of their Contemporaries: That Poettells us, this was the Method his Father made useof to incline him to any particular Virtue, or givehim an Aversion to any particular Vice. If, saysHorace, my Father advised me to live within Bounds,and be contented with the Fortune he should leaveme; Do not you see (says he) the miserable Conditionof Burr, and the Son of Albus? Let the Misfortunesof those two Wretches teach you to avoid Luxury andExtravagance. If he would inspire me with anAbhorrence to Debauchery, do not (says he) makeyour self like Sectanus, when you may be happy inthe Enjoyment of lawful Pleasures. How scandalous(says he) is the Character of Trebonius, who waslately caught in Bed with another Man’s Wife?To illustrate the Force of this Method, the Poet adds,That as a headstrong Patient, who will not at firstfollow his Physicians Prescriptions, grows orderlywhen he hears that his Neighbours die all abouthim; so Youth is often frighted from Vice, by hearingthe ill Report it brings upon others.
Xenophon’s Schools of Equity, inhis Life of Cyrus the Great, are sufficiently famous:He tells us, that the Persian Children went to School,and employed their Time as diligently in learning thePrinciples of Justice and Sobriety, as the Youthin other Countries did to acquire the most difficultArts and Sciences: their Governors spent mostpart of the Day in hearing their mutual Accusationsone against the other, whether for Violence, Cheating,Slander, or Ingratitude; and taught them how togive Judgment against those who were found to beany ways guilty of these Crimes. I omit the Storyof the long and short Coat, for which Cyrus himselfwas punished, as a Case equally known with any inLittleton.
The Method, which Apuleius tells us theIndian Gymnosophists took to educate their Disciples,is still more curious and remarkable. His Wordsare as follow: When their Dinner is ready, beforeit is served up, the Masters enquire of every particularScholar how he has employed his Time since Sun-rising;some of them answer, that having been chosen asArbiters between two Persons they have composed theirDifferences, and made them Friends; some, that theyhave been executing the Orders of their Parents;and others, that they have either found out somethingnew by their own Application, or learnt it fromthe Instruction of their Fellows: But if therehappens to be any one among them, who cannot makeit appear that he has employed the Morning to advantage,he is immediately excluded from the Company, and obligedto work, while the rest are at Dinner.
It is not impossible, that from theseseveral Ways of producing Virtue in the Minds ofBoys, some general Method might be invented.What I would endeavour to inculcate, is, that ourYouth cannot be too soon taught the Principles ofVirtue, seeing the first Impressions which are madeon the Mind are always the strongest.
The Archbishop of Cambray makes Telemachussay, that though he was young in Years, he was oldin the Art of knowing how to keep both his own andhis Friends Secrets. When my Father, says thePrince, went to the Siege of Troy, he took me onhis Knees, and after having embraced and blessedme, as he was surrounded by the Nobles of Ithaca, Omy Friends, says he, into your Hands I commit theEducation of my Son; if ever you lov’d hisFather, shew it in your Care towards him; but aboveall, do not omit to form him just, sincere, and faithfulin keeping a Secret. These Words of my Father,says Telemachus, were continually repeated to meby his Friends in his Absence; who made no scrupleof communicating to me in their Uneasiness to seemy Mother surrounded with Lovers, and the Measuresthey designed to take on that Occasion. Headds, that he was so ravished at being thus treatedlike a Man, and at the Confidence reposed in him,that he never once abused it; nor could all theInsinuations of his Fathers Rivals ever get him tobetray what was committed to him under the Seal ofSecrecy.
There is hardly any Virtue which a Ladmight not thus learn by
Practice and Example.
I have heard of a good Man, who used atcertain times to give his Scholars Six Pence apiece,that they might tell him the next day how they hademploy’d it. The third part was always tobe laid out in Charity, and every Boy was blamedor commended as he could make it appear that hehad chosen a fit Object.
In short, nothing is more wanting to ourpublick Schools, than that the Masters of them shoulduse the same care in fashioning the Manners of theirScholars, as in forming their Tongues to the learnedLanguages. Where-ever the former is omitted,I cannot help agreeing with Mr. Locke, That a Manmust have a very strange Value for Words, when preferringthe Languages of the Greeks and Romans to that whichmade them such brave Men, he can think it worth whileto hazard the Innocence and Virtue of his Son fora little Greek and Latin.
As the Subject of this Essay is of thehighest Importance, and what I do not remember tohave yet seen treated by any Author, I have sent youwhat occurr’d to me on it from my own Observationor Reading, and which you may either suppress orpublish as you think fit.
I am, SIR, Yours, &c.
X.
* * * * *
No. 338. Friday, March 28, 1712.
[—Nil fuit unquam
Tam dispar sibi.
Hor. [1]]
I find the Tragedy of the Distrest Mother is publish’dtoday: The Author of the Prologue, I suppose,pleads an old Excuse I have read somewhere, of beingdull with Design; and the Gentleman who writ the Epilogue[2] has, to my knowledge, so much of greater momentto value himself upon, that he will easily forgiveme for publishing the Exceptions made against Gayetyat the end of serious Entertainments, in the followingLetter: I should be more unwilling to pardon himthan any body, a Practice which cannot have any illConsequence, but from the Abilities of the Personwho is guilty of it.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I had the Happiness the other Night ofsitting very near you, and your worthy Friend SirROGER, at the acting of the new Tragedy, which youhave in a late Paper or two so justly recommended.I was highly pleased with the advantageous SituationFortune had given me in placing me so near two Gentlemen,from one of which I was sure to hear such Reflectionson the several Incidents of the Play, as pure Naturesuggested, and from the other such as flowed fromthe exactest Art and Judgment: Tho I must confessthat my Curiosity led me so much to observe theKnights Reflections, that I was not so well at leisureto improve my self by yours. Nature, I found,play’d her Part in the Knight pretty well,till at the last concluding Lines she entirely forsookhim. You must know, Sir, that it is always myCustom, when I have been well entertained at a newTragedy, to make my Retreat before the facetiousEpilogue enters; not but that those Pieces are oftenvery well writ, but having paid down my Half Crown,and made a fair Purchase of as much of the pleasingMelancholy as the Poets Art can afford me, or myown Nature admit of, I am willing to carry some ofit home with me; and cant endure to be at once trick’dout of all, tho by the wittiest Dexterity in theWorld. However, I kept my Seat tother Night,in hopes of finding my own Sentiments of this Matterfavour’d by your Friends; when, to my greatSurprize, I found the Knight entering with equalPleasure into both Parts, and as much satisfiedwith Mrs. Oldfield’s Gaiety, as he had been beforewith Andromache’s Greatness. Whetherthis were no other than an Effect of the Knightspeculiar Humanity, pleas’d to find at last, thatafter all the tragical Doings every thing was safeand well, I don’t know. But for my ownpart, I must confess, I was so dissatisfied, that Iwas sorry the Poet had saved Andromache, and couldheartily have wished that he had left her stone-deadupon the Stage. For you cannot imagine, Mr.SPECTATOR, the Mischief she was reserv’d to dome. I found my Soul, during the Action, graduallywork’d up to the highest Pitch; and felt theexalted Passion which all generous Minds conceiveat the Sight of Virtue in Distress. The Impression,believe me, Sir, was so strong upon me, that I ampersuaded, if I had been let alone in it, I couldat an Extremity have ventured to defend your self andSir ROGER against half a Score of the fiercest Mohocks:But the ludicrous Epilogue in the Close extinguish’dall my Ardour, and made me look upon all such nobleAtchievements, as downright silly and romantick.What the rest of the Audience felt, I cant so welltell: For my self, I must declare, that atthe end of the Play I found my Soul uniform, andall of a Piece; but at the End of the Epilogue it wasso jumbled together, and divided between Jest andEarnest, that if you will forgive me an extravagantFancy, I will here set it down. I could not butfancy, if my Soul had at that Moment quitted my Body,and descended to the poetical Shades in the Postureit was then in, what a strange Figure it would havemade among them. They would not have knownwhat to have made of my motley Spectre, half Comickand half Tragick, all over resembling a ridiculousFace, that at the same time laughs on one side andcries o tother. The only Defence, I think, Ihave ever heard made for this, as it seems to me,most unnatural Tack of the Comick Tail to the TragickHead, is this, that the Minds of the Audience mustbe refreshed, and Gentlemen and Ladies not sent awayto their own Homes with too dismal and melancholyThoughts about them: For who knows the Consequenceof this? We are much obliged indeed to thePoets for the great Tenderness they express for theSafety of our Persons, and heartily thank them forit. But if that be all, pray, good Sir, assurethem, that we are none of us like to come to any greatHarm; and that, let them do their best, we shall inall probability live out the Length of our Days,and frequent the Theatres more than ever. Whatmakes me more desirous to have some Reformation ofthis matter, is because of an ill Consequence or twoattending it: For a great many of our Church-Musiciansbeing related to the Theatre, they have, in Imitationof these Epilogues, introduced in their farewellVoluntaries a sort of Musick quite foreign to the designof Church-Services, to the great Prejudice of well-disposedPeople. Those fingering Gentlemen should beinformed, that they ought to suit their Airs tothe Place and Business; and that the Musician is obligedto keep to the Text as much as the Preacher.For want of this, I have found by Experience a greatdeal of Mischief: For when the Preacher hasoften, with great Piety and Art enough, handled hisSubject, and the judicious Clark has with utmostDiligence culled out two Staves proper to the Discourse,and I have found in my self and in the rest of thePew good Thoughts and Dispositions, they have beenall in a moment dissipated by a merry Jigg fromthe Organ-Loft. One knows not what furtherill Effects the Epilogues I have been speaking of mayin time produce: But this I am credibly informedof, that Paul Lorrain [3]—has resolv’dupon a very sudden Reformation in his tragical Dramas;and that at the next monthly Performance, he designs,instead of a Penitential Psalm, to dismiss his Audiencewith an excellent new Ballad of his own composing.Pray, Sir, do what you can to put a stop to thosegrowing Evils, and you will very much oblige
Your Humble Servant,
Physibulus.
[Footnote 1:
[—Servetur ad imum
Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibiconstet.
Hor. ]
[Footnote 2: The Prologue was by Steele. Of the Epilogue Dr. Johnson said (in his Lives ofthe Poets, when telling of Ambrose Philips),
It was known in Tonson’s familyand told to Garrick, that Addison was himself theauthor of it, and that when it had been at first printedwith his name, he came early in the morning, beforethe copies were distributed, and ordered it to begiven to Budgell, that it might add weight to thesolicitation which he was then making for a place.
Johnson calls it
the most successful Epilogue that wasever yet spoken on the English
theatre.
The three first nights it was recited twice, and wheneverafterwards the play was acted the Epilogue was stillexpected and was spoken. This is a fifth paperfor the benefit of Ambrose Philips, inserted, perhaps,to make occasion for a sixth (No. 341) in the formof a reply to Physibulus.]
[Footnote 3: Paul Lorrain was the Ordinary ofNewgate. He died in 1719. He always representedhis convicts as dying Penitents, wherefore in No. 63of the Tatler they had been called Paul Lorrains Saints.]
* * * * *
No. 339 Saturday, March 29, 1712. Addison
[—Ut his exordia primis Omnia,et ipse tener Mundi concreverit orbis. Tumdurare solum et discludere Nerea ponto Coeperit,et rerum pauliatim sumere formas.
Virg. [1]]
Longinus has observed, [2] that there may be a Loftinessin Sentiments, where there is no Passion, and bringsInstances out of ancient Authors to support this hisOpinion. The Pathetick, as that great Critickobserves, may animate and inflame the Sublime, butis not essential to it. Accordingly, as he furtherremarks, we very often find that those who excel mostin stirring up the Passions, very often want the Talentof writing in the great and sublime manner, and soon the contrary. Milton has shewn himself a Masterin both these ways of Writing. The Seventh Book,which we are now entring upon, is an Instance of thatSublime which is not mixed and worked up with Passion.The Author appears in a kind of composed and sedateMajesty; and tho the Sentiments do not give so greatan Emotion as those in the former Book, they aboundwith as magnificent Ideas. The Sixth Book, likea troubled Ocean, represents Greatness in Confusion;the seventh Affects the Imagination like the Oceanin a Calm, and fills the Mind of the Reader, withoutproducing in it any thing like Tumult or Agitation.
The Critick above mentioned, among the Rules whichhe lays down for succeeding in the sublime way ofwriting, proposes to his Reader, that he should imitatethe most celebrated Authors who have gone before him,and been engaged in Works of the same nature; [3] asin particular, that if he writes on a poetical Subject,he should consider how Homer would have spoken onsuch an Occasion. By this means one great Geniusoften catches the Flame from another, and writes inhis Spirit, without copying servilely after him.There are a thousand shining Passages in Virgil, whichhave been lighted up by Homer.
Milton, tho his own natural Strength of Genius wascapable of furnishing out a perfect Work, has doubtlessvery much raised and ennobled his Conceptions, bysuch an Imitation as that which Longinus has recommended.
In this Book, which gives us an Account of the sixDays Works, the Poet received but very few Assistancesfrom Heathen Writers, who were Strangers to the Wondersof Creation. But as there are many glorious strokesof Poetry upon this Subject in Holy Writ, the Authorhas numberless Allusions to them through the wholecourse of this Book. The great Critick I havebefore mentioned, though an Heathen, has taken noticeof the sublime Manner in which the Lawgiver of theJews has describ’d the Creation in the firstChapter of Genesis; [4] and there are many other Passagesin Scripture, which rise up to the same Majesty, wherethis Subject is touched upon. Milton has shewnhis Judgment very remarkably, in making use of suchof these as were proper for his Poem, and in dulyqualifying those high Strains of Eastern Poetry, whichwere suited to Readers whose Imaginations were setto an higher pitch than those of colder Climates.
Adams Speech to the Angel, wherein he desires an Accountof what had passed within the Regions of Nature beforethe Creation, is very great and solemn. The followingLines, in which he tells him, that the Day is nottoo far spent for him to enter upon such a subject,are exquisite in their kind.
And the great Light of Day yet wants torun
Much of his Race, though steep, suspensein Heavn
Held by thy Voice; thy potent Voice hehears,
And longer will delay, to hear thee tell
His Generation, &c.
The Angels encouraging our first Parent[s] in a modestpursuit after Knowledge, with the Causes which heassigns for the Creation of the World, are very justand beautiful. The Messiah, by whom, as we aretold in Scripture, the Worlds were made, comes forthin the Power of his Father, surrounded with an Hostof Angels, and cloathed with such a Majesty as becomeshis entring upon a Work, which, according to our Conceptions,[appears [5]] the utmost Exertion of Omnipotence.What a beautiful Description has our Author raisedupon that Hint in one of the Prophets. And beholdthere came four Chariots out from between two Mountains,and the Mountains were Mountains of Brass. [6]
About his Chariot numberless were pour
Cherub and Seraph, Potentates and Thrones,
And Virtues, winged Spirits, and Chariotswing’d,
From th’ Armoury of Gold, wherestand of old
Myriads between two brazen Mountains lodg’d
Against a solemn Day, harness’dat hand;
Celestial Equipage! and now came forth
Spontaneous, for within them Spirit liv’d,
Attendant on their Lord: Heavn open’dwide
Her ever-during Gates, Harmonious Sound!
On golden Hinges moving—
I have before taken notice of these Chariots of God,and of these Gates of Heaven; and shall here onlyadd, that Homer gives us the same Idea of the latter,as opening of themselves; tho he afterwards takes offfrom it, by telling us, that the Hours first of allremoved those prodigious Heaps of Clouds which layas a Barrier before them.
I do not know any thing in the whole Poem more sublimethan the Description which follows, where the Messiahis represented at the head of his Angels, as lookingdown into the Chaos, calming its Confusion, ridinginto the midst of it, and drawing the first Out-Lineof the Creation.
On Heavenly Ground they stood, and fromthe Shore
They view’d the vast immeasurableAbyss,
Outrageous as a Sea, dark, wasteful, wild;
Up from the bottom turned by furious Winds
And surging Waves, as Mountains to assault
Heavens height, and with the Center mixthe Pole.
Silence, ye troubled Waves, and thou Deep,Peace!
Said then th’ Omnific Word, yourDiscord end:
Nor staid; but, on the Wings of Cherubim
Up-lifted, in Paternal Glory rode
Far into Chaos, and the World unborn;
For Chaos heard his Voice. Him allHis Train
Follow’d in bright Procession, tobehold
Creation, and the Wonders, of his Might.
Then staid the fervid Wheels, and in hisHand
He took the Golden Compasses, prepar’d
In Gods eternal Store, to circ*mscribe
This Universe, and all created Things:
One Foot he center’d, and the otherturn’d
Round, through the vast Profundity obscure;
And said, Thus far extend, thus far thybounds,
This be thy just Circumference, O World!
The Thought of the Golden Compasses is conceived altogetherin Homers Spirit, and is a very noble Incident inthis wonderful Description. Homer, when he speaksof the Gods, ascribes to them several Arms and Instrumentswith the same greatness of Imagination. Let theReader only peruse the Description of Minerva’sAEgis, or Buckler, in the Fifth Book, with her Spear,which would overturn whole Squadrons, and her Helmet,that was sufficient to cover an Army drawn out of anhundred Cities: The Golden Compasses in the above-mentionedPassage appear a very natural Instrument in the Handof him, whom Plato somewhere calls the Divine Geometrician.As Poetry delights in cloathing abstracted Ideas inAllegories and sensible Images, we find a magnificentDescription of the Creation form’d after thesame manner in one of the Prophets, wherein he describesthe Almighty Architect as measuring the Waters in theHollow of his Hand, meting out the Heavens with hisSpan, comprehending the Dust of the Earth in a Measure,weighing the Mountains in Scales, and the Hills ina Balance. Another of them describing the SupremeBeing in this great Work of Creation, represents himas laying the Foundations of the Earth, and stretchinga Line upon it: And in another place as garnishingthe Heavens, stretching out the North over the emptyPlace, and hanging the Earth upon nothing. Thislast noble Thought Milton has express’d in thefollowing Verse:
And Earth self-ballanc’d on herCenter hung.
The Beauties of Description in this Book lie so verythick, that it is impossible to enumerate them inthis Paper. The Poet has employ’d on themthe whole Energy of our Tongue. The several greatScenes of the Creation rise up to view one after another,in such a manner, that the Reader seems present atthis wonderful Work, and to assist among the Choirsof Angels, who are the Spectators of it. How gloriousis the Conclusion of the first Day.
—Thus was the first Day Ev’nand Morn
Nor past uncelebrated nor unsung
By the Celestial Quires, when Orient Light
Exhaling first from Darkness they beheld;
Birth-day of Heavn and Earth! with Joyand Shout
The hollow universal Orb they fill’d.
We have the same elevation of Thought in the thirdDay, when the
Mountains were brought forth, and the Deep was made.
Immediately the Mountains huge appear
Emergent, and their broad bare Backs up-heave
Into the Clouds, their Tops ascend theSky:
So high as heav’d the tumid Hills,so low
Down sunk a hollow Bottom, broad and deep,
Capacious Bed of Waters—
We have also the rising of the whole vegetable Worlddescribed in this Days Work, which is filled withall the Graces that other Poets have lavish’don their Descriptions of the Spring, and leads theReaders Imagination into a Theatre equally surprisingand beautiful.
The several Glories of the Heavns make their Appearanceon the Fourth Day.
First in his East the glorious Lamp wasseen,
Regent of Day; and all th’ Horizonround
Invested with bright Rays, jocund to round
His Longitude through Heavns high Road:the gray
Dawn, and the Pleiades before him danced,
Shedding sweet Influence. Less brightthe Moon,
But opposite in level’d West wasset,
His Mirror, with full face borrowing herLight
From him, for other Lights she needednone
In that aspect, and still that distancekeeps
Till Night; then in the East her turnshe shines,
Revolv’d on Heavns great Axle, andher Reign
With thousand lesser Lights dividual holds,
With thousand thousand Stars! that thenappear’d
Spangling the Hemisphere—
One would wonder how the Poet could be so concisein his Description of the six Days Works, as to comprehendthem within the bounds of an Episode, and at the sametime so particular, as to give us a lively Idea ofthem. This is still more remarkable in his Accountof the Fifth and Sixth Days, in which he has drawnout to our View the whole Animal Creation, from theReptil to the Behemoth. As the Lion and the Leviathanare two of the noblest Productions in [the [7]] Worldof living Creatures, the Reader will find a most exquisiteSpirit of Poetry in the Account which our Author givesus of them. The Sixth Day concludes with theFormation of Man, upon which the Angel takes occasion,as he did after the Battel in Heaven, to remind Adamof his Obedience, which was the principal Design ofthis his Visit.
The Poet afterwards represents the Messiah returninginto Heaven, and taking a Survey of his great Work.There is something inexpressibly Sublime in this partof the Poem, where the Author describes that greatPeriod of Time, filled with so many Glorious Circ*mstances;when the Heavens and Earth were finished; when theMessiah ascended up in triumph thro the EverlastingGates; when he looked down with pleasure upon hisnew Creation; when every Part of Nature seem’dto rejoice in its Existence; when the Morning-Starssang together, and all the Sons of God shouted forjoy.
So Ev’n and Morn accomplished thesixth Day:
Yet not till the Creator from his Work
Desisting, tho unwearied, up return’d,
Up to the Heavn of Heavns, his high Abode;
Thence to behold this new created World,
Th’ Addition of his Empire, howit shewed
In prospect from his Throne, how good,how fair,
Answering his great Idea: Up he rode,
Follow’d with Acclamation, and theSound
Symphonious of ten thousand Harps, thattuned
Angelick Harmonies; the Earth, the Air
Resounding (thou rememberst, for thouheardst)
The Heavens and all the Constellationsrung;
The Planets in their Station listningstood,
While the bright Pomp ascended jubilant.
Open, ye everlasting Gates, they sung,
Open, ye Heavens, your living Doors; letin
The great Creator from his Work return’d
Magnificent, his six Days Work, a World!
I cannot conclude this Book upon the Creation, withoutmentioning a Poem which has lately appeared underthat Title. [8] The Work was undertaken with so goodan Intention, and is executed with so great a Mastery,that it deserves to be looked upon as one of the mostuseful and noble Productions in our English Verse.The Reader cannot but be pleased to find the Depthsof Philosophy enlivened with all the Charms of Poetry,and to see so great a Strength of Reason, amidst sobeautiful a Redundancy of the Imagination. TheAuthor has shewn us that Design in all the Works ofNature, which necessarily leads us to the Knowledgeof its first Cause. In short, he has illustrated,by numberless and incontestable Instances, that DivineWisdom, which the Son of Sirach has so nobly ascribedto the Supreme Being in his Formation of the World,when he tells us, that He created her, and saw her,and numbered her, and poured her out upon all hisWorks.
L.
[Footnote 1: [Ovid.]]
[Footnote 2: On the Sublime, Sec. 8.]
[Footnote 3: Sec.14.]
[Footnote 4: Longinus, Sec. 9:
“So likewise the Jewish legislator,no ordinary person, having conceived a just ideaof the power of God, has nobly expressed it in thebeginning of his law. And God said,—What?Let there be Light, and there was Light. Letthe Earth be, and the Earth was.” ]
[Footnote 5: [looks like]:—]
[Footnote 6: Zechariah vi. i. ]
[Footnote 7: this]
[Footnote 8: Sir Richard Blackmore’s Creationappeared in 1712. Besides this praise of it fromAddison, its religious character caused Dr. Johnsonto say that if Blackmore
had written nothing else it would havetransmitted him to posterity
among the first favourites of the Englishmuse.
But even with the help of all his epics it has failedto secure him any such place in the estimation ofposterity. This work is not an epic, but describedon its title page as a Philosophical Poem, Demonstratingthe Existence and Providence of a God. It arguesin blank verse, in the first two of its seven books,the existence of a Deity from evidences of designin the structure and qualities of earth and sea, inthe celestial bodies and the air; in the next threebooks it argues against objections raised by Atheists,Atomists, and Fatalists; in the sixth book proceedswith evidences of design, taking the structure of man’sbody for its theme; and in the next, which is thelast book, treats in the same way of the Instinctsof Animals and of the Faculties and Operations of theSoul. This is the manner of the Poem:
The Sea does next demand our View; andthere
No less the Marks of perfect skill appear.
When first the Atoms to the Congress came,
And by their Concourse form’d themighty Frame,
What did the Liquid to th’ Assemblycall
To give their Aid to form the ponderousBall?
First, tell us, why did any come? next,why
In such a disproportion to the Dry!
Why were the Moist in Number so outdone,
That to a Thousand Dry, they are but one,
It is hardly a mark of perfect skill that there arefive or six thousand of such dry lines in Blackmore’spoem, and not even one that should lead a critic tospeak in the same breath of Blackmore and Milton.]
* * * * *
No. 340 Monday, March 31, 1712. Steele.
Quis novus hic nostris successit sedibusHospes?
Quem sese Ore ferens! quam forti Pectoreet Armis!
Virg.
I take it to be the highest Instance of a noble Mind,to bear great Qualities without discovering in a Man’sBehaviour any Consciousness that he is superior tothe rest of the World. Or, to say it otherwise,it is the Duty of a great Person so to demean himself,as that whatever Endowments he may have, he may appearto value himself upon no Qualities but such as anyMan may arrive at: He ought to think no Man valuablebut for his publick Spirit, Justice and Integrity;and all other Endowments to be esteemed only as theycontribute to the exerting those Virtues. Sucha Man, if he is Wise or Valiant, knows it is of noConsideration to other Men that he is so, but as heemploys those high Talents for their Use and Service.He who affects the Applauses and Addresses of a Multitude,or assumes to himself a Pre-eminence upon any otherConsideration, must soon turn Admiration into Contempt.It is certain, that there can be no Merit in any Manwho is not conscious of it; but the Sense that itis valuable only according to the Application of it,makes that Superiority amiable, which would otherwisebe invidious. In this Light it is consideredas a Thing in which every Man bears a Share:It annexes the Ideas of Dignity, Power, and Fame, inan agreeable and familiar manner, to him who is Possessorof it; and all Men who are Strangers to him are naturallyincited to indulge a Curiosity in beholding the Person,Behaviour, Feature, and Shape of him, in whose Character,perhaps, each Man had formed something in common withhimself. Whether such, or any other, are the Causes,all Men have [a yearning [1]] Curiosity to beholda Man of heroick Worth; and I have had many Lettersfrom all Parts of this Kingdom, that request I wouldgive them an exact Account of the Stature, the Mein,the Aspect of the Prince [2] who lately visited England,and has done such Wonders for the Liberty of Europe.It would puzzle the most Curious to form to himselfthe sort of Man my several Correspondents expect tohear of, by the Action mentioned when they desirea Description of him: There is always somethingthat concerns themselves, and growing out of theirown Circ*mstances, in all their Enquiries. AFriend of mine in Wales beseeches me to be very exactin my Account of that wonderful Man, who had marchedan Army and all its Baggage over the Alps; and, ifpossible, to learn whether the Peasant who shew’dhim the Way, and is drawn in the Map, be yet living.A Gentleman from the University, who is deeply intent
on the Study of Humanity, desires me to be as particular,if I had Opportunity, in observing the whole Interviewbetween his Highness and our late General. Thusdo Mens Fancies work according to their several Educationsand Circ*mstances; but all pay a Respect, mixed withAdmiration, to this illustrious Character. I havewaited for his Arrival in Holland, before I wouldlet my Correspondents know, that I have not been souncurious a Spectator, as not to have seen Prince Eugene.It would be very difficult, as I said just now, toanswer every Expectation of those who have writ tome on that Head; nor is it possible for me to findWords to let one know what an artful Glance there isin his Countenance who surprized Cremona; how daringhe appears who forced the Trenches of Turin; But ingeneral I can say, that he who beholds him, will easilyexpect from him any thing that is to be imagined orexecuted by the Wit or Force of Man. The Princeis of that Stature which makes a Man most easily becomeall Parts of Exercise, has Height to be graceful onOccasions of State and Ceremony, and no less adaptedfor Agility and Dispatch: his Aspect is erectand compos’d; his Eye lively and thoughtful,yet rather vigilant than sparkling; his Action andAddress the most easy imaginable, and his Behaviourin an Assembly peculiarly graceful in a certain Artof mixing insensibly with the rest, and becoming oneof the Company, instead of receiving the Courtshipof it. The Shape of his Person, and Composureof his Limbs, are remarkably exact and beautiful.There is in his Look something sublime, which doesnot seem to arise from his Quality or Character, butthe innate Disposition of his Mind. It is apparentthat he suffers the Presence of much Company, insteadof taking Delight in it; and he appeared in Publickwhile with us, rather to return Good-will, or satisfyCuriosity, than to gratify any Taste he himself hadof being popular. As his Thoughts are never tumultuousin Danger, they are as little discomposed on Occasionsof Pomp and Magnificence: A great Soul is affectedin either Case, no further than in considering theproperest Methods to extricate it self from them.If this Hero has the strong Incentives to uncommonEnterprizes that were remarkable in Alexander, he prosecutesand enjoys the Fame of them with the Justness, Propriety,and good Sense of Caesar. It is easy to observein him a Mind as capable of being entertained withContemplation as Enterprize; a Mind ready for greatExploits, but not impatient for Occasions to exertit*elf. The Prince has Wisdom and Valour in ashigh Perfection as Man can enjoy it; which noble Facultiesin conjunction, banish all Vain-Glory, Ostentation,Ambition, and all other Vices which might intrude uponhis Mind to make it unequal. These Habits andQualities of Soul and Body render this Personage soextraordinary, that he appears to have nothing in himbut what every Man should have in him, the Exertionof his very self, abstracted from the Circ*mstancesin which Fortune has placed him. Thus were youto see Prince Eugene, and were told he was a privateGentleman, you would say he is a Man of Modesty andMerit: Should you be told That was Prince Eugene,he would be diminished no otherwise, than that partof your distant Admiration would turn into familiarGood-will. This I thought fit to entertain myReader with, concerning an Hero who never was equalledbut by one Man; [3] over whom also he has this Advantage,that he has had an Opportunity to manifest an Esteemfor him in his Adversity.T.
[Footnote 1: [an earning]]
[Footnote 2: Prince Eugene of Savoy, grandsonof a duke of Savoy, and son of Eugene Maurice, generalof the Swiss, and Olympia Mancini, a niece of Mazarin,was born at Paris in 1663, and intended for the church,but had so strong a bent towards a military life, thatwhen refused a regiment in the French army he servedthe Emperor as volunteer against the Turks. Hestopped the march of the French into Italy when LouisXIV. declared war with Austria, and refused afterwardsfrom Louis a Marshals staff, a pension, and the Governmentof Champagne. Afterwards in Italy, by the surpriseof Cremona he made Marshal Villeroi his prisoner,and he was Marlborough’s companion in arms atBlenheim and in other victories. It was he whosaved Turin, and expelled the French from Italy.He was 49 years old in 1712, and had come in that yearto England to induce the court to continue the war,but found Marlborough in disgrace and the war veryunpopular. He had been feasted by the city, andreceived from Queen Anne a sword worth L5000, whichhe wore at her birthday reception. He had alsostood as godfather to Steele’s third son, whowas named after him.]
[Footnote 3: Marlborough.]
* * * * *
No. 341. Tuesday, April 1, 1712. Budgell. [1]
—Revocate animos moestumque timoremMittite—
Virg.
Having, to oblige my Correspondent Physibulus, printedhis Letter last Friday, in relation to the new Epilogue,he cannot take it amiss, if I now publish another,which I have just received from a Gentleman who doesnot agree with him in his Sentiments upon that Matter.
SIR,
I am amazed to find an Epilogue attackedin your last Fridays Paper,
which has been so generally applaudedby the Town, and receiv’d such
Honours as were never before given toany in an English Theatre.
The Audience would not permit Mrs. Oldfieldto go off the Stage the first Night, till she hadrepeated it twice; the second Night the Noise ofAncoras was as loud as before, and she was again obligedto speak it twice: the third Night it was stillcalled for a second time; and, in short, contraryto all other Epilogues, which are dropt after thethird Representation of the Play, this has alreadybeen repeated nine times.
I must own I am the more surprized tofind this Censure in Opposition
to the whole Town, in a Paper which hash*therto been famous for the
Candour of its Criticisms.
I can by no means allow your melancholyCorrespondent, that the new Epilogue is unnaturalbecause it is gay. If I had a mind to be learned,I could tell him that the Prologue and Epilogue werereal Parts of the ancient Tragedy; but every oneknows that on the British Stage they are distinctPerformances by themselves, Pieces entirely detachedfrom the Play, and no way essential to it.
The moment the Play ends, Mrs. Oldfieldis no more Andromache, but Mrs. Oldfield; and thothe Poet had left Andromache stone-dead upon theStage, as your ingenious Correspondent phrases it,Mrs. Oldfield might still have spoke a merry Epilogue.We have an Instance of this in a Tragedy [2] wherethere is not only a Death but a Martyrdom. St.Catherine was there personated by Nell Gwin; shelies stone dead upon the Stage, but upon those Gentlemen’soffering to remove her Body, whose Business it isto carry off the Slain in our English Tragedies, shebreaks out into that abrupt Beginning of what was avery ludicrous, but at the same time thought a verygood Epilogue.
Hold, are you mad? you damn’dconfounded Dog,
I am to rise and speak theEpilogue.
This diverting Manner was always practisedby Mr. Dryden, who if he was not the best Writerof Tragedies in his time, was allowed by every oneto have the happiest Turn for a Prologue or an Epilogue.The Epilogues to Cleomenes, Don Sebastian, The Dukeof Guise, Aurengzebe, and Love Triumphant, are allPrecedents of this Nature.
I might further justify this Practiceby that excellent Epilogue which was spoken a fewYears since, after the Tragedy of Phaedra and Hippolitus;with a great many others, in which the Authors haveendeavour’d to make the Audience merry.If they have not all succeeded so well as the Writerof this, they have however shewn that it was not forwant of Good-will.
I must further observe, that the Gaietyof it may be still the more proper, as it is atthe end of a French Play; since every one knows thatNation, who are generally esteem’d to have aspolite a Taste as any in Europe, always close theirTragick Entertainments with what they call a PetitePiece, which is purposely design’d to raise Mirth,and send away the Audience well pleased. Thesame Person who has supported the chief Characterin the Tragedy, very often plays the principal Partin the Petite Piece; so that I have my self seen atParis, Orestes and Lubin acted the same Night bythe same Man.
Tragi-Comedy, indeed, you have your selfin a former Speculation found fault with very justly,because it breaks the Tide of the Passions whilethey are yet flowing; but this is nothing at all tothe present Case, where they have already had theirfull Course.
As the new Epilogue is written conformableto the Practice of our best Poets, so it is notsuch an one which, as the Duke of Buckingham saysin his Rehearsal, might serve for any other Play;but wholly rises out of the Occurrences of the Pieceit was composed for.
The only Reason your mournful Correspondentgives against this Facetious Epilogue, as he callsit, is, that he has mind to go home melancholy.I wish the Gentleman may not be more Grave than Wise.For my own part, I must confess I think it verysufficient to have the Anguish of a fictitious Pieceremain upon me while it is representing, but I loveto be sent home to bed in a good humour. If Physibulusis however resolv’d to be inconsolable, andnot to have his Tears dried up, he need only continuehis old Custom, and when he has had his half Crownsworth of Sorrow, slink out before the Epilogue begins.
It is pleasant enough to hear this TragicalGenius complaining of the great Mischief Andromachehad done him: What was that? Why, she madehim laugh. The poor Gentleman’s Sufferingsput me in mind of Harlequins Case, who was tickledto Death. He tells us soon after, thro a smallMistake of Sorrow for Rage, that during the whole Actionhe was so very sorry, that he thinks he could haveattack’d half a score of the fiercest Mohocksin the Excess of his Grief. I cannot but lookupon it as an happy Accident, that a Man who is sobloody-minded in his Affliction, was diverted fromthis Fit of outragious Melancholy. The Valourof this Gentleman in his Distress, brings to onesmemory the Knight of the sorrowful Countenance, wholays about him at such an unmerciful rate in anold Romance. I shall readily grant him thathis Soul, as he himself says, would have made a veryridiculous Figure, had it quitted the Body, and descendedto the Poetical Shades, in such an Encounter.
As to his Conceit of tacking a TragicHead with a Comic Tail, in order
to refresh the Audience, it is such apiece of Jargon, that I don’t
know what to make of it.
The elegant Writer makes a very suddenTransition from the Play-house
to the Church, and from thence, to theGallows.
As for what relates to the Church, heis of Opinion, that these Epilogues have given occasionto those merry Jiggs from the Organ-Loft which havedissipated those good Thoughts, and Dispositions hehas found in himself, and the rest of the Pew, uponthe singing of two Staves cull’d out by thejudicious and diligent Clark.
He fetches his next Thought from Tyburn;and seems very apprehensive
lest there should happen any Innovationsin the Tragedies of his
Friend Paul Lorrain.
In the mean time, Sir, this gloomy Writer,who is so mightily scandaliz’d at a gay Epilogueafter a serious Play, speaking of the Fate of thoseunhappy Wretches who are condemned to suffer an ignominiousDeath by the Justice of our Laws, endeavours to makethe Reader merry on so improper an occasion, bythose poor Burlesque Expressions of Tragical Dramas,and Monthly Performances.
I am, Sir, with great Respect,
Your most obedient, most humble Servant,
Philomeides.
X.
[Footnote 1: Budgell here defends with bad temperthe Epilogue which Addison ascribed to him. Probablyit was of his writing, but transformed by Addison’scorrections.]
[Footnote 2: Dryden’s Maximin.]
* * * * *
No. 342. Wednesday, April 2,1712. Steele.
Justitiae partes sunt non violare homines:Verecundiae non offendere.
Tull.
As Regard to Decency is a great Rule of Life in general,but more especially to be consulted by the FemaleWorld, I cannot overlook the following Letter whichdescribes an egregious Offender.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I was this Day looking over your Papers,and reading in that of December the 6th with greatdelight, the amiable Grief of Asteria for the Absenceof her Husband, it threw me into a great deal of Reflection.I cannot say but this arose very much from the Circ*mstancesof my own Life, who am a Soldier, and expect everyDay to receive Orders; which will oblige me to leavebehind me a Wife that is very dear to me, and thatvery deservedly. She is, at present, I am sure,no way below your Asteria for Conjugal Affection:But I see the Behaviour of some Women so littlesuited to the Circ*mstances wherein my Wife andI shall soon be, that it is with a Reluctance I neverknew before, I am going to my Duty. What putsme to present Pain, is the Example of a young Lady,whose Story you shall have as well as I can giveit you. Hortensius, an Officer of good Rank inher Majesty’s Service, happen’d in acertain Part of England to be brought to a Country-Gentleman’sHouse, where he was receiv’d with that more thanordinary Welcome, with which Men of domestick Livesentertain such few Soldiers whom a military Life,from the variety of Adventures, has not render’dover-bearing, but humane, easy, and agreeable:Hortensius stay’d here some time, and hadeasy Access at all hours, as well as unavoidableConversation at some parts of the Day with the beautifulSylvana, the Gentleman’s Daughter. Peoplewho live in Cities are wonderfully struck with everylittle Country Abode they see when they take theAir; and tis natural to fancy they could live in everyneat Cottage (by which they pass) much happier thanin their present Circ*mstances. The turbulentway of Life which Hortensius was used to, made himreflect with much Satisfaction on all the Advantagesof a sweet Retreat one day; and among the rest,you’ll think it not improbable, it might enterinto his Thought, that such a Woman as Sylvana wouldconsummate the Happiness. The World is so debauchedwith mean Considerations, that Hortensius knew itwould be receiv’d as an Act of Generosity,if he asked for a Woman of the Highest Merit, withoutfurther Questions, of a Parent who had nothing to addto her personal Qualifications. The Weddingwas celebrated at her Fathers House: When thatwas over, the generous Husband did not proportion hisProvision for her to the Circ*mstances of her Fortune,but considered his Wife as his Darling, his Pride,and his Vanity, or rather that it was in the Womanhe had chosen that a Man of Sense could shew Prideor Vanity with an Excuse, and therefore adornedher with rich Habits and valuable Jewels. Hedid not however omit to admonish her that he did hisvery utmost in this; that it was an Ostentation hecould not but be guilty of to a Woman he had somuch Pleasure in, desiring her to consider it assuch; and begged of her also to take these Mattersrightly, and believe the Gems, the Gowns, the Laceswould still become her better, if her Air and Behaviourwas such, that it might appear she dressed thusrather in Compliance to his Humour that Way, than outof any Value she her self had for the Trifles.To this Lesson, too hard for Woman, Hortensius added,that she must be sure to stay with her Friends inthe Country till his Return. As soon as Hortensiusdeparted, Sylvana saw in her Looking-glass that theLove he conceiv’d for her was wholly owingto the Accident of seeing her: and she is convincedit was only her Misfortune the rest of Mankind hadnot beheld her, or Men of much greater Quality andMerit had contended for one so genteel, tho bredin Obscurity; so very witty, tho never acquaintedwith Court or Town. She therefore resolved notto hide so much Excellence from the World, but withoutany Regard to the Absence of the most generous Manalive, she is now the gayest Lady about this Town,and has shut out the Thoughts of her Husband by a constantRetinue of the vainest young Fellows this Age hasproduced: to entertain whom, she squandersaway all Hortensius is able to supply her with,tho that Supply is purchased with no less Difficultythan the Hazard of his Life.
Now, Mr. SPECTATOR, would it not be aWork becoming your Office to treat this Criminalas she deserve[s]? You should give it the severestReflections you can: You should tell Women,that they are more accountable for Behaviour inAbsence than after Death. The Dead are notdishonour’d by their Levities; the Living mayreturn, and be laugh’d at by empty Fops, whowill not fail to turn into Ridicule the good Manwho is so unseasonable as to be still alive, and comeand spoil good Company.
I am, SIR,
your most Obedient Humble Servant.
All Strictness of Behaviour is so unmercifully laugh’dat in our Age, that the other much worse Extreme isthe more common Folly. But let any Woman considerwhich of the two Offences an Husband would the moreeasily forgive, that of being less entertaining thanshe could to please Company, or raising the Desiresof the whole Room to his disadvantage; and she willeasily be able to form her Conduct. We have indeedcarry’d Womens Characters too much into publickLife, and you shall see them now-a-days affect a sort
of Fame: but I cannot help venturing to disobligethem for their Service, by telling them, that the utmostof a Woman’s Character is contained in DomestickLife; she is blameable or praiseworthy according asher Carriage affects the House of her Father or herHusband. All she has to do in this World, is contain’dwithin the Duties of a Daughter, a Sister, a Wife,and a Mother: All these may be well performed,tho a Lady should not be the very finest Woman at anOpera or an Assembly. They are likewise consistentwith a moderate share of Wit, a plain Dress, and amodest Air. But when the very Brains of the Sexare turned, and they place their Ambition on Circ*mstances,wherein to excel is no addition to what is truly commendable,where can this end, but, as it frequently does, intheir placing all their Industry, Pleasure and Ambitionon things, which will naturally make the Gratificationsof Life last, at best, no longer than Youth and goodFortune? And when we consider the least ill Consequence,it can be no less than looking on their own Conditionas Years advance, with a disrelish of Life, and fallinginto Contempt of their own Persons, or being the Derisionof others. But when they consider themselves asthey ought, no other than an additional Part of theSpecies, (for their own Happiness and Comfort, aswell as that of those for whom they were born) theirAmbition to excel will be directed accordingly; andthey will in no part of their Lives want Opportunitiesof being shining Ornaments to their Fathers, Husbands,Brothers, or Children.T
* * * * *
No. 343. Thursday, April 3, 1712. Addison.
—Errat et illinc
Huc venit, hinc illuc, et quoslibet occupatartus
Spiritus: eque feris humana in corporatransit,
Inque feras noster—
Pythag. ap. Ov.
Will. Honeycomb, who loves to shew upon occasionall the little Learning he has picked up, told usyesterday at the Club, that he thought there mightbe a great deal said for the Transmigration of Souls,and that the Eastern Parts of the World believed inthat Doctrine to this day. Sir Paul Rycaut, [1]says he, gives us an Account of several well-disposedMahometans that purchase the Freedom of any littleBird they see confined to a Cage, and think they meritas much by it, as we should do here by ransoming anyof our Countrymen from their Captivity at Algiers.You must know, says WILL., the Reason is, because theyconsider every Animal as a Brother or Sister in disguise,and therefore think themselves obliged to extend theirCharity to them, tho under such mean Circ*mstances.They’ll tell you, says WILL., that the Soul ofa Man, when he dies, immediately passes into the Bodyof another Man, or of some Brute, which he resembledin his Humour, or his Fortune, when he was one ofus.
As I was wondring what this profusion of Learningwould end in, WILL. told us that Jack Freelove, whowas a Fellow of Whim, made Love to one of those Ladieswho throw away all their Fondness [on [2]] Parrots,Monkeys, and Lap-dogs. Upon going to pay her aVisit one Morning, he writ a very pretty Epistle uponthis Hint. Jack, says he, was conducted intothe Parlour, where he diverted himself for some timewith her favourite Monkey, which was chained in oneof the Windows; till at length observing a Pen andInk lie by him, he writ the following Letter to hisMistress, in the Person of the Monkey; and upon hernot coming down so soon as he expected, left it inthe Window, and went about his Business.
The Lady soon after coming into the Parlour, and seeingher Monkey look upon a Paper with great Earnestness,took it up, and to this day is in some doubt, saysWILL., whether it was written by Jack or the Monkey.
Madam, Not having the Gift of Speech,I have a long time waited in vain for an Opportunityof making myself known to you; and having at presentthe Conveniences of Pen, Ink, and Paper by me, Igladly take the occasion of giving you my Historyin Writing, which I could not do by word of Mouth.You must know, Madam, that about a thousand Years agoI was an Indian Brachman, and versed in all thosemysterious Secrets which your European Philosopher,called Pythagoras, is said to have learned fromour Fraternity. I had so ingratiated my self bymy great Skill in the occult Sciences with a Daemonwhom I used to converse with, that he promised togrant me whatever I should ask of him. I desiredthat my Soul might never pass into the Body of a bruteCreature; but this he told me was not in his Powerto grant me. I then begg’d that intowhatever Creature I should chance to Transmigrate,I might still retain my Memory, and be consciousthat I was the same Person who lived in differentAnimals. This he told me was within his Power,and accordingly promised on the word of a Daemon thathe would grant me what I desired. From thattime forth I lived so very unblameably, that I wasmade President of a College of Brachmans, an Officewhich I discharged with great Integrity till the dayof my Death. I was then shuffled into anotherHuman Body, and acted my Part so very well in it,that I became first Minister to a Prince who reignedupon the Banks of the Ganges. I here lived ingreat Honour for several Years, but by degrees lostall the Innocence of the Brachman, being obligedto rifle and oppress the People to enrich my Sovereign;till at length I became so odious that my Master,to recover his Credit with his Subjects, shot methro the Heart with an Arrow, as I was one day addressingmy self to him at the Head of his Army.
Upon my next remove I found my self inthe Woods, under the shape of a Jack-call, and soonlisted my self in the Service of a Lion. I usedto yelp near his Den about midnight, which was histime of rouzing and seeking after his Prey.He always followed me in the Rear, and when I hadrun down a fat Buck, a wild Goat, or an Hare, afterhe had feasted very plentifully upon it himself,would now and then throw me a Bone that was buthalf picked for my Encouragement; but upon my Beingunsuccessful in two or three Chaces, he gave me sucha confounded Gripe in his Anger, that I died ofit.
In my next Transmigration I was againset upon two Legs, and became an Indian Tax-gatherer;but having been guilty of great Extravagances, andbeing marry’d to an expensive Jade of a Wife,I ran so cursedly in debt, that I durst not shewmy Head. I could no sooner step out of my House,but I was arrested by some body or other that lay inwait for me. As I ventur’d abroad oneNight in the Dusk of the Evening, I was taken upand hurry’d into a Dungeon, where I died a fewMonths after.
My Soul then enter’d into a Flying-Fish,and in that State led a most melancholy Life forthe space of six Years. Several Fishes of Preypursued me when I was in the Water, and if I betookmy self to my Wings, it was ten to one but I hada flock of Birds aiming at me. As I was oneday flying amidst a fleet of English Ships, I observeda huge Sea-Gull whetting his Bill and hovering justover my Head: Upon my dipping into the Waterto avoid him, I fell into the Mouth of a monstrousShark that swallow’d me down in an instant.
I was some Years afterwards, to my greatsurprize, an eminent Banker in Lombard-street; andremembring how I had formerly suffered for want ofMoney, became so very sordid and avaritious, that thewhole Town cried shame of me. I was a miserablelittle old Fellow to look upon, for I had in a mannerstarved my self, and was nothing but Skin and Bonewhen I died.
I was afterwards very much troubled andamazed to find my self dwindled into an Emmet.I was heartily concerned to make so insignificanta Figure, and did not know but some time or other Imight be reduced to a Mite if I did not mend my Manners.I therefore applied my self with great diligenceto the Offices that were allotted me, and was generallylook’d upon as the notablest Ant in the wholeMolehill. I was at last picked up, as I wasgroaning under a Burden, by an unlucky co*ck-Sparrowthat lived in the Neighbourhood, and had beforemade great depredations upon our Commonwealth.
I then better’d my Condition a little,and lived a whole Summer in the Shape of a Bee;but being tired with the painful and penurious LifeI had undergone in my two last Transmigrations,I fell into the other Extream, and turned Drone.As I one day headed a Party to plunder an Hive,we were received so warmly by the Swarm which defendedit, that we were most of us left dead upon the Spot.
I might tell you of many other Transmigrationswhich I went thro: how I was a Town-Rake, andafterwards did Penance in a Bay Gelding for ten Years;as also how I was a Taylor, a Shrimp, and a Tom-tit.In the last of these my Shapes I was shot in theChristmas Holidays by a young Jack-a-napes, whowould needs try his new Gun upon me.
But I shall pass over these and otherseveral Stages of Life, to remind you of the youngBeau who made love to you about Six Years since.You may remember, Madam, how he masked, and danced,and sung, and play’d a thousand Tricks togain you; and how he was at last carry’d offby a Cold that he got under your Window one Night ina Serenade. I was that unfortunate young Fellow,whom you were then so cruel to. Not long aftermy shifting that unlucky Body, I found myself upona Hill in AEthiopia, where I lived in my present GrotesqueShape, till I was caught by a Servant of the EnglishFactory, and sent over into Great Britain:I need not inform you how I came into your Hands.You see, Madam, this is not the first time that youhave had me in a Chain: I am, however, veryhappy in this my Captivity, as you often bestowon me those Kisses and Caresses which I would havegiven the World for, when I was a Man. I hopethis Discovery of my Person will not tend to myDisadvantage, but that you will still continue youraccustomed Favours to Your most Devoted HumbleServant, Pugg.
P.S. I would advise your little Shock-dogto keep out of my way; for
as I look upon him to be the most formidableof my Rivals, I may
chance one time or other to give him sucha Snap as he wont like.
L.
[Footnote 1: Sir Paul Rycaut, the son of a Londonmerchant, after an education at Trinity College, Cambridge,went in 1661 to Constantinople as Secretary to theEmbassy. He published in 1668 his Present Stateof the Ottoman Empire, in three Books, and in 1670the work here quoted, A Particular Description ofthe Mahometan Religion, the Seraglio, the Maritimeand Land Forces of Turkey, abridged in 1701 in SavagesHistory of the Turks, and translated into French byBespier in 1707. Consul afterwards at Smyrna,he wrote by command of Charles II. a book on The PresentState of the Greek and American Churches, published1679. After his return from the East he was madePrivy Councillor and Judge of the High Court of Admiralty.He was knighted by James II., and one of the firstFellows of the Royal Society. He published between1687 and 1700, the year of his death, Knolless Historyof the Turks, with a continuation of his own, andalso translated Platinas Lives of the Popes and Garcilasode la Vegas History of Peru.]
[Footnote 2: [upon]]
* * * * *
No. 344. Friday, April 4, 1712. Steele.
In solo vivendi causa palato est.
Juv.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I think it has not yet fallen into yourWay to discourse on little Ambition, or the manywhimsical Ways Men fall into, to distinguish themselvesamong their Acquaintance: Such Observations, wellpursued, would make a pretty History of low Life.I my self am got into a great Reputation, whicharose (as most extraordinary Occurrences in a Man’sLife seem to do) from a mere Accident. I wassome Days ago unfortunately engaged among a Setof Gentlemen, who esteem a Man according to theQuantity of Food he throws down at a Meal. NowI, who am ever for distinguishing my self accordingto the Notions of Superiority which the rest ofthe Company entertain, ate so immoderately for theirApplause, as had like to have cost me my Life.What added to my Misfortune was, that having naturallya good Stomach, and having lived soberly for sometime, my Body was as well prepared for this Contentionas if it had been by Appointment. I had quicklyvanquished every Glutton in Company but one, whowas such a Prodigy in his Way, and withal so verymerry during the whole Entertainment, that he insensiblybetrayed me to continue his Competitor, which in alittle time concluded in a compleat Victory overmy Rival; after which, by Way of Insult, I ate aconsiderable Proportion beyond what the Spectatorsthought me obliged in Honour to do. The Effecthowever of this Engagement, has made me resolvenever to eat more for Renown; and I have, pursuantto this Resolution, compounded three Wagers I haddepending on the Strength of my Stomach; which happenedvery luckily, because it was stipulated in our Articleseither to play or pay. How a Man of commonSense could be thus engaged, is hard to determine;but the Occasion of this, is to desire you to informseveral Gluttons of my Acquaintance, who look onme with Envy, that they had best moderate theirAmbition in time, lest Infamy or Death attend theirSuccess. I forgot to tell you, Sir, with whatunspeakable Pleasure I received the Acclamationsand Applause of the whole Board, when I had almosteat my Antagonist into Convulsions: It wasthen that I returned his Mirth upon him with suchsuccess as he was hardly able to swallow, though promptedby a Desire of Fame, and a passionate Fondness forDistinction: I had not endeavoured to excelso far, had not the Company been so loud in theirApprobation of my Victory. I don’t questionbut the same Thirst after Glory has often caused aMan to drink Quarts without taking Breath, and promptedMen to many other difficult Enterprizes; which ifotherwise pursued, might turn very much to a Man’sAdvantage. This Ambition of mine was indeed extravagantlypursued; however I cant help observing, that you hardlyever see a Man commended for a good Stomach, buthe immediately falls to eating more (tho he hadbefore dined) as well to confirm the Person thatcommended him in his good Opinion of him, as to convinceany other at the Table, who may have been unattentiveenough not to have done Justice to his Character.I am, Sir, Your most humble Servant, EpicureMammon.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I have writ to you three or four times,to desire you would take notice of an impertinentCustom the Women, the fine Women, have lately falleninto, of taking Snuff. [1] This silly Trick is attendedwith such a Coquet Air in some Ladies, and sucha sedate masculine one in others, that I cannottell which most to complain of; but they are to meequally disagreeable. Mrs. Saunter is so impatientof being without it, that she takes it as oftenas she does Salt at Meals; and as she affects awonderful Ease and Negligence in all her manner, anupper Lip mixed with Snuff and the Sauce, is whatis presented to the Observation of all who havethe honour to eat with her. The pretty Creatureher Neice does all she can to be as disagreeable asher Aunt; and if she is not as offensive to theEye, she is quite as much to the Ear, and makesup all she wants in a confident Air, by a nauseousRattle of the Nose, when the Snuff is delivered,and the Fingers make the Stops and Closes on theNostrils. This, perhaps, is not a very courtlyImage in speaking of Ladies; that is very true:but where arises the Offence? Is it in thosewho commit, or those who observe it? As formy part, I have been so extremely disgusted with thisfilthy Physick hanging on the Lip, that the mostagreeable Conversation, or Person, has not beenable to make up for it. As to those who takeit for no other end but to give themselves Occasionfor pretty Action, or to fill up little Intervalsof Discourse, I can bear with them; but then theymust not use it when another is speaking, who oughtto be heard with too much respect, to admit of offeringat that time from Hand to Hand the Snuff-Box.But Flavilla is so far taken with her Behaviourin this kind, that she pulls out her Box (which isindeed full of good Brazile) in the middle of theSermon; and to shew she has the Audacity of a well-bredWoman, she offers it the Men as well as the Womenwho sit near her: But since by this Time all theWorld knows she has a fine Hand, I am in hopes shemay give her self no further Trouble in this matter.On Sunday was sennight, when they came about forthe Offering, she gave her Charity with a very goodAir, but at the same Time asked the Churchwardenif he would take a Pinch. Pray, Sir, thinkof these things in time, and you will oblige,
SIR,
Your most humble servant.
T.
[Footnote 1: Charles Lillie, the perfumer, fromwhose shop at the corner of Beaufort Buildings theoriginal Spectators were distributed, left behindhim a book of receipts and observations, The BritishPerfumer, Snuff Manufacturer, and Colourmans Guide,of which the MS. was sold with his business, but whichremained unpublished until 1822. He opens hisPart III. on Snuffs with an account of the Origin ofSnuff-taking in England, the practice being one thathad become fashionable in his day, and only abouteight years before the appearance of the Spectator.
It dates from Sir George Rooke’s expedition againstCadiz in 1702. Before that time snuff-takingin England was confined to a few luxurious foreignersand English who had travelled abroad. They tooktheir snuff with pipes of the size of quills out ofsmall spring boxes. The pipes let out a verysmall quantity upon the back of the hand, and thiswas snuffed up the nostrils with the intention ofproducing a sneeze which, says Lillie, I need notsay forms now no part of the design or rather fashionof snuff-taking; least of all in the ladies who tookpart in this method of snuffing defiance at the publicenemy. When the fleet, after the failure of itsenterprize against Cadiz, proceeded to cut off theFrench ships in Vigobay, on the way it plundered PortSt. Mary and adjacent places, where, among other merchandize,seizure was made of several thousand barrels and casks,each containing four tin canisters of snuffs of thebest growth and finest Spanish manufacture. AtVigo, among the merchandize taken from the shippingthere destroyed, were prodigious quantities of grosssnuff, from the Havannah, in bales, bags, and scrows(untanned buffalo hides, used with the hairy-sideinwards, for making packages), which were designedfor manufacture in different parts of Spain.Altogether fifty tons of snuff were brought home aspart of the prize of the officers and sailors of thefleet. Of the coarse snuff, called Vigo snuff,the sailors, among whom it was shared, sold waggon-loadsat Portsmouth, Plymouth, and Chatham, for not morethan three-pence or four-pence a pound. The greaterpart of it was bought up by Spanish Jews, to theirown very considerable profit. The fine snuffstaken at Port St. Mary, and divided among the officers,were sold by some of them at once for a small price,while others held their stocks and, as the snuff sotaken became popular and gave a patriotic impulseto the introduction of a fashion which had hithertobeen almost confined to foreigners, they got veryhigh prices for it. This accounts for the factthat the ladies too had added the use of the perfumedsnuff-box to their other fashionable accomplishments.]* * * * *
No. 345. Saturday, April 5, 1712. Addison.
Sanctius his animal, mentisque capaciusaltae
Deerat adhuc, et quod dominari in coeteraposset,
Natus hom*o est.
Ov. Met.
The Accounts which Raphael gives of the Battel ofAngels, and the Creation of the World, have in themthose Qualifications which the Criticks judge requisiteto an Episode. They are nearly related to theprincipal Action, and have a just Connexion with theFable.
The eighth Book opens with a beautiful Descriptionof the Impression which this Discourse of the Archangelmade on our first Parent[s]. Adam afterwards,by a very natural Curiosity, enquires concerning theMotions of those Celestial Bodies which make the mostglorious Appearance among the six days Works.The Poet here, with a great deal of Art, representsEve as withdrawing from this part of their Conversation,to Amusem*nts more suitable to her Sex. He wellknew, that the Episode in this Book, which is filledwith Adams Account of his Passion and Esteem for Eve,would have been improper for her hearing, and has thereforedevised very just and beautiful Reasons for her Retiring.
So spake our Sire, and by his Countenanceseem’d
Entring on studious Thoughts abstruse:which Eve
Perceiving, where she sat retired in sight,
With lowliness majestick, from her Seat,
And Grace, that won who saw to wish herStay,
Rose; and went forth among her Fruitsand Flowers
To visit how they prosper’d, Budand Bloom,
Her Nursery: they at her coming sprung,
And touch’d by her fair Tendancegladlier grew.
Yet went she not, as not with such Discourse
Delighted, or not capable her Ear
Of what was high: Such Pleasure shereserved,
Adam relating, she sole Auditress;
Her Husband the Relater she preferr’d
Before the Angel, and of him to ask
Chose rather: he, she knew, wouldintermix
Grateful Digressions, and solve high Dispute
With conjugal Caresses; from his Lip
Not Words alone pleas’d her.O when meet now
Such Pairs, in Love and mutual Honourjoin’d!
The Angels returning a doubtful Answer to Adams Enquiries,was not only proper for the Moral Reason which thePoet assigns, but because it would have been highlyabsurd to have given the Sanction of an Archangelto any particular System of Philosophy. The chiefPoints in the Ptolemaick and Copernican Hypothesisare described with great Conciseness and Perspicuity,and at the same time dressed in very pleasing andpoetical Images.
Adam, to detain the Angel, enters afterwards uponhis own History, and relates to him the Circ*mstancesin which he found himself upon his Creation; as alsohis Conversation with his Maker, and his first meetingwith Eve. There is no part of the Poem more aptto raise the Attention of the Reader, than this Discourseof our great Ancestor; as nothing can be more surprizingand delightful to us, than to hear the Sentimentsthat arose in the first Man while he was yet new andfresh from the Hands of his Creator. The Poethas interwoven every thing which is delivered uponthis Subject in Holy Writ with so many beautiful Imaginationsof his own, that nothing can be conceived more justand natural than this whole Episode. As our Authorknew this Subject could not but be agreeable to hisReader, he would not throw it into the Relation ofthe six days Works, but reserved it for a distinctEpisode, that he might have an opportunity of expatiatingupon it more at large. Before I enter on thispart of the Poem, I cannot but take notice of twoshining Passages in the Dialogue between Adam and theAngel. The first is that wherein our Ancestorgives an Account of the pleasure he took in conversingwith him, which contains a very noble Moral.
For while I sit with thee, I seem in Heavn,
And sweeter thy Discourse is to my Ear
Than Fruits of Palm-tree (pleasantestto Thirst
And Hunger both from Labour) at the hour
Of sweet Repast: they satiate, andsoon fill,
Tho pleasant; but thy Words with Gracedivine
Imbu’d, bring to their Sweetnessno Satiety.
The other I shall mention, is that in which the Angelgives a Reason why he should be glad to hear the StoryAdam was about to relate.
For I that day was absent, as befel,
Bound on a Voyage uncouth and obscure;
Far on Excursion towards the Gates ofHell,
Squar’d in full Legion [such Commandwe had]
To see that none thence issued forth aSpy,
Or Enemy; while God was in his Work,
Lest he, incens’d at such Eruptionbold,
Destruction with Creation might have mix’d.
There is no question but our Poet drew the Image inwhat follows from that in Virgil’s sixth Book,where AEneas and the Sibyl stand before the AdamantineGates, which are there described as shut upon the Placeof Torments, and listen to the Groans, the Clank ofChains, and the Noise of Iron Whips, that were heardin those Regions of Pain and Sorrow.
—Fast we found, fast shut
The dismal Gates, and barricado’dstrong;
But long ere our Approaching heard within
Noise, other than the Sound of Dance orSong,
Torment, and loud Lament, and furiousRage.
Adam then proceeds to give an account of his Conditionand Sentiments immediately after his Creation.How agreeably does he represent the Posture in whichhe found himself, the beautiful Landskip that surroundedhim, and the Gladness of Heart which grew up in himon that occasion?
—As new waked from soundest Sleep,
Soft on the flowry Herb I found me laid
In balmy Sweat, which with his Beams theSun
Soon dried, and on the reaking Moisturefed.
Streight towards Heavn my wondring EyesI turn’d,
And gazed awhile the ample Sky, till rais’d
By quick instinctive Motion, up I sprung,
As thitherward endeavouring, and upright
Stood on my Feet: About me roundI saw
Hill, Dale, and shady Woods, and sunnyPlains,
And liquid lapse of murmuring Streams;by these
Creatures that liv’d, and mov’d,and walked, or flew,
Birds on the Branches warbling; all thingssmil’d:
With Fragrance, and with Joy my Hearto’erflow’d.
Adam is afterwards describ’d as surprized athis own Existence, and taking a Survey of himself,and of all the Works of Nature. He likewise isrepresented as discovering by the Light of Reason,that he and every thing about him must have been theEffect of some Being infinitely good and powerful,and that this Being had a right to his Worship andAdoration. His first Address to the Sun, and tothose Parts of the Creation which made the most distinguishedFigure, is very natural and amusing to the Imagination.
—Thou Sun, said I, fair Light,
And thou enlighten’d Earth, so freshand gay,
Ye Hills and Dales, ye Rivers, Woods andPlains,
And ye that live and move, fair Creaturestell,
Tell if you saw, how came I thus, howhere?
His next Sentiment, when upon his first going to sleephe fancies himself losing his Existence, and fallingaway into nothing, can never be sufficiently admired.His Dream, in which he still preserves the Consciousnessof his Existence, together with his removal into theGarden which was prepared for his Reception, are alsoCirc*mstances finely imagined, and grounded upon whatis delivered in Sacred Story.
These and the like wonderful Incidents in this Partof the Work, have in them all the Beauties of Novelty,at the same time that they have all the Graces ofNature. They are such as none but a great Geniuscould have thought of, tho, upon the perusal of them,they seem to rise of themselves from the Subject ofwhich he treats. In a word, tho they are natural,they are not obvious, which is the true Character ofall fine Writing.
The Impression which the Interdiction of the Treeof Life left in the Mind of our first Parent, is describ’dwith great Strength and Judgment; as the Image ofthe several Beasts and Birds passing in review beforehim is very beautiful and lively.
—Each Bird and Beast behold
Approaching two and two, these cowringlow
With Blandishment; each Bird stoop’don his Wing:
I nam’d them as they pass’d—
Adam, in the next place, describes a Conference whichhe held with his Maker upon the Subject of Solitude.The Poet here represents the supreme Being, as makingan Essay of his own Work, and putting to the tryalthat reasoning Faculty, with which he had endued hisCreature. Adam urges, in this Divine Colloquy,the Impossibility of his being happy, tho he was theInhabitant of Paradise, and Lord of the whole Creation,without the Conversation and Society of some rationalCreature, who should partake those Blessings withhim. This Dialogue, which is supported chieflyby the Beauty of the Thoughts, without other poeticalOrnaments, is as fine a Part as any in the whole Poem:The more the Reader examines the Justness and Delicacyof its Sentiments, the more he will find himself pleasedwith it. The Poet has wonderfully preserved theCharacter of Majesty and Condescension in the Creator,and at the same time that of Humility and Adorationin the Creature, as particularly in the followingLines:
Thus I presumptuous; and the Vision bright,
As with a Smile more bright-tied, thusreply’d, &c.
—I, with leave of Speech implor’d
And humble Deprecation, thus reply d:
Let not my Words offend thee, HeavnlyPower,
My Maker, be propitious while I speak,&c.
Adam then proceeds to give an account of his secondSleep, and of the Dream in which he beheld the Formationof Eve. The new Passion that was awaken’din him at the sight of her, is touch’d very finely.
Under his forming Hands a Creature grew,
Manlike, but different Sex: so lovelyfair,
That what seem’d fair in all theWorld, seemed now
Mean, or in her summ’d up, in hercontained,
And in her Looks; which from that timeinfused
Sweetness info my Heart, unfelt before:
And into all things from her Air inspired
The Spirit of Love and amorous Delight.
Adams Distress upon losing sight of this beautifulPhantom, with his Exclamations of Joy and Gratitudeat the discovery of a real Creature, who resembledthe Apparition which had been presented to him in hisDream; the Approaches he makes to her, and his Mannerof Courtship; are all laid together in a most exquisitePropriety of Sentiments.
Tho this Part of the Poem is work’d up withgreat Warmth and Spirit, the Love which is describedin it is every way suitable to a State of Innocence.If the Reader compares the Description which Adam heregives of his leading Eve to the Nuptial Bower, withthat which Mr. Dryden has made on the same occasionin a Scene of his Fall of Man, he will be sensibleof the great care which Milton took to avoid all Thoughtson so delicate a Subject, that might be offensiveto Religion or Good-Manners. The Sentiments arechaste, but not cold; and convey to the Mind Ideasof the most transporting Passion, and of the greatestPurity. What a noble Mixture of Rapture and Innocencehas the Author join’d together, in the Reflectionwhich Adam makes on the Pleasures of Love, comparedto those of Sense.
Thus have I told thee all my State, andbrought
My Story to the sum of earthly Bliss,
Which I enjoy; and must confess to find
In all things else Delight indeed, butsuch
As us’d or not, works in the Mindno Change
Nor vehement Desire; these Delicacies
I mean of Taste, Sight, Smell, Herbs,Fruits, and Flowers,
Walks, and the Melody of Birds: buthere
Far otherwise, transported I behold,
Transported touch; here Passion firstI felt,
Commotion strange! in all Enjoyments else
Superiour and unmov’d, here onlyweak
Against the Charms of Beauty’s powerfulGlance.
Or Nature fail’d in me, and leftsome Part
Not Proof enough such Object to sustain;
Or from my Side subducting, took perhaps
More than enough; at least on her bestowed
Too much of Ornament in outward shew
Elaborate, of inward less exact.
—When I approach
Her Loveliness, so absolute she seems
And in herself compleat, so well to know
Her own, that what she wills to do orsay
Seems wisest, vertuousest, discreetest,best:
All higher Knowledge in her Presence falls
Degraded: Wisdom in discourse withher
Loses discountenanced, and like Follyshews;
Authority and Reason on her wait,
As one intended first, not after made
Occasionally: and to consummate all,
Greatness of Mind, and Nobleness theirSeat
Build in her loveliest, and create anAwe
About her, as a Guard angelick plac’d.
These Sentiments of Love, in our first Parent, gavethe Angel such an Insight into Humane Nature, thathe seems apprehensive of the Evils which might befallthe Species in general, as well as Adam in particular,from the Excess of this Passion. He thereforefortifies him against it by timely Admonitions; whichvery artfully prepare the Mind of the Reader for theOccurrences of the next Book, where the Weakness ofwhich Adam here gives such distant Discoveries, bringsabout that fatal Event which is the Subject of thePoem. His Discourse, which follows the gentleRebuke he received from the Angel, shews that hisLove, however violent it might appear, was still foundedin Reason, and consequently not improper for Paradise.
Neither her outside Form so fair, noraught
In Procreation common to all kinds,
(Tho higher of the genial Bed by far,
And with mysterious Reverence I deem)
So much delights me, as those gracefulActs,
Those thousand Decencies that daily flow
From all her Words and Actions, mixt withLove
And sweet Compliance, which declare unfeign’d
Union of Mind, or in us both one Soul;
Harmony to behold in—weddedPair!
Adams Speech, at parting with the Angel, has in ita Deference and Gratitude agreeable to an inferiorNature, and at the same time a certain Dignity andGreatness suitable to the Father of Mankind in hisState of Innocence.
L.
* * * * *
No. 346. Monday, April 7, 1712. Steele.
Consuetudinem benignitatis largitioniMunerum longe antepono. Haec est
Gravium hominum atque Magnorum; Illa quasiassentatorum populi,
multitudinis levitatem voluptate quasititillantium.
Tull.
When we consider the Offices of humane Life, thereis, methinks, something in what we ordinarily callGenerosity, which when carefully examined, seems toflow rather from a loose and unguarded Temper, thanan honest and liberal Mind. For this reason itis absolutely necessary that all Liberality shouldhave for its Basis and Support Frugality. Bythis means the beneficent Spirit works in a Man fromthe Convictions of Reason, not from the Impulses ofPassion. The generous Man, in the ordinary acceptation,without respect to the Demands of his own Family,will soon find, upon the Foot of his Account, thathe has sacrificed to Fools, Knaves, Flatterers, orthe deservedly Unhappy, all the Opportunities of affordingany future Assistance where it ought to be. Lethim therefore reflect, that if to bestow be in it selflaudable, should not a Man take care to secure Abilityto do things praiseworthy as long as he lives?Or could there be a more cruel Piece of Raillery upona Man who should have reduc’d his Fortune belowthe Capacity of acting according to his natural Temper,than to say of him, That Gentleman was generous?My beloved Author therefore has, in the Sentence onthe Top of my Paper, turned his Eye with a certainSatiety from beholding the Addresses to the Peopleby Largesses and publick Entertainments, which heasserts to be in general vicious, and are always tobe regulated according to the Circ*mstances of Timeand a Man’s own Fortune. A constant Benignityin Commerce with the rest of the World, which oughtto run through all a Man’s Actions, has Effectsmore useful to those whom you oblige, and less ostentatiousin your self. He turns his Recommendation ofthis Virtue in commercial Life: and accordingto him a Citizen who is frank in his Kindnesses, andabhors Severity in his Demands; he who in buying,selling, lending, doing acts of good Neighbourhood,
is just and easy; he who appears naturally averseto Disputes, and above the Sense of little Sufferings;bears a nobler Character, and does much more goodto Mankind, than any other Man’s Fortune withoutCommerce can possibly support. For the Citizenabove all other Men has Opportunities of arrivingat that highest Fruit of Wealth, to be liberal withoutthe least Expence of a Man’s own Fortune.It is not to be denied but such a Practice is liableto hazard; but this therefore adds to the Obligation,that, among Traders, he who obliges is as much concernedto keep the Favour a Secret, as he who receives it.The unhappy Distinctions among us in England are sogreat, that to celebrate the Intercourse of commercialFriendship, (with which I am daily made acquainted)would be to raise the virtuous Man so many Enemiesof the contrary Party. I am obliged to concealall I know of Tom the Bounteous, who lends at theordinary Interest, to give Men of less Fortune Opportunitiesof making greater Advantages. He conceals, undera rough Air and distant Behaviour, a bleeding Compassionand womanish Tenderness. This is governed bythe most exact Circ*mspection, that there is no Industrywanting in the Person whom he is to serve, and thathe is guilty of no improper Expences. This I knowof Tom, but who dare say it of so known a Tory?The same Care I was forced to use some time ago inthe Report of anothers Virtue, and said fifty insteadof a hundred, because the Man I pointed at was a Whig.Actions of this kind are popular without being invidious:for every Man of ordinary Circ*mstances looks upona Man who has this known Benignity in his Nature,as a Person ready to be his Friend upon such Termsas he ought to expect it; and the Wealthy, who mayenvy such a Character, can do no Injury to its Interestsbut by the Imitation of it, in which the good Citizenswill rejoice to be rivalled. I know not how toform to myself a greater Idea of Humane Life, thanin what is the Practice of some wealthy Men whom Icould name, that make no step to the Improvement oftheir own Fortunes, wherein they do not also advancethose of other Men, who would languish in Povertywithout that Munificence. In a Nation where thereare so many publick Funds to be supported, I know notwhether he can be called a good Subject, who does notimbark some part of his Fortune with the State, towhose Vigilance he owes the Security of the whole.This certainly is an immediate way of laying an Obligationupon many, and extending his Benignity the furthesta Man can possibly, who is not engaged in Commerce.But he who trades, besides giving the State some partof this sort of Credit he gives his Banker, may inall the Occurrences of his Life have his Eye uponremoving Want from the Door of the Industrious, anddefending the unhappy upright Man from Bankruptcy.Without this Benignity, Pride or Vengeance will precipitatea Man to chuse the Receipt of half his Demands fromone whom he has undone, rather than the whole fromone to whom he has shewn Mercy. This Benignityis essential to the Character of a fair Trader, andany Man who designs to enjoy his Wealth with Honourand Self-Satisfaction: Nay, it would not be hardto maintain, that the Practice of supporting goodand industrious Men, would carry a Man further evento his Profit, than indulging the Propensity of servingand obliging the Fortunate. My Author argueson this Subject, in order to incline Mens Minds tothose who want them most, after this manner; We mustalways consider the Nature of things, and govern ourselves accordingly. The wealthy Man, when hehas repaid you, is upon a Ballance with you; but thePerson whom you favour’d with a Loan, if hebe a good Man, will think himself in your Debt afterhe has paid you. The Wealthy and the Conspicuousare not obliged by the Benefit you do them, they thinkthey conferred a Benefit when they receive one.Your good Offices are always suspected, and it iswith them the same thing to expect their Favour asto receive it. But the Man below you, who knowsin the Good you have done him, you respected himselfmore than his Circ*mstances, does not act like anobliged Man only to him from whom he has received aBenefit, but also to all who are capable of doinghim one. And whatever little Offices he can dofor you, he is so far from magnifying it, that he willlabour to extenuate it in all his Actions and Expressions.Moreover, the Regard to what you do to a great Man,at best is taken notice of no further than by himselfor his Family; but what you do to a Man of an humbleFortune, (provided always that he is a good and amodest Man) raises the Affections towards you of allMen of that Character (of which there are many) inthe whole City.There is nothing gains a Reputation to a Preacherso much as his own Practice; I am therefore castingabout what Act of Benignity is in the Power of a SPECTATOR.Alas, that lies but in a very narrow compass, andI think the most immediate under my Patronage, areeither Players, or such whose Circ*mstances bear anAffinity with theirs: All therefore I am ableto do at this time of this Kind, is to tell the Townthat on Friday the 11th of this Instant April, therewill be perform’d in York-Buildings a Consortof Vocal and Instrumental Musick, for the Benefitof Mr. Edward Keen, the Father of twenty Children;and that this Day the haughty George Powell hopesall the good-natur’d part of the Town will favourhim, whom they Applauded in Alexander, Timon, Lear,and Orestes, with their Company this Night, when hehazards all his heroick Glory for their Approbationin the humbler Condition of honest Jack Falstaffe.
T.
* * * * *
No. 347. Tuesday, April 8, 1711. Budgell.
Quis furor o Cives! quae tanta licentiaferri!
Lucan.
I do not question but my Country Readers have beenvery much surprized at the several Accounts they havemet with in our publick Papers of that Species ofMen among us, lately known by the Name of Mohocks.I find the Opinions of the Learned, as to their Originand Designs, are altogether various, insomuch thatvery many begin to doubt whether indeed there wereever any such Society of Men. The Terror whichspread it self over the whole Nation some Years since,on account of the Irish, is still fresh in most PeoplesMemories, tho it afterwards appeared there was notthe least Ground for that general Consternation.
The late Panick Fear was, in the Opinion of many deepand penetrating Persons, of the same nature.These will have it, that the Mohocks are like thoseSpectres and Apparitions which frighten several Townsand Villages in her Majesty’s Dominions, thothey were never seen by any of the Inhabitants.Others are apt to think that these Mohocks are a kindof Bull-Beggars, first invented by prudent marriedMen, and Masters of Families, in order to deter theirWives and Daughters from taking the Air at unseasonableHours; and that when they tell them the Mohocks willcatch them, it is a Caution of the same nature withthat of our Fore-fathers, when they bid their Childrenhave a care of Raw-head and Bloody-bones.
For my own part, I am afraid there was too much Reasonfor that great Alarm the whole City has been in uponthis Occasion; tho at the same time I must own thatI am in some doubt whether the following Pieces areGenuine and Authentick; and the more so, because Iam not fully satisfied that the Name by which theEmperor subscribes himself, is altogether conformableto the Indian Orthography.
I shall only further inform my Readers, that it wassome time since I receiv’d the following Letterand Manifesto, tho for particular Reasons I did notthink fit to publish them till now.
To the SPECTATOR.
SIR,
“Finding that our earnest Endeavoursfor the Good of Mankind have been basely and maliciouslyrepresented to the World, we send you enclosed ourImperial Manifesto, which it is our Will and Pleasurethat you forthwith communicate to the Publick, byinserting it in your next daily Paper. We donot doubt of your ready Compliance in this Particular,and therefore bid you heartily Farewell.”
Sign’d,
Taw Waw Eben Zan Kaladar,
Emperor of the Mohocks.
The Manifesto of Taw Waw EbenZan Kaladar, Emperor of the Mohocks.
“Whereas we have received Informationfrom sundry Quarters of this great and populousCity, of several Outrages committed on the Legs, Arms,Noses, and other Parts of the good People of England,by such as have styled themselves our Subjects;in order to vindicate our Imperial Dignity fromthose false Aspersions which have been cast on it,as if we our selves might have encouraged or abettedany such Practices; we have, by these Presents,thought fit to signify our utmost Abhorrence andDetestation of all such tumultuous and irregularProceedings: and do hereby further give notice,that if any Person or Persons has or have sufferedany Wound, Hurt, Damage or Detriment in his ortheir Limb or Limbs, otherwise than shall be hereafterspecified, the said Person or Persons, upon applyingthemselves to such as we shall appoint for theInspection and Redress of the Grievances aforesaid,shall be forthwith committed to the Care of ourprincipal Surgeon, and be cured at our own Expence,in some one or other of those Hospitals which weare now erecting for that purpose.
“And to the end that no one may,either through Ignorance or Inadvertency, incurthose Penalties which we have thought fit to inflicton Persons of loose and dissolute Lives, we do herebynotifie to the Publick, that if any Man be knockeddown or assaulted while he is employed in hislawful Business, at proper Hours, that it is notdone by our Order; and we do hereby permit and allowany such person so knocked down or assaulted,to rise again, and defend himself in the bestmanner that he is able.
“We do also command all and everyour good Subjects, that they do not presume, uponany Pretext whatsoever, to issue and sally forth fromtheir respective Quarters till between the Hours ofEleven and Twelve. That they never Tip theLion upon Man, Woman or Child, till the Clockat St. Dunstan’s shall have struck One.
“That the Sweat be never givenbut between the Hours of One and Two; always provided,that our Hunters may begin to Hunt a little afterthe Close of the Evening, any thing to the contraryherein notwithstanding. Provided also, thatif ever they are reduced to the Necessity of Pinking,it shall always be in the most fleshy Parts, andsuch as are least exposed to view.
“It is also our Imperial Willand Pleasure, that our good Subjects the Sweatersdo establish their Hummums[1] in such close Places,Alleys, Nooks, and Corners, that the Patient orPatients may not be in danger of catching Cold.
“That the Tumblers, to whose Carewe chiefly commit the Female Sex, confine themselvesto Drury-Lane and the Purlieus of the Temple; andthat every other Party and Division of our Subjectsdo each of them keep within the respective Quarterswe have allotted to them. Provided nevertheless,that nothing herein contained shall in any wisebe construed to extend to the Hunters, who have ourfull Licence and Permission to enter into anyPart of the Town where-ever their Game shall leadthem.
“And whereas we have nothing moreat our Imperial Heart than the Reformation ofthe Cities of London and Westminster, which to ourunspeakable Satisfaction we have in some measurealready effected, we do hereby earnestly prayand exhort all Husbands, Fathers, Housekeepersand Masters of Families, in either of the aforesaidCities, not only to repair themselves to theirrespective Habitations at early and seasonableHours; but also to keep their Wives and Daughters,Sons, Servants, and Apprentices, from appearing inthe Streets at those Times and Seasons which may exposethem to a military Discipline, as it is practisedby our good Subjects the Mohocks: and wedo further promise, on our Imperial Word, that assoon as the Reformation aforesaid shall be broughtabout, we will forthwith cause all Hostilitiesto cease.
“Given from our Courtat the Devil-Tavern,
March 15, 1712.”
X.
[Footnote 1: Turkish Sweating Baths. TheHummums “in Covent Garden was one of the firstof these baths (bagnios) set up in England.”]
* * * * *
No. 348. Wednesday, April 9, 1712. Steele.
Invidiam placare paras virtute relicta?
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I have not seen you lately at any of thePlaces where I visit, so that I am afraid you arewholly unacquainted with what passes among my partof the World, who are, tho I say it, without Controversy,the most accomplished and best bred of the Town.Give me leave to tell you, that I am extremely discomposedwhen I hear Scandal, and am an utter Enemy to allmanner of Detraction, and think it the greatest Meannessthat People of Distinction can be guilty of: However,it is hardly possible to come into Company, whereyou do not find them pulling one another to pieces,and that from no other Provocation but that of hearingany one commended. Merit, both as to Wit and Beauty,is become no other than the Possession of a few triflingPeoples Favour, which you cannot possibly arriveat, if you have really any thing in you that isdeserving. What they would bring to pass, is,to make all Good and Evil consist in Report, andwith Whispers, Calumnies and Impertinencies, tohave the Conduct of those Reports. By this meansInnocents are blasted upon their first Appearance inTown; and there is nothing more required to makea young Woman the object of Envy and Hatred, thanto deserve Love and Admiration. This abominableEndeavour to suppress or lessen every thing thatis praise-worthy, is as frequent among the Men asthe Women. If I can remember what passed ata Visit last Night, it will serve as an Instance thatthe Sexes are equally inclined to Defamation, withequal Malice, with equal Impotence. Jack Triplettcame into my Lady Airy’s about Eight of [the]Clock. You know the manner we sit at a Visit,and I need not describe the Circle; but Mr. Triplettcame in, introduced by two Tapers supported by aspruce Servant, whose Hair is under a Cap till myLady’s Candles are all lighted up, and theHour of Ceremony begins: I say, Jack Triplettcame in, and singing (for he is really good Company)Every Feature, Charming Creature,—he wenton, It is a most unreasonable thing that Peoplecannot go peaceably to see their Friends, but theseMurderers are let loose. Such a Shape! such anAir! what a Glance was that as her Chariot pass’dby mine—My Lady herself interrupted him;Pray who is this fine Thing—I warrant, saysanother, tis the Creature I was telling your Ladyshipof just now. You were telling of? says Jack;I wish I had been so happy as to have come in andheard you, for I have not Words to say what she is:But if an agreeable Height, a modest Air, a VirginShame, and Impatience of being beheld, amidst aBlaze of ten thousand Charms—The whole Roomflew out—Oh Mr. Triplett!—WhenMrs. Lofty, a known Prude, said she believed sheknew whom the Gentleman meant; but she was indeed,as he civilly represented her, impatient of beingbeheld—Then turning to the Lady nextto her—The most unbred Creature you eversaw. Another pursued the Discourse: Asunbred, Madam, as you may think her, she is extremelybely’d if she is the Novice she appears; shewas last Week at a Ball till two in the Morning;Mr. Triplett knows whether he was the happy Manthat took Care of her home; but—This wasfollowed by some particular Exception that eachWoman in the Room made to some peculiar Grace orAdvantage so that Mr. Triplett was beaten from oneLimb and Feature to another, till he was forced toresign the whole Woman. In the end I took noticeTriplett recorded all this Malice in his Heart;and saw in his Countenance, and a certain waggish Shrug,that he design’d to repeat the Conversation:I therefore let the Discourse die, and soon aftertook an Occasion to commend a certain Gentlemanof my Acquaintance for a Person of singular Modesty,Courage, Integrity, and withal as a Man of an entertainingConversation, to which Advantages he had a Shapeand Manner peculiarly graceful. Mr. Triplett,who is a Woman’s Man, seem’d to hear mewith Patience enough commend the Qualities of hisMind: He never heard indeed but that he wasa very honest Man, and no Fool; but for a fine Gentleman,he must ask Pardon. Upon no other Foundation thanthis, Mr. Triplett took occasion to give the Gentleman’sPedigree, by what Methods some part of the Estatewas acquired, how much it was beholden to a Marriagefor the present Circ*mstances of it: After all,he could see nothing but a common Man in his Person,his Breeding or Understanding.
Thus, Mr. SPECTATOR, this impertinentHumour of diminishing every one who is producedin Conversation to their Advantage, runs thro theWorld; and I am, I confess, so fearful of the Forceof ill Tongues, that I have begged of all thosewho are my Well-wishers never to commend me, forit will but bring my Frailties into Examination, andI had rather be unobserved, than conspicuous fordisputed Perfections. I am confident a thousandyoung People, who would have been Ornaments to Society,have, from Fear of Scandal, never dared to exert themselvesin the polite Arts of Life. Their Lives havepassed away in an odious Rusticity, in spite ofgreat Advantages of Person, Genius and Fortune.There is a vicious Terror of being blamed in somewell-inclin’d People, and a wicked Pleasurein suppressing them in others; both which I recommendto your Spectatorial Wisdom to animadvert upon; andif you can be successful in it, I need not say howmuch you will deserve of the Town; but new Toastswill owe to you their Beauty, and new Wits theirFame. I am, SIR, Your most Obedient HumbleServant, Mary.”
T.
* * * * *
No. 349. Thursday, April 10, 1712. Addison.
Quos ille timorum
Maximus haud urget lethi metus: inderuendi
In ferrum mens prona viris, animaequecapaces
Mortis.
Lucan.
I am very much pleased with a Consolatory Letter ofPhalaris, to one who had lost a Son that was a youngMan of great Merit. The Thought with which hecomforts the afflicted Father, is, to the best of myMemory, as follows; That he should consider Deathhad set a kind of Seal upon his Sons Character, andplaced him out of the Reach of Vice and Infamy:That while he liv’d he was still within the Possibilityof falling away from Virtue, and losing the Fame ofwhich he was possessed. Death only closes a Man’sReputation, and determines it as good or bad.
This, among other Motives, may be one Reason why weare naturally averse to the launching out into a Man’sPraise till his Head is laid in the Dust. Whilsthe is capable of changing, we may be forced to retractour Opinions. He may forfeit the Esteem we haveconceived of him, and some time or other appear tous under a different Light from what he does at present.In short, as the Life of any Man cannot be call’dhappy or unhappy, so neither can it be pronouncedvicious or virtuous, before the Conclusion of it.
It was upon this consideration that Epaminondas, beingasked whether Chabrias, Iphicrates, or he himself,deserved most to be esteemed? You must firstsee us die, said he, before that Question can be answered.[1]
As there is not a more melancholy Consideration toa good Man than his being obnoxious to such a Change,so there is nothing more glorious than to keep upan Uniformity in his Actions, and preserve the Beautyof his Character to the last.
The End of a Man’s Life is often compared tothe winding up of a well-written Play, where the principalPersons still act in Character, whatever the Fateis which they undergo. There is scarce a greatPerson in the Grecian or Roman History, whose Deathhas not been remarked upon by some Writer or other,and censured or applauded according to the Geniusor Principles of the Person who has descanted on it.Monsieur de St. Evremont is very particular in settingforth the Constancy and Courage of Petronius Arbiter
during his last Moments, and thinks he discovers inthem a greater Firmness of Mind and Resolution thanin the Death of Seneca, Cato, or Socrates. Thereis no question but this polite Authors Affectationof appearing singular in his Remarks, and making Discoverieswhich had escaped the Observation of others, threwhim into this course of Reflection. It was Petronius’sMerit, that he died in the same Gaiety of Temper inwhich he lived; but as his Life was altogether looseand dissolute, the Indifference which he showed atthe Close of it is to be looked upon as a piece ofnatural Carelessness and Levity, rather than Fortitude.The Resolution of Socrates proceeded from very differentMotives, the Consciousness of a well-spent Life, andthe prospect of a happy Eternity. If the ingeniousAuthor above mentioned was so pleased with Gaietyof Humour in a dying Man, he might have found a muchnobler Instance of it in our Countryman Sir ThomasMore.This great and learned Man was famous for enliveninghis ordinary Discourses with Wit and Pleasantry; and,as Erasmus tells him in an Epistle Dedicatory, actedin all parts of Life like a second Democritus.
He died upon a Point of Religion, and is respectedas a Martyr by that Side for which he suffer’d.The innocent Mirth which had been so conspicuous inhis Life, did not forsake him to the last: Hemaintain’d the same Chearfulness of Heart uponthe Scaffold, which he used to shew at his Table;and upon laying his Head on the Block, gave Instancesof that Good-Humour with which he had always entertainedhis Friends in the most ordinary Occurrences.His Death was of a piece with his Life. Therewas nothing in it new, forced, or affected. Hedid not look upon the severing of his Head from hisBody as a Circ*mstance that ought to produce any Changein the Disposition of his Mind; and as he died undera fixed and settled Hope of Immortality, he thoughtany unusual degree of Sorrow and Concern improperon such an Occasion, as had nothing in it which coulddeject or terrify him.
There is no great danger of Imitation from this Example.Mens natural Fears will be a sufficient Guard againstit. I shall only observe, that what was Philosophyin this extraordinary Man, would be Frenzy in onewho does not resemble him as well in the Chearfulnessof his Temper, as in the Sanctity of his Life andManners.
I shall conclude this Paper with the Instance of aPerson who seems to me to have shewn more Intrepidityand Greatness of Soul in his dying Moments, than whatwe meet with among any of the most celebrated Greeksand Romans. I met with this Instance in the Historyof the Revolutions in Portugal, written by the Abbotde Vertot. [2]
When Don Sebastian, King of Portugal, had invadedthe Territories of Muly Moluc, Emperor of Morocco,in order to dethrone him, and set his Crown upon theHead of his Nephew, Moluc was wearing away with aDistemper which he himself knew was incurable.However, he prepared for the Reception of so formidablean Enemy. He was indeed so far spent with hisSickness, that he did not expect to live out the wholeDay, when the last decisive Battel was given; butknowing the fatal Consequences that would happen tohis Children and People, in case he should die beforehe put an end to that War, he commanded his principalOfficers that if he died during the Engagement, theyshould conceal his Death from the Army, and that theyshould ride up to the Litter in which his Corpse wascarried, under Pretence of receiving Orders from himas usual. Before the Battel begun, he was carriedthrough all the Ranks of his Army in an open Litter,as they stood drawn up in Array, encouraging them tofight valiantly in defence of their Religion and Country.Finding afterwards the Battel to go against him, thohe was very near his last Agonies, he threw himselfout of his Litter, rallied his Army, and led them onto the Charge; which afterwards ended in a compleatVictory on the side of the Moors. He had no soonerbrought his Men to the Engagement, but finding himselfutterly spent, he was again replaced in his Litter,where laying his Finger on his Mouth, to enjoin Secrecyto his Officers, who stood about him, he died a fewMoments after in that Posture.
L.
[Footnote 1: Plutarch’s Life of Epaminondas.]
[Footnote 2: The Abbe Vertot—RenatusAubert de Vertot d’Auboeuf—was bornin 1655, and living in the Spectators time. Hedied in 1735, aged 80. He had exchanged out ofthe severe order of the Capuchins into that of thePraemonstratenses when, at the age of 34, he produced,in 1689, his first work, the History of the Revolutionsof Portugal, here quoted. Continuing to writehistory, in 1701 he was made a member, and in 1705a paid member, of the Academie des Inscriptions etBelles Lettres.]
* * * * *
No. 350. Friday, April 11, 1712. Steele.
Ea animi elatio quae cernitur in periculis,si Justitia vacat
pugnatque pro suis commodis, in vitioest.
Tull.
CAPTAIN SENTREY was last Night at the Club, and produceda Letter from Ipswich, which his Correspondent desiredhim to communicate to his Friend the SPECTATOR.It contained an Account of an Engagement between aFrench Privateer, commanded by one Dominick Pottiere,and a little Vessel of that Place laden with Corn,the Master whereof, as I remember, was one Goodwin.The Englishman defended himself with incredible Bravery,and beat off the French, after having been boardedthree or four times. The Enemy still came on
with greater Fury, and hoped by his Number of Mento carry the Prize, till at last the Englishman findinghimself sink apace, and ready to perish, struck:But the Effect which this singular Gallantry had uponthe Captain of the Privateer, was no other than anunmanly Desire of Vengeance for the Loss he had sustainedin his several Attacks. He told the Ipswich Manin a speaking-Trumpet, that he would not take himaboard, and that he stayed to see him sink. TheEnglishman at the same time observed a Disorder inthe Vessel, which he rightly judged to proceed fromthe Disdain which the Ships Crew had of their CaptainsInhumanity: With this Hope he went into his Boat,and approached the Enemy. He was taken in bythe Sailors in spite of their Commander; but thoughthey received him against his Command, they treatedhim when he was in the Ship in the manner he directed.Pottiere caused his Men to hold Goodwin, while hebeat him with a Stick till he fainted with Loss ofBlood, and Rage of Heart: after which he orderedhim into Irons without allowing him any Food, but suchas one or two of the Men stole to him under perilof the like Usage: After having kept him severalDays overwhelmed with the Misery of Stench, Hunger,and Soreness, he brought him into Calais. TheGovernour of the Place was soon acquainted with allthat had passed, dismissed Pottiere from his Chargewith Ignominy, and gave Goodwin all the Relief whicha Man of Honour would bestow upon an Enemy barbarouslytreated, to recover the Imputation of Cruelty uponhis Prince and Country.When Mr. SENTREY had read his Letter, full of manyother circ*mstances which aggravate the Barbarity,he fell into a sort of Criticism upon Magnanimityand Courage, and argued that they were inseparable;and that Courage, without regard to Justice and Humanity,was no other than the Fierceness of a wild Beast.A good and truly bold Spirit, continued he, is everactuated by Reason and a Sense of Honour and Duty:The Affectation of such a Spirit exerts it self inan Impudent Aspect, an over-bearing Confidence, anda certain Negligence of giving Offence. Thisis visible in all the co*cking Youths you see aboutthis Town, who are noisy in Assemblies, unawed bythe Presence of wise and virtuous Men; in a word,insensible of all the Honours and Decencies of humanLife. A shameless Fellow takes advantage of Meritclothed with Modesty and Magnanimity, and in the Eyesof little People appears sprightly and agreeable;while the Man of Resolution and true Gallantry is overlookedand disregarded, if not despised. There is a Proprietyin all things; and I believe what you Scholars calljust and sublime, in opposition to turgid and bombastExpression, may give you an Idea of what I mean, whenI say Modesty is the certain Indication of a greatSpirit, and Impudence the Affectation of it.He that writes with Judgment, and never rises intoimproper Warmths, manifests the true Force of Genius;in like manner, he who is quiet and equal in all his
Behaviour, is supported in that Deportment by whatwe may call true Courage. Alas, it is not soeasy a thing to be a brave Man as the unthinking partof Mankind imagine: To dare, is not all thatthere is in it. The Privateer we were just nowtalking of, had boldness enough to attack his Enemy,but not Greatness of Mind enough to admire the sameQuality exerted by that Enemy in defending himself.Thus his base and little Mind was wholly taken upin the sordid regard to the Prize, of which he failed,and the damage done to his own Vessel; and thereforehe used an honest Man, who defended his own from him,in the Manner as he would a Thief that should robhim.He was equally disappointed, and had not Spirit enoughto consider that one Case would be Laudable and theother Criminal. Malice, Rancour, Hatred, Vengeance,are what tear the Breasts of mean Men in Fight; butFame, Glory, Conquests, Desires of Opportunities topardon and oblige their Opposers, are what glow inthe Minds of the Gallant. The Captain ended hisDiscourse with a Specimen of his Book-Learning; andgave us to understand that he had read a French Authoron the Subject of Justness in point of Gallantry.I love, said Mr. SENTREY, a Critick who mixes theRules of Life with Annotations upon Writers. MyAuthor, added he, in his Discourse upon Epick Poem,takes occasion to speak of the same Quality of Couragedrawn in the two different Characters of Turnus andAEneas: He makes Courage the chief and greatestOrnament of Turnus; but in AEneas there are many otherswhich out-shine it, amongst the rest that of Piety.Turnus is therefore all along painted by the Poet fullof Ostentation, his Language haughty and vain glorious,as placing his Honour in the Manifestation of hisValour; AEneas speaks little, is slow to Action; andshows only a sort of defensive Courage. If Equipageand Address make Turnus appear more couragious thanAEneas, Conduct and Success prove AEneas more valiantthan Turnus.
T.
* * * * *
No. 351. Saturday, April 12, 1712. Addison.
In te omnis domus inclinata recumbit.
Virg.
If we look into the three great Heroick Poems whichhave appeared in the World, we may observe that theyare built upon very slight Foundations. Homerlived near 300 Years after the Trojan War; and, asthe writing of History was not then in use among theGreeks, we may very well suppose, that the Traditionof Achilles and Ulysses had brought down but very fewparticulars to his Knowledge; though there is no questionbut he has wrought into his two Poems such of theirremarkable Adventures, as were still talked of amonghis Contemporaries.
The Story of AEneas, on which Virgil founded his Poem,was likewise very bare of Circ*mstances, and by thatmeans afforded him an Opportunity of embellishingit with Fiction, and giving a full range to his ownInvention. We find, however, that he has interwoven,in the course of his Fable, the principal Particulars,which were generally believed among the Romans, ofAEneas his Voyage and Settlement in Italy. TheReader may find an Abridgment of the whole Story ascollected out of the ancient Historians, and as itwas received among the Romans, in Dionysius Halicarnasseus[1].
Since none of the Criticks have consider’d Virgil’sFable, with relation to this History of AEneas, itmay not, perhaps, be amiss to examine it in this Light,so far as regards my present Purpose. Whoeverlooks into the Abridgment above mentioned, will findthat the Character of AEneas is filled with Pietyto the Gods, and a superstitious Observation of Prodigies,Oracles, and Predictions. Virgil has not onlypreserved this Character in the Person of AEneas,but has given a place in his Poem to those particularProphecies which he found recorded of him in Historyand Tradition. The Poet took the matters of Factas they came down to him, and circ*mstanced them afterhis own manner, to make them appear the more natural,agreeable, or surprizing. I believe very manyReaders have been shocked at that ludicrous Prophecy,which one of the Harpyes pronounces to the Trojansin the third Book, namely, that before they had builttheir intended City, they should be reduced by Hungerto eat their very Tables. But, when they hearthat this was one of the Circ*mstances that had beentransmitted to the Romans in the History of AEneas,they will think the Poet did very well in taking noticeof it. The Historian above mentioned acquaintsus, a Prophetess had foretold AEneas, that he shouldtake his Voyage Westward, till his Companions shouldeat their Tables; and that accordingly, upon his landingin Italy, as they were eating their Flesh upon Cakesof Bread, for want of other Conveniences, they afterwardsfed on the Cakes themselves; upon which one of theCompany said merrily, We are eating our Tables.They immediately took the Hint, says the Historian,and concluded the Prophecy to be fulfilled. AsVirgil did not think it proper to omit so materiala particular in the History of AEneas, it may be worthwhile to consider with how much Judgment he has qualifiedit, and taken off every thing that might have appearedimproper for a Passage in an Heroick Poem. TheProphetess who foretells it, is an Hungry Harpy, asthe Person who discovers it is young Ascanius. [2]
Heus etiam mensas consumimus, inquit Inlus!
Such an observation, which is beautiful in the Mouthof a Boy, would have been ridiculous from any otherof the Company. I am apt to think that the changingof the Trojan Fleet into Water-Nymphs which is themost violent Machine in the whole AEneid, and has givenoffence to several Criticks, may be accounted forthe same way. Virgil himself, before he beginsthat Relation, premises, that what he was going totell appeared incredible, but that it was justifiedby Tradition. What further confirms me that thisChange of the Fleet was a celebrated Circ*mstancein the History of AEneas, is, that Ovid has given placeto the same Metamorphosis in his Account of the heathenMythology.
None of the Criticks I have met with having consideredthe Fable of the AEneid in this Light, and taken noticehow the Tradition, on which it was founded, authorizesthose Parts in it which appear the most exceptionable;I hope the length of this Reflection will not makeit unacceptable to the curious Part of my Readers.
The History, which was the Basis of Milton’sPoem, is still shorter than either that of the Iliador AEneid. The Poet has likewise taken care toinsert every Circ*mstance of it in the Body of hisFable. The ninth Book, which we are here to consider,is raised upon that brief Account in Scripture, whereinwe are told that the Serpent was more subtle thanany Beast of the Field, that he tempted the Woman toeat of the forbidden Fruit, that she was overcomeby this Temptation, and that Adam followed her Example.From these few Particulars, Milton has formed oneof the most Entertaining Fables that Invention everproduced. He has disposed of these several Circ*mstancesamong so many beautiful and natural Fictions of hisown, that his whole Story looks only like a Commentupon sacred Writ, or rather seems to be a full andcompleat Relation of what the other is only an Epitome.I have insisted the longer on this Consideration,as I look upon the Disposition and Contrivance ofthe Fable to be the principal Beauty of the ninth Book,which has more Story in it, and is fuller of Incidents,than any other in the whole Poem. Satan’straversing the Globe, and still keeping within theShadow of the Night, as fearing to be discovered bythe Angel of the Sun, who had before detected him,is one of those beautiful Imaginations with whichhe introduces this his second Series of Adventures.Having examined the Nature of every Creature, and foundout one which was the most proper for his Purpose,he again returns to Paradise; and, to avoid Discovery,sinks by Night with a River that ran under the Garden,and rises up again through a Fountain that [issued[3]] from it by the Tree of Life. The Poet, who,as we have before taken notice, speaks as little aspossible in his own Person, and, after the Exampleof Homer, fills every Part of his Work with Mannersand Characters, introduces a Soliloquy of this infernalAgent, who was thus restless in the Destruction ofMan. He is then describ’d as gliding throughthe Garden, under the resemblance of a Mist, in orderto find out that Creature in which he design’dto tempt our first Parents. This Descriptionhas something in it very Poetical and Surprizing.
So saying, through each Thicket Dank orDry,
Like a black Mist, low creeping, he heldon
His Midnight Search, where soonest hemight find
The Serpent: him fast sleeping soonhe found
In Labyrinth of many a Round self-roll’d,
His Head the midst, well stor’dwith subtle Wiles.
The Author afterwards gives us a Description of theMorning, which is wonderfully suitable to a DivinePoem, and peculiar to that first Season of Nature:He represents the Earth, before it was curst, as agreat Altar, breathing out its Incense from all Parts,and sending up a pleasant Savour to the Nostrils ofits Creator; to which he adds a noble Idea of Adamand Eve, as offering their Morning Worship, and fillingup the Universal Consort of Praise and Adoration.
Now when as sacred Light began to dawn
In Eden on the humid Flowers, that breathed
Their Morning Incense, when all thingsthat breathe
From th’ Earth’s great Altarsend up silent Praise
To the Creator, and his Nostrils fill
With grateful Smell; forth came the humanPair,
And join’d their vocal Worship tothe Choir
Of Creatures wanting Voice—
The Dispute which follows between our two first Parents,is represented with great Art: It [proceeds [4]]from a Difference of Judgment, not of Passion, andis managed with Reason, not with Heat: It is sucha Dispute as we may suppose might have happened inParadise, had Man continued Happy and Innocent.There is a great Delicacy in the Moralities whichare interspersed in Adams Discourse, and which themost ordinary Reader cannot but take notice of.That Force of Love which the Father of Mankind sofinely describes in the eighth Book, and which is insertedin my last Saturdays Paper, shews it self here inmany fine Instances: As in those fond Regardshe cast towards Eve at her parting from him.
Her long with ardent Look his Eye pursued
Delighted, but desiring more her stay:
Oft he to her his Charge of quick return
Repeated; she to him as oft engaged
To be return’d by noon amid theBower.
In his Impatience and Amusem*nt during her Absence
—Adam the while,
Waiting desirous her return, had wove
Of choicest Flowers a Garland, to adorn
Her Tresses, and her rural Labours crown:
As Reapers oft are wont their HarvestQueen.
Great Joy he promised to his thoughts,and new
Solace in her return, so long delay’d.
But particularly in that passionate Speech, whereseeing her irrecoverably lost, he resolves to perishwith her rather than to live without her.
—Some cursed Fraud
Or Enemy hath beguil’d thee, yetunknown,
And me with thee hath ruin’d; forwith thee
Certain my Resolution is to die!
How can I live without thee; how forego
Thy sweet Converse and Love so dearlyjoin’d,
To live again in these wild Woods forlorn?
Should God create another Eve, and I
Another Rib afford, yet loss of thee
Would never from my Heart! no, no!I feel
The Link of Nature draw me: Fleshof Flesh,
Bone of my Bone thou art, and from thyState
Mine never shall be parted, Bliss or Woe!
The Beginning of this Speech, and the Preparationto it, are animated with the same Spirit as the Conclusion,which I have here quoted.
The several Wiles which are put in practice by theTempter, when he found Eve separated from her Husband,the many pleasing Images of Nature which are intermix’din this part of the Story, with its gradual and regularProgress to the fatal Catastrophe, are so very remarkablethat it would be superfluous to point out their respectiveBeauties.
I have avoided mentioning any particular Similitudesin my Remarks on this great Work, because I have givena general Account of them in my Paper on the firstBook. There is one, however, in this part of thePoem, which I shall here quote as it is not only verybeautiful, but the closest of any in the whole Poem.I mean that where the Serpent is describ as rollingforward in all his Pride, animated by the evil Spirit,and conducting Eve to her Destruction, while Adam wasat too great a distance from her to give her his Assistance.These several Particulars are all of them wroughtinto the following Similitude.
—Hope elevates, and Joy
Brightens his Crest; as when a wanderingFire,
Compact of unctuous Vapour, which theNight
Condenses, and the Cold invirons round,
Kindled through Agitation to a Flame,
(Which oft, they say, some evil Spiritattends)
Hovering and blazing with delusive Light,
Misleads th’ amaz’d Night-wandererfrom his Way
To Bogs and Mires, and oft through Pondor Pool,
There swallowed up and lost, from succourfar.
That secret Intoxication of Pleasure, with all thosetransient flushings of Guilt and Joy, which the Poetrepresents in our first Parents upon their eatingthe forbidden Fruit, to [those [5]] flaggings of Spirits,damps of Sorrow, and mutual Accusations which succeedit, are conceiv’d with a wonderful Imagination,and described in very natural Sentiments.
When Dido in the fourth AEneid yielded to that fatalTemptation which ruined her, Virgil tells us the Earthtrembled, the Heavens were filled with Flashes ofLightning, and the Nymphs howled upon the Mountain-Tops.Milton, in the same poetical Spirit, has describedall Nature as disturbed upon Eves eating the forbiddenFruit.
So saying, her rash Hand in evil hour
Forth reaching to the Fruit, she pluckt,she eat:
Earth felt the wound, and Nature fromher Seat
Sighing, through all her Works gave signsof Woe
That all was lost—
Upon Adams falling into the same Guilt, the wholeCreation appears a second time in Convulsions.
—He scrupled not to eat
Against his better knowledge; not deceiv’s,
But fondly overcome with female Charm.
Earth trembled from her Entrails, as again
In Pangs, and Nature gave a second Groan,
Sky lowred, and muttering Thunder, somesad Drops
Wept at compleating of the mortal Sin—
As all Nature suffer’d by the Guilt of our firstParents, these Symptoms of Trouble and Consternationare wonderfully imagined, not only as Prodigies, butas Marks of her Sympathizing in the Fall of Man.
Adams Converse with Eve, after having eaten the forbiddenFruit, is an exact Copy of that between Jupiter andJuno in the fourteenth Iliad. Juno there approachesJupiter with the Girdle which she had received fromVenus; upon which he tells her, that she appeared morecharming and desirable than she [6] done before, evenwhen their Loves were at the highest. The Poetafterwards describes them as reposing on a Summet ofMount Ida, which produced under them a Bed of Flowers,the Lotos, the Crocus, and the Hyacinth; and concludeshis Description with their falling asleep.
Let the Reader compare this with the following Passagein Milton, which begins with Adams Speech to Eve.
For never did thy Beauty, since the Day
I saw thee first and wedded thee, adorn’d
With all Perfections, so enflame my Sense
With ardor to enjoy thee, fairer now
Than ever, Bounty of this virtuous Tree.
So said he, and forbore not Glance orToy
Of amorous Intent, well understood
Of Eve, whose Eye darted contagious Fire.
Her hand he seiz’d, and to a shadyBank
Thick over-head with verdant Roof embower’d,
He led her nothing loth: Flowrs werethe Couch,
Pansies, and Violets, and Asphodel,
And Hyacinth, Earths freshest softestLap.
There they their fill of Love, and Lovesdisport,
Took largely, of their mutual Guilt theSeal,
The Solace of their Sin, till dewy Sleep
Oppress’d them—
As no Poet seems ever to have studied Homer more,or to have more resembled him in the Greatness ofGenius than Milton, I think I should have given buta very imperfect Account of his Beauties, if I hadnot observed the most remarkable Passages which looklike Parallels in these two great Authors. Imight, in the course of these criticisms, have takennotice of many particular Lines and Expressions whichare translated from the Greek Poet; but as I thoughtthis would have appeared too minute and over-curious,I have purposely omitted them. The greater Incidents,however, are not only set off by being shewn in thesame Light with several of the same nature in Homer,but by that means may be also guarded against theCavils of the Tasteless or Ignorant.
[Footnote 1: In the first book of his Roman Antiquities.]
[Footnote 2: Dionysius says that the prophecywas either, as some write, given at Dodous, or, asothers say, by a Sybil, and the exclamation was byone of the sons of AEneas, as it is related; or hewas some other of his comrades.]
[Footnote 3: [run]]
[Footnote 4: [arises]]
[Footnote 5: [that]]
[Footnote 6: [ever had]]
* * * * *
No. 352. Monday, April 14, 1712. Steele.
Si ad honestatem nati sumus, ea aut solaexpetenda est, aut certe
omni pondere gravior est habenda quamreliqua omnia.
Tull.
Will. Honeycomb was complaining to me yesterday,that the Conversation of the Town is so altered oflate Years, that a fine Gentleman is at a loss forMatter to start Discourse, as well as unable to fallin with the Talk he generally meets with. WILL.takes notice, that there is now an Evil under theSun which he supposes to be entirely new, because notmentioned by any Satyrist or Moralist in any Age:Men, said he, grow Knaves sooner than they ever didsince the Creation of the World before. If youread the Tragedies of the last Age, you find the artful
Men and Persons of Intrigue, are advanced very farin Years, and beyond the Pleasures and Sallies ofYouth; but now WILL. observes, that the Young havetaken in the Vices of the Aged, and you shall havea Man of Five and Twenty crafty, false, and intriguing,not ashamed to over-reach, cozen, and beguile.My Friend adds, that till about the latter end ofKing Charles’s Reign, there was not a Rascalof any Eminence under Forty: In the Places ofResort for Conversation, you now hear nothing butwhat relates to the improving Mens Fortunes, withoutregard to the Methods toward it. This is so fashionable,that young Men form themselves upon a certain Neglectof every thing that is candid, simple, and worthyof true Esteem; and affect being yet worse than theyare, by acknowledging in their general turn of Mindand Discourse, that they have not any remaining Valuefor true Honour and Honesty; preferring the Capacityof being Artful to gain their Ends, to the Merit ofdespising those Ends when they come in competitionwith their Honesty. All this is due to the verysilly Pride that generally prevails, of being valuedfor the Ability of carrying their Point; in a word,from the Opinion that shallow and inexperienced Peopleentertain of the short-liv’d Force of Cunning.But I shall, before I enter upon the various Faceswhich Folly cover’d with Artifice puts on toimpose upon the Unthinking, produce a great Authority[1] for asserting, that nothing but Truth and Ingenuityhas any lasting good Effect, even upon a Man’sFortune and Interest.Truth and Reality have all the Advantages of Appearance,and many more. If the Shew of any thing be goodfor any thing, I am sure Sincerity is better:For why does any Man dissemble, or seem to be thatwhich he is not, but because he thinks it good tohave such a Quality as he pretends to? for to counterfeitand dissemble, is to put on the Appearance of somereal Excellency. Now the best way in the Worldfor a Man to seem to be any thing, is really to bewhat he would seem to be. Besides that it ismany times as troublesome to make good the Pretenceof a good Quality, as to have it; and if a Man haveit not, it is ten to one but he is discover’dto want it, and then all his Pains and Labour to seemto have it is lost. There is something unnaturalin Painting, which a skillful Eye will easily discernfrom native Beauty and Complexion.
It is hard to personate and act a Part long; for whereTruth is not at the bottom, Nature will always beendeavouring to return, and will peep out and betrayher self one time or other. Therefore if any Manthink it convenient to seem good, let him be so indeed,and then his Goodness will appear to every body’sSatisfaction; so that upon all accounts Sincerityis true Wisdom. Particularly as to the Affairsof this World, Integrity hath many Advantages overall the fine and artificial ways of Dissimulationand Deceit; it is much the plainer and easier, much
the safer and more secure way of dealing in the World;it has less of Trouble and Difficulty, of Entanglementand Perplexity, of Danger and Hazard in it; it isthe shortest and nearest way to our End, carrying usthither in a straight line, and will hold out and lastlongest. The Arts of Deceit and Cunning do continuallygrow weaker and less effectual and serviceable tothem that use them; whereas Integrity gains Strengthby use, and the more and longer any Man practisethit, the greater Service it does him, by confirminghis Reputation and encouraging those with whom hehath to do, to repose the greatest Trust and Confidencein him, which is an unspeakable Advantage in the Businessand Affairs of Life.Truth is always consistent with it self, and needsnothing to help it out; it is always near at hand,and sits upon our Lips, and is ready to drop out beforewe are aware: whereas a Lye is troublesome, andsets a Man’s Invention upon the rack, and oneTrick needs a great many more to make it good.It is like building upon a false Foundation, whichcontinually stands in need of Props to shoar it up,and proves at last more chargeable, than to have raiseda substantial Building at first upon a true and solidFoundation; for Sincerity is firm and substantial,and there is nothing hollow and unsound in it, andbecause it is plain and open, fears no Discovery;of which the Crafty Man is always in danger, and whenhe thinks he walks in the dark, all his Pretences areso transparent, that he that runs may read them; heis the last Man that finds himself to be found out,and whilst he takes it for granted that he makes Foolsof others, he renders himself ridiculous.
Add to all this, that Sincerity is the most compendiousWisdom, and an excellent Instrument for the speedydispatch of Business; it creates Confidence in thosewe have to deal with, saves the Labour of many Enquiries,and brings things to an issue in few Words: Itis like travelling in a plain beaten Road, which commonlybrings a Man sooner to his Journeys End than By-ways,in which Men often lose themselves. In a word,whatsoever Convenience may be thought to be in Falshoodand Dissimulation, it is soon over; but the Inconvenienceof it is perpetual, because it brings a Man underan everlasting Jealousie and Suspicion, so that heis not believed when he speaks Truth, nor trustedwhen perhaps he means honestly. When a Man hathonce forfeited the Reputation of his Integrity, heis set fast, and nothing will then serve his turn,neither Truth nor Falshood.
And I have often thought, that God hath in his greatWisdom hid from Men of false and dishonest Minds thewonderful Advantages of Truth and Integrity to theProsperity even of our worldly Affairs; these Men areso blinded by their Covetousness and Ambition, thatthey cannot look beyond a present Advantage, nor forbearto seize upon it, tho by Ways never so indirect; theycannot see so far as to the remote Consequences of
a steady Integrity, and the vast Benefit and Advantageswhich it will bring a Man at last. Were but thissort of Men wise and clear-sighted enough to discernthis, they would be honest out of very Knavery, notout of any Love to Honesty and Virtue, but with a craftyDesign to promote and advance more effectually theirown Interests; and therefore the Justice of the DivineProvidence hath hid this truest Point of Wisdom fromtheir Eyes, that bad Men might not be upon equal Termswith the Just and Upright, and serve their own wickedDesigns by honest and lawful Means.Indeed, if a Man were only to deal in the World fora Day, and should never have occasion to conversemore with Mankind, never more need their good Opinionor good Word, it were then no great Matter (speakingas to the Concernments of this World) if a Man spenthis Reputation all at once, and ventured it at onethrow: But if he be to continue in the World,and would have the Advantage of Conversation whilsthe is in it, let him make use of Truth and Sincerityin all his Words and Actions; for nothing but thiswill last and hold out to the end; all other Artswill fail, but Truth and Integrity will carry a Manthrough, and bear him out to the last.
T.
[Footnote 1: Archbishop Tilotson’s Sermons,Vol. II., Sermon I (folio edition). Italicsin first issue.]
* * * * *
No. 353. Tuesday, April 15,1712. Budgell.
—In tenui labor—
Virg.
The Gentleman who obliges the World in general, andme in particular, with his Thoughts upon Education,has just sent me the following Letter.
SIR,
I take the Liberty to send you a fourthLetter upon the Education of Youth: In my lastI gave you my Thoughts about some particular Taskswhich I conceiv’d it might not be amiss touse with their usual Exercises, in order to givethem an early Seasoning of Virtue; I shall in thispropose some others, which I fancy might contributeto give them a right turn for the World, and enablethem to make their way in it.
The Design of Learning is, as I take it,either to render a Man an agreeable Companion tohimself, and teach him to support Solitude with Pleasure,or if he is not born to an Estate, to supply that Defect,and furnish him with the means of acquiring one.A Person who applies himself to Learning with thefirst of these Views may be said to study for Ornament,as he who proposes to himself the second, properlystudies for Use. The one does it to raise himselfa Fortune, the other to set off that which he isalready possessed of. But as far the greaterpart of Mankind are included in the latter Class, Ishall only propose some Methods at present for theService of such who expect to advance themselvesin the World by their Learning: In order to which,I shall premise, that many more Estates have beenacquir’d by little Accomplishments than byextraordinary ones; those Qualities which make thegreatest Figure in the Eye of the World, not beingalways the most useful in themselves, or the mostadvantageous to their Owners.
The Posts which require Men of shiningand uncommon Parts to discharge them, are so veryfew, that many a great Genius goes out of the Worldwithout ever having had an opportunity to exert itself; whereas Persons of ordinary Endowments meetwith Occasions fitted to their Parts and Capacitiesevery day in the common Occurrences of Life.
I am acquainted with two Persons who wereformerly School-fellows,[1] and have been good Friendsever since. One of them was not only thoughtan impenetrable Block-head at School, but still maintain’dhis Reputation at the University; the other wasthe Pride of his Master, and the most celebratedPerson in the College of which he was a Member.The Man of Genius is at present buried in a CountryParsonage of eightscore Pounds a year; while theother, with the bare Abilities of a common Scrivener,has got an Estate of above an hundred thousand Pounds.
I fancy from what I have said it willalmost appear a doubtful Case to many a wealthyCitizen, whether or no he ought to wish his Son shouldbe a great Genius; but this I am sure of, that nothingis more absurd than to give a Lad the Educationof one, whom Nature has not favour’d withany particular Marks of Distinction.
The fault therefore of our Grammar-Schoolsis, that every Boy is pushed on to Works of Genius;whereas it would be far more advantageous for thegreatest part of them to be taught such little practicalArts and Sciences as do not require any great shareof Parts to be Master of them, and yet may comeoften into play during the course of a Man’sLife.
Such are all the Parts of Practical Geometry.I have known a Man contract a Friendship with aMinister of State, upon cutting a Dial in his Window;and remember a Clergyman who got one of the best Beneficesin the West of England, by setting a Country Gentleman’sAffairs in some Method, and giving him an exactSurvey of his Estate.
While I am upon this Subject, I cannotforbear mentioning a Particular which is of usein every Station of Life, and which methinks everyMaster should teach his Scholars. I mean the writingof English Letters. To this End, instead ofperplexing them with Latin Epistles, Themes andVerses, there might be a punctual Correspondence establishedbetween two Boys, who might act in any imaginary Partsof Business, or be allow’d sometimes to givea range to their own Fancies, and communicate toeach other whatever Trifles they thought fit, providedneither of them ever fail’d at the appointedtime to answer his Correspondents Letter.
I believe I may venture to affirm, thatthe generality of Boys would find themselves moreadvantaged by this Custom, when they come to be Men,than by all the Greek and Latin their Masters can teachthem in seven or eight Years.
The want of it is very visible in manylearned Persons, who, while they are admiring theStyles of Demosthenes or Cicero, want Phrases to expressthemselves on the most common Occasions. I haveseen a Letter from one of these Latin Orators, whichwould have been deservedly laugh’d at by acommon Attorney.
Under this Head of Writing I cannot omitAccounts and Short-hand,
which are learned with little pains, andvery properly come into the
number of such Arts as I have been hererecommending.
You must doubtless, Sir, observe thatI have hitherto chiefly insisted upon these thingsfor such Boys as do not appear to have any thing extraordinaryin their natural Talents, and consequently are notqualified for the finer Parts of Learning; yet Ibelieve I might carry this Matter still further,and venture to assert that a Lad of Genius has sometimesoccasion for these little Acquirements, to be as itwere the forerunners of his Parts, and to introduce[him [2]] into the World.
History is full of Examples of Persons,who tho they have had the largest Abilities, havebeen obliged to insinuate themselves into the Favourof great Men by these trivial Accomplishments; as thecompleat Gentleman, in some of our modern Comedies,makes his first Advances to his Mistress under thedisguise of a Painter or a Dancing-Master.
The Difference is, that in a Lad of Geniusthese are only so many Accomplishments, which inanother are Essentials; the one diverts himselfwith them, the other works at them. In short,I look upon a great Genius, with these little Additions,in the same Light as I regard the Grand Signior,who is obliged, by an express Command in the Alcoran,to learn and practise some Handycraft Trade. ThoI need not have gone for my Instance farther thanGermany, where several Emperors have voluntarilydone the same thing. Leopold the last [3], workedin Wood; and I have heard there are several handycraftWorks of his making to be seen at Vienna so neatlyturned, that the best Joiner in Europe might safelyown them, without any disgrace to his Profession.
I would not be thought, by any thing Ihave said, to be against improving a Boys Geniusto the utmost pitch it can be carried. What Iwould endeavour to shew in this Essay is, that theremay be Methods taken, to make Learning advantageouseven to the meanest Capacities.
I am, SIR, Yours, &c.
X.
[Footnote 1: Perhaps Swift and his old schoolfellow,Mr. Stratford, the Hamburgh merchant.
Stratford is worth a plumb, and is nowlending the Government
L40,000; yet we were educated togetherat the same school and
university.
Journal to Stella, Sept. 14, 1710.]
[Footnote 2:[them]]
[Footnote 3: Leopold the last was also Leopoldthe First. He died May 6, 1705, and was succeededby his eldest son, Joseph, who died while the Spectatorwas being issued, and had now been followed by hisbrother, the Archduke Charles, whose claim to thecrown of Spain England had been supporting, when hisaccession to the German throne had not seemed probable.His coronation as Charles VI. was, therefore, one causeof the peace. Leopold, born in 1640, and educatedby the Jesuits, became Emperor in 1658, and reigned49 years. He was an adept in metaphysics andtheology, as well as in wood-turning, but a feebleand oppressive ruler, whose empire was twice savedfor him; by Sobiesld from the Turks, and from theFrench by Marlborough.]
* * * * *
No. 354. Wednesday, April 16, 1712. Steele.
—Cum magnis virtutibus affers
Grande supercilium—
Juv.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
You have in some of your Discourses describ’dmost sorts of Women in their distinct and properClasses, as the Ape, the Coquet, and many others;but I think you have never yet said anything of a Devotee.A Devotee is one of those who disparage Religionby their indiscreet and unseasonable introductionof the Mention of Virtue on all Occasion[s]:She professes she is what nobody ought to doubt sheis; and betrays the Labour she is put to, to bewhat she ought to be with Chearfulness and Alacrity.She lives in the World, and denies her self none ofthe Diversions of it, with a constant Declarationhow insipid all things in it are to her. Sheis never her self but at Church; there she displaysher Virtue, and is so fervent in her Devotions, thatI have frequently seen her Pray her self out ofBreath. While other young Ladies in the Houseare dancing, or playing at Questions and Commands,she reads aloud in her Closet. She says allLove is ridiculous, except it be Celestial; butshe speaks of the Passion of one Mortal to anotherwith too much Bitterness, for one that had no Jealousymixed with her Contempt of it. If at any timeshe sees a Man warm in his Addresses to his Mistress,she will lift up her Eyes to Heaven, and cry, WhatNonsense is that Fool talking? Will the Bell neverring for Prayers? We have an eminent Lady ofthis Stamp in our Country, who pretends to Amusem*ntsvery much above the rest of her Sex. She nevercarries a white Shock-dog with Bells under her Arm,nor a Squirrel or Dormouse in her Pocket, but alwaysan abridg’d Piece of Morality to steal outwhen she is sure of being observ’d. Whenshe went to the famous Ass-Race (which I must confesswas but an odd Diversion to be encouraged by Peopleof Rank and Figure) it was not, like other Ladies,to hear those poor Animals bray, nor to see Fellowsrun naked, or to hear Country Squires in bob Wigsand white Girdles make love at the side of a Coach,and cry, Madam, this is dainty Weather. Thus shedescribed the Diversion; for she went only to prayheartily that no body might be hurt in the Crowd,and to see if the poor Fellows Face, which was distortedwith grinning, might any way be brought to it selfa*gain. She never chats over her Tea, but coversher Face, and is supposed in an ejacul*tion beforeshe taste[s] a Sup. This ostentatious Behaviouris such an Offence to true Sanctity, that it disparagesit, and makes Virtue not only unamiable, but alsoridiculous. The Sacred Writings are full ofReflections which abhor this kind of Conduct; anda Devotee is so far from promoting Goodness, thatshe deters others by her Example. Folly and Vanityin one of these Ladies, is like Vice in a Clergyman;it does not only debase him, but makes the inconsideratePart of the World think the worse of Religion.
I am, SIR,
Your Humble Servant,
Hotspur.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Xenophon, in his short Account of theSpartan Commonwealth, [1] speaking of the Behaviorof their young Men in the Streets, says, There wasso much Modesty in their Looks, that you might as soonhave turned the eyes of a Marble Statue upon youas theirs; and that in all their Behaviour theywere more modest than a Bride when put to bed uponher Wedding-Night: This Virtue, which is alwaysjoin’d to Magnanimity, had such an influenceupon their Courage, that in Battel an Enemy couldnot look them in the Face, and they durst not but Diefor their Country.
Whenever I walk into the Streets of Londonand Westminster, the Countenances of all the youngFellows that pass by me, make me wish my self inSparta; I meet with such blustering Airs, big Looks,and bold Fronts, that to a superficial Observerwould bespeak a Courage above those Grecians.I am arrived to that Perfection in Speculation, thatI understand the Language of the Eyes, which wouldbe a great misfortune to me, had I not correctedthe Testiness of old Age by Philosophy. Thereis scarce a Man in a red Coat who does not tell me,with a full Stare, he’s a bold Man: Isee several swear inwardly at me, without any Offenceof mine, but the Oddness of my Person: I meetContempt in every Street, express’d in differentManners, by the scornful Look, the elevated Eye-brow,and the swelling Nostrils of the Proud and Prosperous.The Prentice speaks his Disrespect by an extended Finger,and the Porter by stealing out his Tongue. Ifa Country Gentleman appears a little curious inobserving the Edifices, Signs, Clocks, Coaches,and Dials, it is not to be imagined how the PoliteRabble of this Town, who are acquainted with theseObjects, ridicule his Rusticity. I have knowna Fellow with a Burden on his Head steal a Handdown from his Load, and slily twirle the co*ck of aSquires Hat behind him; while the Offended Personis swearing, or out of Countenance, all the Wagg-Witsin the High-way are grinning in applause of theingenious Rogue that gave him the Tip, and the Follyof him who had not Eyes all round his Head to preventreceiving it. These things arise from a generalAffectation of Smartness, Wit, and Courage.Wycherly somewhere [2] rallies the Pretensions thisWay, by making a Fellow say, Red Breeches are acertain Sign of Valour; and Otway makes a Man, toboast his Agility, trip up a Beggar on Crutches [3].From such Hints I beg a Speculation on this Subject;in the mean time I shall do all in the Power ofa weak old Fellow in my own Defence: for asDiogenes, being in quest of an honest Man, sought forhim when it was broad Day-light with a Lanthorn andCandle, so I intend for the future to walk the Streetswith a dark Lanthorn, which has a convex Chrystalin it; and if any Man stares at me, I give fair Warningthat Ill direct the Light full into his Eyes.Thus despairing to find Men Modest, I hope by thisMeans to evade their Impudence, I am, SIR, Yourmost humble Servant, Sophrosunius.
T.
[Footnote 1: The Polity of Lacedaemon and thePolity of Athens were two of Xenophons short treatises.In the Polity of Lacedaemon the Spartan code of lawand social discipline is, as Mr. Mure says in hisCritical History of the Language and Literature ofAncient Greece,
indiscriminately held up to admirationas superior in all respects to all others.Some of its more offensive features, such as the Cryptia,child murder, and more glaring atrocities of theHelot system, are suppressed; while the legalizedthieving, adultery, and other unnatural practices,are placed in the most favourable or least odiouslight.]
[Footnote 2: In the Plain Dealer, Act II. sc.I.
Novel (a pert railing coxcomb). These sea captainsmake nothing of
dressing.But let me tell you, sir, a man by his dress, as much
asby anything, shows his wit and judgment; nay, and his
couragetoo.
Freeman. How, his courage, Mr. Novel?
Novel. Why, for example, by red breeches, tucked-uphair, or peruke, a
greasybroad belt, and now-a-days a short sword.]
[Footnote 3: In his Friendship in Fashion, ActIII. sc. i
Malagene. I tell you what I did tother Day:Faith’t is as good a Jest
asever you heard.
Valentine. Pray, sir, do.
Mal. Why, walking alone, a lame Fellowfollow’d me and ask’d my
Charity(which by the way was a pretty Proposition to me).
Beingin one of my witty, merry Fits, I ask’d him howlong he
hadbeen in that Condition? The poor Fellow shookhis Head,
andtold me he was born so. But how dye think I servedhim?
Val. Nay, the Devil knows.
Mal. I show’d my Parts, I think;for I tripp’d up both his Wooden
Legs,and walk’d off gravely about my Business.
Truman. And this you say is your way of Wit?
Mal. Ay, altogether, this and Mimickry.I’m a very good Mimick; I
canact Punchinello, Scaramoucho, Harlequin, Prince
Prettyman,or anything. I can act the rumbling of a
Wheel-barrow.
Val. The rumbling of a Wheelbarrow!
Mal. Ay, the rumbling of a Wheelbarrow,so I say. Nay, more than
that,I can act a Sow and Pigs, Sausages a broiling, a
Shoulderof Mutton a roasting: I can act a Fly in a
Honey-pot.
Trum. That indeed must be the effect ofvery curious Observation.
Mal. No, hang it, I never make it my Businessto observe anything,
thatis Mechanick.]
* * * * *
No. 355. Thursday, April 17, 1712. Addison.
Non ego mordaci distrinxi carmine [quenquam.
Ovid. [1]]
I have been very often tempted to write Invectivesupon those who have detracted from my Works, or spokenin derogation of my Person; but I look upon it asa particular Happiness, that I have always hindredmy Resentments from proceeding to this extremity.I once had gone thro half a Satyr, but found so manyMotions of Humanity rising in me towards the Personswhom I had severely treated, that I threw it into theFire without ever finishing it. I have been angryenough to make several little Epigrams and Lampoons;and after having admired them a Day or two, have likewisecommitted them to the Flames. These I look uponas so many Sacrifices to Humanity, and have receiv’dmuch greater Satisfaction from the suppressing suchPerformances, than I could have done from any Reputationthey might have procur’d me, or from any Mortificationthey might have given my Enemies, in case I had madethem publick. If a Man has any Talent in Writing,it shews a good Mind to forbear answering Calumniesand Reproaches in the same Spirit of Bitterness withwhich they are offered: But when a Man has beenat some Pains in making suitable Returns to an Enemy,and has the Instruments of Revenge in his Hands, tolet drop his Wrath, and stifle his Resentments, seemsto have something in it Great and Heroical. Thereis a particular Merit in such a way of forgiving anEnemy; and the more violent and unprovoke’d theOffence has been, the greater still is the Merit ofhim who thus forgives it.
I never met with a Consideration that is more finelyspun, and what has better pleased me, than one inEpictetus [2], which places an Enemy in a new Light,and gives us a View of him altogether different fromthat in which we are used to regard him. TheSense of it is as follows: Does a Man reproachthee for being Proud or Ill-natured, Envious or Conceited,Ignorant or Detracting? Consider with thy selfwhether his Reproaches are true; if they are not,
consider that thou art not the Person whom he reproaches,but that he reviles an Imaginary Being, and perhapsloves what thou really art, tho he hates what thouappearest to be. If his Reproaches are true,if thou art the envious ill-natur’d Man he takesthee for, give thy self another Turn, become mild,affable and obliging, and his Reproaches of thee naturallycease: His Reproaches may indeed continue, butthou art no longer the Person whom he reproaches.I often apply this Rule to my self; and when I hearof a Satyrical Speech or Writing that is aimed atme, I examine my own Heart, whether I deserve it ornot. If I bring in a Verdict against my self,I endeavour to rectify my Conduct for the future inthose particulars which have drawn the Censure uponme; but if the whole Invective be grounded upon aFalsehood, I trouble my self no further about it, andlook upon my Name at the Head of it to signify nomore than one of those fictitious Names made use ofby an Author to introduce an imaginary Character.Why should a Man be sensible of the Sting of a Reproach,who is a Stranger to the Guilt that is implied init? or subject himself to the Penalty, when he knowshe has never committed the Crime? This is a Pieceof Fortitude, which every one owes to his own Innocence,and without which it is impossible for a Man of anyMerit or Figure to live at Peace with himself in aCountry that abounds with Wit and Liberty.
The famous Monsieur Balzac, in a Letter to the Chancellorof France, [3] who had prevented the Publication ofa Book against him, has the following Words, whichare a likely Picture of the Greatness of Mind so visiblein the Works of that Author. If it was a new thing,it may be I should not be displeased with the Suppressionof the first Libel that should abuse me; but sincethere are enough of em to make a small Library, Iam secretly pleased to see the number increased, andtake delight in raising a heap of Stones that Envyhas cast at me without doing me any harm.
The Author here alludes to those Monuments of theEastern Nations, which were Mountains of Stones raisedupon the dead Body by Travellers, that used to castevery one his Stone upon it as they passed by.It is certain that no Monument is so glorious as onewhich is thus raised by the Hands of Envy. Formy Part, I admire an Author for such a Temper of Mindas enables him to bear an undeserved Reproach withoutResentment, more than for all the Wit of any the finestSatirical Reply.
Thus far I thought necessary to explain my self inrelation to those who have animadverted on this Paper,and to shew the Reasons why I have not thought fitto return them any formal Answer. I must furtheradd, that the Work would have been of very littleuse to the Publick, had it been filled with personalReflections and Debates; for which Reason I have neveronce turned out of my way to observe those little Cavilswhich have been made against it by Envy or Ignorance.The common Fry of Scriblers, who have no other wayof being taken Notice of but by attacking what hasgain’d some Reputation in the World, would havefurnished me with Business enough, had they found medispos’d to enter the Lists with them.
I shall conclude with the Fable of Boccalini’sTraveller, who was so pester’d with the Noiseof Grasshoppers in his Ears, that he alighted fromhis Horse in great Wrath to kill them all. This,says the Author, was troubling himself to no mannerof purpose: Had he pursued his Journey withouttaking notice of them, the troublesome Insects wouldhave died of themselves in a very few Weeks, and hewould have suffered nothing from them.
L.
[Footnote 1:
[quenquam, Nulla venenata littera mistajoco est.
Ovid.]
[Footnote 2: Enchiridion, Cap. 48 and 64.]
[Footnote 3: Letters and Remains. Trans.by Sir. R. Baker (1655-8).]
* * * * *
No. 356. Friday, [1] April 18, 1712. Steele.
Aptissima quaeque dabunt Dii,
Charior est illis hom*o quam sibi.
Juv.
It is owing to Pride, and a secret Affectation ofa certain Self-Existence, that the noblest Motivefor Action that ever was proposed to Man, is not acknowledgedthe Glory and Happiness of their Being. The Heartis treacherous to it self, and we do not let our Reflectionsgo deep enough to receive Religion as the most honourableIncentive to good and worthy Actions. It is ournatural Weakness, to flatter our selves into a Belief,that if we search into our inmost thoughts, we findour selves wholly disinterested, and divested of anyViews arising from Self-Love and Vain-Glory. Buthowever Spirits of superficial Greatness may disdainat first sight to do any thing, but from a noble Impulsein themselves, without any future Regards in thisor another Being; upon stricter Enquiry they will find,to act worthily and expect to be rewarded only inanother World, is as heroick a Pitch of Virtue ashuman Nature can arrive at. If the Tenour of ourActions have any other Motive than the Desire to bepleasing in the Eye of the Deity, it will necessarilyfollow that we must be more than Men, if we are nottoo much exalted in Prosperity and depressed in Adversity:But the Christian World has a Leader, the Contemplationof whose Life and Sufferings must administer Comfortin Affliction, while the Sense of his Power and Omnipotencemust give them Humiliation in Prosperity.
It is owing to the forbidding and unlovely Constraintwith which Men of low Conceptions act when they thinkthey conform themselves to Religion, as well as tothe more odious Conduct of Hypocrites, that the WordChristian does not carry with it at first View allthat is Great, Worthy, Friendly, Generous, and Heroick.The Man who suspends his Hopes of the Reward of worthyActions till after Death, who can bestow unseen, whocan overlook Hatred, do Good to his Slanderer, whocan never be angry at his Friend, never revengefulto his Enemy, is certainly formed for the Benefitof Society: Yet these are so far from HeroickVirtues, that they are but the ordinary Duties ofa Christian.
When a Man with a steddy Faith looks back on the greatCatastrophe of this Day, with what bleeding Emotionsof Heart must he contemplate the Life and Sufferingsof his Deliverer? When his Agonies occur to him,how will he weep to reflect that he has often forgotthem for the Glance of a Wanton, for the Applauseof a vain World, for an Heap of fleeting past Pleasures,which are at present asking Sorrows?
How pleasing is the Contemplation of the lowly Stepsour Almighty Leader took in conducting us to his heavenlyMansions! In plain and apt Parable, [2] Similitude,and Allegory, our great Master enforced the Doctrineof our Salvation; but they of his Acquaintance, insteadof receiving what they could not oppose, were offendedat the Presumption of being wiser than they:[3] They could not raise their little Ideas abovethe Consideration of him, in those Circ*mstances familiarto them, or conceive that he who appear’d notmore Terrible or Pompous, should have any thing moreExalted than themselves; he in that Place thereforewould not longer ineffectually exert a Power whichwas incapable of conquering the Prepossession of theirnarrow and mean Conceptions.
Multitudes follow’d him, and brought him theDumb, the Blind, the Sick, and Maim’d; whomwhen their Creator had Touch’d, with a secondLife they Saw, Spoke, Leap’d, and Ran.In Affection to him, and admiration of his Actions,the Crowd could not leave him, but waited near himtill they were almost as faint and helpless as othersthey brought for Succour. He had Compassion onthem, and by a Miracle supplied their Necessities.[4] Oh, the Ecstatic Entertainment, when they couldbehold their Food immediately increase to the Distributer’sHand, and see their God in Person Feeding and Refreshinghis Creatures! Oh Envied Happiness! Butwhy do I say Envied? as if our [God [5]] did not stillpreside over our temperate Meals, chearful Hours,and innocent Conversations.
But tho the sacred Story is every where full of Miraclesnot inferior to this, and tho in the midst of thoseActs of Divinity he never gave the least Hint of aDesign to become a Secular Prince, yet had not hithertothe Apostles themselves any other than Hopes of worldlyPower, Preferment, Riches and Pomp; for Peter, uponan Accident of Ambition among the Apostles, hearinghis Master explain that his Kingdom was not of thisWorld, was so scandaliz’d [6] that he whom hehad so long follow’d should suffer the Ignominy,Shame, and Death which he foretold, that he took himaside and said, Be it far from thee, Lord, this shallnot be unto thee: For which he suffered a severeReprehension from his Master, as having in his Viewthe Glory of Man rather than that of God.
The great Change of things began to draw near, whenthe Lord of Nature thought fit as a Saviour and Delivererto make his publick Entry into Jerusalem with morethan the Power and Joy, but none of the Ostentationand Pomp of a Triumph; he came Humble, Meek, and Lowly:with an unfelt new Ecstasy, Multitudes strewed hisWay with Garments and Olive-Branches, Crying withloud Gladness and Acclamation, Hosannah to the Sonof David, Blessed is he that cometh in the name ofthe Lord! At this great Kings Accession to hisThrone, Men were not Ennobled, but Sav’d; Crimeswere not Remitted, but Sins Forgiven; he did not bestowMedals, Honours, Favours, but Health, Joy, Sight, Speech.The first Object the Blind ever saw, was the Authorof Sight; while the Lame Ran before, and the Dumbrepeated the Hosannah. Thus attended, he Enteredinto his own House, the sacred Temple, and by his DivineAuthority expell’d Traders and Worldlings thatprofaned it; and thus did he, for a time, use a greatand despotic Power, to let Unbelievers understand,that twas not Want of, but Superiority to all WorldlyDominion, that made him not exert it. But isthis then the Saviour? is this the Deliverer?Shall this Obscure Nazarene command Israel, and siton the Throne of David? [7] Their proud and disdainfulHearts, which were petrified [8] with the Love andPride of this World, were impregnable to the Receptionof so mean a Benefactor, and were now enough exasperatedwith Benefits to conspire his Death. Our Lordwas sensible of their Design, and prepared his Disciplesfor it, by recounting to em now more distinctly whatshould befal him; but Peter with an ungrounded Resolution,and in a Flush of Temper, made a sanguine Protestation,that tho all Men were offended in him, yet would nothe be offended. It was a great Article of ourSaviours Business in the World, to bring us to a Senseof our Inability, without Gods Assistance, to do anything great or good; he therefore told Peter, whothought so well of his Courage and Fidelity, thatthey would both fail him, and even he should deny himThrice that very Night.
But what Heart can conceive, what Tongue utter theSequel? Who is that yonder buffeted, mock’d,and spurn’d? Whom do they drag like a Felon?Whither do they carry my Lord, my King, my Saviour,and my God? And will he die to Expiate thosevery Injuries? See where they have nailed theLord and Giver of Life! How his Wounds blacken,his Body writhes, and Heart heaves with Pity and withAgony! Oh Almighty Sufferer, look down, lookdown from thy triumphant Infamy: Lo he inclineshis Head to his sacred Bosom! Hark, he Groans!see, he Expires! The Earth trembles, the Templerends, the Rocks burst, the Dead Arise: Whichare the Quick? Which are the Dead? SureNature, all Nature is departing with her Creator.
T.
[Footnote 1: Good Friday.]
[Footnote 2: From the words In plain and aptparable to the end, this paper is a reprint of theclose of the second chapter of Steele’s ChristianHero, with the variations cited in the next six notes.The C. H. is quoted from the text appended to thefirst reprint of the Tatler, in 1711.]
[Footnote 3:
—wiser than they: Is not thisthe Carpenters Son, is not his Mother
called Mary, his Brethren, James, Joseph,Simon and Judas? They could
not—
Christian Hero.]
[Footnote 4:
He had compassion on em, commanded emto be seated, and with Seven
Loaves, and a few little Fishes, Fed fourthousand Men, besides Women
and Children: Oh, the Ecstatic—
Christian Hero.]
[Footnote 5: [Good God] in first Issue and inChristian Hero.]
[Footnote 6: In the Christian Hero this passagewas:
become a Secular Prince, or in a Forcibleor Miraculous Manner to cast off the Roman Yokethey were under, and restore again those DisgracedFavourites of Heavn, to its former Indulgence, yethad not hitherto the Apostles themselves (so deepset is our Natural Pride) any other than hopes ofworldly Power, Preferment, Riches and Pomp: ForPeter, who it seems ever since he left his Net andhis Skiff, Dreamt of nothing but being a great Man,was utterly undone to hear our Saviour explain toem that his Kingdom was not of this World; and wasso scandalized—]
[Footnote 7:
Throne of David? Such were the unpleasantForms that ran in the Thoughts of the then Powerfulin Jerusalem, upon the most Truly Glorious Entrythat ever Prince made; for there was not one thatfollowed him who was not in his Interest; their Proud—
Christian Hero.]
[Footnote 8:
Putrified with the—
Christian Hero.]
* * * * *
No. 357. Saturday, April 19,1712. Addison.
[Quis talia fando
Temperet a lachrymis?
Virg.] [1]
The Tenth Book of Paradise Lost has a greater varietyof Persons in it than any other in the whole Poem.The Author upon the winding up of his Action introducesall those who had any Concern in it, and shews withgreat Beauty the Influence which it had upon each ofthem. It is like the last Act of a well-writtenTragedy, in which all who had a part in it are generallydrawn up before the Audience, and represented underthose Circ*mstances in which the Determination of theAction places them.
I shall therefore consider this Book under four Heads,in relation to the Celestial, the Infernal, the Human,and the Imaginary Persons, who have their respectiveParts allotted in it.
To begin with the Celestial Persons: The GuardianAngels of Paradise are described as returning to Heavenupon the Fall of Man, in order to approve their Vigilance;their Arrival, their Manner of Reception, with theSorrow which appear’d in themselves, and in thoseSpirits who are said to Rejoice at the Conversionof a Sinner, are very finely laid together in thefollowing Lines.
Up into Heaven from Paradise in haste
Th’ Angelick Guards ascended, muteand sad
For Man; for of his State by this theyknew:
Much wondering how the subtle Fiend hadstoln
Entrance unseen. Soon as th’unwelcome News
From Earth arriv’d at Heaven-Gate,displeased
All were who heard: dim Sadness didnot spare
That time Celestial Visages; yet mixt
With Pity, violated not their Bliss.
About the new-arriv’d, in multitudes
Th’ Ethereal People ran, to hearand know
How all befel: They tow’rdsthe Throne supreme
Accountable made haste to make appear
With righteous Plea, their utmost vigilance,
And easily approved; when the Most High
Eternal Father, from his secret cloud,
Amidst in thunder utter’d thus hisvoice.
The same Divine Person, who in the foregoing Partsof this Poem interceded for our first Parents beforetheir Fall, overthrew the Rebel Angels, and createdthe World, is now represented as descending to Paradise,and pronouncing Sentence upon the three Offenders.The Cool of the Evening, being a Circ*mstance withwhich Holy Writ introduces this great Scene, it ispoetically described by our Author, who has also keptreligiously to the Form of Words, in which the threeseveral Sentences were passed upon Adam, Eve, andthe Serpent. He has rather chosen to neglectthe Numerousness of his Verse, than to deviate fromthose Speeches which are recorded on this great occasion.The Guilt and Confusion of our first Parents standingnaked before their Judge, is touched with great Beauty.Upon the Arrival of Sin and Death into the Works ofthe Creation, the Almighty is again introduced as speakingto his Angels that surrounded him.
See! with what heat these Dogs of Helladvance,
To waste and havock yonder World, whichI
So fair and good created; &c.
The following Passage is formed upon that gloriousImage in Holy Writ, which compares the Voice of aninnumerable Host of Angels, uttering Hallelujahs,to the Voice of mighty Thunderings, or of many Waters.
He ended, and the Heavenly Audience loud
Sung Hallelujah, as the sound of Seas,
Through Multitude that sung: Justare thy Ways,
Righteous are thy Decrees in all thy Works,
Who can extenuate thee?—
Tho the Author in the whole Course of his Poem, andparticularly in the Book we are now examining, hasinfinite Allusions to Places of Scripture, I haveonly taken notice in my Remarks of such as are of aPoetical Nature, and which are woven with great Beautyinto the Body of this Fable. Of this kind isthat Passage in the present Book, where describingSin and Death as marching thro the Works of Naturehe adds,
—Behind her Death
Close following pace for pace, not mountedyet
On his pale Horse—
Which alludes to that Passage in Scripture, so wonderfullypoetical, and terrifying to the Imagination.And I look’d, and behold a pale Horse, and hisName that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed withhim: and Power was given unto them over the fourthPart of the Earth, to kill with Sword, and with Hunger,and with Sickness, and with the Beasts of the Earth.[1] Under this first Head of Celestial Persons we mustlikewise take notice of the Command which the Angelsreceiv’d, to produce the several Changes inNature, and sully the Beauty of the Creation.Accordingly they are represented as infecting the Starsand Planets with malignant Influences, weakning theLight of the Sun, bringing down the Winter into themilder Regions of Nature, planting Winds and Stormsin several Quarters of the Sky, storing the Cloudswith Thunder, and in short, perverting the Whole Frameof the Universe to the Condition of its criminal Inhabitants.As this is a noble Incident in the Poem, the followingLines, in which we see the Angels heaving up the Earth,and placing it in a different Posture to the Sun fromwhat it had before the Fall of Man, is conceived withthat sublime Imagination which was so peculiar tothis great Author.
Some say he bid his Angels turn ascanse
The Poles of Earth twice ten Degrees andmore
From the Suns Axle; they with Labour push’d
Oblique the Centrick Globe—
We are in the second place to consider the InfernalAgents under the view which Milton has given us ofthem in this Book. It is observed by those whowould set forth the Greatness of Virgil’s Plan,that he conducts his Reader thro all the Parts ofthe Earth which were discover’d in his time.Asia, Africk, and Europe are the several Scenes ofhis Fable. The Plan of Milton’s Poem isof an infinitely greater Extent, and fills the Mindwith many more astonishing Circ*mstances. Satan,having surrounded the Earth seven times, departs atlength from Paradise. We then see him steeringhis Course among the Constellations, and after havingtraversed the whole Creation, pursuing his Voyage throthe Chaos, and entring into his own Infernal Dominions.
His first appearance in the Assembly of fallen Angels,is work’d up with Circ*mstances which give adelightful Surprize to the Reader; but there is noIncident in the whole Poem which does this more thanthe Transformation of the whole Audience, that followsthe Account their Leader gives them of his Expedition.The gradual Change of Satan himself is describ’dafter Ovid’s manner, and may vie with any ofthose celebrated Transformations which are look’dupon as the most beautiful Parts in that Poets Works.Milton never fails of improving his own Hints, andbestowing the last finishing Touches to every Incidentwhich is admitted into his Poem. The unexpectedHiss which rises in this Episode, the Dimensions andBulk of Satan so much superior to those of the InfernalSpirits who lay under the same Transformation, withthe annual Change which they are supposed to suffer,are Instances of this kind. The Beauty of theDiction is very remarkable in this whole Episode,as I have observed in the sixth Paper of these Remarksthe great Judgment with which it was contrived.
The Parts of Adam and Eve, or the human Persons, comenext under our Consideration. Milton’sArt is no where more shewn than in his conductingthe Parts of these our first Parents. The Representationhe gives of them, without falsifying the Story, iswonderfully contriv’d to influence the Readerwith Pity and Compassion towards them. Tho Adaminvolves the whole Species in Misery, his Crime proceedsfrom a Weakness which every Man is inclined to pardonand commiserate, as it seems rather the Frailty ofHuman Nature, than of the Person who offended.Every one is apt to excuse a Fault which he himselfmight have fallen into. It was the Excess ofLove for Eve, that ruin’d Adam, and his Posterity.I need not add, that the Author is justify’din this Particular by many of the Fathers, and themost orthodox Writers. Milton has by this meansfilled a great part of his Poem with that kind ofWriting which the French Criticks call the Tender,and which is in a particular manner engaging to allsorts of Readers.
Adam and Eve, in the Book we are now considering,are likewise drawn with such Sentiments as do notonly interest the Reader in their Afflictions, butraise in him the most melting Passions of Humanityand Commiseration. When Adam sees the severalChanges in Nature produced about him, he appears ina Disorder of Mind suitable to one who had forfeitedboth his Innocence and his Happiness; he is filledwith Horrour, Remorse, Despair; in the Anguish ofhis Heart he expostulates with his Creator for havinggiven him an unasked Existence.
Did I request thee, Maker, from my Clay
To mould me Man? did I sollicite thee
From Darkness to promote me? or here place
In this delicious Garden? As my Will
Concurr’d not to my Being, twerebut right
And equal to reduce me to my Dust,
Desirous to resign, and render back
All I received—
He immediately after recovers from his Presumption,owns his Doom to be just, and begs that the Deathwhich is threatned him may be inflicted on him.
—Why delays
His Hand to execute, what his Decree
Fix’d on this day? Why do Ioverlive?
Why am I mock’d with Death, andlengthened out
To deathless Pain? how gladly would Imeet
Mortality my Sentence, and be Earth
Insensible! how glad would lay me down,
As in my Mothers Lap? there should I rest
And sleep secure; his dreadful Voice nomore
Would thunder in my Ears: no fearof worse
To me and to my Offspring, would tormentme
With cruel Expectation—
This whole Speech is full of the like Emotion, andvaried with all those Sentiments which we may supposenatural to a Mind so broken and disturb’d.I must not omit that generous Concern which our firstFather shews in it for his Posterity, and which isso proper to affect the Reader.
—Hide me from the Face
Of God, whom to behold was then my heighth
Of Happiness! yet well, if here wouldend
The Misery, I deserved it, and would bear
My own Deservings: but this willnot serve;
All that I eat, or drink, or shall beget
Is propagated Curse. O Voice onceheard
Delightfully, Increase and Multiply;
Now Death to hear!—
—In me all
Posterity stands curst! Fair Patrimony,
That I must leave ye, Sons! O wereI able
To waste it all my self, and leave younone!
So disinherited, how would you bless
Me, now your Curse! Ah, why shouldall Mankind,
For one Man’s Fault, thus guiltlessbe condemn’d,
If guiltless? But from me what canproceed
But all corrupt—
Who can afterwards behold the Father of Mankind extendedupon the Earth, uttering his midnight Complaints,bewailing his Existence, and wishing for Death, withoutsympathizing with him in his Distress?
Thus Adam to himself lamented loud,
Thro the still Night; not now, (as ereMan fell)
Wholesome, and cool, and mild, but withblack Air
Accompanied, with Damps and dreadful Gloom;
Which to his evil Conscience represented
All things with double Terror. Onthe Ground
Outstretched he lay; on the cold Ground!and oft
Curs’d his Creation; Death as oftaccusd
Of tardy Execution—
The Part of Eve in this Book is no less passionate,and apt to sway the Reader in her Favour. Sheis represented with great Tenderness as approachingAdam, but is spurn d from him with a Spirit of Upbraidingand Indignation, conformable to the Nature of Man,whose Passions had now gained the Dominion over him.The following Passage, wherein she is described asrenewing her Addresses to him, with the whole Speechthat follows it, have something in them exquisitelymoving and pathetick.
He added not, and from her turned:But Eve
Not so repulst, with Tears that ceas’dnot flowing,
And Tresses all disorderd, at his feet
Fell humble; and embracing them, besought
His Peace, and thus proceeding in herPlaint.
Forsake me not thus, Adam!Witness Heav’n
What Love sincere, and Reverence in myHeart
I bear thee, and unweeting have offended,
Unhappily deceived! Thy Suppliant
I beg, and clasp thy Knees; bereave menot
(Whereon I live!) thy gentle Looks, thyAid,
Thy Counsel, in this uttermost Distress,
My only Strength, and Stay! Forlornof thee,
Whither shall I betake me, where subsist?
While yet we live, (scarce one short Hourperhaps)
Between us two let there be Peace, &c.
Adams Reconcilement to her is workd up in the sameSpirit of Tenderness. Eve afterwards proposesto her Husband, in the Blindness of her Despair, thatto prevent their Guilt from descending upon Posteritythey should resolve to live Childless; or, if thatcould not be done, they should seek their own Deathsby violent Methods. As those Sentiments naturallyengage the Reader to regard the Mother of Mankindwith more than ordinary Commiseration, they likewisecontain a very fine Moral. The Resolution ofdying to end our Miseries, does not shew such a degreeof Magnanimity as a Resolution to bear them, and submitto the Dispensations of Providence. Our Authorhas therefore, with great Delicacy, represented Eveas entertaining this Thought, and Adam as disapprovingit.
We are, in the last place, to consider the ImaginaryPersons, or [Death and Sin [3]] who act a large Partin this Book. Such beautiful extended Allegoriesare certainly some of the finest Compositions of Genius:but, as, I have before observed, are not agreeableto the Nature of an Heroick Poem. This of Sinand Death is very exquisite in its Kind, if not consideredas a Part of such a Work. The Truths containedin it are so clear and open, that I shall not losetime in explaining them; but shall only observe, thata Reader who knows the Strength of the English Tongue,will be amazed to think how the Poet could find suchapt Words and Phrases to describe the Action[s] ofthose two imaginary Persons, and particularly in thatPart where Death is exhibited as forming a Bridgeover the Chaos; a Work suitable to the Genius of Milton.
Since the Subject I am upon, gives me an Opportunityof speaking more at large of such Shadowy and ImaginaryPersons as may be introduced into Heroick Poems, Ishall beg leave to explain my self in a Matter whichis curious in its Kind, and which none of the Critickshave treated of. It is certain Homer and Virgilare full of imaginary Persons, who are very beautifulin Poetry when they are just shewn, without being engagedin any Series of Action. Homer indeed representsSleep as a Person, and ascribes a short Part to himin his Iliad, [4] but we must consider that tho wenow regard such a Person as entirely shadowy and unsubstantial,the Heathens made Statues of him, placed him in theirTemples, and looked upon him as a real Deity.When Homer makes use of other such Allegorical Persons,it is only in short Expressions, which convey an ordinaryThought to the Mind in the most pleasing manner, andmay rather be looked upon as Poetical Phrases thanAllegorical Descriptions. Instead of tellingus, that Men naturally fly when they are terrified,he introduces the Persons of Flight and Fear, who,he tells us, are inseparable Companions. Insteadof saying that the time was come when Apollo oughtto have received his Recompence, he tells us, thatthe Hours brought him his Reward. Instead ofdescribing the Effects which Minervas AEgis produced
in Battel, he tells us, that the Brims of it wereencompassed by Terror, Rout, Discord, Fury, Pursuit,Massacre, and Death. In the same Figure of speaking,he represents Victory as following Diomedes; Discordas the Mother of Funerals and Mourning; Venus as dressedby the Graces; Bellona as wearing Terror and Consternationlike a Garment. I might give several other Instancesout of Homer, as well as a great many out of Virgil.Milton has likewise very often made use of the sameway of Speaking, as where he tells us, that Victorysat on the right Hand of the Messiah when he marchedforth against the Rebel Angels; that at the risingof the Sun the Hours unbarrd the Gates of Light; thatDiscord was the Daughter of Sin. Of the samenature are those Expressions, where describing thesinging of the Nightingale, he adds, Silence was pleased;and upon the Messiahs bidding Peace to the Chaos,Confusion heard his Voice. I might add innumerableInstances of our Poets writing in this beautiful Figure.It is plain that these I have mentioned, in whichPersons of an imaginary Nature are introduced, aresuch short Allegories as are not designed to be takenin the literal Sense, but only to convey particularCirc*mstances to the Reader after an unusual and entertainingManner. But when such Persons are introducedas principal Actors, and engaged in a Series of Adventures,they take too much upon them, and are by no meansproper for an Heroick Poem, which ought to appear crediblein its principal Parts. I cannot forbear thereforethinking that Sin and Death are as improper Agentsin a Work of this nature, as Strength and Necessityin one of the Tragedies of Eschylus, who representedthose two Persons nailing down Prometheus to a Rock,[5] for which he has been justly censured by the greatestCriticks. I do not know any imaginary Personmade use of in a more sublime manner of thinking thanthat in one of the Prophets, who describing God asdescending from Heaven, and visiting the Sins of Mankind,adds that dreadful Circ*mstance, Before him went thePestilence. [6] It is certain this imaginary Personmight have been described in all her purple Spots.The Fever might have marched before her, Pain mighthave stood at her right Hand, Phrenzy on her Left,and Death in her Rear. She might have been introducedas gliding down from the Tail of a Comet, or dartedupon the Earth in a Flash of Lightning: She mighthave tainted the Atmosphere with her Breath; the veryglaring of her Eyes might have scattered Infection.But I believe every Reader will think, that in suchsublime Writings the mentioning of her as it is donein Scripture, has something in it more just, as wellas great, than all that the most fanciful Poet couldhave bestowed upon her in the Richness of his Imagination.L.
[Footnote 1:
Reddere personae scit convenientia cuique.
Hor.]
[Footnote 2: Revelation vi. 8.]
[Footnote 3: [Sin and Death]]
[Footnote 4: In the fourteenth Book, where Herevisits the home of Sleep, the brother of Death, andoffers him the bribe of a gold chain if he will shutthe eyes of Zeus, Sleep does not think it can be done.Here then doubles her bribe, and offers Sleep a wife,the youngest of the Graces. Sleep makes her swearby Styx that she will hold to her word, and when shehas done so flies off in her company, sits in the shapeof a night-hawk in a pine tree upon the peak of Ida,whence when Zeus was subdued by love and sleep, Sleepwent down to the ships to tell Poseidon that now washis time to help the Greeks.]
[Footnote 5: In the Prometheus Bound of AEschylus,the binding of Prometheus by pitiless Strength, whom*ocks at compassion in the god Hephaistos, chargedto serve him in this office, opens the sublimest ofthe ancient dramas. Addison is wrong in sayingthat there is a personification here of Strength andNecessity; Hephaistos does indeed say that he obeysNecessity, but his personified companions are Strengthand Force, and of these Force appears only as the dumbattendant of Strength. Addisons greatest criticshad something to learn when they were blind to thesignificance of the contrast between Visible Strengthat the opening of this poem, and the close with sublimeprophecy of an unseen Power of the Future that disturbsZeus on his throne, and gathers his thunders aboutthe undaunted Prometheus.
Now let the shrivelling flame at me bedriven,
Let him, with flaky snowstorms and thecrash
Of subterraneous thunders, into ruins
And wild confusion hurl and mingle all:
For nought of these will bend me thatI speak
Who is foredoomed to cast him from histhrone.
(Mrs. Websters translation.)]
[Footnote 6: Habakkuk iii. 5.]
* * * * *
No. 358. Monday, April 21, 1702. Steele.
Desipere in loco.
Hor.
Charles Lillie attended me the other day, and mademe a Present of a large Sheet of Paper, on which isdelineated a Pavement of Mosaick Work, lately discoveredat Stunsfield near Woodstock. [1] A Person who hasso much the Gift of Speech as Mr. Lillie, and cancarry on a Discourse without Reply, had great Opportunityon that Occasion to expatiate upon so fine a Pieceof Antiquity. Among other things, I remember,he gave me his Opinion, which he drew from the Ornamentsof the Work, That this was the Floor of a Room dedicatedto Mirth and Concord. Viewing this Work, mademy Fancy run over the many gay Expressions I had readin ancient Authors, which contained Invitations tolay aside Care and Anxiety, and give a Loose to thatpleasing Forgetfulness wherein Men put off their Charactersof Business, and enjoy their very Selves. TheseHours were usually passed in Rooms adorned for thatpurpose, and set out in such a manner, as the Objects
all around the Company gladdened their Hearts; which,joined to the cheerful Looks of well-chosen and agreeableFriends, gave new Vigour to the Airy, produced thelatent Fire of the Modest, and gave Grace to the slowHumour of the Reserved. A judicious Mixture ofsuch Company, crowned with Chaplets of Flowers, andthe whole Apartment glittering with gay Lights, chearedwith a Profusion of Roses, artificial Falls of Water,and Intervals of soft Notes to Songs of Love and Wine,suspended the Cares of human Life, and made a Festivalof mutual Kindness. Such Parties of Pleasureas these, and the Reports of the agreeable Passagesin their Jollities, have in all Ages awakened thedull Part of Mankind to pretend to Mirth and Good-Humour,without Capacity for such Entertainments; for if Imay be allowed to say so, there are an hundred Menfit for any Employment, to one who is capable of passinga Night in the Company of the first Taste, withoutshocking any Member of the Society, over-rating hisown Part of the Conversation, but equally receivingand contributing to the Pleasure of the whole Company.When one considers such Collections of Companions inpast Times, and such as one might name in the presentAge, with how much Spleen must a Man needs reflectupon the aukward Gayety of those who affect the Frolickwith an ill Grace? I have a Letter from a Correspondentof mine, who desires me to admonish all loud, mischievous,airy, dull Companions, that they are mistaken in whatthey call a Frolick. Irregularity in its selfis not what creates Pleasure and Mirth; but to seea Man who knows what Rule and Decency are, descendfrom them agreeably in our Company, is what denominateshim a pleasant Companion. Instead of that, youfind many whose Mirth consists only in doing Thingswhich do not become them, with a secret Consciousnessthat all the World know they know better: Tothis is always added something mischievous to themselvesor others. I have heard of some very merry Fellows,among whom the Frolick was started, and passed by agreat Majority, that every Man should immediatelydraw a Tooth; after which they have gone in a Bodyand smoaked a Cobler. The same Company, at anotherNight, has each Man burned his Cravat; and one perhaps,whose Estate would bear it, has thrown a long Wiggand laced Hat into the same Fire. [2] Thus they havejested themselves stark naked, and ran into the Streets,and frighted Women very successfully. There isno Inhabitant of any standing in Covent-Garden, butcan tell you a hundred good Humours, where Peoplehave come off with little Blood-shed, and yet scoweredall the witty Hours of the Night. I know a Gentlemanthat has several Wounds in the Head by Watch Poles,and has been thrice run through the Body to carryon a good Jest: He is very old for a Man of somuch Good-Humour; but to this day he is seldom merry,but he has occasion to be valiant at the same time.But by the Favour of these Gentlemen, I am humbly ofOpinion, that a Man may be a very witty Man, and neveroffend one Statute of this Kingdom, not exceptingeven that of Stabbing.The Writers of Plays have what they call Unity ofTime and Place to give a Justness to their Representation;and it would not be amiss if all who pretend to beCompanions, would confine their Action to the Placeof Meeting: For a Frolick carried farther maybe better performed by other Animals than Men.It is not to rid much Ground, or do much Mischief,that should denominate a pleasant Fellow; but thatis truly Frolick which is the Play of the Mind, andconsists of various and unforced Sallies of Imagination.Festivity of Spirit is a very uncommon Talent, andmust proceed from an Assemblage of agreeable Qualitiesin the same Person: There are some few whom Ithink peculiarly happy in it; but it is a Talent onecannot name in a Man, especially when one considersthat it is never very graceful but where it is regardedby him who possesses it in the second Place.The best Man that I know of for heightening the Revel-Gayetyof a Company, is Estcourt, [3]—whose JovialHumour diffuses itself from the highest Person atan Entertainment to the meanest Waiter. MerryTales, accompanied with apt Gestures and lively Representationsof Circ*mstances and Persons, beguile the gravest Mindinto a Consent to be as humourous as himself.Add to this, that when a Man is in his good Grace,he has a Mimickry that does not debase the Personhe represents; but which, taking from the Gravity ofthe Character, adds to the Agreeableness of it.This pleasant Fellow gives one some Idea of the ancientPantomime, who is said to have given the Audience,in Dumb-show, an exact Idea of any Character or Passion,or an intelligible Relation of any publick Occurrence,with no other Expression than that of his Looks andGestures. If all who have been obliged to theseTalents in Estcourt, will be at Love for Love to-morrowNight, they will but pay him what they owe him, atso easy a Rate as being present at a Play which nobody would omit seeing, that had, or had not everseen it before.
[Footnote 1: In No. 353 and some following numbersof the Spectator appeared an advertisem*nt of thisplate, which was engraved by Vertue.
Whereas about nine weeks since there wasaccidentally discovered by an Husbandman, at Stunsfield,near Woodstock, in Oxfordshire, (a large Pavementof rich Mosaick Work of the Ancient Romans, which isadornd with several Figures alluding to Mirth andConcord, in particular that of Bacchus seated ona Panther.) This is to give Notice the Exact Delineationof the same is Engraven and Imprinted on a large Elephantsheet of Paper, which are to be sold at Mr. CharlesLillies, Perfumer, at the corner of Beauford Buildings,in the Strand, at 1s. N.B. There are tobe had, at the same Place, at one Guinea each, onsuperfine Atlas Paper, some painted with the samevariety of Colours that the said Pavement is beautifiedwith; this piece of Antiquity is esteemed by theLearned to be the most considerable ever found inBritain.
The fine pavement discovered at Stonesfield in 1711measures 35 feet by 60, and although by this timegroundworks of more than a hundred Roman villas havebeen laid open in this country, the Stonesfield mosaicis still one of the most considerable of its kind.]
[Footnote 2: Said to have been one of the frolicsof Sir Charles Sedley.]
[Footnote 3: See note on p. 204, ante [Footnote1 of No. 264]. Congreves Love for Love was tobe acted at Drury Lane on Tuesday night At the desireof several Ladies of Quality. For the Benefitof Mr. Estcourt.]
* * * * *
No. 359. Tuesday, April 22, 1712. Budgell.
Torva leaena lupum sequitur, lupus ipsecapellam;
Florentem cytisum sequitur lusciva capella.
Virg.
As we were at the Club last Night, I observd thatmy Friend Sir ROGER, contrary to his usual Custom,sat very silent, and instead of minding what was saidby the Company, was whistling to himself in a verythoughtful Mood, and playing with a Cork. I joggdSir ANDREW FREEPORT who sat between us; and as wewere both observing him, we saw the Knight shake hisHead, and heard him say to himself, A foolish Woman!I cant believe it. Sir ANDREW gave him a gentlePat upon the Shoulder, and offered to lay him a Bottleof Wine that he was thinking of the Widow. Myold Friend started, and recovering out of his brownStudy, told Sir ANDREW that once in his Life he hadbeen in the right. In short, after some littleHesitation, Sir ROGER told us in the fulness of hisHeart that he had just received a Letter from hisSteward, which acquainted him that his old Rival andAntagonist in the County, Sir David Dundrum, had beenmaking a Visit to the Widow. However, says SirROGER, I can never think that shell have a Man thatshalf a Year older than I am, and a noted Republicaninto the Bargain.
WILL. HONEYCOMB, who looks upon Love as his particularProvince, interrupting our Friend with a janty Laugh;I thought, Knight, says he, thou hadst lived longenough in the World, not to pin thy Happiness uponone that is a Woman and a Widow. I think thatwithout Vanity I may pretend to know as much of theFemale World as any Man in Great-Britain, tho’the chief of my Knowledge consists in this, that theyare not to be known. WILL, immediately, withhis usual Fluency, rambled into an Account of hisown Amours. I am now, says he, upon the Vergeof Fifty, (tho’ by the way we all knew he wasturned of Threescore.) You may easily guess, continuedWILL., that I have not lived so long in the Worldwithout having had some thoughts of settling in it,as the Phrase is. To tell you truly, I have severaltimes tried my Fortune that way, though I can’tmuch boast of my Success.
I made my first Addresses to a young Lady in the Country;but when I thought things were pretty well drawingto a Conclusion, her Father happening to hear thatI had formerly boarded with a Surgeon, the old Putforbid me his House, and within a Fortnight after marriedhis Daughter to a Fox-hunter in the Neighbourhood.
I made my next Applications to a Widow, and attackedher so briskly, that I thought myself within a Fortnightof her. As I waited upon her one Morning, shetold me that she intended to keep her Ready-Money andJointure in her own Hand, and desired me to call uponher Attorney in Lyons-Inn, who would adjust with mewhat it was proper for me to add to it. I wasso rebuffed by this Overture, that I never enquiredeither for her or her Attorney afterwards.
A few Months after I addressed my self to a youngLady, who was an only Daughter, and of a good Family.I danced with her at several Balls, squeez’dher by the Hand, said soft things to her, and, in short,made no doubt of her Heart; and though my Fortunewas not equal to hers, I was in hopes that her fondFather would not deny her the Man she had fixed herAffections upon. But as I went one day to theHouse in order to break the matter to him, I foundthe whole Family in Confusion, and heard to my unspeakableSurprize, that Miss Jenny was that very Morning runaway with the Butler.
I then courted a second Widow, and am at a Loss tothis day how I came to miss her, for she had oftencommended my Person and Behaviour. Her Maid indeedtold me one Day, that her Mistress had said she neversaw a Gentleman with such a Spindle Pair of Legs asMr. HONEYCOMB.
After this I laid Siege to four Heiresses successively,and being a handsome young Dog in those Days, quicklymade a Breach in their Hearts; but I don’t knowhow it came to pass, tho I seldom failed of gettingthe Daughter’s Consent, I could never in myLife get the old People on my side.
I could give you an Account of a thousand other unsuccessfulAttempts, particularly of one which I made some Yearssince upon an old Woman, whom I had certainly borneaway with flying Colours, if her Relations had notcome pouring in to her Assistance from all Parts ofEngland; nay, I believe I should have got her at last,had not she been carried off by an hard Frost.
As WILL’S Transitions are extremely quick, heturnd from Sir ROGER, and applying himself to me,told me there was a Passage in the Book I had consideredlast Saturday, which deserved to be writ in Lettersof Gold; and taking out a Pocket-Milton read the followingLines, which are Part of one of Adam’s Speechesto Eve after the Fall.
—O! why did our
Creator wise! that peopled highest Heav’n
With Spirits masculine, create at last
This Novelty on Earth, this fair Defect
Of Nature? and not fill the World at once
With Men, as Angels, without Feminine?
Or find some other way to generate
Mankind? This Mischief had not thenbefall’n,
And more that shall befall; innumerable
Disturbances on Earth through Female Snares,
And strait Conjunction with this Sex:for either
He never shall find out fit Mate, butsuch
As some misfortune brings him, or mistake;
Or, whom he wishes most, shall seldomgain
Through her perverseness; but shall seeher gain’d
By a far worse; or if she love, with-held
By Parents; or his happiest Choice toolate
Shall meet already link’d, and Wedlockbound
To a fell Adversary, his Hate or Shame;
Which infinite Calamity shall cause
To human Life, and Household Peace confound.[1]
Sir ROGER listened to this Passage with great Attention,and desiring Mr. HONEYCOMB to fold down a Leaf atthe Place, and lend him his Book, the Knight put itup in his Pocket, and told us that he would read overthose Verses again before he went to Bed.
X.
[Footnote 1: Paradise Lost, Bk x., ll 898-908.]
* * * * *
No. 360. Wednesday, April 23, 1712. Steele.
—De paupertate tacentes
Plus poscente ferent.
Hor.
I have nothing to do with the Business of this Day,any further than affixing the piece of Latin on theHead of my Paper; which I think a Motto not unsuitable,since if Silence of our Poverty is a Recommendation,still more commendable is his Modesty who concealsit by a decent Dress.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
There is an Evil under the Sun which hasnot yet come within your Speculation; and is, theCensure, Disesteem, and Contempt which some youngFellows meet with from particular Persons, for thereasonable Methods they take to avoid them in general.This is by appearing in a better Dress, than mayseem to a Relation regularly consistent with a smallFortune; and therefore may occasion a Judgment of asuitable Extravagance in other Particulars:But the Disadvantage with which the Man of narrowCirc*mstances acts and speaks, is so feelingly setforth in a little Book called the Christian Hero,[1] that the appearing to be otherwise is not onlypardonable but necessary. Every one knows thehurry of Conclusions that are made in contempt ofa Person that appears to be calamitous, which makesit very excusable to prepare ones self for the Companyof those that are of a superior Quality and Fortune,by appearing to be in a better Condition than one is,so far as such Appearance shall not make us reallyof worse.
It is a Justice due to the Character ofone who suffers hard Reflections from any particularPerson upon this Account, that such Persons wouldenquire into his manner of spending his Time; of which,tho no further Information can be had than that heremains so many Hours in his Chamber, yet if thisis cleared, to imagine that a reasonable Creaturewrung with a narrow Fortune does not make the bestuse of this Retirement, would be a Conclusion extremelyuncharitable. From what has, or will be said,I hope no Consequence can be extorted, implying,that I would have any young Fellow spend more Timethan the common Leisure which his Studies require,or more Money than his Fortune or Allowance mayadmit of, in the pursuit of an Acquaintance withhis Betters: For as to his Time, the gross ofthat ought to be sacred to more substantial Acquisitions;for each irrevocable Moment of which he ought tobelieve he stands religiously Accountable. Andas to his Dress, I shall engage myself no furtherthan in the modest Defence of two plain Suits aYear: For being perfectly satisfied in EutrapelussContrivance of making a Mohock of a Man, by presentinghim with lacd and embroiderd Suits, I would by nomeans be thought to controvert that Conceit, byinsinuating the Advantages of Foppery. It isan Assertion which admits of much Proof, that a Strangerof tolerable Sense dressd like a Gentleman, willbe better received by those of Quality above him,than one of much better Parts, whose Dress is regulatedby the rigid Notions of Frugality. A Man’sAppearance falls within the Censure of every onethat sees him; his Parts and Learning very few areJudges of; and even upon these few, they cant atfirst be well intruded; for Policy and good Breedingwill counsel him to be reservd among Strangers,and to support himself only by the common Spiritof Conversation. Indeed among the Injudicious,the Words Delicacy, Idiom, fine Images, Structureof Periods, Genius, Fire, and the rest, made useof with a frugal and comely Gravity, will maintainthe Figure of immense Reading, and Depth of Criticism.
All Gentlemen of Fortune, at least theyoung and middle-aged, are apt to pride themselvesa little too much upon their Dress, and consequentlyto value others in some measure upon the same Consideration.With what Confusion is a Man of Figure obliged toreturn the Civilities of the Hat to a Person whoseAir and Attire hardly entitle him to it? Forwhom nevertheless the other has a particular Esteem,tho he is ashamed to have it challenged in so publicka Manner. It must be allowed, that any young Fellowthat affects to dress and appear genteelly, mightwith artificial Management save ten Pound a Year;as instead of fine Holland he might mourn in Sackcloth,and in other Particulars be proportionably shabby:But of what great Service would this Sum be to avertany Misfortune, whilst it would leave him desertedby the little good Acquaintance he has, and preventhis gaining any other? As the Appearance of aneasy Fortune is necessary towards making one, Idont know but it might be of advantage sometimesto throw into ones Discourse certain Exclamationsabout Bank-Stock, and to shew a marvellous Surprizeupon its Fall, as well as the most affected Triumphupon its Rise. The Veneration and Respect whichthe Practice of all Ages has preserved to Appearances,without doubt suggested to our Tradesmen that wiseand Politick Custom, to apply and recommend themselvesto the publick by all those Decorations upon theirSign-posts and Houses, which the most eminent Handsin the Neighbourhood can furnish them with. Whatcan be more attractive to a Man of Letters, thanthat immense Erudition of all Ages and Languageswhich a skilful Bookseller, in conjunction with aPainter, shall image upon his Column and the Extremitiesof his Shop? The same Spirit of maintaininga handsome Appearance reigns among the grave andsolid Apprentices of the Law (here I could be particularlydull in [proving [2]] the Word Apprentice to be significantof a Barrister) and you may easily distinguish whohas most lately made his Pretensions to Business,by the whitest and most ornamental Frame of hisWindow: If indeed the Chamber is a Ground-Room,and has Rails before it, the Finery is of Necessitymore extended, and the Pomp of Business better maintaind.And what can be a greater Indication of the Dignityof Dress, than that burdensome Finery which is theregular Habit of our Judges, Nobles, and Bishops,with which upon certain Days we see them incumbered?And though it may be said this is awful, and necessaryfor the Dignity of the State, yet the wisest ofthem have been remarkable, before they arrived at theirpresent Stations, for being very well dressed Persons.As to my own Part, I am near Thirty; and since Ileft School have not been idle, which is a modernPhrase for having studied hard. I brought offa clean System of Moral Philosophy, and a tolerableJargon of Metaphysicks from the University; sincethat, I have been engaged in the clearing Part ofthe perplexd Style and Matter of the Law, which sohereditarily descends to all its Professors: Toall which severe Studies I have thrown in, at properInterims, the pretty Learning of the Classicks.Notwithstanding which, I am what Shakespear calls AFellow of no Mark or Likelihood; [3] which makesme understand the more fully, that since the regularMethods of making Friends and a Fortune by the mereForce of a Profession is so very slow and uncertain,a Man should take all reasonable Opportunities, byenlarging a good Acquaintance, to court that Timeand Chance which is said to happen to every Man.
T.
[Footnote 1: The passage is nearly at the beginningof Steeles third chapter,
It is in every bodys observation withwhat disadvantage a Poor Man
enters upon the most ordinary affairs,&c.]
[Footnote 2: [clearing]]
[Footnote 3: Henry IV. Pt. I. Act iii.sc. 2.]
* * * * *
No. 361. Thursday, April 24,1712. Addison.
Tartaream intendit vocem, qua protinusomnis
Contremuit domus—
Virg.
I have lately received the following Letter from aCountry Gentleman.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
The Night before I left London I wentto see a Play, called The Humorous Lieutenant. [1]Upon the Rising of the Curtain I was very much surprizedwith the great Consort of Cat-calls which was exhibitedthat Evening, and began to think with myself thatI had made a Mistake, and gone to a Musick-Meeting,instead of the Play-house. It appeared indeeda little odd to me to see so many Persons of Qualityof both Sexes assembled together at a kind of Catterwawling;for I cannot look upon that Performance to havebeen any thing better, whatever the Musicians themselvesmight think of it. As I had no Acquaintancein the House to ask Questions of, and was forced togo out of Town early the next Morning, I could notlearn the Secret of this Matter. What I wouldtherefore desire of you, is, to give some accountof this strange Instrument, which I found the Companycalled a Cat-call; and particularly to let me knowwhether it be a piece of Musick lately come fromItaly. For my own part, to be free with you, Iwould rather hear an English Fiddle; though I durstnot shew my Dislike whilst I was in the Play-House,it being my Chance to sit the very next Man to oneof the Performers. I am, SIR,
Your most affectionate Friend
and Servant,
John Shallow, Esq.
In compliance with Esquire Shallows Request, I designthis Paper as a Dissertation upon the Cat-call.In order to make myself a Master of the Subject, Ipurchased one the Beginning of last Week, though notwithout great difficulty, being informd at two orthree Toyshops that the Players had lately boughtthem all up. I have since consulted many learnedAntiquaries in relation to its Original, and find themvery much divided among themselves upon that Particular.A Fellow of the Royal Society, who is my good Friend,and a great Proficient in the Mathematical Part ofMusick, concludes from the Simplicity of its Make,and the Uniformity of its Sound, that the Cat-callis older than any of the Inventions of Jubal.He observes very well, that Musical Instruments tooktheir first Rise from the Notes of Birds, and othermelodious Animals; and what, says he, was more naturalthan for the first Ages of Mankind to imitate theVoice of a Cat that lived under the same Roof withthem? He added, that the Cat had contributed moreto Harmony than any other Animal; as we are not onlybeholden to her for this Wind-Instrument, but forour String Musick in general.
Another Virtuoso of my Acquaintance will not allowthe Cat-call to be older than Thespis, and is aptto think it appeared in the World soon after the antientComedy; for which reason it has still a place in ourDramatick Entertainments: Nor must I here omitwhat a very curious Gentleman, who is lately returnedfrom his Travels, has more than once assured me, namelythat there was lately dug up at Rome the Statue ofMomus, who holds an Instrument in his Right-Hand verymuch resembling our Modern Cat-call.
There are others who ascribe this Invention to Orpheus,and look upon the Cat-call to be one of those Instrumentswhich that famous Musician made use of to draw theBeasts about him. It is certain, that the Roastingof a Cat does not call together a greater Audienceof that Species than this Instrument, if dexterouslyplayed upon in proper Time and Place.
But notwithstanding these various and learned Conjectures,I cannot forbear thinking that the Cat-call is originallya Piece of English Musick. Its Resemblance tothe Voice of some of our British Songsters, as wellas the Use of it, which is peculiar to our Nation,confirms me in this Opinion. It has at leastreceived great Improvements among us, whether we considerthe Instrument it self, or those several Quavers andGraces which are thrown into the playing of it.Every one might be sensible of this, who heard thatremarkable overgrown Cat-call which was placed inthe Center of the Pit, and presided over all the restat [the [2]] celebrated Performance lately exhibitedin Drury-Lane.
Having said thus much concerning the Original of theCat-call, we are in the next place to consider theUse of it. The Cat-call exerts it self to mostadvantage in the British Theatre: It very muchImproves the Sound of Nonsense, and often goes alongwith the Voice of the Actor who pronounces it, asthe Violin or Harpsichord accompanies the ItalianRecitativo.
It has often supplied the Place of the antient Chorus,in the Works of Mr.——In short, abad Poet has as great an Antipathy to a Cat-call, asmany People have to a real Cat.
Mr. Collier, in his ingenious Essay upon Musick [3]has the following Passage:
I believe tis possible to invent an Instrumentthat shall have a quite contrary Effect to thoseMartial ones now in use: An Instrument thatshall sink the Spirits, and shake the Nerves, and curdlethe Blood, and inspire Despair, and Cowardice andConsternation, at a surprizing rate. Tis probablethe Roaring of Lions, the Warbling of Cats and Scritch-Owls,together with a Mixture of the Howling of Dogs, judiciouslyimitated and compounded, might go a great way in thisInvention. Whether such Anti-Musick as thismight not be of Service in a Camp, I shall leaveto the Military Men to consider.
What this learned Gentleman supposes in Speculation,I have known actually verified in Practice. TheCat-call has struck a Damp into Generals, and frightedHeroes off the Stage. At the first sound of itI have seen a Crowned Head tremble, and a Princessfall into Fits. The Humorous Lieutenant himselfcould not stand it; nay, I am told that even Almanzorlooked like a Mouse, and trembled at the Voice of thisterrifying Instrument.
As it is of a Dramatick Nature, and peculiarly appropriatedto the Stage, I can by no means approve the Thoughtof that angry Lover, who, after an unsuccessful Pursuitof some Years, took leave of his Mistress in a Serenadeof Cat-calls.
I must conclude this Paper with the Account I havelately received of an ingenious Artist, who has longstudied this Instrument, and is very well versed inall the Rules of the Drama. He teaches to playon it by Book, and to express by it the whole Artof Criticism. He has his Base and his TrebleCat-call; the former for Tragedy, the latter for Comedy;only in Tragy-Comedies they may both play togetherin Consort. He has a particular Squeak to denotethe Violation of each of the Unities, and has differentSounds to shew whether he aims at the Poet or the Player.In short he teaches the Smut-note, the Fustian-note,the Stupid-note, and has composed a kind of Air thatmay serve as an Act-tune to an incorrigible Play,and which takes in the whole Compass of the Cat-call.
[L. [4]]
[Footnote 1: By Beaumont and Fletcher.]
[Footnote 2: [that]]
[Footnote 3: Essays upon several Moral Subjects,by Jeremy Collier, Part II. p. 30 (ed. 1732).Jeremy Collier published the first volume of theseEssays in 1697, after he was safe from the danger broughton himself by attending Sir John Friend and Sir WilliamPerkins when they were executed for the assassinationplot. The other two volumes appeared successivelyin 1705 and 1709. It was in 1698 that Collierpublished his famous Short View of the Immoralityand Profaneness of the English Stage.]
[Footnote 4: [Not being yet determined with whoseName to fill up the Gap in this Dissertation whichis marked with——, I shall defer ittill this Paper appears with others in a Volume. L.]]
* * * * *
No. 362. Friday, April 25, 1712. Steele.
Laudibus arguitur Vini vinosus—
Hor.
Temple, Apr. 24.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Several of my Friends were this Morninggot together over a Dish of Tea in very good Health,though we had celebrated Yesterday with more Glassesthan we could have dispensed with, had we not beenbeholden to Brooke and Hillier. In Gratitudetherefore to those good Citizens, I am, in the Nameof the Company, to accuse you of great Negligence inoverlooking their Merit, who have imported true andgenerous Wine, and taken care that it should notbe adulterated by the Retailers before it comesto the Tables of private Families, or the Clubs ofhonest Fellows. I cannot imagine how a SPECTATORcan be supposed to do his Duty, without frequentResumption of such Subjects as concern our Health,the first thing to be regarded, if we have a mind torelish anything else. It would therefore verywell become your Spectatorial Vigilance, to giveit in Orders to your Officer for inspecting Signs,that in his March he would look into the Itinerantswho deal in Provisions, and enquire where they buytheir several Wares. Ever since the Deceaseof [Cully [1]]- Mully-Puff [2] of agreeable and noisyMemory, I cannot say I have observed any thing soldin Carts, or carried by Horse or Ass, or in fine,in any moving Market, which is not perished or putrified;witness the Wheel-barrows of rotten Raisins, Almonds,Figs, and Currants, which you see vended by a Merchantdressed in a second-hand Suit of a Foot Soldier.You should consider that a Child may be poisonedfor the Worth of a Farthing; but except his poorParents send to one certain Doctor in Town, [3] theycan have no advice for him under a Guinea. WhenPoisons are thus cheap, and Medicines thus dear,how can you be negligent in inspecting what we eatand drink, or take no Notice of such as the above-mentionedCitizens, who have been so serviceable to us of latein that particular? It was a Custom among theold Romans, to do him particular Honours who hadsaved the Life of a Citizen, how much more doesthe World owe to those who prevent the Death of Multitudes?As these Men deserve well of your Office, so suchas act to the Detriment of our Health, you oughtto represent to themselves and their Fellow-Subjectsin the Colours which they deserve to wear. I thinkit would be for the publick Good, that all who vendWines should be under oaths in that behalf.The Chairman at a Quarter Sessions should inform theCountry, that the Vintner who mixes Wine to his Customers,shall (upon proof that the Drinker thereof diedwithin a Year and a Day after taking it) be deemedguilty of Wilful Murder: and the Jury shall beinstructed to enquire and present such Delinquentsaccordingly. It is no Mitigation of the Crime,nor will it be conceived that it can be broughtin Chance-Medley or Man-Slaughter, upon Proof thatit shall appear Wine joined to Wine, or right Herefordshirepoured into Port O Port; but his selling it forone thing, knowing it to be another, must justlybear the foresaid Guilt of wilful Murder: Forthat he, the said Vintner, did an unlawful Act willinglyin the false Mixture; and is therefore with Equityliable to all the Pains to which a Man would be, ifit were proved he designed only to run a Man throughthe Arm, whom he whipped through the Lungs.This is my third Year at the Temple, and this isor should be Law. An ill Intention well provedshould meet with no Alleviation, because it [out-ran[4]] it self. There cannot be too great Severityused against the Injustice as well as Cruelty of thosewho play with Mens Lives, by preparing Liquors, whoseNature, for ought they know, may be noxious whenmixed, tho innocent when apart: And Brookeand Hillier, [5] who have ensured our Safety at ourMeals, and driven Jealousy from our Cups in Conversation,deserve the Custom and Thanks of the whole Town;and it is your Duty to remind them of the Obligation.I am, SIR, Your Humble Servant, Tom. Pottle.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a Person who was long immured ina College, read much, saw little; so that I knewno more of the World than what a Lecture or a Viewof the Map taught me. By this means I improvedin my Study, but became unpleasant in Conversation.By conversing generally with the Dead, I grew almostunfit for the Society of the Living; so by a longConfinement I contracted an ungainly Aversion toConversation, and ever discoursed with Pain to myself, and little Entertainment to others. Atlast I was in some measure made sensible of my failing,and the Mortification of never being spoke to, orspeaking, unless the Discourse ran upon Books, putme upon forcing my self amongst Men. I immediatelyaffected the politest Company, by the frequent useof which I hoped to wear off the Rust I had contracted;but by an uncouth Imitation of Men used to act inpublick, I got no further than to discover I hada Mind to appear a finer thing than I really was.
Such I was, and such was my Condition,when I became an ardent Lover, and passionate Admirerof the beauteous Belinda: Then it was that Ireally began to improve. This Passion changedall my Fears and Diffidences in my general Behaviour,to the sole Concern of pleasing her. I hadnot now to study the Action of a Gentleman, but Lovepossessing all my Thoughts, made me truly be thething I had a Mind to appear. My Thoughts grewfree and generous, and the Ambition to be agreeableto her I admired, produced in my Carriage a faint Similitudeof that disengaged Manner of my Belinda. Theway we are in at present is, that she sees my Passion,and sees I at present forbear speaking of it throughprudential Regards. This Respect to her she returnswith much Civility, and makes my Value for her aslittle a Misfortune to me, as is consistent withDiscretion. She sings very charmingly, and isreadier to do so at my Request, because she knows Ilove her: She will dance with me rather thananother, for the same Reason. My Fortune mustalter from what it is, before I can speak my Heartto her; and her Circ*mstances are not considerableenough to make up for the Narrowness of mine.But I write to you now, only to give you the Characterof Belinda, as a Woman that has Address enough todemonstrate a Gratitude to her Lover, without givinghim Hopes of Success in his Passion. Belindahas from a great Wit, governed by as great Prudence,and both adorned with Innocence, the Happiness ofalways being ready to discover her real Thoughts.She has many of us, who now are her Admirers; buther Treatment of us is so just and proportionedto our Merit towards her, and what we are in our selves,that I protest to you I have neither Jealousy norHatred toward my Rivals. Such is her Goodness,and the Acknowledgment of every Man who admiresher, that he thinks he ought to believe she will takehim who best deserves her. I will not say thatthis Peace among us is not owing to Self-love, whichprompts each to think himself the best Deserver:I think there is something uncommon and worthy of Imitationin this Ladys Character. If you will pleaseto Print my Letter, you will oblige the little Fraternityof happy Rivals, and in a more particular Manner,
SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
Will. Cymon.
T.
[Footnote 1: [Mully]
[Footnote 2: See No. 251. He was a littleman just able to bear on his head his basket of pastry,and who was named from his cry. There is a half-sheetprint of him in the set of London Cries in Granger’sBiographical History of England.]
[Footnote 3: Who advertised that he attendedpatients at charges ranging from a shilling to half-a-crown,according to their distance from his house.]
[Footnote 4: [out-run]]
[Footnote 5: Estcourt, it may be remembered,connected the advertisem*nt of his Bumper tavern withthe recommendation of himself as one ignorant of thewine trade who relied on Brooke and Hellier, and soensured his Customers good wine. Among the advertisersin the Spectator Brooke and Hellier often appeared.One of their advertisem*nts is preceded by the following,evidently a contrivance of their own, which shows thatthe art of puffing was not then in its infancy:
’This is to give Notice, That Brookeand Hellier have not all the New Port Wines thisYear, nor above one half, the Vintners having bought130 Pipes of Mr. Thomas Barlow and others, whichare all natural, and shall remain Genuine, on whichall Gentlemen and others may depend. Note.—Altho’Brooke and Hellier have asserted in several Papersthat they had 140 Pipes of New Oporto Wines comingfrom Bristol, it now appears, since their landing,that they have only 133 Pipes, I Hhd. of the saidWines, which shews plainly how little what they sayis to be credited.’
Then follows their long advertisem*nt, which endswith a note that Their New Ports, just landed, beingthe only New Ports in Merchants Hands, and above OneHalf of all that is in London, will begin to be soldat the old prices the I2th inst. (April) at all theirTaverns and Cellars.]
* * * * *
No. 363. Saturday, April 26, 1712. Addison.
’—Crudelis ubique
Luctus, ubique pavor, et plurima Mortis
Imago.’
Virg.
Milton has shewn a wonderful Art in describing thatvariety of Passions which arise in our first Parentsupon the Breach of the Commandment that had been giventhem. We see them gradually passing from the Triumphof their Guilt thro Remorse, Shame, Despair, Contrition,Prayer, and Hope, to a perfect and compleat Repentance.At the end of the tenth Book they are representedas prostrating themselves upon the Ground, and wateringthe Earth with their Tears: To which the Poetjoins this beautiful Circ*mstance, that they offerdup their penitential Prayers, on the very Place wheretheir Judge appeared to them when he pronounced theirSentence.
—They forthwith to the place
Repairing where he judg’d them,prostrate fell
Before him Reverent, and both confess’d
Humbly their Faults, and Pardon begg’d,with Tears
Watering the Ground—
[There is a Beauty of the same kind in a Tragedy ofSophocles, where OEdipus, after having put out hisown Eyes, instead of breaking his Neck from the Palace-Battlements(which furnishes so elegant an Entertainment for ourEnglish Audience) desires that he may be conductedto Mount Citho*ron, in order to end his Life in thatvery Place where he was exposed in his Infancy, andwhere he should then have died, had the Will of hisParents been executed.]
As the Author never fails to give a poetical Turnto his Sentiments, he describes in the Beginning ofthis Book the Acceptance which these their Prayersmet with, in a short Allegory, formd upon that beautifulPassage in holy Writ: And another Angel cameand stood at the Altar, having a golden Censer; andthere was given unto him much Incense, that he shouldoffer it with the Prayers of all Saints upon the GoldenAltar, which was before the Throne: And the Smoakof the Incense which came with the Prayers of theSaints, ascended up before God.
—To Heavn their Prayers
Flew up, nor miss’d the Way, byenvious Winds
Blown vagabond or frustrate: in theypassd
Dimensionless through heavnly Doors, thenclad
With Incense, where the Golden Altar fumed,
By their great Intercessor, came in sight
Before the Father’s Throne—
We have the same Thought expressed a second time inthe Intercession of the Messiah, which is conceivedin very Emphatick Sentiments and Expressions.
Among the Poetical Parts of Scripture, which Miltonhas so finely wrought into this Part of his Narration,I must not omit that wherein Ezekiel speaking of theAngels who appeared to him in a Vision, adds, thatevery one had four Faces, and that their whole Bodies,and their Backs, and their Hands, and their Wings,were full of Eyes round about.
—The Cohort bright
Of watchful Cherubims, four Faces each
Had like a double Janus, all their Shape
Spangled with Eyes—
The Assembling of all the Angels of Heaven to hearthe solemn Decree passed upon Man, is representedin very lively Ideas. The Almighty is here describdas remembring Mercy in the midst of Judgment, andcommanding Michael to deliver his Message in the mildestTerms, lest the Spirit of Man, which was already brokenwith the Sense of his Guilt and Misery, should failbefore him.
—Yet lest they faint
At the sad Sentence rigorously urg’d,
For I behold them softned, and with Tears
Bewailing their Excess, all Terror hide,
The Conference of Adam and Eve is full of moving Sentiments.Upon their going abroad after the melancholy Nightwhich they had passed together, they discover theLion and the Eagle pursuing each of them their Preytowards the Eastern Gates of Paradise. There isa double Beauty in this Incident, not only as it presentsgreat and just Omens, which are always agreeable inPoetry, but as it expresses that Enmity which was nowproduced in the Animal Creation. The Poet to shewthe like Changes in Nature, as well as to grace hisFable with a noble Prodigy, represents the Sun inan Eclipse. This particular Incident has likewisea fine Effect upon the Imagination of the Reader,in regard to what follows; for at the same time thatthe Sun is under an Eclipse, a bright Cloud descendsin the Western Quarter of the Heavens, filled withan Host of Angels, and more luminous than the Sunit self. The whole Theatre of Nature is darkned,that this glorious Machine may appear in all its Lustreand Magnificence.
—Why in the East
Darkness ere Days mid-course, and morningLight
More orient in that Western Cloud thatdraws
O’er the blue Firmament a radiantWhite,
And slow descends, with something Heavnlyfraught?
He err’d not, for bythis the heavenly Bands
Down from a Sky of Jasper lighted now
In Paradise, and on a Hill made halt;
A glorious Apparition—
I need not observe how properly this Author, who alwayssuits his Parts to the Actors whom he introduces,has employed Michael in the Expulsion of our firstParents from Paradise. The Archangel on this Occasionneither appears in his proper Shape, nor in that familiarManner with which Raphael the sociable Spirit entertainedthe Father of Mankind before the Fall. His Person,his Port, and Behaviour, are suitable to a Spiritof the highest Rank, and exquisitely describd in thefollowing Passage.
—Th’ Archangel soon drew nigh,
Not in his Shape Celestial; but as Man
Clad to meet Man: over his lucidArms
A Military Vest of Purple flow’d,
Livelier than Meliboean, or the Grain
Of Sarra, worn by Kings and Heroes old,
In time of Truce: Iris had dipt theWooff:
His starry Helm, unbuckled, shew’dhim prime
In Manhood where Youth ended; by his side,
As in a glistring Zodiack, hung the Sword,
Satan’s dire dread, and in his Handthe Spear.
Adam bow’d low, he Kingly from hisState
Inclined not, but his coming thus declared.
Eve’s Complaint upon hearing that she was tobe removed from the Garden of Paradise, is wonderfullybeautiful: The Sentiments are not only properto the Subject, but have something in them particularlysoft and womanish.
Must I then leave thee, Paradise?Thus leave
Thee, native Soil, these happy Walks andShades,
Fit haunt of Gods? Where I had hopeto spend
Quiet, though sad, the respite of thatDay
That must be mortal to us both. OFlowrs,
That never will in other Climate grow,
My early Visitation, and my last
At Even, which I bred up with tender Hand
From the first opening Bud, and gave youNames;
Who now shall rear you to the Sun, orrank
Your Tribes, and water from th’ambrosial Fount?
Thee, lastly, nuptial Bower, by me adorn’d
With what to Sight or Smell was sweet;from thee
How shall I part, and whither wander down
Into a lower World, to this obscure
And wild? how shall we breathe in otherAir
Less pure, accustomd to immortal Fruits?
Adam’s Speech abounds with Thoughts which areequally moving, but of a more masculine and elevatedTurn. Nothing can be conceived more Sublime andPoetical than the following Passage in it.
This most afflicts me, that departinghence
As from his Face I shall be hid, deprived
His blessed Countnance: here I couldfrequent,
With Worship, place by place where hevouchsaf’d
Presence Divine; and to my Sons relate,
On this Mount he appear’d, underthis Tree
Stood visible, among these Pines his Voice
I heard, here with him at this Fountaintalk’d;
So many grateful Altars I would rear
Of grassy Turf, and pile up every Stone
Of lustre from the Brook, in memory
Or monument to Ages, and thereon
Offer sweet-smelling Gums and Fruits and
In yonder nether World—whereshall I seek
His bright Appearances, or Footsteps trace?
For though I fled him angry, yet recalled
To Life prolonged and promised Race, Inow
Gladly behold though but his utmost Skirts
Of Glory, and far off his Steps adore.
The Angel afterwards leads Adam to the highest Mountof Paradise, and lays before him a whole Hemisphere,as a proper Stage for those Visions which were tobe represented on it. I have before observed howthe Plan of Milton’s Poem is in many Particularsgreater than that of the Iliad or AEneid. Virgil’sHero, in the last of these Poems, is entertained witha Sight of all those who are to descend from him; butthough that Episode is justly admired as one of thenoblest Designs in the whole AEneid, every one-mustallow that this of Milton is of a much higher Nature.Adam’s Vision is not confined to any particularTribe of Mankind, but extends to the whole Species.
In this great Review which Adam takes of all his Sonsand Daughters, the first Objects he is presented withexhibit to him the Story of Cain and Abel, which isdrawn together with much Closeness and Propriety ofExpression. That Curiosity and natural Horrorwhich arises in Adam at the Sight of the first dyingMan, is touched with great Beauty.
But have I now seen Death? is this theway
I must return to native Dust? O Sight
Of Terror foul, and ugly to behold,
Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!
The second Vision sets before him the Image of Deathin a great Variety of Appearances. The Angel,to give him a general Idea of those Effects whichhis Guilt had brought upon his Posterity, places beforehim a large Hospital or Lazar-House, filled with Personslying under all kinds of mortal Diseases. Howfinely has the Poet told us that the sick Personslanguished under lingering and incurable Distempers,by an apt and judicious use of such Imaginary Beingsas those I mentioned in my last Saturday’s Paper.
Dire was the tossing, deep the Groans.Despair
Tended the Sick, busy from Couch to Couch;
And over them triumphant Death his Dart
Shook, but delayed to strike, though oftinvoked
With Vows, as their chief Good and finalHope.
The Passion which likewise rises in Adam on this Occasion,is very natural.
Sight so deform, what Heart of Rock couldlong
Dry-eyed behold? Adam could not,but wept,
Tho’ not of Woman born; Compassionquell’d
His best of Man, and gave him up to Tears.
The Discourse between the Angel and Adam, which follows,abounds with noble Morals.
As there is nothing more delightful in Poetry thana Contrast and Opposition of Incidents, the Author,after this melancholy Prospect of Death and Sickness,raises up a Scene of Mirth, Love, and Jollity.The secret Pleasure that steals into Adams Heart ashe is intent upon this Vision, is imagined with greatDelicacy. I must not omit the Description ofthe loose female Troop, who seduced the Sons of God,as they are called in Scripture.
For that fair female Troop thou sawst,that seemed
Of Goddesses, so Blithe, so Smooth, soGay,
Yet empty of all Good wherein consists
Woman’s domestick Honour and chiefPraise;
Bred only and compleated to the taste
Of lustful Appetence, to sing, to dance,
To dress, and troule the Tongue, and rollthe Eye:
To these that sober Race of Men, whoseLives
Religious titled them the Sons of God,
Shall yield up all their Virtue, all theirFame
Ignobly, to the Trains and to the Smiles
Of those fair Atheists—
The next Vision is of a quite contrary Nature, andfilled with the Horrors of War. Adam at the Sightof it melts into Tears, and breaks out in that passionateSpeech,
—O what are these!
Death’s Ministers, not Men, whothus deal Death
Inhumanly to Men, and multiply
Ten Thousandfold the Sin of him who slew
His Brother: for of whom such Massacre
Make they but of their Brethren, Men ofMen?
Milton, to keep up an agreeable Variety in his Visions,after having raised in the Mind of his Reader theseveral Ideas of Terror which are conformable to theDescription of War, passes on to those softer Imagesof Triumphs and Festivals, in that Vision of Lewdnessand Luxury which ushers in the Flood.
As it is visible that the Poet had his Eye upon Ovid’sAccount of the universal Deluge, the Reader may observewith how much Judgment he has avoided every thingthat is redundant or puerile in the Latin Poet.We do not here see the Wolf swimming among the Sheep,nor any of those wanton Imaginations, which Senecafound fault with, [1] as unbecoming [the [2]] greatCatastrophe of Nature. If our Poet has imitatedthat Verse in which Ovid tells us that there was nothingbut Sea, and that this Sea had no Shore to it, hehas not set the Thought in such a Light as to incurthe Censure which Criticks have passed upon it.The latter part of that Verse in Ovid is idle andsuperfluous, but just and beautiful in Milton.
’Jamque mare et tellus nullum discrimenhabebant,
Nil nisi pontus erat, deerant quoque littoraponto.’
(Ovid.)
’—Sea cover’d Sea,
Sea without Shore—’
(Milton.)
In Milton the former Part of the Description doesnot forestall the latter. How much more greatand solemn on this Occasion is that which followsin our English Poet,
—And in their Palaces
Where Luxury late reign’d, Sea-Monsterswhelp’d
And stabled—
than that in Ovid, where we are told that the Sea-Calfslay in those Places where the Goats were used to browze?The Reader may find several other parallel Passagesin the Latin and English Description of the Deluge,wherein our Poet has visibly the Advantage. TheSkys being overcharged with Clouds, the descendingof the Rains, the rising of the Seas, and the Appearanceof the Rainbow, are such Descriptions as every onemust take notice of. The Circ*mstance relatingto Paradise is so finely imagined, and suitable tothe Opinions of many learned Authors, that I cannotforbear giving it a Place in this Paper.
—Then shall this Mount
Of Paradise by might of Waves be mov’d
Out of his Place, pushed by the hornedFlood
With all his Verdure spoil’d, andTrees adrift
Down the great River to the opning Gulf,
And there take root, an Island salt andbare,
The haunt of Seals and Orcs and Sea-Mewsclang.
The Transition which the Poet makes from the Visionof the Deluge, to the Concern it occasioned in Adam,is exquisitely graceful, and copied after Virgil,though the first Thought it introduces is rather inthe Spirit of Ovid.
How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold
The End of all thy Offspring, End so sad,
Depopulation! thee another Flood
Of Tears and Sorrow, a Flood thee alsodrowned,
And sunk thee as thy Sons; till gentlyrear’d
By th’ Angel, on thy Feet thou stoodstat last,
Tho’ comfortless, as when a Fathermourns
His Children, all in view destroyed atonce.
I have been the more particular in my Quotations outof the eleventh Book of Paradise Lost, because itis not generally reckoned among the most shining Booksof this Poem; for which Reason the Reader might beapt to overlook those many Passages in it which deserveour Admiration. The eleventh and twelfth areindeed built upon that single Circ*mstance of theRemoval of our first Parents from Paradise; but tho’this is not in itself so great a Subject as that inmost of the foregoing Books, it is extended and diversifiedwith so many surprising Incidents and pleasing Episodes,that these two last Books can by no means be lookedupon as unequal Parts of this Divine Poem. I mustfurther add, that had not Milton represented our firstParents as driven out of Paradise, his Fall of Manwould not have been compleat, and consequently hisAction would have been imperfect.
L.
[Footnote 1: Nat. Quaest. Bk.III. Sec.27.]
[Footnote 2: [this]]
* * * * *
No. 364. Monday, April 28,1712. Steele.
’[—Navibus [1]] atque
Quadrigis petimus bene vivere.’
Hor.
Mr. SPECTATOR, [2]
A Lady of my Acquaintance, for whom Ihave too much Respect to be easy while she is doingan indiscreet Action, has given occasion to this Trouble:She is a Widow, to whom the Indulgence of a tenderHusband has entrusted the Management of a very greatFortune, and a Son about sixteen, both which sheis extremely fond of. The Boy has Parts of themiddle Size, neither shining nor despicable, andhas passed the common Exercises of his Years withtolerable Advantage; but is withal what you wouldcall a forward Youth: By the Help of this lastQualification, which serves as a Varnish to all therest, he is enabled to make the best Use of hisLearning, and display it at full length upon allOccasions. Last Summer he distinguished himselftwo or three times very remarkably, by puzzlingthe Vicar before an Assembly of most of the Ladiesin the Neighbourhood; and from such weighty Considerationsas these, as it too often unfortunately falls out,the Mother is become invincibly persuaded that herSon is a great Scholar; and that to chain him downto the ordinary Methods of Education with othersof his Age, would be to cramp his Faculties, and doan irreparable Injury to his wonderful Capacity.
I happened to visit at the House lastWeek, and missing the young Gentleman at the Tea-Table,where he seldom fails to officiate, could not uponso extraordinary a Circ*mstance avoid inquiring afterhim. My Lady told me, he was gone out withher Woman, in order to make some Preparations fortheir Equipage; for that she intended very speedilyto carry him to travel. The Oddness of the Expressionshock’d me a little; however, I soon recoveredmy self enough to let her know, that all I was willingto understand by it was, that she designed this Summerto shew her Son his Estate in a distant County, inwhich he has never yet been: But she soon tookcare to rob me of that agreeable Mistake, and letme into the whole Affair. She enlarged upon youngMaster’s prodigious Improvements, and his comprehensiveKnowledge of all Book-Learning; concluding, thatit was now high time he should be made acquaintedwith Men and Things; that she had resolved he shouldmake the Tour of France and Italy, but could notbear to have him out of her Sight, and thereforeintended to go along with him.
I was going to rally her for so extravaganta Resolution, but found my self not in fit Humourto meddle with a Subject that demanded the most softand delicate Touch imaginable. I was afraid ofdropping something that might seem to bear hardeither upon the Son’s Abilities, or the Mother’sDiscretion; being sensible that in both these Cases,tho’ supported with all the Powers of Reason,I should, instead of gaining her Ladyship over tomy Opinion, only expose my self to her Disesteem:I therefore immediately determined to refer the wholeMatter to the SPECTATOR.
When I came to reflect at Night, as myCustom is, upon the Occurrences of the Day, I couldnot but believe that this Humour of carrying a Boyto travel in his Mother’s Lap, and that uponpretence of learning Men and Things, is a Case ofan extraordinary Nature, and carries on it a particularStamp of Folly. I did not remember to have metwith its Parallel within the Compass of my Observation,tho’ I could call to mind some not extremelyunlike it. From hence my Thoughts took Occasionto ramble into the general Notion of Travelling, asit is now made a Part of Education. Nothingis more frequent than to take a Lad from Grammarand Taw, and under the Tuition of some poor Scholar,who is willing to be banished for thirty Poundsa Year, and a little Victuals, send him crying andsnivelling into foreign Countries. Thus hespends his time as Children do at Puppet-Shows, andwith much the same Advantage, in staring and gapingat an amazing Variety of strange things: strangeindeed to one who is not prepared to comprehend theReasons and Meaning of them; whilst he should belaying the solid Foundations of Knowledge in hisMind, and furnishing it with just Rules to directhis future Progress in Life under some skilful Masterof the Art of Instruction.
Can there be a more astonishing Thoughtin Nature, than to consider how Men should fallinto so palpable a Mistake? It is a large Field,and may very well exercise a sprightly Genius; butI don’t remember you have yet taken a Turnin it. I wish, Sir, you would make People understand,that Travel is really the last Step to be taken inthe Institution of Youth; and to set out with it,is to begin where they should end.
Certainly the true End of visiting ForeignParts, is to look into their Customs and Policies,and observe in what Particulars they excel or comeshort of our own; to unlearn some odd Peculiaritiesin our Manners, and wear off such awkward Stiffnessesand Affectations in our Behaviour, as may possiblyhave been contracted from constantly associatingwith one Nation of Men, by a more free, general, andmixed Conversation. But how can any of theseAdvantages be attained by one who is a mere Strangerto the Custom sand Policies of his native Country,and has not yet fixed in his Mind the first Principlesof Manners and Behaviour? To endeavour it,is to build a gawdy Structure without any Foundation;or, if I may be allow’d the Expression, to worka rich Embroidery upon a Cobweb.
Another End of travelling which deservesto be considerd, is the Improving our Taste of thebest Authors of Antiquity, by seeing the Placeswhere they lived, and of which they wrote; to comparethe natural Face of the Country with the Descriptionsthey have given us, and observe how well the Pictureagrees with the Original. This must certainlybe a most charming Exercise to the Mind that is rightlyturned for it; besides that it may in a good measurebe made subservient to Morality, if the Person iscapable of drawing just Conclusions concerning theUncertainty of human things, from the ruinous AlterationsTime and Barbarity have brought upon so many Palaces,Cities and whole Countries, which make the most illustriousFigures in History. And this Hint may be nota little improved by examining every Spot of Groundthat we find celebrated as the Scene of some famousAction, or retaining any Footsteps of a Cato, Ciceroor Brutus, or some such great virtuous Man.A nearer View of any such Particular, tho reallylittle and trifling in it self, may serve the morepowerfully to warm a generous Mind to an Emulationof their Virtues, and a greater Ardency of Ambitionto imitate their bright Examples, if it comes dulytemper’d and prepar’d for the Impression.But this I believe you’ll hardly think thoseto be, who are so far from ent’ring into theSense and Spirit of the Ancients, that they don’tyet understand their Language with any [Exactness.[3]]
But I have wander’d from my Purpose,which was only to desire you to save, if possible,a fond English Mother, and Mother’s own Son,from being shewn a ridiculous Spectacle thro’the most polite Part of Europe, Pray tell them,that though to be Sea-sick, or jumbled in an outlandishStage-Coach, may perhaps be healthful for the Constitutionof the Body, yet it is apt to cause such a Dizzinessin young empty Heads, as too often lasts their Life-time.I am, SIR, Your most Humble Servant, PhilipHomebred.
Birchan-Lane.
SIR,
I was marry’d on Sunday last, andwent peaceably to bed; but, to my Surprize, wasawakend the next Morning by the Thunder of a Set ofDrums. These warlike Sounds (methinks) are veryimproper in a Marriage-Consort, and give great Offence;they seem to insinuate, that the Joys of this Stateare short, and that Jars and Discord soon ensue.I fear they have been ominous to many Matches, andsometimes proved a Prelude to a Battel in the Honey-Moon.A Nod from you may hush them; therefore pray, Sir,let them be silenced, that for the future none butsoft Airs may usher in the Morning of a Bridal Night,which will be a Favour not only to those who comeafter, but to me, who can still subscribe my self,
Your most humble
and most obedient Servant,
Robin Bridegroom.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am one of that sort of Women whom thegayer Part of our Sex are apt to call a Prude.But to shew them that I have very little Regard totheir Raillery, I shall be glad to see them all atThe Amorous Widow, or the Wanton Wife, which isto be acted, for the Benefit of Mrs. Porter, onMonday the 28th Instant. I assure you I can laughat an Amorous Widow, or Wanton Wife, with as littleTemptation to imitate them, as I could at any othervicious Character. Mrs. Porter obliged me sovery much in the exquisite Sense she seemed to haveof the honourable Sentiments and noble Passionsin the Character of Hermione, that I shall appearin her behalf at a Comedy, tho I have not great Relishfor any Entertainments where the Mirth is not seasondwith a certain Severity, which ought to recommendit to People who pretend to keep Reason and Authorityover all their Actions.
I am, SIR,
Your frequent Reader,
Altamira.
T.
[Footnote 1: [Strenua nos exercet inertia:Navibus.]]
[Footnote 2: Dr. Thomas Birch, in a letter datedJune 15, 1764, says that this letter was by Mr. PhilipYorke, afterwards Earl of Hardwicke, who was authoralso of another piece in the Spectator, but his soncould not remember what that was.]
[Footnote 3:
[Exactness.
I cant quit this head without paying my Acknowledgmentsto one of the most entertaining Pieces this Age hasproduc’d, for the Pleasure it gave me.You will easily guess, that the Book I have in my headis Mr. A——s Remarks upon Italy.That Ingenious gentleman has with so much Art andJudgment applied his exact Knowledge of all the Partsof Classical Learning to illustrate the several occurrencesof his Travels, that his Work alone is a pregnantProof of what I have said. No Body that has aTaste this way, can read him going from Rome to Naples,and making Horace and Silius Italicus his Chart,but he must feel some Uneasiness in himself to Reflectthat he was not in his Retinue. I am sure I wish’dit Ten Times in every Page, and that not without asecret Vanity to think in what State I should haveTravelled the Appian Road with Horace for a Guide,and in company with a Countryman of my own, who ofall Men living knows best how to follow his Steps.]
* * * * *
No. 365. Tuesday, April 29, 1712. Budgell.
‘Vere magis, quia vere calor reditossibus—’
Virg.
The author of the Menagiana acquaints us, that discoursingone Day with several Ladies of Quality about the Effectsof the Month of May, which infuses a kindly Warmthinto the Earth, and all its Inhabitants; the Marchionessof S——, who was one of the Company,told him, That though she would promise to be chastein every Month besides, she could not engage for herself in May. As the beginning therefore of thisMonth is now very near, I design this Paper for aCaveat to the Fair Sex, and publish it before Aprilis quite out, that if any of them should be caughttripping, they may not pretend they had not timelyNotice.
I am induced to this, being persuaded the above-mentionedObservation is as well calculated for our Climateas for that of France, and that some of our BritishLadies are of the same Constitution with the FrenchMarchioness.
I shall leave it among Physicians to determine whatmay be the Cause of such an Anniversary Inclination;whether or no it is that the Spirits after havingbeen as it were frozen and congealed by Winter, arenow turned loose, and set a rambling; or that thegay Prospects of Fields and Meadows, with the Courtshipof the Birds in every Bush, naturally unbend the Mind,and soften it to Pleasure; or that, as some have imagined,a Woman is prompted by a kind of Instinct to throwherself on a Bed of Flowers, and not to let thosebeautiful Couches which Nature has provided lie useless.However it be, the Effects of this Month on the lowerpart of the Sex, who act without Disguise, [are [1]]very visible. It is at this time that we seethe young Wenches in a Country Parish dancing rounda May-Pole, which one of our learned Antiquaries supposesto be a Relique of a certain Pagan Worship that I donot think fit to mention.
It is likewise on the first Day of this Month thatwe see the ruddy Milk-Maid exerting her self in amost sprightly manner under a Pyramid of Silver-Tankards,and, like the Virgin Tarpeia, oppress’d by thecostly Ornaments which her Benefactors lay upon her.
I need not mention the Ceremony of the Green Gown,which is also peculiar to this gay Season.
The same periodical Love-Fit spreads through the wholeSex, as Mr. Dryden well observes in his Descriptionof this merry Month:
For thee, sweet Month, the Groves greenLivries wear,
If not the first, the fairest of the Year;
For thee the Graces lead the dancing Hours,
And Nature’s ready Pencil paintsthe Flow’rs.
The sprightly May commands our Youth tokeep
The Vigils of her Night, and breaks theirSleep;
Each gentle Breast with kindly Warmthshe moves,
Inspires new Flames, revives extinguish’dLoves. [2]
Accordingly among the Works of the great Masters inPainting, who have drawn this genial Season of theYear, we often observe Cupids confused with Zephirsflying up and down promiscuously in several Parts ofthe Picture. I cannot but add from my own Experience,that about this Time of the Year Love-Letters comeup to me in great Numbers from all Quarters of theNation.
I receiv’d an Epistle in particular by the lastPost from a Yorkshire Gentleman, who makes heavy Complaintsof one Zelinda, whom it seems he has courted unsuccessfullythese three Years past. He tells me that he designsto try her this May, and if he does not carry his Point,he will never think of her more.
Having thus fairly admonished the female Sex, andlaid before them the Dangers they are exposed to inthis critical Month, I shall in the next place laydown some Rules and Directions for their better avoidingthose Calentures which are so very frequent in thisSeason.
In the first place, I would advise them never to ventureabroad in the Fields, but in the Company of a Parent,a Guardian, or some other sober discreet Person.I have before shewn how apt they are to trip in aflowry Meadow, and shall further observe to them, thatProserpine was out a Maying, when she met with thatfatal Adventure to which Milton alludes when he mentions
—That fair Field
Of Enna, where Proserpine gathering Flowers,
Herself a fairer Flower, by gloomy Dis
Was gathered—[3]
Since I am got into Quotations, I shall conclude thisHead with Virgil’s Advice to young People, whilethey are gathering wild Strawberries and Nosegays,that they should have a care of the Snake in the Grass.
In the second place, I cannot but approve those Prescriptions,which our Astrological Physicians give in their Almanacksfor this Month; such as are a spare and simple Diet,with the moderate Use of Phlebotomy.
Under this Head of Abstinence I shall also advisemy fair Readers to be in a particular manner carefulhow they meddle with Romances, Chocolate, Novels,and the like Inflamers, which I look upon as very dangerousto be made use of during this great Carnival of Nature.
As I have often declared, that I have nothing moreat heart than the Honour of my dear Country-Women,I would beg them to consider, whenever their Resolutionsbegin to fail them, that there are but one and thirtyDays of this soft Season, and that if they can butweather out this one Month, the rest of the Year willbe easy to them. As for that Part of the Fair-Sexwho stay in Town, I would advise them to be particularlycautious how they give themselves up to their mostinnocent Entertainments. If they cannot forbearthe Play-house, I would recommend Tragedy to them,rather than Comedy; and should think the Puppet-showmuch safer for them than the Opera, all the while theSun is in Gemini.
The Reader will observe, that this Paper is writtenfor the use of those Ladies who think it worth whileto war against Nature in the Cause of Honour.As for that abandon’d Crew, who do not thinkVirtue worth contending for, but give up their Reputationat the first Summons, such Warnings and Premonitionsare thrown away upon them. A Prostitute is thesame easy Creature in all Months of the Year, and makesno difference between May and December.
X.
[Footnote 1: [is] and in first Reprint.]
[Footnote 2: This quotation is made up of twopassages in Dryden’s version of Chaucer’sKnights Tale, Palamon and Arcite. The first fourlines are from Bk. ii. 11. 663-666, the other fourlines are from Bk. i. 11. 176-179.]
[Footnote 3: Paradise Lost, Bk. iv. 11. 268-271.]
* * * * *
No. 366. Wednesday, April 30,1712. Steele.
’Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis
Arbor aestiva recreatur aura,
Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,
Dulce loquentem.’
Hor.
There are such wild Inconsistencies in the Thoughtsof a Man in love, that I have often reflected therecan be no reason for allowing him more Liberty thanothers possessed with Frenzy, but that his Distemperhas no Malevolence in it to any Mortal. ThatDevotion to his Mistress kindles in his Mind a generalTenderness, which exerts it self towards every Objectas well as his Fair-one. When this Passion isrepresented by Writers, it is common with them toendeavour at certain Quaintnesses and Turns of Imagination,which are apparently the Work of a Mind at ease; butthe Men of true Taste can easily distinguish the Exertionof a Mind which overflows with tender Sentiments,and the Labour of one which is only describing Distress.In Performances of this kind, the most absurd of allthings is to be witty; every Sentiment must grow outof the Occasion, and be suitable to the Circ*mstancesof the Character. Where this Rule is transgressed,the humble Servant, in all the fine things he says,is but shewing his Mistress how well he can dress,instead of saying how well he loves. Lace andDrapery is as much a Man, as Wit and Turn is Passion.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
The following Verses are a Translationof a Lapland Love-Song, which I met with in Scheffer’sHistory of that Country. [1] I was agreeably surprizedto find a Spirit of Tenderness and Poetry in a Regionwhich I never suspected for Delicacy. In hotterClimates, tho’ altogether uncivilized, I hadnot wonder’d if I had found some sweet wild Notesamong the Natives, where they live in Groves of Oranges,and hear the Melody of Birds about them: Buta Lapland Lyric, breathing Sentiments of Love andPoetry, not unworthy old Greece or Rome; a regularOde from a Climate pinched with Frost, and cursedwith Darkness so great a Part of the Year; where’tis amazing that the poor Natives should getFood, or be tempted to propagate their Species:this, I confess, seemed a greater Miracle to me,than the famous Stories of their Drums, their Windsand Inchantments.
I am the bolder in commending this NorthernSong, because I have faithfully kept to the Sentiments,without adding or diminishing; and pretend to nogreater Praise from my Translation, than they who smoothand clean the Furs of that Country which have sufferedby Carriage. The Numbers in the Original areas loose and unequal, as those in which the BritishLadies sport their Pindaricks; and perhaps the fairestof them might not think it a disagreeable Present froma Lover: But I have ventured to bind it instricter Measures, as being more proper for ourTongue, tho perhaps wilder Graces may better suitthe Genius of the Laponian Language.
It will be necessary to imagine, thatthe Author of this Song, not
having the Liberty of visiting his Mistressat her Father’s House, was
in hopes of spying her at a Distance inthe Fields.
I. Thou rising Sun, whosegladsome Ray
Invitesmy Fair to Rural Play,
Dispelthe Mist, and clear the Skies,
Andbring my Orra to my Eyes.
II. Oh! were I suremy Dear to view,
I’dclimb that Pine-Trees topmost Bough,
Aloftin Air that quivering plays,
Andround and round for ever gaze.
III. My Orra Moor, whereart thou laid?
WhatWood conceals my sleeping Maid?
Fastby the Roots enrag’d I’ll tear
TheTrees that hide my promised Fair.
IV. Oh! I cou’dride the Clouds and Skies,
Oron the Raven’s Pinions rise:
YeStorks, ye Swans, a moment stay,
Andwaft a Lover on his Way.
V. My Bliss too long myBride denies,
Apacethe wasting Summer flies:
Noryet the wintry Blasts I fear,
NotStorms or Night shall keep me here.
VI. What may for Strengthwith Steel compare?
Oh!Love has Fetters stronger far:
ByBolts of Steel are Limbs confin’d,
Butcruel Love enchains the Mind.
VII. No longer thenperplex thy Breast,
WhenThoughts torment, the first are best;
’Tismad to go, ’tis Death to stay,
Awayto Orra, haste away.
April the 10th.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am one of those despicable Creaturescalled a Chamber-Maid, and have lived with a Mistressfor some time, whom I love as my Life, which has mademy Duty and Pleasure inseparable. My greatestDelight has been in being imploy’d about herPerson; and indeed she is very seldom out of Humourfor a Woman of her Quality: But here lies my Complaint,Sir; To bear with me is all the Encouragement sheis pleased to bestow upon me; for she gives hercast-off Cloaths from me to others: some she ispleased to bestow in the House to those that neitherwants nor wears them, and some to Hangers-on, thatfrequents the House daily, who comes dressed outin them. This, Sir, is a very mortifying Sightto me, who am a little necessitous for Cloaths,and loves to appear what I am, and causes an Uneasiness,so that I can’t serve with that Chearfulnessas formerly; which my Mistress takes notice of, andcalls Envy and Ill-Temper at seeing others preferredbefore me. My Mistress has a younger Sisterlives in the House with her, that is some Thousandsbelow her in Estate, who is continually heaping herFavours on her Maid; so that she can appear everySunday, for the first Quarter, in a fresh Suit ofCloaths of her Mistress’s giving, with all otherthings suitable: All this I see without envying,but not without wishing my Mistress would a littleconsider what a Discouragement it is to me to havemy Perquisites divided between Fawners and Jobbers,which others enjoy intire to themselves. I havespoke to my Mistress, but to little Purpose; I havedesired to be discharged (for indeed I fret my selfto nothing) but that she answers with Silence.I beg, Sir, your Direction what to do, for I amfully resolved to follow your Counsel; who am YourAdmirer and humble Servant, Constantia Comb-brush.
I beg that you would put it in a betterDress, and let it come abroad;
that my Mistress, who is an Admirer ofyour Speculations, may see it.
T.
[Footnote 1: John Scheffer, born in 1621, atStrasburg, was at the age of 27 so well-known forhis learning, that he was invited to Sweden, wherehe received a liberal pension from Queen Christinaas her librarian, and was also a Professor of Lawand Rhetoric in the University of Upsala. Hedied in 1679. He was the author of 27 works,among which is his Lapponia, a Latin description ofLapland, published in 1673, of which an English versionappeared at Oxford in folio, in 1674. The songis there given in the original Lapp, and in a renderingof Scheffers Latin less conventionally polished thanthat published by the Spectator, which is AmbrosePhilipss translation of a translation. In theOxford translation there were six stanzas of this kind:
With brightest beams let the Sun shine
On Orra Moor.
Could I be sure
That from the top o’ th’ loftyPine
I Orra Moor might see,
I to his highest Bough would climb,
And with industrious Labour try
Thence to descry
My Mistress if that there she be.
Could I but know amidst what Flowers
Or in what Shade she stays,
The gaudy Bowers,
With all their verdant Pride,
Their Blossoms and their Sprays,
Which make my Mistress disappear;
And her in envious Darkness hide,
I from the Roots and Beds of Earth wouldtear.
In the same chapter another song is given of whichthere is a version in No. 406 of the Spectator.]
* * * * *
No. 367. Thursday, May 1, 1712. Addison.
‘—Periturae parcite chartae.’
Juv.
I have often pleased my self with considering thetwo kinds of Benefits which accrue to the Publickfrom these my Speculations, and which, were I to speakafter the manner of Logicians, I would distinguishinto the Material and the Formal. By the latterI understand those Advantages which my Readers receive,as their Minds are either improv’d or delightedby these my daily Labours; but having already severaltimes descanted on my Endeavours in this Light, Ishall at present wholly confine my self to the Considerationof the former. By the Word Material I mean thoseBenefits which arise to the Publick from these mySpeculations, as they consume a considerable quantityof our Paper Manufacture, employ our Artisans in Printing,and find Business for great Numbers of Indigent Persons.
Our Paper-Manufacture takes into it several mean Materialswhich could be put to no other use, and affords Workfor several Hands in the collecting of them, whichare incapable of any other Employment. Thosepoor Retailers, whom we see so busy in every Street,deliver in their respective Gleanings to the Merchant.The Merchant carries them in Loads to the Paper-Mill,where they pass thro’ a fresh Set of Hands, andgive life to another Trade. Those who have Millson their Estates, by this means considerably raisetheir Rents, and the whole Nation is in a great measuresupply’d with a Manufacture, for which formerlyshe was obliged to her Neighbours.
The Materials are no sooner wrought into Paper, butthey are distributed among the Presses, where theyagain set innumerable Artists at Work, and furnishBusiness to another Mystery. From hence, accordinglyas they are stain’d with News or Politicks,they fly thro’ the Town in Post-Men, Post-Boys,Daily-Courants, Reviews, Medleys, and Examiners.Men, Women, and Children contend who shall be thefirst Bearers of them, and get their daily Sustenanceby spreading them. In short, when I trace in myMind a Bundle of Rags to a Quire of Spectators, I findso many Hands employ’d in every Step they takethro their whole Progress, that while I am writinga Spectator, I fancy my self providing Bread for aMultitude.
If I do not take care to obviate some of my wittyReaders, they will be apt to tell me, that my Paper,after it is thus printed and published, is still beneficialto the Publick on several Occasions. I must confessI have lighted my Pipe with my own Works for this Twelve-monthpast: My Landlady often sends up her little Daughterto desire some of my old Spectators, and has frequentlytold me, that the Paper they are printed on is thebest in the World to wrap Spice in. They likewisemake a good Foundation for a Mutton pye, as I havemore than once experienced, and were very much soughtfor, last Christmas, by the whole Neighbourhood.
It is pleasant enough to consider the Changes thata Linnen Fragment undergoes, by passing thro’the several Hands above mentioned. The finestpieces of Holland, when worn to Tatters, assume a newWhiteness more beautiful than their first, and oftenreturn in the shape of Letters to their Native Country.A Lady’s Shift may be metamorphosed into Billet[s]-doux,and come into her Possession a second time. ABeau may peruse his Cravat after it is worn out, withgreater Pleasure and Advantage than ever he did ina Glass. In a word, a Piece of Cloth, after havingofficiated for some Years as a Towel or a Napkin, mayby this means be raised from a Dung-hill, and becomethe most valuable Piece of Furniture in a Prince’sCabinet.
The politest Nations of Europe have endeavoured tovie with one another for the Reputation of the finestPrinting: Absolute Governments, as well as Republicks,have encouraged an Art which seems to be the noblestand most beneficial that was ever invented among theSons of Men. The present King of France, in hisPursuits after Glory, has particularly distinguishedhimself by the promoting of this useful Art, insomuchthat several Books have been printed in the Louvreat his own Expence, upon which he sets so great avalue, that he considers them as the noblest Presentshe can make to foreign Princes and Ambassadors.If we look into the Commonwealths of Holland and Venice,we shall find that in this Particular they have madethemselves the Envy of the greatest Monarchies.Elziver and Aldus are more frequently mentioned thanany Pensioner of the one or Doge of the other.
The several Presses which are now in England, andthe great Encouragement which has been given to Learningfor some Years last past, has made our own Nationas glorious upon this Account, as for its late Triumphsand Conquests. The new Edition which is givenus of Caesar’s Commentaries, has already beentaken notice of in foreign Gazettes, and is a Workthat does honour to the English Press. [1] It is nowonder that an Edition should be very correct, whichhas passed thro’ the Hands of one of the mostaccurate, learned and judicious Writers this Age hasproduced. The Beauty of the Paper, of the Character,and of the several Cuts with which this noble Workis illustrated, makes it the finest Book that I haveever seen; and is a true Instance of the English Genius,which, tho’ it does not come the first into anyArt, generally carries it to greater Heights thanany other Country in the World. I am particularlyglad that this Author comes from a British Printing-housein so great a Magnificence, as he is the first whohas given us any tolerable Account of our Country.
My Illiterate Readers, if any such there are, willbe surprized to hear me talk of Learning as the Gloryof a Nation, and of Printing as an Art that gainsa Reputation to a People among whom it flourishes.When Men’s Thoughts are taken up with Avariceand Ambition, they cannot look upon any thing as greator valuable, which does not bring with it an extraordinaryPower or Interest to the Person who is concerned init. But as I shall never sink this Paper so faras to engage with Goths and Vandals, I shall onlyregard such kind of Reasoners with that Pity whichis due to so Deplorable a Degree of Stupidity and Ignorance.
L.
[Footnote 1: Just published, 1712, by Dr. SamuelClarke, then 37 years old. He had been for 12years chaplain to the Bishop of Norwich, and BoyleLecturer in 1704-5, when he took for his subject theBeing and Attributes of God and the Evidences of Naturaland Revealed Religion. He had also translatedNewton’s Optics, and was become chaplain to theQueen, Rector of St. Jamess, Westminster, and D. D.of Cambridge. The accusations of heterodoxy thatfollowed him through his after life date from thisyear, 1712, in which, besides the edition of Caesar,he published a book on the Scripture Doctrine of theTrinity.]
* * * * *
No. 368. Friday, May 2, 1712. Steele.
’Nos decebat
Lugere ubi esset aliquis in lucem editus
Humanae vitae varia reputantes mala;
At qui labores morte finisset graves
Omnes amices laude et laetitia exequi.’
Eurip. apud Tull.
As the Spectator is in a Kind a Paper of News fromthe natural World, as others are from the busy andpolitick Part of Mankind, I shall translate the followingLetter written to an eminent French Gentleman in thisTown from Paris, which gives us the Exit of an Heroinewho is a Pattern of Patience and Generosity.
Paris, April 18, 1712.
SIR,
It is so many Years since you left yournative Country, that I am to tell you the Charactersof your nearest Relations as much as if you werean utter Stranger to them. The Occasion of thisis to give you an account of the Death of Madamde Villacerfe, whose Departure out of this LifeI know not whether a Man of your Philosophy will callunfortunate or not, since it was attended with someCirc*mstances as much to be desired as to be lamented.She was her whole Life happy in an uninterruptedHealth, and was always honoured for an Evenness ofTemper and Greatness of Mind. On the 10th instantthat Lady was taken with an Indisposition whichconfined her to her Chamber, but was such as wastoo slight to make her take a sick Bed, and yet toogrievous to admit of any Satisfaction in being outof it. It is notoriously known, that some Yearsago Monsieur Festeau, one of the most considerableSurgeons in Paris, was desperately in love with thisLady: Her Quality placed her above any Applicationto her on the account of his Passion; but as a Womanalways has some regard to the Person whom she believesto be her real Admirer, she now took it in her head(upon Advice of her Physicians to lose some of herBlood) to send for Monsieur Festeau on that occasion.I happened to be there at that time, and my near Relationgave me the Privilege to be present. As soon asher Arm was stripped bare, and he began to pressit in order to raise the Vein, his Colour changed,and I observed him seized with a sudden Tremor, whichmade me take the liberty to speak of it to my Cousinwith some Apprehension: She smiled, and saidshe knew Mr. Festeau had no Inclination to do herInjury. He seemed to recover himself, and smilingalso proceeded in his Work. Immediately afterthe Operation he cried out, that he was the mostunfortunate of all Men, for that he had open’dan Artery instead of a Vein. It is as impossibleto express the Artist’s Distraction as thePatient’s Composure. I will not dwell onlittle Circ*mstances, but go on to inform you, thatwithin three days time it was thought necessaryto take off her Arm. She was so far from usingFesteau as it would be natural to one of a lower Spiritto treat him, that she would not let him be absentfrom any Consultation about her present Condition,and on every occasion asked whether he was satisfy’din the Measures [that] were taken about her. Beforethis last Operation she ordered her Will to be drawn,and after having been about a quarter of an houralone, she bid the Surgeons, of whom poor Festeauwas one, go on in their Work. I know not how togive you the Terms of Art, but there appeared suchSymptoms after the Amputation of her Arm, that itwas visible she could not live four and twenty hours.Her Behaviour was so magnanimous throughout thiswhole Affair, that I was particularly curious intaking Notice of what passed as her Fate approachednearer and nearer, and took Notes of what she saidto all about her, particularly Word for Word whatshe spoke to Mr. Festeau, which was as follows.
“Sir, you give me inexpressibleSorrow for the Anguish with which I see you overwhelmed.I am removed to all Intents and Purposes from theInterests of human Life, therefore I am to begin tothink like one wholly unconcerned in it.I do not consider you as one by whose Error Ihave lost my Life; no, you are my Benefactor, as youhave hasten’d my Entrance into a happy Immortality.This is my Sense of this Accident; but the Worldin which you live may have Thoughts of it to yourDisadvantage, I have therefore taken Care to providefor you in my Will, and have placed you abovewhat you have to fear from their Ill-Nature.”
While this excellent Woman spoke theseWords, Festeau looked as if he received a Condemnationto die, instead of a Pension for his Life. Madamde Villacerfe lived till Eight of [the] Clock the nextNight; and tho she must have laboured under themost exquisite Torments, she possessed her Mindwith so wonderful a Patience, that one may rathersay she ceased to breathe than she died at that hour.You who had not the happiness to be personally knownto this Lady, have nothing but to rejoyce in theHonour you had of being related to so great Merit;but we who have lost her Conversation, cannot soeasily resign our own Happiness by Reflection uponhers. I am, SIR, Your affectionate Kinsman,and most obedient humble Servant, Paul Regnaud.
There hardly can be a greater Instance of an HeroickMind, than the unprejudiced Manner in which this Ladyweighed this Misfortune. The regard of Life itselfcould not make her overlook the Contrition of theunhappy Man, whose more than Ordinary Concern for herwas all his Guilt. It would certainly be of singularUse to human Society to have an exact Account of thisLady’s ordinary Conduct, which was Crowned byso uncommon Magnanimity. Such Greatness was notto be acquired in her last Article, nor is it to bedoubted but it was a constant Practice of all thatis praise-worthy, which made her capable of beholdingDeath, not as the Dissolution, but Consummation ofher Life.
T.
* * * * *
No. 369. Saturday, May 3, 1712. Addison.
’Segnius irritant animos demissaper aures
Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus—’
Hor.
Milton, after having represented in Vision the Historyof Mankind to the first great Period of Nature, dispatchesthe remaining part of it in Narration. He hasdevised a very handsome Reason for the Angels proceedingwith Adam after this manner; though doubtless the trueReason was the Difficulty which the Poet would havefound to have shadowed out so mixed and complicateda Story in visible Objects. I could wish, however,that the Author had done it, whatever Pains it mighthave cost him. To give my Opinion freely, I thinkthat the exhibiting part of the History of Mankindin Vision, and part in Narrative, is as if an History-Paintershould put in Colours one half of his Subject, andwrite down the remaining part of it. If Milton’sPoem flags any where, it is in this Narration, wherein some places the Author has been so attentive tohis Divinity, that he has neglected his Poetry.The Narration, however, rises very happily on severalOccasions, where the Subject is capable of PoeticalOrnaments, as particularly in the Confusion which hedescribes among the Builders of Babel, and in his shortSketch of the Plagues of Egypt. The Storm ofHail and Fire, with the Darkness that overspread theLand for three Days, are described with great Strength.The beautiful Passage which follows, is raised uponnoble Hints in Scripture:
—Thus with ten Wounds
The River-Dragon tamed at length submits
To let his Sojourners depart, and oft
Humbles his stubborn Heart; but stillas Ice
More harden’d after Thaw, till inhis Rage
Pursuing whom he late dismissed, the Sea
Swallows him with his Host, but them letspass
As on dry Land between two Chrystal Walls,
Aw’d by the Rod of Moses so to stand
Divided—
The River-Dragon is an Allusion to the Crocodile,which inhabits the Nile, from whence Egypt derivesher Plenty. This Allusion is taken from thatSublime Passage in Ezekiel, Thus saith the Lord God,behold I am against thee, Pharaoh King of Egypt, thegreat Dragon that lieth in the midst of his Rivers,which hath said, my River is mine own, and I havemade it for my self. Milton has given us anothervery noble and poetical Image in the same Description,which is copied almost Word for Word out of the Historyof Moses.
All Night he will pursue, but his Approach
Darkness defends between till morningWatch;
Then through the fiery Pillar and theCloud
God looking forth, will trouble all hisHost,
And craze their Chariot Wheels: whenby command
Moses once more his potent Rod extends
Over the Sea: the Sea his Rod obeys:
On their embattell’d Ranks the Wavesreturn
And overwhelm their War—
As the principal Design of this Episode was to giveAdam an Idea of the Holy Person, who was to reinstatehuman Nature in that Happiness and Perfection fromwhich it had fallen, the Poet confines himself to theLine of Abraham, from whence the Messiah was to Descend.The Angel is described as seeing the Patriarch actuallytravelling towards the Land of Promise, which givesa particular Liveliness to this part of the Narration.
I see him, but thou canst not, with whatFaith
He leaves his Gods, his Friends, his NativeSoil,
Ur of Chaldaea, passing now the Ford
To Haran, after him a cumbrous Train
Of Herds and Flocks, and numerous Servitude,
Not wand’ring poor, but trustingall his Wealth
With God, who call’d him, in a Landunknown.
Canaan he now attains, I see his Tents
Pitch’d about Sechem, and the neighbouringPlain
Of Moreh, there by Promise he receives
Gifts to his Progeny of all that Land,
From Hamath Northward to the Desart South.
(Things by their Names I call, thoughyet unnamed.)
As Virgil’s Vision in the sixth AEneid probablygave Milton the Hint of this whole Episode, the lastLine is a Translation of that Verse, where Anchisesmentions the Names of Places, which they were to bearhereafter.
Haec tum nomina erunt, nunc sunt sinenomine terrae.
The Poet has very finely represented the Joy and Gladnessof Heart which rises in Adam upon his discovery ofthe Messiah. As he sees his Day at a distancethrough Types and Shadows, he rejoices in it:but when he finds the Redemption of Man compleated,and Paradise again renewed, he breaks forth in Raptureand Transport;
O Goodness infinite, Goodness immense!
That all this Good of Evil shall produce,&c.
I have hinted in my sixth Paper on Milton, that anHeroick Poem, according to the Opinion of the bestCriticks, ought to end happily, and leave the Mindof the Reader, after having conducted it through manyDoubts and Fears, Sorrows and Disquietudes, in a Stateof Tranquility and Satisfaction. Milton’sFable, which had so many other Qualifications to recommendit, was deficient in this Particular. It is heretherefore, that the Poet has shewn a most exquisiteJudgment, as well as the finest Invention, by findingout a Method to supply this natural Defect in hisSubject. Accordingly he leaves the Adversary ofMankind, in the last View which he gives us of him,under the lowest State of Mortification and Disappointment.We see him chewing Ashes, grovelling in the Dust,and loaden with supernumerary Pains and Torments.On the contrary, our two first Parents are comfortedby Dreams and Visions, cheared with Promises of Salvation,and, in a manner, raised to a greater Happiness thanthat which they had forfeited: In short, Satanis represented miserable in the height of his Triumphs,and Adam triumphant in the height of Misery.
Milton’s Poem ends very nobly. The lastSpeeches of Adam and the Arch-Angel are full of Moraland Instructive Sentiments. The Sleep that fellupon Eve, and the Effects it had in quieting the Disordersof her Mind, produces the same kind of Consolationin the Reader, who cannot peruse the last beautifulSpeech which is ascribed to the Mother of Mankind,without a secret Pleasure and Satisfaction.
Whence thou return’st, and whitherwent’st, I know;
For God is also in Sleep, and Dreams advise,
Which he hath sent propitious, some greatGood
Presaging, since with Sorrow and Heart’sDistress
Wearied I fell asleep: but now leadon;
In me is no delay: with thee to go,
Is to stay here; without thee here tostay,
Is to go hence unwilling: thou tome
Art all things under Heav’n, allPlaces thou,
Who for my wilful Crime art banish’dhence.
This farther Consolation yet secure
I carry hence; though all by me is lost,
Such Favour, I unworthy, am vouchsafed,
By me the promised Seed shall all restore.
The following Lines, which conclude the Poem, risein a most glorious Blaze of Poetical Images and Expressions.
Heliodorus in his AEthiopicks acquaints us, that theMotion of the Gods differs from that of Mortals, asthe former do not stir their Feet, nor proceed Stepby Step, but slide o’er the Surface of the Earthby an uniform Swimming of the whole Body. TheReader may observe with how Poetical a DescriptionMilton has attributed the same kind of Motion to theAngels who were to take Possession of Paradise.
So spake our Mother Eve, and Adam heard
Well pleas’d, but answered not;for now too nigh
Th’ Archangel stood, and from theother Hill
To their fix’d Station, all in brightArray
The Cherubim descended; on the Ground
Gliding meteorous, as evening Mist
Ris’n from a River, o’er theMarish glides,
And gathers ground fast at the Lab’rer’sHeel
Homeward returning. High in Frontadvanced,
The brandishd Sword of God before themblaz’d
Fierce as a Comet—
The Author helped his Invention in the following Passage,by reflecting on the Behaviour of the Angel, who,in Holy Writ, has the Conduct of Lot and his Family.The Circ*mstances drawn from that Relation are verygracefully made use of on this Occasion.
In either Hand the hast’ning Angelcaught
Our ling’ring Parents, and to th’Eastern Gate
Led them direct; and down the Cliff asfast
To the subjected Plain; then disappear’d.
They looking back, &c.
The Scene [1] which our first Parents are surprizedwith, upon their looking back on Paradise, wonderfullystrikes the Reader’s Imagination, as nothingcan be more natural than the Tears they shed on thatOccasion.
They looking back, all th’ Easternside beheld
Of Paradise, so late their happy Seat,
Wav’d over by that flaming Brand,the Gate
With dreadful Faces throng’d andfiery Arms:
Some natural Tears they dropped, but wipedthem soon;
The World was all before them, where tochuse
Their Place of Rest, and Providence theirGuide.
If I might presume to offer at the smallest Alterationin this divine Work, I should think the Poem wouldend better with the Passage here quoted, than withthe two Verses which follow:
They hand in hand, with wandering Stepsand slow,
Through Eden took their solitary Way.
These two Verses, though they have their Beauty, fallvery much below the foregoing Passage, and renew inthe Mind of the Reader that Anguish which was prettywell laid by that Consideration,
The world was all before them, where tochuse
Their Place of Rest, and Providence theirGuide.
The Number of Books in Paradise Lost is equal to thoseof the AEneid. Our Author in his first Editionhad divided his Poem into ten Books, but afterwardsbroke the seventh and the eleventh each of them intotwo different Books, by the help of some small Additions. This second Division was made with great Judgment,as any one may see who will be at the pains of examiningit. It was not done for the sake of such a ChimericalBeauty as that of resembling Virgil in this particular,but for the more just and regular Disposition of thisgreat Work.
Those who have read Bossu, and many of the Critickswho have written since his Time, will not pardon meif I do not find out the particular Moral which isinculcated in Paradise Lost. Though I can byno means think, with the last mentioned French Author,that an Epick Writer first of all pitches upon a certainMoral, as the Ground-Work and Foundation of his Poem,and afterwards finds out a Story to it: I am,however, of opinion, that no just Heroick Poem everwas or can be made, from whence one great Moral maynot be deduced. That which reigns in Milton, isthe most universal and most useful that can be imagined;it is in short this, That Obedience to the Will ofGod makes Men happy, and that Disobedience makes themmiserable. This is visibly the Moral of theprincipal Fable, which turns upon Adam and Eve, whocontinued in Paradise, while they kept the commandthat was given them, and were driven out of it assoon as they had transgressed. This is likewisethe Moral of the principal Episode, which shews ushow an innumerable Multitude of Angels fell from theirState of Bliss, and were cast into Hell upon theirDisobedience. Besides this great Moral, whichmay be looked upon as the Soul of the Fable, thereare an Infinity of Under-Morals which are to be drawnfrom the several parts of the Poem, and which makesthis Work more useful and Instructive than any otherPoem in any Language.
Those who have criticized on the Odyssey, the Iliad,and AEneid, have taken a great deal of Pains to fixthe Number of Months and Days contained in the Actionof each of those Poems. If any one thinks itworth his while to examine this Particular in Milton,he will find that from Adam’s first Appearancein the fourth Book, to his Expulsion from Paradisein the twelfth, the Author reckons ten Days. Asfor that part of the Action which is described inthe three first Books, as it does not pass withinthe Regions of Nature, I have before observed thatit is not subject to any Calculations of Time.
I have now finished my Observations on a Work whichdoes an Honour to the English Nation. I havetaken a general View of it under these four Heads,the Fable, the Characters, the Sentiments, and theLanguage, and made each of them the Subject of a particularPaper. I have in the next Place spoken of theCensures which our Author may incur under each ofthese Heads, which I have confined to two Papers, thoughI might have enlarged the Number, if I had been disposedto dwell on so ungrateful a Subject. I believe,however, that the severest Reader will not find anylittle Fault in Heroick Poetry, which this Author hasfallen into, that does not come under one of thoseHeads among which I have distributed his several Blemishes.After having thus treated at large of Paradise Lost,I could not think it sufficient to have celebratedthis Poem in the whole, without descending to Particulars.I have therefore bestowed a Paper upon each Book,
and endeavoured not only to [prove [2]] that the Poemis beautiful in general, but to point out its ParticularBeauties, and to determine wherein they consist.I have endeavoured to shew how some Passages are beautifulby being Sublime, others by being Soft, others bybeing Natural; which of them are recommended by thePassion, which by the Moral, which by the Sentiment,and which by the Expression. I have likewiseendeavoured to shew how the Genius of the Poet shinesby a happy Invention, a distant Allusion, or a judiciousImitation; how he has copied or improved Homer orVirgil, and raised his own Imaginations by the Usewhich he has made of several Poetical Passages in Scripture.I might have inserted also several Passages of Tasso,which our Author [has [3]] imitated; but as I do notlook upon Tasso to be a sufficient Voucher, I wouldnot perplex my Reader with such Quotations, as mightdo more Honour to the Italian than the English Poet.In short, I have endeavoured to particularize thoseinnumerable kinds of Beauty, which it would be tediousto recapitulate, but which are essential to Poetry,and which may be met with in the Works of this greatAuthor. Had I thought, at my first engaging inthis design, that it would have led me to so greata length, I believe I should never have entered uponit; but the kind Reception which it has met with amongthose whose Judgments I have a value for, as wellas the uncommon Demands which my Bookseller tellsme have been made for these particular Discourses,give me no reason to repent of the Pains I have beenat in composing them.L.
[Footnote 1: Prospect]
[Footnote 2: shew]
[Footnote 3: has likewise]
* * * * *
No. 370. Monday, May 5, 1712. Steele.
‘Totus Mundus agit Histrionem.’
Many of my fair Readers, as well as very gay and well-receivedPersons of the other Sex, are extremely perplexedat the Latin Sentences at the Head of my Speculations;I do not know whether I ought not to indulge themwith Translations of each of them: However, Ihave to-day taken down from the Top of the Stage inDrury-Lane a bit of Latin which often stands in theirView, and signifies that the whole World acts thePlayer. It is certain that if we look all roundus, and behold the different Employments of Mankind,you hardly see one who is not, as the Player is, inan assumed Character. The Lawyer, who is vehementand loud in a Cause wherein he knows he has not theTruth of the Question on his Side, is a Player asto the personated Part, but incomparably meaner thanhe as to the Prostitution of himself for Hire; becausethe Pleader’s Falshood introduces Injustice,the Player feigns for no other end but to divert orinstruct you. The Divine, whose Passions transporthim to say any thing with any View but promoting the
Interests of true Piety and Religion, is a Playerwith a still greater Imputation of Guilt, in proportionto his depreciating a Character more sacred.Consider all the different Pursuits and Employmentsof Men, and you will find half their Actions tendto nothing else but Disguise and Imposture; and allthat is done which proceeds not from a Man’svery self, is the Action of a Player. For thisReason it is that I make so frequent mention of theStage: It is, with me, a Matter of the highestConsideration what Parts are well or ill performed,what Passions or Sentiments are indulged or cultivated,and consequently what Manners and Customs are transfusedfrom the Stage to the World, which reciprocally imitateeach other. As the Writers of Epick Poems introduceshadowy Persons, and represent Vices and Virtues underthe Characters of Men and Women; so I, who am a SPECTATORin the World, may perhaps sometimes make use of theNames of the Actors on the Stage, to represent or admonishthose who transact Affairs in the World. WhenI am commending Wilks for representing the Tendernessof a Husband and a Father in Mackbeth, the Contritionof a reformed Prodigal in Harry the Fourth, the winningEmptiness of a young Man of Good-nature and Wealthin the Trip to the Jubilee, [1]—the Officiousnessof an artful Servant in the Fox: [2] when thusI celebrate Wilks, I talk to all the World who areengaged in any of those Circ*mstances. If I wereto speak of Merit neglected, mis-applied, or misunderstood,might not I say Estcourt has a great Capacity?But it is not the Interest of others who bear a Figureon the Stage that his Talents were understood; itis their Business to impose upon him what cannot becomehim, or keep out of his hands any thing in which hewould Shine. Were one to raise a Suspicion ofhimself in a Man who passes upon the World for a fineThing, in order to alarm him, one might say, if LordFoppington [3] were not on the Stage, (Cibber actsthe false Pretensions to a genteel Behaviour so veryjustly), he would have in the generality of Mankindmore that would admire than deride him. Whenwe come to Characters directly Comical, it is not tobe imagin’d what Effect a well-regulated Stagewould have upon Men’s Manners. The Craftof an Usurer, the Absurdity of a rich Fool, the awkwardRoughness of a Fellow of half Courage, the ungracefulMirth of a Creature of half Wit, might be for everput out of Countenance by proper Parts for Dogget.Johnson by acting Corbacchio [4] the other Night, musthave given all who saw him a thorough Detestation ofa*ged Avarice. The Petulancy of a peevish oldFellow, who loves and hates he knows not why, is veryexcellently performed by the Ingenious Mr. WilliamPenkethman in the Fop’s Fortune;[5] where, inthe Character of Don Cholerick Snap Shorto de Testy,he answers no Questions but to those whom he likes,and wants no account of any thing from those he approves.Mr. Penkethman is also Master of as many Faces inthe Dumb-Scene as can be expected from a Man in theCirc*mstances of being ready to perish out of Fearand Hunger: He wonders throughout the whole Scenevery masterly, without neglecting his Victuals.If it be, as I have heard it sometimes mentioned,a great Qualification for the World to follow Businessand Pleasure too, what is it in the Ingenious Mr.Penkethman to represent a Sense of Pleasure and Painat the same time; as you may see him do this Evening?[6]As it is certain that a Stage ought to be wholly suppressed,or judiciously encouraged, while there is one in theNation, Men turned for regular Pleasure cannot employtheir Thoughts more usefully, for the Diversion ofMankind, than by convincing them that it is in themselvesto raise this Entertainment to the greatest Height.It would be a great Improvement, as well as Embellishmentto the Theatre, if Dancing were more regarded, andtaught to all the Actors. One who has the Advantageof such an agreeable girlish Person as Mrs. Bicknell,joined with her Capacity of Imitation, could in properGesture and Motion represent all the decent Charactersof Female Life. An amiable Modesty in one Aspectof a Dancer, an assumed Confidence in another, a suddenJoy in another, a falling off with an Impatience ofbeing beheld, a Return towards the Audience with anunsteady Resolution to approach them, and a well-actedSollicitude to please, would revive in the Companyall the fine Touches of Mind raised in observing allthe Objects of Affection or Passion they had beforebeheld. Such elegant Entertainments as these,would polish the Town into Judgment in their Gratifications;and Delicacy in Pleasure is the first step Peopleof Condition take in Reformation from Vice. Mrs.Bicknell has the only Capacity for this sort of Dancingof any on the Stage; and I dare say all who see herPerformance tomorrow Night, when sure the Romp willdo her best for her own Benefit, will be of my Mind.
T.
[Footnote 1: Farquhar’s Constant Couple,or A Trip to the Jubilee.]
[Footnote 2: Ben Jonson’s Volpone.]
[Footnote 3: In Colley Cibber’s CarelessHusband.]
[Footnote 4: In Ben Jonson’s Volpone.]
[Footnote 5: Cibber’s Love makes a Man,or The Fop’s Fortune.]
[Footnote 6:
For the Benefit of Mr. Penkethman.At the Desire of Several Ladies of Quality.By Her Majesty’s Company of Comedians. Atthe Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, this present Monday,being the 5th of May, will be presented a Comedycalled Love makes a Man, or The Fop’s Fortune.The Part of Don Lewis, alias Don Choleric Snap Shortode Testy, by Mr. Penkethman; Carlos, Mr. Wilks;Clodio, alias Don Dismallo Thick-Scullo de HalfWitto, Mr. Cibber; and all the other Parts to the bestAdvantage. With a new Epilogue, spoken by Mr.Penkethman, riding on an Ass. By her Majesty’sCommand no Persons are to be admitted behind the Scenes.And To-Morrow, being Tuesday, will be presented, AComedy call’d The Constant Couple, or A Tripto the Jubilee. For the Benefit of Mrs. Bicknell.
To do as kind a service to Mrs. Bicknell as to Mr.Penkethman on the occasion of their benefits is thepurpose of the next paragraph of Steele’s Essay.]
* * * * *
No. 371. Tuesday, May 6, 1712. Addison.
’Jamne igitur laudas quod se sapientibusunus
Ridebat?’
Juv.
I shall communicate to my Reader the following Letterfor the Entertainment of this Day.
Sir,
You know very well that our Nation ismore famous for that sort of Men who are calledWhims and Humourists, than any other Country in theWorld; for which reason it is observed that our EnglishComedy excells that of all other Nations in theNovelty and Variety of its Characters.
Among those innumerable Setts of Whimswhich our Country produces, there are none whomI have regarded with more Curiosity than those whohave invented any particular kind of Diversion forthe Entertainment of themselves or their Friends.My Letter shall single out those who take delightin sorting a Company that has something of Burlesqueand Ridicule in its Appearance. I shall makemy self understood by the following Example.One of the Wits of the last Age, who was a Man of agood Estate [1], thought he never laid out his Moneybetter than in a Jest. As he was one Year atthe Bath, observing that in the great Confluenceof fine People, there were several among them withlong Chins, a part of the Visage by which he himselfwas very much distinguished, he invited to dinnerhalf a Score of these remarkable Persons who hadtheir Mouths in the Middle of their Faces. Theyhad no sooner placed themselves about the Table,but they began to stare upon one another, not beingable to imagine what had brought them together.Our English Proverb says,
Tis merry in the Hall,
When Beards wag all.
It proved so in the Assembly I am nowspeaking of, who seeing so many Peaks of Faces agitatedwith Eating, Drinking, and Discourse, and observingall the Chins that were present meeting together veryoften over the Center of the Table, every one grewsensible of the Jest, and came into it with so muchGood-Humour, that they lived in strict Friendshipand Alliance from that Day forward.
The same Gentleman some time after packedtogether a Set of Oglers, as he called them, consistingof such as had an unlucky Cast in their Eyes.His Diversion on this Occasion was to see the crossBows, mistaken Signs, and wrong Connivances thatpassed amidst so many broken and refracted Raysof Sight.
The third Feast which this merry Gentlemanexhibited was to the Stammerers, whom he got togetherin a sufficient Body to fill his Table. Hehad ordered one of his Servants, who was placed behinda Skreen, to write down their Table-Talk, whichwas very easie to be done without the help of Short-hand.It appears by the Notes which were taken, that tho’their Conversation never fell, there were not abovetwenty Words spoken during the first Course; that uponserving up the second, one of the Company was aquarter of an Hour in telling them, that the Ducklinsand [Asparagus [2]] were very good; and that anothertook up the same time in declaring himself of the sameOpinion. This Jest did not, however, go offso well as the former; for one of the Guests beinga brave Man, and fuller of Resentment than he knewhow to express, went out of the Room, and sent thefacetious Inviter a Challenge in Writing, whichthough it was afterwards dropp’d by the Interpositionof Friends, put a Stop to these ludicrous Entertainments.
Now, Sir, I dare say you will agree withme, that as there is no Moral in these Jests, theyought to be discouraged, and looked upon rather aspieces of Unluckiness than Wit. However, as itis natural for one Man to refine upon the Thoughtof another, and impossible for any single Person,how great soever his Parts may be, to invent an Art,and bring it to its utmost Perfection; I shall heregive you an account of an honest Gentleman of myAcquaintance who upon hearing the Character of theWit above mentioned, has himself assumed it, and endeavouredto convert it to the Benefit of Mankind. He invitedhalf a dozen of his Friends one day to Dinner, whowere each of them famous for inserting several redundantPhrases in their Discourse, as d’y hear me,d’ye see, that is, and so Sir. Each of theGuests making frequent use of his particular Elegance,appeared so ridiculous to his Neighbour, that hecould not but reflect upon himself as appearing equallyridiculous to the rest of the Company: By thismeans, before they had sat long together, everyone talking with the greatest Circ*mspection, andcarefully avoiding his favourite Expletive, the Conversationwas cleared of its Redundancies, and had a greaterQuantity of Sense, tho’ less of Sound in it.
The same well-meaning Gentleman took occasion,at another time, to bring together such of his Friendsas were addicted to a foolish habitual Custom ofSwearing. In order to shew the Absurdity of thePractice, he had recourse to the Invention abovementioned, having placed an Amanuensis in a privatepart of the Room. After the second Bottle,when Men open their Minds without Reserve, my honestFriend began to take notice of the many sonorousbut unnecessary Words that had passed in his Housesince their sitting down at Table, and how muchgood Conversation they had lost by giving way to suchsuperfluous Phrases. What a Tax, says he, wouldthey have raised for the Poor, had we put the Lawsin Execution upon one another? Every one of themtook this gentle Reproof in good part: Uponwhich he told them, that knowing their Conversationwould have no Secrets in it, he had ordered it tobe taken down in Writing, and for the humour sake wouldread it to them, if they pleased. There wereten Sheets of it, which might have been reducedto two, had there not been those abominable InterpolationsI have before mentioned. Upon the reading of itin cold Blood, it looked rather like a Conferenceof Fiends than of Men. In short, every onetrembled at himself upon hearing calmly what he hadpronounced amidst the Heat and Inadvertency of Discourse.
I shall only mention another Occasionwherein he made use of the same Invention to curea different kind of Men, who are the Pests of allpolite Conversation, and murder Time as much as eitherof the two former, though they do it more innocently;I mean that dull Generation of Story-tellers.My Friend got together about half a dozen of his Acquaintance,who were infected with this strange Malady. Thefirst Day one of them sitting down, entered uponthe Siege of Namur, which lasted till four a-clock,their time of parting. The second Day a North-Britaintook possession of the Discourse, which it was impossibleto get out of his Hands so long as the Company staidtogether. The third Day was engrossed afterthe same manner by a Story of the same length.They at last began to reflect upon this barbarousway of treating one another, and by this means awakenedout of that Lethargy with which each of them hadbeen seized for several Years.
As you have somewhere declared, that extraordinaryand uncommon Characters of Mankind are the Gamewhich you delight in, and as I look upon you tobe the greatest Sportsman, or, if you please, the Nimrodamong this Species of Writers, I thought this Discoverywould not be unacceptable to you.
I am,
SIR, &c.
I.
[Footnote 1: George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham,Drydens Zimri, and the author of the Rehearsal.]
[Footnote 2: [Sparrow-grass] and in first Reprint.]
* * * * *
372. Wednesday, May 7, 1712. Steele.
’Pudet haec opprobria nobis
[Et dici potuisse et non potuisse refelli.]’
Ovid.
May 6, 1712.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am Sexton of the Parish of Covent-Garden,and complained to you some time ago, that as I wastolling in to Prayers at Eleven in the Morning,Crowds of People of Quality hastened to assemble ata Puppet-Show on the other Side of the Garden.I had at the same time a very great Disesteem forMr. Powell and his little thoughtless Commonwealth,as if they had enticed the Gentry into those Wandrings:But let that be as it will, I now am convinced ofthe honest Intentions of the said Mr. Powell andCompany; and send this to acquaint you, that hehas given all the Profits which shall arise to-morrowNight by his Play to the use of the poor Charity-Childrenof this Parish. I have been informed, Sir,that in Holland all Persons who set up any Show,or act any Stage-Play, be the Actors either of Woodand Wire, or Flesh and Blood, are obliged to pay outof their Gain such a Proportion to the honest andindustrious Poor in the Neighbourhood: By thismeans they make Diversion and Pleasure pay a Taxto Labour and Industry. I have been told also,that all the time of Lent, in Roman Catholick Countries,the Persons of Condition administred to the Necessitiesof the Poor, and attended the Beds of Lazars anddiseased Persons. Our Protestant Ladies and Gentlemenare so much to seek for proper ways of passing Time,that they are obliged to Punchinello for knowingwhat to do with themselves. Since the Case isso, I desire only you would intreat our People of Quality,who are not to be interrupted in their Pleasureto think of the Practice of any moral Duty, thatthey would at least fine for their Sins, and givesomething to these poor Children; a little out oftheir Luxury and Superfluity, would attone, in somemeasure, for the wanton Use of the rest of theirFortunes. It would not, methinks, be amiss, ifthe Ladies who haunt the Cloysters and Passagesof the Play-house, were upon every Offence obligedto pay to this excellent Institution of Schoolsof Charity: This Method would make Offenders themselvesdo Service to the Publick. But in the meantime I desire you would publish this voluntary Reparationwhich Mr. Powell does our Parish, for the Noisehe has made in it by the constant rattling of Coaches,Drums, Trumpets, Triumphs, and Battels. TheDestruction of Troy adorned with Highland Dances,are to make up the Entertainment of all who areso well disposed as not to forbear a light Entertainment,for no other Reason but that it is to do a goodAction. I am, SIR, Your most humble Servant,Ralph Bellfry.
I am credibly informed, that all the Insinuationswhich a certain
Writer made against Mr. Powell at theBath, are false and groundless.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
My Employment, which is that of a Broker,leading me often into Taverns about the Exchange,has given me occasion to observe a certain Enormity,which I shall here submit to your Animadversion.In three or four of these Taverns, I have, at differenttimes, taken notice of a precise Set of People withgrave Countenances, short Wiggs, black Cloaths,or dark Camlet trimmd with Black, and mourning Glovesand Hatbands, who meet on certain Days at each Tavernsuccessively, and keep a sort of moving Club.Having often met with their Faces, and observeda certain slinking Way in their dropping in one afteranother, I had the Curiosity to enquire into theirCharacters, being the rather moved to it by theiragreeing in the Singularity of their Dress; andI find upon due Examination they are a Knot of Parish-Clarks,who have taken a fancy to one another, and perhapssettle the Bills of Mortality over their Half-pints.I have so great a Value and Veneration for any whohave but even an assenting Amen in the Service ofReligion, that I am afraid lest these Persons shouldincur some Scandal by this Practice; and would thereforehave them, without Raillery, advised to send theFlorence and Pullets home to their own Houses, andnot pretend to live as well as the Overseers of thePoor. I am, SIR, Your most humble Servant,Humphry Transfer.
May 6.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I was last Wednesday Night at a Tavernin the City, among a Set of Men who call themselvesthe Lawyer’s Club. You must know, Sir, thisClub consists only of Attorneys; and at this Meetingevery one proposes the Cause he has then in handto the Board, upon which each Member gives his Judgmentaccording to the Experience he has met with. Ifit happens that any one puts a Case of which theyhave had no Precedent, it is noted down by theirClerk Will. Goosequill, (who registers all theirProceedings) that one of them may go the next Day withit to a Counsel. This indeed is commendable,and ought to be the principal End of their Meeting;but had you been there to have heard them relate theirMethods of managing a Cause, their Manner of drawingout their Bills, and, in short, their Argumentsupon the several ways of abusing their Clients,with the Applause that is given to him who has doneit most artfully, you would before now have givenyour Remarks on them. They are so consciousthat their Discourses ought to be kept secret, thatthey are very cautious of admitting any Person whois not of their Profession. When any who arenot of the Law are let in, the Person who introduceshim, says, he is a very honest Gentleman, and he istaken in, as their Cant is, to pay Costs. I amadmitted upon the Recommendation of one of theirPrincipals, as a very honest good-natured Fellowthat will never be in a Plot, and only desires todrink his Bottle and smoke his Pipe. You haveformerly remarked upon several Sorts of Clubs; andas the Tendency of this is only to increase Fraudand Deceit, I hope you will please to take Notice ofit. I am (with Respect) Your humble Servant,H. R.
T.
* * * * *
No. 373. Thursday, May 8, 1712. Budgell.
‘[Fallit enim Vitium specie virtutiset umbra.’
Juv. [1]]
Mr. Locke, in his Treatise of Human Understanding,has spent two Chapters upon the Abuse of Words. [2]The first and most palpable Abuse of Words, he says,is, when they are used without clear and distinctIdeas: The second, when we are so inconstant andunsteady in the Application of them, that we sometimesuse them to signify one Idea, sometimes another.He adds, that the Result of our Contemplations andReasonings, while we have no precise Ideas fixed toour Words, must needs be very confused and absurd.To avoid this Inconvenience, more especially in moralDiscourses, where the same Word should constantly beused in the same Sense, he earnestly recommends theuse of Definitions. A Definition, says he, isthe only way whereby the precise Meaning of MoralWords can be known. He therefore accuses thoseof great Negligence, who Discourse of Moral thingswith the least Obscurity in the Terms they make useof, since upon the forementioned ground he does notscruple to say, that he thinks Morality is capableof Demonstration as well as the Mathematicks.
I know no two Words that have been more abused bythe different and wrong Interpretations which areput upon them, than those two, Modesty and Assurance.To say such an one is a modest Man, sometimes indeedpasses for a good Character; but at present is veryoften used to signify a sheepish awkard Fellow, whohas neither Good-breeding, Politeness, nor any Knowledgeof the World.
Again, A Man of Assurance, tho at first it only denoteda Person of a free and open Carriage, is now veryusually applied to a profligate Wretch, who can breakthrough all the Rules of Decency and Morality withouta Blush.
I shall endeavour therefore in this Essay to restorethese Words to their true Meaning, to prevent theIdea of Modesty from being confounded with that ofSheepishness, and to hinder Impudence from passingfor Assurance.
If I was put to define Modesty, I would call it TheReflection of an Ingenuous Mind, either when a Manhas committed an Action for which he censures himself,or fancies that he is exposed to the Censure of others.
For this Reason a Man truly Modest is as much so whenhe is alone as in Company, and as subject to a Blushin his Closet, as when the Eyes of Multitudes areupon him.
I do not remember to have met with any Instance ofModesty with which I am so well pleased, as that celebratedone of the young Prince, whose Father being a tributaryKing to the Romans, had several Complaints laid againsthim before the Senate, as a Tyrant and Oppressor ofhis Subjects. The Prince went to Rome to defendhis Father; but coming into the Senate, and hearinga Multitude of Crimes proved upon him, was so oppressedwhen it came to his turn to speak, that he was unableto utter a Word. The Story tells us, that theFathers were more moved at this Instance of Modestyand Ingenuity, than they could have been by the mostPathetick Oration; and, in short, pardoned the guiltyFather for this early Promise of Virtue in the Son.
I take Assurance to be the Faculty of possessing aMan’s self, or of saying and doing indifferentthings without any Uneasiness or Emotion in the Mind.That which generally gives a Man Assurance is a moderateKnowledge of the World, but above all a Mind fixedand determined in it self to do nothing against theRules of Honour and Decency. An open and assuredBehaviour is the natural Consequence of such a Resolution.A Man thus armed, if his Words or Actions are at anytime misinterpreted, retires within himself, and fromthe Consciousness of his own Integrity, assumes Forceenough to despise the little Censures of Ignoranceor Malice.
Every one ought to cherish and encourage in himselfthe Modesty and Assurance I have here mentioned.
A Man without Assurance is liable to be made uneasyby the Folly or Ill-nature of every one he converseswith. A Man without Modesty is lost to all Senseof Honour and Virtue.
It is more than probable, that the Prince above-mentionedpossessed both these Qualifications in a very eminentdegree. Without Assurance he would never haveundertaken to speak before the most august Assemblyin the World; without Modesty he would have pleadedthe Cause he had taken upon him, tho it had appearedever so Scandalous.
From what has been said, it is plain, that Modestyand Assurance are both amiable, and may very wellmeet in the same Person. When they are thus mixedand blended together, they compose what we endeavourto express when we say a modest Assurance; by whichwe understand the just Mean between Bashfulness andImpudence.
I shall conclude with observing, that as the sameMan may be both Modest and Assured, so it is alsopossible for the same Person to be both Impudent andBashful.
We have frequent Instances of this odd kind of Mixturein People of depraved Minds and mean Education; whotho’ they are not able to meet a Man’sEyes, or pronounce a Sentence without Confusion, canVoluntarily commit the greatest Villanies, or mostindecent Actions.
Such a Person seems to have made a Resolution to doIll even in spite of himself, and in defiance of allthose Checks and Restraints his Temper and Complectionseem to have laid in his way.
Upon the whole, I would endeavour to establish thisMaxim, That the Practice of Virtue is the most properMethod to give a Man a becoming Assurance in his Wordsand Actions. Guilt always seeks to shelter itself in one of the Extreams, and is sometimes attendedwith both.
X.
[Footnote 1:
[—Strabonem Appellat paetummpater; et pullum, male parvus Si cui filius est;ut abortivus fuit olim Sisyphus: hunc varum,distortis cruribus; illum Balbutit scaurum, pravisfullum male talis.
Hor.]]
[Footnote 2: Book III., Chapters 10, 11.Words are the subject of this book; ch. 10 is on theAbuse of Words; ch. 11 of the Remedies of the foregoingimperfections and abuses.]
* * * * *
No. 374. Friday, May 9, 1712. Steele.
‘Nil actum reputans si quid superessetagendum.’
Luc.
There is a Fault, which, tho’ common, wantsa Name. It is the very contrary to Procrastination:As we lose the present Hour by delaying from Day toDay to execute what we ought to do immediately; somost of us take Occasion to sit still and throw awaythe Time in our Possession, by Retrospect on whatis past, imagining we have already acquitted our selves,and established our Characters in the sight of Mankind.But when we thus put a Value upon our selves for whatwe have already done, any further than to explainour selves in order to assist our future Conduct,that will give us an over-weening opinion of our Meritto the prejudice of our present Industry. Thegreat Rule, methinks, should be to manage the Instantin which we stand, with Fortitude, Equanimity, andModeration, according to Men’s respective Circ*mstances.If our past Actions reproach us, they cannot be attonedfor by our own severe Reflections so effectually asby a contrary Behaviour. If they are praiseworthy,
the Memory of them is of no use but to act suitablyto them. Thus a good present Behaviour is animplicit Repentance for any Miscarriage in what ispast; but present Slackness will not make up for pastActivity. Time has swallowed up all that we Contemporariesdid Yesterday, as irrevocably as it has the Actionsof the Antediluvians: But we are again awake,and what shall we do to-Day, to-Day which passes whilewe are yet speaking? Shall we remember the Follyof last Night, or resolve upon the Exercise of Virtuetomorrow? Last Night is certainly gone, and To-morrowmay never arrive: This Instant make use of.Can you oblige any Man of Honour and Virtue?Do it immediately. Can you visit a sick Friend?Will it revive him to see you enter, and suspend yourown Ease and Pleasure to comfort his Weakness, andhear the Impertinencies of a Wretch in Pain?Don’t stay to take Coach, but be gone. YourMistress will bring Sorrow, and your Bottle Madness:Go to neither.—Such Virtues and Diversionsas these are mentioned because they occur to all Men.But every Man is sufficiently convinced, that to suspendthe use of the present Moment, and resolve better forthe future only, is an unpardonable Folly: WhatI attempted to consider, was the Mischief of settingsuch a Value upon what is past, as to think we havedone enough. Let a Man have filled all the Officesof Life with the highest Dignity till Yesterday, andbegin to live only to himself to-Day, he must expecthe will in the Effects upon his Reputation be consideredas the Man who died Yesterday. The Man who distinguisheshimself from the rest, stands in a Press of People;those before him intercept his Progress, and thosebehind him, if he does not urge on, will tread himdown. Caesar, of whom it was said, that he thoughtnothing done while there was anything left for himto do, went on in performing the greatest Exploits,without assuming to himself a Privilege of takingRest upon the Foundation of the Merit of his formerActions. It was the manner of that glorious Captainto write down what Scenes he passed through, but itwas rather to keep his Affairs in Method, and capableof a clear Review in case they should be examinedby others, than that he built a Renown upon any thingwhich was past. I shall produce two Fragmentsof his to demonstrate, that it was his Rule of Lifeto support himself rather by what he should performthan what he had done already. In the Tabletwhich he wore about him the same Year, in which heobtained the Battel of Pharsalia, there were foundthese loose Notes for his own Conduct: It issupposed, by the Circ*mstances they alluded to, thatthey might be set down the Evening of the same Night.My Part is now but begun, and my Glorymust be sustained by the Use I make of this Victory;otherwise my Loss will be greater than that of Pompey.Our personal Reputation will rise or fall as we bearour respective Fortunes. All my private Enemiesamong the Prisoners shall be spared. I willforget this, in order to obtain such another Day.Trebutius is ashamed to see me: I will go tohis Tent, and be reconciled in private. Giveall the Men of Honour, who take part with me, theTerms I offered before the Battel. Let them owethis to their Friends who have been long in my Interests.Power is weakened by the full Use of it, but extendedby Moderation. Galbinius is proud, and willbe servile in his present Fortune; let him wait.Send for Stertinius: He is modest, and hisVirtue is worth gaining. I have cooled my Heartwith Reflection; and am fit to rejoice with the Armyto-morrow. He is a popular General who can exposehimself like a private Man during a Battel; buthe is more popular who can rejoice but like a privateMan after a Victory.
What is particularly proper for the Example of allwho pretend to Industry in the Pursuit of Honour andVirtue, is, That this Hero was more than ordinarilysollicitous about his Reputation, when a common Mindwould have thought it self in Security, and given itself a Loose to Joy and Triumph. But though thisis a very great Instance of his Temper, I must confessI am more taken with his Reflections when he retiredto his Closet in some Disturbance upon the repeatedill Omens of Calphurnia’s Dream the Night beforehis Death. The literal Translation of that Fragmentshall conclude this Paper.
Be it so [then. [1]] If I am to die to-Morrow,that is what I am to do to-Morrow: It willnot be then, because I am willing it should be then;nor shall I escape it, because I am unwilling.It is in the Gods when, but in my self how I shalldie. If Calphurnia’s Dreams are Fumes ofIndigestion, how shall I behold the Day after to-morrow?If they are from the Gods, their Admonition is notto prepare me to escape from their Decree, but tomeet it. I have lived to a Fulness of Days andof Glory; what is there that Caesar has not done withas much Honour as antient Heroes? Caesar hasnot yet died; Caesar is prepared to die.
T.
[Footnote 1: [than]]
* * * * *
No. 375. Saturday, May 10,1712. Hughes.
’Non possidentem multa vocaveris
Recte beatum: rectius occupat
Nomen beati, qui Deorum
Muneribus sapienteruti,
Duramque callet Pauperiem pati,
Pejusque Letho flagitium timet.’
Hor.
I have more than once had occasion to mention a nobleSaying of Seneca the Philosopher, That a virtuousPerson struggling with Misfortunes, and rising abovethem, is an Object on which the Gods themselves maylook down with Delight. [1] I shall therefore setbefore my Reader a Scene of this kind of Distressin private Life, for the Speculation of this Day.
An eminent Citizen, who had lived in good Fashionand Credit, was by a Train of Accidents, and by anunavoidable Perplexity in his Affairs, reduced toa low Condition. There is a Modesty usually attendingfaultless Poverty, which made him rather chuse to reducehis Manner of Living to his present Circ*mstances,than sollicit his Friends in order to support theShew of an Estate when the Substance was gone.His Wife, who was a Woman of Sense and Virtue, behavedher self on this Occasion with uncommon Decency, andnever appear’d so amiable in his Eyes as now.Instead of upbraiding him with the ample Fortune shehad brought, or the many great Offers she had refusedfor his sake, she redoubled all the Instances of herAffection, while her Husband was continually pouringout his Heart to her in Complaints that he had ruinedthe best Woman in the World. He sometimes camehome at a time when she did not expect him, and surpriz’dher in Tears, which she endeavour’d to conceal,and always put on an Air of Chearfulness to receivehim. To lessen their Expence, their eldest Daughter(whom I shall call Amanda) was sent into the Country,to the House of an honest Farmer, who had married aServant of the Family. This young Woman was apprehensiveof the Ruin which was approaching, and had privatelyengaged a Friend in the Neighbourhood to give heran account of what passed from time to time in herFather’s Affairs. Amanda was in the Bloomof her Youth and Beauty, when the Lord of the Manor,who often called in at the Farmer’s House ashe followd his Country Sports, fell passionately inlove with her. He was a Man of great Generosity,but from a loose Education had contracted a heartyAversion to Marriage. He therefore entertaineda Design upon Amanda’s Virtue, which at presenthe thought fit to keep private. The innocentCreature, who never suspected his Intentions, was pleasedwith his Person; and having observed his growing Passionfor her, hoped by so advantageous a Match she mightquickly be in a capacity of supporting her impoverish’dRelations. One day as he called to see her, hefound her in Tears over a Letter she had just receiv’dfrom her Friend, which gave an Account that her Fatherhad lately been stripped of every thing by an Execution.The Lover, who with some Difficulty found out the Causeof her Grief, took this occasion to make her a Proposal.It is impossible to express Amanda’s Confusionwhen she found his Pretensions were not honourable.She was now deserted of all her Hopes, and had noPower to speak; but rushing from him in the utmostDisturbance, locked her self up in her Chamber.He immediately dispatched a Messenger to her Fatherwith the following Letter.
SIR,
I have heard of your Misfortune, andhave offer’d your Daughter, if she will livewith me, to settle on her Four hundred Pounds a year,and to lay down the Sum for which you are now distressed.I will be so ingenuous as to tell you that I donot intend Marriage: But if you are wise,you will use your Authority with her not to be toonice, when she has an opportunity of saving youand your Family, and of making her self happy.I am, &c.
This Letter came to the Hands of Amanda’s Mother;she opend and read it with great Surprize and Concern.She did not think it proper to explain her self tothe Messenger, but desiring him to call again the nextMorning, she wrote to her Daughter as follows.
Dearest Child,
Your Father and I have just now receiv’da Letter from a Gentleman who pretends Love to you,with a Proposal that insults our Misfortunes, andwould throw us to a lower Degree of Misery than anything which is come upon us. How could thisbarbarous Man think, that the tenderest of Parentswould be tempted to supply their Wants by giving upthe best of Children to Infamy and Ruin? Itis a mean and cruel Artifice to make this Proposalat a time when he thinks our Necessities must compelus to any thing; but we will not eat the Bread of Shame;and therefore we charge thee not to think of us,but to avoid the Snare which is laid for thy Virtue.Beware of pitying us: It is not so bad as youhave perhaps been told. All things will yet bewell, and I shall write my Child better News.
I have been interrupted. I know nothow I was moved to say things would mend. AsI was going on I was startled by a Noise of one thatknocked at the Door, and hath brought us an unexpectedSupply of a Debt which had long been owing.Oh! I will now tell thee all. It is somedays I have lived almost without Support, having conveydwhat little Money I could raise to your poor Father—Thouwilt weep to think where he is, yet be assured hewill be soon at Liberty. That cruel Letterwould have broke his Heart, but I have concealed itfrom him. I have no Companion at present besideslittle Fanny, who stands watching my Looks as Iwrite, and is crying for her Sister. She saysshe is sure you are not well, having discover’dthat my present Trouble is about you. But donot think I would thus repeat my Sorrows, to grievethee: No, it is to intreat thee not to make theminsupportable, by adding what would be worse thanall. Let us bear chearfully an Affliction,which we have not brought on our selves, and rememberthere is a Power who can better deliver us out of itthan by the Loss of thy Innocence. Heaven preservemy dear Child.
Affectionate Mother——
The Messenger, notwithstanding he promised to deliverthis Letter to Amanda, carry’d it first to hisMaster, who he imagined would be glad to have an Opportunityof giving it into her Hands himself. His Masterwas impatient to know the Success of his Proposal,and therefore broke open the Letter privately to seethe Contents. He was not a little moved at sotrue a Picture of Virtue in Distress: But at thesame time was infinitely surprized to find his Offersrejected. However, he resolved not to suppressthe Letter, but carefully sealed it up again, andcarried it to Amanda. All his Endeavours to seeher were in vain, till she was assured he broughta Letter from her Mother. He would not part withit, but upon Condition that she should read it withoutleaving the Room. While she was perusing it,he fixed his Eyes on her Face with the deepest Attention:Her Concern gave a new Softness to her Beauty, andwhen she burst into Tears, he could no longer refrainfrom bearing a Part of her Sorrow, and telling her,that he too had read the Letter and was resolvd tomake Reparation for having been the Occasion of it.My Reader will not be displeased to see this SecondEpistle which he now wrote to Amanda’s Mother.
MADAM,
I am full of Shame, and will never forgivemy self, if I have not your Pardon for what I latelywrote. It was far from my Intention to add Troubleto the Afflicted; nor could any thing, but my beinga Stranger to you, have betray’d me into aFault, for which, if I live, I shall endeavour tomake you amends, as a Son. You cannot be unhappywhile Amanda is your Daughter: nor shall be,if any thing can prevent it, which is in the powerof, MADAM,
Your most obedient
Humble Servant——
This Letter he sent by his Steward, and soon afterwent up to Town himself, to compleat the generousAct he had now resolved on. By his Friendshipand Assistance Amanda’s Father was quickly ina condition of retrieving his perplex’d Affairs.To conclude, he Marry’d Amanda, and enjoyd thedouble Satisfaction of having restored a worthy Familyto their former Prosperity, and of making himselfhappy by an Alliance to their Virtues.
[Footnote 1: See note on p. 148 [Footnote 1 ofNo. 39], vol. i.]
* * * * *
No. 376. Monday, May 12, 1712. Steele.
‘—Pavone ex Pythagoreo—’
Persius.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I have observed that the Officer you sometime ago appointed as Inspector of Signs, has notdone his Duty so well as to give you an Accountof very many strange Occurrences in the publick Streets,which are worthy of, but have escaped your Notice.Among all the Oddnesses which I have ever met with,that which I am now telling you of gave me mostDelight. You must have observed that all the Criersin the Street attract the Attention of the Passengers,and of the Inhabitants in the several Parts, bysomething very particular in their Tone it self, inthe dwelling upon a Note, or else making themselveswholly unintelligible by a Scream. The PersonI am so delighted with has nothing to sell, butvery gravely receives the Bounty of the People, forno other Merit but the Homage they pay to his Mannerof signifying to them that he wants a Subsidy.You must, sure, have heard speak of an old Man,who walks about the City, and that part of the Suburbswhich lies beyond the Tower, performing the Officeof a Day-Watchman, followed by a Goose, which bearsthe Bob of his Ditty, and confirms what he sayswith a Quack, Quack. I gave little heed to themention of this known Circ*mstance, till, beingthe other day in those Quarters, I passed by a decrepitold Fellow with a Pole in his Hand, who just thenwas bawling out, Half an Hour after one a-Clock, andimmediately a dirty Goose behind him made her Response,Quack, Quack. I could not forbear attendingthis grave Procession for the length of half a Street,with no small amazement to find the whole Place sofamiliarly acquainted with a melancholy Mid-nightVoice at Noon-day, giving them the Hour, and exhortingthem of the Departure of Time, with a Bounce attheir Doors. While I was full of this Novelty,I went into a Friend’s House, and told himhow I was diverted with their whimsical Monitorand his Equipage. My Friend gave me the History;and interrupted my Commendation of the Man, by tellingme the Livelihood of these two Animals is purchasedrather by the good Parts of the Goose, than of theLeader: For it seems the Peripatetick who walkedbefore her was a Watchman in that Neighbourhood;and the Goose of her self by frequent hearing hisTone, out of her natural Vigilance, not only observed,but answer’d it very regularly from Time to Time.The Watchman was so affected with it, that he boughther, and has taken her in Partner, only alteringtheir Hours of Duty from Night to Day. TheTown has come into it, and they live very comfortably.This is the Matter of Fact: Now I desire you,who are a profound Philosopher, to consider thisAlliance of Instinct and Reason; your Speculation mayturn very naturally upon the Force the superior Partof Mankind may have upon the Spirits of such as,like this Watchman, may be very near the Standardof Geese. And you may add to this practical Observation,how in all Ages and Times the World has been carry’daway by odd unaccountable things, which one wouldthink would pass upon no Creature which had Reason;and, under the Symbol of this Goose, you may enterinto the Manner and Method of leading Creatures, withtheir Eyes open, thro’ thick and thin, forthey know not what, they know not why.
All which is humbly submitted to yourSpectatorial Wisdom by,
SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
Michael Gander.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I have for several Years had under myCare the Government and Education of young Ladies,which Trust I have endeavour’d to dischargewith due regard to their several Capacities and Fortunes:I have left nothing undone to imprint in every oneof them an humble courteous Mind, accompanied witha graceful becoming Mein, and have made them prettymuch acquainted with the Houshold Part of Family-Affairs;but still I find there is something very much wantingin the Air of my Ladies, different from what I observein those that are esteemed your fine bred Women.Now, Sir, I must own to you, I never suffered my Girlsto learn to Dance; but since I have read your Discourseof Dancing, where you have described the Beautyand Spirit there is in regular Motion, I own myself your Convert, and resolve for the future togive my young Ladies that Accomplishment. Butupon imparting my Design to their Parents, I havebeen made very uneasy, for some Time, because severalof them have declared, that if I did not make use ofthe Master they recommended, they would take awaytheir Children. There was Colonel Jumper’sLady, a Colonel of the Train-Bands, that has a greatInterest in her Parish; she recommends Mr. Trott forthe prettiest Master in Town, that no Man teachesa Jigg like him, that she has seen him rise sixor seven Capers together with the greatest Easeimaginable, and that his Scholars twist themselvesmore ways than the Scholars of any Master in Town:besides there is Madam Prim, an Alderman’sLady, recommends a Master of her own Name, but shedeclares he is not of their Family, yet a very extraordinaryMan in his way; for besides a very soft Air he hasin Dancing, he gives them a particular Behaviourat a Tea-Table, and in presenting their Snuff-Box,to twirl, flip, or flirt a Fan, and how to place Patchesto the best advantage, either for Fat or Lean, Longor Oval Faces: for my Lady says there is morein these Things than the World Imagines. But Imust confess the major Part of those I am concern’dwith leave it to me. I desire therefore, accordingto the inclosed Direction, you would send your Correspondentwho has writ to you on that Subject to my House.If proper Application this way can give Innocence newCharms, and make Virtue legible in the Countenance,I shall spare no Charge to make my Scholars in theirvery Features and Limbs bear witness how carefulI have been in the other Parts of their Education.
I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
Rachael Watchful
T.
* * * * *
No. 377. Tuesday, May 13, 1712. Addison.
’Quid quisque vitet, nunquam hominisatis
Cautum est in horas—’
Hor.
Love was the Mother of Poetry, and still produces,among the most ignorant and barbarous, a thousandimaginary Distresses and Poetical Complaints.It makes a Footman talk like Oroondates, and convertsa brutal Rustick into a gentle Swain. The mostordinary Plebeian or Mechanick in Love, bleeds andpines away with a certain Elegance and Tendernessof Sentiments which this Passion naturally inspires.
These inward Languishings of a Mind infected withthis Softness, have given birth to a Phrase whichis made use of by all the melting Tribe, from thehighest to the lowest, I mean that of dying for Love.
Romances, which owe their very Being to this Passion,are full of these metaphorical Deaths. Heroesand Heroines, Knights, Squires, and Damsels, are allof them in a dying Condition. There is the samekind of Mortality in our Modern Tragedies, where everyone gasps, faints, bleeds and dies. Many of thePoets, to describe the Execution which is done bythis Passion, represent the Fair Sex as Basilisks thatdestroy with their Eyes; but I think Mr. Cowley haswith greater Justness of Thought compared a beautifulWoman to a Porcupine, that sends an Arrow from everyPart. [1]
I have often thought, that there is no way so effectualfor the Cure of this general Infirmity, as a Man’sreflecting upon the Motives that produce it.When the Passion proceeds from the Sense of any Virtueor Perfection in the Person beloved, I would by nomeans discourage it; but if a Man considers that allhis heavy Complaints of Wounds and Deaths rise fromsome little Affectations of Coquetry, which are improvedinto Charms by his own fond Imagination, the verylaying before himself the Cause of his Distemper,may be sufficient to effect the Cure of it.
It is in this view that I have looked over the severalBundles of Letters which I have received from DyingPeople, and composed out of them the following Billof Mortality, which I shall lay before my Reader withoutany further Preface, as hoping that it may be usefulto him in discovering those several Places where thereis most Danger, and those fatal Arts which are madeuse of to destroy the Heedless and Unwary.
Lysander, slain at a Puppet-show onthe third of September.
Thirsis, shot from a Casem*nt in Pickadilly.
T. S., wounded by Zehinda’sScarlet Stocking, as she was
steppingout of a Coach.
Will. Simple, smitten at the Operaby the Glance of an Eye that was
aimedat one who stood by him.
Tho. Vainlove, lost his Life at aBall.
Tim. Tattle, kill’d by theTap of a Fan on his left Shoulder by
Coquetilla,as he was talking carelessly with her in a
Bow-window.
Sir Simon Softly, murder’d at thePlay-house in Drury-lane by a Frown.
Philander, mortally wounded by Cleora,as she was adjusting her
Tucker.
Ralph Gapely, Esq., hit by a random Shotat the Ring.
F. R., caught his Death upon theWater, April the 31st.
W. W., killed by an unknown Hand,that was playing with the
Gloveoff upon the Side of the Front-Box in Drury-Lane.
Sir Christopher Crazy, Bart.,
hurtby the Brush of a Whalebone Petticoat.
Sylvius, shot through the Sticks ofa Fan at St. James’s Church.
Damon, struck thro’ the Heartby a Diamond Necklace.
Thomas Trusty,
Francis Goosequill,
William Meanwell,
Edward Callow, Esqrs.,
standingin a Row, fell all four at the same time, by an
Ogleof the Widow Trapland.
Tom. Rattle, chancing to tread upona Lady’s Tail as he came out of
thePlay-house, she turned full upon him, and laid him
deadupon the Spot.
Dick Tastewell, slain by a Blush fromthe Queen’s Box in the third Act
ofthe Trip to the Jubilee.
Samuel Felt, Haberdasher,
woundedin his Walk to Islington by Mrs. Susannah
Crossstich,as she was clambering over a Stile.
R. F.,
T. W.,
S. I.,
M. P., &c., put to Death in the lastBirth-Day Massacre.
Roger Blinko, cut off in the Twenty-firstYear of his Age by a
White-wash.
Musidorus, slain by an Arrow that flewout of a Dimple in Belinda’s
LeftCheek.
Ned Courtly presenting Flavia with herGlove (which she had dropped
onpurpose) she receivd it, and took away his Life witha
Curtsie.
John Gosselin having received a slightHurt from a Pair of blue Eyes,
ashe was making his Escape was dispatch’d by aSmile.
Strephon, killed by Clarinda as shelooked down into the Pit.
Charles Careless,
shotflying by a Girl of Fifteen, who unexpectedly popped
herHead upon him out of a Coach.
Josiah Wither, aged threescore and three,sent to his long home by
ElizabethJet-well, Spinster.
Jack Freelove, murderd by Melissa in herHair.
William Wiseaker, Gent.,
drown’din a Flood of Tears by Moll Common.
John Pleadwell, Esq., of the Middle Temple,Barrister at Law,
assassinated in his Chambers the sixthInstant by Kitty Sly, who
pretended to come to him for his Advice.
I.
[Footnote 1:
They are all weapon, and they dart
Like Porcupines from every Part.
Anacreontics, iii.]
* * * * *
No. 378. Wednesday, May 14, 1712. Pope.
‘Aggredere, O magnos, aderit jamtempus, honores.’
Virg.
I will make no Apology for entertaining the Readerwith the following Poem, which is written by a greatGenius, a Friend of mine, in the Country, who is notashamd to employ his Wit in the Praise of his Maker.[1]
MESSIAH.
A sacred Eclogue, compos’d of several Passagesof Isaiah the Prophet.
Written in Imitation of Virgil’s POLLIO.
YeNymphs of Solyma! begin the Song:
Toheav’nly Themes sublimer Strains belong.
TheMossy Fountains, and the Sylvan Shades,
TheDreams of Pindus and th’ Aonian Maids,
Delightno more—O Thou my Voice inspire,
Whotouch’d Isaiah’s [hallow’d [2]] Lipswith Fire!
Raptinto future Times, the Bard begun;
AVirgin shall conceive, a Virgin bear a Son!
[Isaiah, From Jesse’s Root behold a Brancharise, Cap. II. Whose sacred Flow’rwith Fragrance fills the Skies. v. 1.] Th’AEthereal Spirit o’er its Leaves shall move,
Andon its Top descends the Mystick Dove.
[Cap. 45. Ye Heav’ns! from high the dewy Nectar pour,v. 8.] And in soft Silence shed the kindly Show’r!
[Cap. 25. The Sick and Weak, the healingPlant shall aid, v. 4.] From Storms a Shelter,and from Heat a Shade.
AllCrimes shall cease, and ancient Fraud shall fail;
[Cap. 9. Returning Justice lift alofther Scale;
v. 7.] Peace o’er the World her OliveWand extend,
Andwhite-rob’d Innocence from Heav’n descend.
Swiftfly the Years, and rise th’ expected Morn!
Ohspring to Light, Auspicious Babe, be born!
SeeNature hastes her earliest Wreaths to bring,
Withall the Incense of the breathing Spring:
[Cap. 35. See lofty Lebanon his Head advance,
v. 2.] See nodding Forests on the Mountainsdance,
Seespicy Clouds from lowly Sharon rise,
AndCarmels flow’ry Top perfumes the Skies!
[Cap. 40. Hark! a glad Voice the lonelyDesart chears;
v. 3, 4.] Prepare the Way! a God, a God appears:
AGod! a God! the vocal Hills reply,
TheRocks proclaim th’ approaching Deity.
LoEarth receives him from the bending Skies!
Sinkdown ye Mountains, and ye Vallies rise!
WithHeads declin’d, ye Cedars, Homage pay!
Besmooth ye Rocks, ye rapid Floods give way!
TheSAVIOUR comes! by ancient Bards foretold;
[Cap. 42. v. 18.] Hear him, ye Deaf, andall ye Blind behold!
[Cap. 35. He from thick Films shall purgethe visual Ray,
v. 5, 6.] And on the sightless Eye-ball pourthe Day.
‘Tishe th’ obstructed Paths of Sound shall clear,
Andbid new Musick charm th’ unfolding Ear,
TheDumb shall sing, the Lame his Crutch forego,
Andleap exulting like the bounding Roe;
[NoSigh, no Murmur the wide World shall hear,
Fromev’ry Face he wipes off ev’ry Tear.
[Cap. 25. In Adamantine Chains shall Death be bound,v. 8.] And Hell’s grim Tyrant feel th’ eternal Wound. [3]]
[Cap. 30. As the good Shepherd tends hisfleecy Care,
v. xx.] Seeks freshest Pastures and the purestAir,
Exploresthe lost, the wand’ring Sheep directs,
Byday o’ersees them, and by night protects;
Thetender Lambs he raises in his Arms,
Feedsfrom his Hand, and in his Bosom warms:
Mankindshall thus his Guardian Care engage,
Thepromis’d Father of the future Age. [4]
Nomore shall Nation against Nation rise, [5]
Noardent Warriors meet with hateful Eyes,
NorFields with gleaming Steel be coverd o’er,
TheBrazen Trumpets kindle Rage no more;
Butuseless Lances into Scythes shall bend,
Andthe broad Falchion in a Plow-share end.
ThenPalaces shall rise; the joyful Son [6]
Shallfinish what his short-liv’d Sire begun;
TheirVines a Shadow to their Race shall yield,
Andthe same Hand that sow’d shall reap the Field.
TheSwain in barren Desarts with Surprize [7]
SeesLillies spring, and sudden Verdure rise;
AndStarts, amidst the thirsty Wilds, to hear,
NewFalls of Water murmuring in his Ear:
Onrifted Rocks, the Dragon’s late Abodes,
Thegreen Reed trembles, and the Bulrush nods.
Wastesandy Vallies, once perplexd with Thorn, [8]
Thespiry Fir and shapely Box adorn:
Toleafless Shrubs the flow’ring Palms succeed,
Andod’rous Myrtle to the noisome Weed.
TheLambs with Wolves shall graze the verdant Mead [9]
AndBoys in flow’ry Bands the Tyger lead;
TheSteer and Lion at one Crib shall meet,
Andharmless Serpents Lick the Pilgrim’s Feet.
Thesmiling Infant in his Hand shall take
Thecrested Basilisk and speckled Snake;
Pleas’d,the green Lustre of the Scales survey,
Andwith their forky Tongue and pointless Sting shall
play.
Rise,crown’d with Light, imperial Salem rise! [10]
Exaltthy tow’ry Head, and lift thy Eyes!
See,a long Race thy spacious Courts adorn; [11]
Seefuture Sons and Daughters yet unborn
Incrowding Ranks on ev’ry side arise,
DemandingLife, impatient for the Skies!
Seebarb’rous Nations at thy Gates attend, [12]
Walk
Seethy bright Altars throng’d with prostrate Kings,
Andheap’d with Products of Sabaean Springs! [13]
Forthee Idume’s spicy Forests blow;
Andseeds of Gold in Ophir’s Mountains glow.
SeeHeav’n its sparkling Portals wide display,
Andbreak upon thee in a Flood of Day!
Nomore the rising Sun shall gild the Morn, [14]
NorEvening Cynthia fill her silver Horn,
Butlost, dissolv’d in thy superior Rays;
OneTide of Glory, one unclouded Blaze
O’erflowthy Courts: The LIGHT HIMSELF shall shine
Reveal’d;and God’s eternal Day be thine!
TheSeas shall waste, the Skies in Smoke decay; [15]
Rocksfall to Dust, and Mountains melt away;
Butfix’d His Word, His saving Pow’r remains:
ThyRealm for ever lasts! thy own Messiah reigns.
T.
[Footnote 1: Thus far Steele.]
[Footnote 2: [hollow’d]]
[Footnote 3:
[Before him Death, the grisly Tyrant,flies;
He wipes the Tears for ever from our Eyes.]
This was an alteration which Steele had suggested,and in which young
Pope had acquiesced. Steele wrote:
I have turned to every verse and chapter,and think you have preserved the sublime, heavenlyspirit throughout the whole, especially at “Harka glad voice,” and “The lamb with wolvesshall graze.” There is but one line whichI think is below the original:
He wipes the tears for everfrom our eyes.
You have expressed it with a good andpious but not so exalted and poetical a spirit asthe prophet: The Lord God shall wipe away tearsfrom off all faces. If you agree with me inthis, alter it by way of paraphrase or otherwise,that when it comes into a volume it may be amended.]
[Footnote 4: Cap. 9. v. 6.]
[Footnote 5: Cap. 2. v. 4.]
[Footnote 6: Cap. 65. v. 21, 22.]
[Footnote 7: Cap 35. v. 1, 7.]
[Footnote 8: Cap. 41. v. 19. and Cap. 55. v.13.]
[Footnote 9: Cap. 11. v. 6, 7, 8.]
[Footnote 10: Cap. 60. v. 1.]
[Footnote 11: Cap. 60. v. 4.]
[Footnote 12: Cap. 60. v. 3.]
[Footnote 13: Cap. 60. v. 6.]
[Footnote 14: Cap. 60. v. 19, 20.]
[Footnote 15: Cap. 51. v. 6. and Cap. 64. v.10.]
* * * * *
No. 379. Thursday, May 15, 1712. Budgell.
‘Scire tuum nihil est nisi te scirehoc sciat alter.’
Pers.
I have often wondered at that ill-natur’d Positionwhich has been sometimes maintained in the Schools,and is comprizd in an old Latin Verse, namely, thatA Man’s Knowledge is worth nothing, if he communicateswhat he knows to any one besides. [1] There is certainlyno more sensible Pleasure to a good-natur’dMan, than if he can by any means gratify or informthe Mind of another. I might add, that this Virtuenaturally carries its own reward along with it, sinceit is almost impossible it should be exercised withoutthe Improvement of the Person who practices it.The reading of Books, and the daily Occurrences ofLife, are continually furnishing us with Matter forThought and Reflection. It is extremely naturalfor us to desire to see such our Thoughts put intothe Dress of Words, without which indeed we can scarcehave a clear and distinct Idea of them our selves:When they are thus clothed in Expressions, nothingso truly shews us whether they are just or false,as those Effects which they produce in the Minds ofothers.
I am apt to flatter my self, that in the Course ofthese my Speculations, I have treated of several Subjects,and laid down many such Rules for the Conduct of aMan’s Life, which my Readers were either whollyignorant of before, or which at least those few whowere acquainted with them, looked upon as so manySecrets they have found out for the Conduct of themselves,but were resolved never to have made publick.
I am the more confirmed in this Opinion from my havingreceived several Letters, wherein I am censur’dfor having prostituted Learning to the Embraces ofthe Vulgar, and made her, as one of my Correspondentsphrases it, a common Strumpet: I am charged byanother with laying open the Arcana, or Secrets ofPrudence, to the Eyes of every Reader.
The narrow Spirit which appears in the Letters ofthese my Correspondents is the less surprizing, asit has shewn itself in all Ages: There is stillextant an Epistle written by Alexander the Great tohis Tutor Aristotle, upon that Philosopher’spublishing some part of his Writings; in which thePrince complains of his having made known to all theWorld, those Secrets in Learning which he had beforecommunicated to him in private Lectures; concluding,That he had rather excel the rest of Mankind in Knowledgethan in Power. [2]
Luisa de Padilla, a Lady of great Learning, and Countessof Aranda, was in like manner angry with the famousGratian, [3] upon his publishing his Treatise of theDiscrete; wherein she fancied that he had laid openthose Maxims to common Readers, which ought only tohave been reserved for the Knowledge of the Great.
These Objections are thought by many of so much weight,that they often defend the above-mentiond Authors,by affirming they have affected such an Obscurityin their Style and Manner of Writing, that tho everyone may read their Works, there will be but very fewwho can comprehend their Meaning.
Persius, the Latin Satirist, affected Obscurity foranother Reason; with which however Mr. Cowley is sooffended, that writing to one of his Friends, You,says he, tell me, that you do not know whether Persiusbe a good Poet or no, because you cannot understandhim; for which very Reason I affirm that he is notso.
However, this Art of writing unintelligibly has beenvery much improved, and follow’d by severalof the Moderns, who observing the general Inclinationof Mankind to dive into a Secret, and the Reputationmany have acquired by concealing their Meaning underobscure Terms and Phrases, resolve, that they maybe still more abstruse, to write without any Meaningat all. This Art, as it is at present practisedby many eminent Authors, consists in throwing so manyWords at a venture into different Periods, and leavingthe curious Reader to find out the Meaning of them.
The Egyptians, who made use of Hieroglyphicks to signifyseveral things, expressed a Man who confined his Knowledgeand Discoveries altogether within himself, by theFigure of a Dark-Lanthorn closed on all sides, which,tho’ it was illuminated within, afforded no mannerof Light or Advantage to such as stood by it.For my own part, as I shall from time to time communicateto the Publick whatever Discoveries I happen to make,I should much rather be compared to an ordinary Lamp,which consumes and wastes it self for the benefitof every Passenger.
I shall conclude this Paper with the Story of Rosicrucius’sSepulchre. I suppose I need not inform my Readersthat this Man was the Founder of the Rosicrusian Sect,and that his Disciples still pretend to new Discoveries,which they are never to communicate to the rest ofMankind. [4]
A certain Person having occasion to dig somewhat deepin the Ground where this Philosopher lay inter’d,met with a small Door having a Wall on each side ofit. His Curiosity, and the Hopes of finding somehidden Treasure, soon prompted him to force open theDoor. He was immediately surpriz’d by asudden Blaze of Light, and discover’d a veryfair Vault: At the upper end of it was a Statueof a Man in Armour sitting by a Table, and leaningon his Left Arm. He held a Truncheon in his rightHand, and had a Lamp burning before him. The Manhad no sooner set one Foot within the Vault, thanthe Statue erecting it self from its leaning Posture,stood bolt upright; and upon the Fellow’s advancinganother Step, lifted up the Truncheon in his RightHand. The Man still ventur’d a third Step,when the Statue with a furious Blow broke the Lampinto a thousand Pieces, and left his Guest in a suddenDarkness.
Upon the Report of this Adventure, the Country Peoplesoon came with Lights to the Sepulchre, and discoveredthat the Statue, which was made of Brass, was nothingmore than a Piece of Clock-work; that the Floor ofthe Vault was all loose, and underlaid with severalSprings, which, upon any Man’s entering, naturallyproduced that which had happend.
Rosicrucius, says his Disciples, made use of thisMethod, to shew the World that he had re-inventedthe ever-burning Lamps of the Ancients, tho’he was resolvd no one should reap any Advantage fromthe Discovery.
X.
[Footnote 1: Nil proprium ducas quod mutarierpotest.]
[Footnote 2: Aulus Gellius. Noct. Att.,Bk xx., ch. 5.]
[Footnote 3: Baltazar Grecian’s Discretohas been mentioned before in the Spectator, beingwell-known in England through a French translation.See note on p. 303, ante [Footnote 1 of No. 293].Gracian, in Spain, became especially popular as aforemost representative of his time in transferringthe humour for conceits—cultismo, as itwas called—from verse to prose. Hebegan in 1630 with a prose tract, the Hero, labouredin short ingenious sentences, which went through sixeditions. He wrote also an Art of Poetry afterthe new style. His chief work was the Criticon,an allegory of the Spring, Autumn, and Winter of life.The Discreto was one of his minor works. Allthat he wrote was published, not by himself, but bya friend, and in the name of his brother Lorenzo,who was not an ecclesiastic.]
[Footnote 4: Rosicrucius had been made fashionableby the Abbe de Villars who was assassinated in 1675.His Comte de Gabalis was a popular little book inthe Spectators time. I suppose I need not informmy readers that there never was a Rosicrucius or aRosicrucian sect. The Rosicrucian pamphlets whichappeared in Germany at the beginning of the 17th century,dating from the Discovery of the Brotherhood of theHonourable Order of the Rosy Cross, a pamphlet publishedin 1610, by a Lutheran clergyman, Valentine Andreae,were part of a hoax designed perhaps originally asmeans of establishing a sort of charitable masonicsociety of social reformers. Missing that aim,the Rosicrucian story lived to be adorned by superstitiousfancy, with ideas of mystery and magic, which in theComte de Gabalis were methodized into a consistentromance. It was from this romance that Pope gotwhat he called the Rosicrucian machinery of his Rapeof the Lock. The Abbe de Villars, professingto give very full particulars, had told how the Rosicruciansassigned sylphs to the air, gnomes to the earth, nymphsto the water, salamanders to the fire.]
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No. 380. Friday, May 16, 1712. Steele
‘Rivalem patienter habe—’
Ovid.
Thursday, May 8, 1712.
SIR,
The Character you have in the World ofbeing the Lady’s Philosopher, and the prettyAdvice I have seen you give to others in your Papers,make me address my self to you in this abrupt Manner,and to desire your Opinion what in this Age a Womanmay call a Lover. I have lately had a Gentlemanthat I thought made Pretensions to me, insomuch thatmost of my Friends took Notice of it and thoughtwe were really married; which I did not take muchPains to undeceive them, and especially a youngGentlewoman of my particular Acquaintance which wasthen in the Country. She coming to Town, andseeing our Intimacy so great, she gave her selfthe Liberty of taking me to task concerning it:I ingenuously told her we were not married, but I didnot know what might the Event. She soon gotacquainted with the Gentleman, and was pleased totake upon her to examine him about it. Now whethera new Face had made a greater Conquest than theold, I’ll leave you to judge: But I aminformd that he utterly deny’d all Pretensionsto Courtship, but withal profess’d a sincereFriendship for me; but whether Marriages are propos’dby way of Friendship or not, is what I desire toknow, and what I may really call a Lover. Thereare so many who talk in a Language fit only forthat Character, and yet guard themselves againstspeaking in direct Terms to the Point, that it isimpossible to distinguish between Courtship and Conversation.I hope you will do me Justice both upon my Loverand my Friend, if they provoke me further:In the mean time I carry it with so equal a Behaviour,that the Nymph and the Swain too are mighty at a loss;each believes I, who know them both well, thinkmy self revenged in their Love to one another, whichcreates an irreconcileable Jealousy. If all comesright again, you shall hear further from,
SIR,
Your most obedient Servant,
Mirtilla.
April 28, 1712.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Your Observations on Persons that havebehaved themselves irreverently at Church, I doubtnot have had a good Effect on some that have readthem: But there is another Fault which has hithertoescaped your Notice, I mean of such Persons as arevery zealous and punctual to perform an ejacul*tionthat is only preparatory to the Service of the Church,and yet neglect to join in the Service it self.There is an Instance of this in a Friend of WILL.HONEYCOMB’S, who sits opposite to me:He seldom comes in till the Prayers are about halfover, and when he has enter’d his Seat (insteadof joining with the Congregation) he devoutly holdshis Hat before his Face for three or four Moments,then bows to all his Acquaintance, sits down, takesa Pinch of Snuff, (if it be Evening Service perhapsa Nap) and spends the remaining Time in surveyingthe Congregation. Now, Sir, what I would desire,is, that you will animadvert a little on this Gentleman’sPractice. In my Opinion, this Gentleman’sDevotion, Cap-in-Hand, is only a Compliance to theCustom of the Place, and goes no further than alittle ecclesiastical Good-Breeding. If you willnot pretend to tell us the Motives that bring suchTriflers to solemn Assemblies, yet let me desirethat you will give this Letter a Place in your Paper,and I shall remain,
SIR,
Your obliged humble Servant,
J. S.
May the 5th.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
The Conversation at a Club, of which Iam a Member, last Night falling upon Vanity andthe Desire of being admired, put me in mind of relatinghow agreeably I was entertained at my own Door lastThursday by a clean fresh-colour’d Girl, underthe most elegant and the best furnished Milk-PailI had ever observed. I was glad of such an Opportunityof seeing the Behaviour of a Coquet in low Life, andhow she received the extraordinary Notice that wastaken of her; which I found had affected every Muscleof her Face in the same manner as it does the Featureof a first-rate Toast at a Play, or in an Assembly.This Hint of mine made the Discourse turn upon theSense of Pleasure; which ended in a general Resolution,that the Milk-Maid enjoys her Vanity as exquisitelyas the Woman of Quality. I think it would notbe an improper Subject for you to examine this Frailty,and trace it to all Conditions of Life; which isrecommended to you as an Occasion of obliging manyof your Readers, among the rest,
Your most humble Servant,
T. B.
SIR,
Coming last Week into a Coffee-house notfar from the Exchange with my Basket under my Arm,a Jew of considerable Note, as I am informed, takeshalf a Dozen Oranges of me, and at the same time slidesa Guinea into my Hand; I made him a Curtsy, andwent my Way: He follow’d me, and findingI was going about my Business, he came up with me,and told me plainly, that he gave me the Guineawith no other Intent but to purchase my Person foran Hour. Did you so, Sir? says I: You gaveit me then to make me be wicked, I’ll keepit to make me honest. However, not to be inthe least ungrateful, I promise you Ill lay it outin a couple of Rings, and wear them for your Sake.I am so just, Sir, besides, as to give every Bodythat asks how I came by my Rings this Account ofmy Benefactor; but to save me the Trouble of tellingmy Tale over and over again, I humbly beg the favourof you so to tell it once for all, and you willextremely oblige,
Your humble Servant,
Betty Lemon.
May 12, 1712.
St. Bride’s, May 15, 1712.
SIR,
’Tis a great deal of Pleasure tome, and I dare say will be no less Satisfactionto you, that I have an Opportunity of informing you,that the Gentlemen and others of the Parish of St.Bride’s, have raised a Charity-School of fiftyGirls, as before of fifty Boys. You were so kindto recommend the Boys to the charitable World, andthe other Sex hope you will do them the same Favourin Friday’s Spectator for Sunday next, whenthey are to appear with their humble Airs at the ParishChurch of St. Bride’s. Sir, the Mentionof this may possibly be serviceable to the Children;and sure no one will omit a good Action attendedwith no Expence.
I am, SIR, Your very humble Servant,
The Sexton.
T.
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No. 381. Saturday, May 17, 1712. Addison.
’AEquam memento rebus in arduis,
Servare mentem, non secus in bonis
Ab insolenti temperatam
Laetitia, moriture Deli.’
Hor.
I have always preferred Chearfulness to Mirth.The latter, I consider as an Act, the former as anHabit of the Mind. Mirth is short and transient.Chearfulness fixed and permanent. Those are oftenraised into the greatest Transports of Mirth, whoare subject to the greatest Depressions of Melancholy:On the contrary, Chearfulness, tho’ it doesnot give the Mind such an exquisite Gladness, preventsus from falling into any Depths of Sorrow. Mirthis like a Flash of Lightning, that breaks thro a Gloomof Clouds, and glitters for a Moment; Chearfulnesskeeps up a kind of Day-light in the Mind, and fillsit with a steady and perpetual Serenity.
Men of austere Principles look upon Mirth as too wantonand dissolute for a State of Probation, and as filledwith a certain Triumph and Insolence of Heart, thatis inconsistent with a Life which is every Momentobnoxious to the greatest Dangers. Writers ofthis Complexion have observed, that the sacred Personwho was the great Pattern of Perfection was neverseen to Laugh.
Chearfulness of Mind is not liable to any of theseExceptions; it is of a serious and composed Nature,it does not throw the Mind into a Condition improperfor the present State of Humanity, and is very conspicuousin the Characters of those who are looked upon as thegreatest Philosophers among the Heathens, as well asamong those who have been deservedly esteemed as Saintsand Holy Men among Christians.
If we consider Chearfulness in three Lights, withregard to our selves, to those we converse with, andto the great Author of our Being, it will not a littlerecommend it self on each of these Accounts. TheMan who is possessed of this excellent Frame of Mind,is not only easy in his Thoughts, but a perfect Masterof all the Powers and Faculties of his Soul:His Imagination is always clear, and his Judgment undisturbed:His Temper is even and unruffled, whether in Actionor in Solitude. He comes with a Relish to allthose Goods which Nature has provided for him, tastesall the Pleasures of the Creation which are pouredabout him, and does not feel the full Weight of thoseaccidental Evils which may befal him.
If we consider him in relation to the Persons whomhe converses with, it naturally produces Love andGood-will towards him. A chearful Mind is notonly disposed to be affable and obliging, but raisesthe same good Humour in those who come within itsInfluence. A Man finds himself pleased, he doesnot know why, with the Chearfulness of his Companion:It is like a sudden Sun-shine that awakens a secretDelight in the Mind, without her attending to it.The Heart rejoices of its own accord, and naturallyflows out into Friendship and Benevolence towards thePerson who has so kindly an Effect upon it.
When I consider this chearful State of Mind in itsthird Relation, I cannot but look upon it as a constanthabitual Gratitude to the great Author of Nature.An inward Chearfulness is an implicit Praise and Thanksgivingto Providence under all its Dispensations. Itis a kind of Acquiescence in the State wherein weare placed, and a secret Approbation of the DivineWill in his Conduct towards Man.
There are but two things which, in my Opinion, canreasonably deprive us of this Chearfulness of Heart.The first of these is the Sense of Guilt. A Manwho lives in a State of Vice and Impenitence, can haveno Title to that Evenness and Tranquillity of Mindwhich is the Health of the Soul, and the natural Effectof Virtue and Innocence. Chearfulness in an illMan deserves a harder Name than Language can furnishus with, and is many degrees beyond what we commonlycall Folly or Madness.
Atheism, by which I mean a Disbelief of a SupremeBeing, and consequently of a future State, under whatsoeverTitles it shelters it self, may likewise very reasonablydeprive a Man of this Chearfulness of Temper.There is something so particularly gloomy and offensiveto human Nature in the Prospect of Non-Existence,that I cannot but wonder, with many excellent Writers,how it is possible for a Man to out-live the Expectationof it. For my own Part, I think the Being of aGod is so little to be doubted, that it is almostthe only Truth we are sure of, and such a Truth aswe meet with in every Object, in every Occurrence,and in every Thought. If we look into the Charactersof this Tribe of Infidels, we generally find theyare made up of Pride, Spleen, and Cavil: It isindeed no wonder, that Men, who are uneasy to themselves,should be so to the rest of the World; and how is itpossible for a Man to be otherwise than uneasy inhimself, who is in danger every Moment of losing hisentire Existence, and dropping into Nothing?
The vicious Man and Atheist have therefore no Pretenceto Chearfulness, and would act very unreasonably,should they endeavour after it. It is impossiblefor any one to live in Good-Humour, and enjoy his presentExistence, who is apprehensive either of Torment orof Annihilation; of being miserable, or of not beingat all.
After having mention’d these two great Principles,which are destructive of Chearfulness in their ownNature, as well as in right Reason, I cannot thinkof any other that ought to banish this happy Temperfrom a Virtuous Mind. Pain and Sickness, Shameand Reproach, Poverty and old Age, nay Death it self,considering the Shortness of their Duration, and theAdvantage we may reap from them, do not deserve theName of Evils. A good Mind may bear up underthem with Fortitude, with Indolence and with Chearfulnessof Heart. The tossing of a Tempest does not discomposehim, which he is sure will bring him to a Joyful Harbour.
A Man, who uses his best endeavours to live accordingto the Dictates of Virtue and right Reason, has twoperpetual Sources of Chearfulness; in the Considerationof his own Nature, and of that Being on whom he hasa Dependance. If he looks into himself, he cannotbut rejoice in that Existence, which is so latelybestowed upon him, and which, after Millions of Ages,will be still new, and still in its Beginning.How many Self-Congratulations naturally arise inthe Mind, when it reflects on this its Entrance intoEternity, when it takes a View of those improveableFaculties, which in a few Years, and even at its firstsetting out, have made so considerable a Progress,and which will be still receiving an Increase of Perfection,and consequently an Increase of Happiness? TheConsciousness of such a Being spreads a perpetualDiffusion of Joy through the Soul of a virtuous Man,and makes him look upon himself every Moment as morehappy than he knows how to conceive.
The second Source of Chearfulness to a good Mind,is its Consideration of that Being on whom we haveour Dependance, and in whom, though we behold himas yet but in the first faint Discoveries of his Perfections,we see every thing that we can imagine as great, glorious,or amiable. We find our selves every where upheldby his Goodness, and surrounded with an Immensityof Love and Mercy. In short, we depend upon aBeing, whose Power qualifies him to make us happyby an Infinity of Means, whose Goodness and Truthengage him to make those happy who desire it of him,and whose Unchangeableness will secure us in this Happinessto all Eternity.
Such Considerations, which every one should perpetuallycherish in his Thoughts, will banish, from us allthat secret Heaviness of Heart which unthinking Menare subject to when they lie under no real Affliction,all that Anguish which we may feel from any Evil thatactually oppresses us, to which I may likewise addthose little Cracklings of Mirth and Folly that areapter to betray Virtue than support it; and establishin us such an even and chearful Temper, as makes uspleasing to our selves, to those with whom we converse,and to him whom we were made to please.
I.
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No. 382. Monday, May 19, 1712. Steele.
‘Habes confitentem reum.’
Tull.
I ought not to have neglected a Request of one ofmy Correspondents so long as I have; but I dare sayI have given him time to add Practice to Profession.He sent me some time ago a Bottle or two of excellentWine to drink the Health of a Gentleman, who had bythe Penny-Post advertised him of an egregious Errorin his Conduct. My Correspondent received theObligation from an unknown Hand with the Candour whichis natural to an ingenuous Mind; and promises a contraryBehaviour in that Point for the future: He willoffend his Monitor with no more Errors of that kind,but thanks him for his Benevolence. This frankCarriage makes me reflect upon the amiable Atonementa Man makes in an ingenuous Acknowledgment of a Fault:All such Miscarriages as flow from Inadvertency aremore than repaid by it; for Reason, though not concernedin the Injury, employs all its Force in the Atonement.He that says, he did not design to disoblige you insuch an Action, does as much as if he should tell you,that tho’ the Circ*mstance which displeased wasnever in his Thoughts, he has that Respect for you,that he is unsatisfied till it is wholly out of yours.It must be confessed, that when an Acknowledgment ofOffence is made out of Poorness of Spirit, and notConviction of Heart, the Circ*mstance is quite different:But in the Case of my Correspondent, where both theNotice is taken and the Return made in private, theAffair begins and ends with the highest Grace on eachSide. To make the Acknowledgment of a Fault inthe highest manner graceful, it is lucky when theCirc*mstances of the Offender place him above any illConsequences from the Resentment of the Person offended.A Dauphin of France, upon a Review of the Army, anda Command of the King to alter the Posture of it bya March of one of the Wings, gave an improper Orderto an Officer at the Head of a Brigade, who told hisHighness, he presumed he had not received the lastOrders, which were to move a contrary Way. ThePrince, instead of taking the Admonition which wasdelivered in a manner that accounted for his Errorwith Safety to his Understanding, shaked a Cane atthe Officer; and with the return of opprobrious Language,persisted in his own Orders. The whole Mattercame necessarily before the King, who commanded hisSon, on foot, to lay his right Hand on the Gentleman’sStirrup as he sat on Horseback in sight of the wholeArmy, and ask his Pardon. When the Prince touchedhis Stirrup, and was going to speak, the Officer withan incredible Agility, threw himself on the Earth,and kissed his Feet.
The Body is very little concerned in the Pleasuresor Sufferings of Souls truly great; and the Reparation,when an Honour was designed this Soldier, appearedas much too great to be borne by his Gratitude, asthe Injury was intolerable to his Resentment.
When we turn our Thoughts from these extraordinaryOccurrences in common Life, we see an ingenuous kindof Behaviour not only make up for Faults committed,but in a manner expiate them in the very Commission.Thus many things wherein a Man has pressed too far,he implicitly excuses, by owning, This is a Trespass;youll pardon my Confidence; I am sensible I have noPretension to this Favour, and the like. But commendme to those gay Fellows about Town who are directlyimpudent, and make up for it no otherwise than bycalling themselves such, and exulting in it. Butthis sort of Carriage, which prompts a Man againstRules to urge what he has a Mind to, is pardonableonly when you sue for another. When you are confidentin preference of your self to others of equal Merit,every Man that loves Virtue and Modesty ought, inDefence of those Qualities, to oppose you: But,without considering the Morality of the thing, letus at this time behold only the natural Consequenceof Candour when we speak of ourselves.
The SPECTATOR writes often in an Elegant, often inan Argumentative, and often in a Sublime Style, withequal Success; but how would it hurt the reputed Authorof that Paper to own, that of the most beautiful Piecesunder his Title, he is barely the Publisher? Thereis nothing but what a Man really performs, can bean Honour to him; what he takes more than he oughtin the Eye of the World, he loses in the Convictionof his own Heart; and a Man must lose his Consciousness,that is, his very Self, before he can rejoice in anyFalshood without inward Mortification.
Who has not seen a very Criminal at the Bar, whenhis Counsel and Friends have done all that they couldfor him in vain, prevail upon the whole Assembly topity him, and his Judge to recommend his Case to theMercy of the Throne, without offering any thing newin his Defence, but that he, whom before we wishedconvicted, became so out of his own Mouth, and tookupon himself all the Shame and Sorrow we were justbefore preparing for him? The great Oppositionto this kind of Candour, arises from the unjust IdeaPeople ordinarily have of what we call an high Spirit.It is far from Greatness of Spirit to persist in theWrong in any thing, nor is it a Diminution of Greatnessof Spirit to have been in the Wrong: Perfectionis not the Attribute of Man, therefore he is not degradedby the Acknowledgment of an Imperfection: Butit is the Work of little Minds to imitate the Fortitudeof great Spirits on worthy Occasions, by Obstinacyin the Wrong. This Obstinacy prevails so farupon them, that they make it extend to the Defenceof Faults in their very Servants. It would swellthis Paper to too great a length, should I insertall the Quarrels and Debates which are now on footin this Town; where one Party, and in some Cases both,is sensible of being on the faulty Side, and havenot Spirit enough to Acknowledge it. Among theLadies the Case is very common, for there are very
few of them who know that it is to maintain a trueand high Spirit, to throw away from it all which itself disapproves, and to scorn so pitiful a Shame,as that which disables the Heart from acquiring aLiberality of Affections and Sentiments. Thecandid Mind, by acknowledging and discarding its Faults,has Reason and Truth for the Foundation of all itsPassions and Desires, and consequently is happy andsimple; the disingenuous Spirit, by Indulgence ofone unacknowledged Error, is intangled with an After-Lifeof Guilt, Sorrow, and Perplexity.T.
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No. 383. Tuesday, May 20, 1712. Addison.
‘Criminibus debent Hortos—’
Hor.
As I was sitting in my Chamber, and thinking on aSubject for my next Spectator, I heard two or threeirregular Bounces at my Landlady’s Door, andupon the opening of it, a loud chearful Voice enquiringwhether the Philosopher was at Home. The Childwho went to the Door answered very Innocently, thathe did not Lodge there. I immediately recollectedthat it was my good Friend Sir ROGER’S Voice;and that I had promised to go with him on the Waterto Spring-Garden, in case it proved a good Evening.The Knight put me in mind of my Promise from the Bottomof the Stair-Case, but told me that if I was Speculatinghe would stay below till I had done. Upon mycoming down, I found all the Children of the Familygot about my old Friend, and my Landlady herself, whois a notable prating Gossip, engaged in a Conferencewith him; being mightily pleased with his stroakingher little Boy upon the Head, and bidding him be agood Child and mind his Book.
We were no sooner come to the Temple Stairs, but wewere surrounded with a Crowd of Watermen, offeringus their respective Services. Sir ROGER, afterhaving looked about him very attentively, spied onewith a Wooden-Leg, and immediately gave him Ordersto get his Boat ready. As we were walking towardsit, You must know, says Sir ROGER, I never make useof any body to row me, that has not either lost a Legor an Arm. I would rather bate him a few Strokesof his Oar, than not employ an honest Man that hasbeen wounded in the Queen’s Service. IfI was a Lord or a Bishop, and kept a Barge, I wouldnot put a Fellow in my Livery that had not a Wooden-Leg.
My old Friend, after having seated himself, and trimmedthe Boat with his Coachman, who, being a very soberMan, always serves for Ballast on these Occasions,we made the best of our way for Fox-Hall. SirROGER obliged the Waterman to give us the Historyof his Right Leg, and hearing that he had left it[at La Hogue [1]] with many Particulars which passedin that glorious Action, the Knight in the Triumphof his Heart made several Reflections on the Greatnessof the British Nation; as, that one Englishman couldbeat three Frenchmen; that we could never be in dangerof Popery so long as we took care of our Fleet; thatthe Thames was the noblest River in Europe; that LondonBridge was a greater piece of Work, than any of theseven Wonders of the World; with many other honestPrejudices which naturally cleave to the Heart of atrue Englishman.
After some short Pause, the old Knight turning abouthis Head twice or thrice, to take a Survey of thisgreat Metropolis, bid me observe how thick the Citywas set with Churches, and that there was scarce asingle Steeple on this side Temple-Bar. A mostHeathenish Sight! says Sir ROGER: There is noReligion at this End of the Town. The fifty newChurches will very much mend the Prospect; but Church-workis slow, Church-work is slow!
I do not remember I have any where mentioned, in SirROGER’S Character, his Custom of saluting everyBody that passes by him with a Good-morrow or a Good-night.This the old Man does out of the overflowings of hisHumanity, though at the same time it renders him sopopular among all his Country Neighbours, that itis thought to have gone a good way in making him onceor twice Knight of the Shire. He cannot forbearthis Exercise of Benevolence even in Town, when hemeets with any one in his Morning or Evening Walk.It broke from him to several Boats that passed byus upon the Water; but to the Knight’s greatSurprize, as he gave the Good-night to two or threeyoung Fellows a little before our Landing, one ofthem, instead of returning the Civility, asked us whatqueer old Put we had in the Boat, and whether he wasnot ashamed to go a Wenching at his Years? with agreat deal of the like Thames-Ribaldry. Sir ROGERseemd a little shocked at first, but at length assuminga Face of Magistracy, told us, That if he were a MiddlesexJustice, he would make such Vagrants know that HerMajesty’s Subjects were no more to be abusedby Water than by Land.
We were now arrived at Spring-Garden, which is exquisitelypleasant at this time of Year. When I consideredthe Fragrancy of the Walks and Bowers, with the Choirsof Birds that sung upon the Trees, and the loose Tribeof People that walked under their Shades, I could notbut look upon the Place as a kind of Mahometan Paradise.Sir ROGER told me it put him in mind of a little Coppiceby his House in the Country, which his Chaplain usedto call an Aviary of Nightingales. You must understand,says the Knight, there is nothing in the World thatpleases a Man in Love so much as your Nightingale.Ah, Mr. SPECTATOR! the many Moon-light Nights thatI have walked by my self, and thought on the Widowby the Musek of the Nightingales! He here fetcheda deep Sigh, and was falling into a Fit of musing,when a Masque, who came behind him, gave him a gentleTap upon the Shoulder, and asked him if he would drinka Bottle of Mead with her? But the Knight, beingstartled at so unexpected a Familiarity, and displeasedto be interrupted in his Thoughts of the Widow, toldher, She was a wanton Baggage, and bid her go abouther Business.
We concluded our Walk with a Glass of Burton-Ale,and a Slice of Hung-Beef. When we had done eatingour selves, the Knight called a Waiter to him, andbid him carry the remainder to the Waterman that hadbut one Leg. I perceived the Fellow stared uponhim at the oddness of the Message, and was going tobe saucy; upon which I ratified the Knight’sCommands with a Peremptory Look.
As we were going out of the Garden, my old Friend,thinking himself obliged, as a Member of the Quorum,to animadvert upon the Morals of the Place, told theMistress of the House, who sat at the Bar, That heshould be a better Customer to her Garden, if therewere more Nightingales, and fewer Strumpets.
[Footnote 1: [in Bantry Bay] In Bantry Bay, onMay-day, 1689, a French Fleet, bringing succour tothe adherents of James II., attacked the English,under Admiral Herbert, and obliged them to retire.The change of name in the text was for one with amore flattering association. In the Battle ofLa Hogue, May 19, 1692, the English burnt 13 of theenemy’s ships, destroyed 8, dispersed the rest,and prevented a threatened descent of the French uponEngland.]
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No. 384. Wednesday, May 21, 1712. Steele.
Hague, May 24. N. S.
The same Republican Hands, who have sooften since the Chevalier de St. George’sRecovery killed him in our publick Prints, have nowreduced the young Dauphin of France to that desperateCondition of Weakness, and Death it self, that itis hard to conjecture what Method they will taketo bring him to Life again. Mean time we are assuredby a very good Hand from Paris, That on the 2OthInstant, this young Prince was as well as ever hewas known to be since the Day of his Birth.As for the other, they are now sending his Ghost, wesuppose, (for they never had the Modesty to contradicttheir Assertions of his Death) to Commerci in Lorrain,attended only by four Gentlemen, and a few Domesticksof little Consideration. The Baron de Bothmarhaving delivered in his Credentials to qualify himas an Ambassador to this State, (an Office to whichhis greatest Enemies will acknowledge him to beequal) is gone to Utrecht, whence he will proceed toHanover, but not stay long at that Court, for fearthe Peace should be made during his lamented Absence.
Post-Boy, May 20.
I should be thought not able to read, should I overlooksome excellent Pieces lately come out. My LordBishop of St. Asaph has just now published some Sermons,the Preface to which seems to me to determine a greatPoint. [1]—He has, like a good Man anda good Christian, in opposition to all the Flatteryand base Submission of false Friends to Princes, asserted,That Christianity left us where it found us as toour Civil Rights. The present Entertainment shallconsist only of a Sentence out of the Post-Boy, andthe said Preface of the Lord of St. Asaph. Ishould think it a little odd if the Author of the Post-Boyshould with Impunity call Men Republicans for a Gladnesson Report of the Death of the Pretender; and treatBaron Bothmar, the Minister of Hanover, in such amanner as you see in my Motto. I must own, Ithink every Man in England concerned to support theSuccession of that Family.
The publishing a few Sermons, whilst Ilive, the latest of which was preached about eightYears since, and the first above seventeen, will makeit very natural for People to enquire into the Occasionof doing so; And to such I do very willingly assignthese following Reasons.
First, From the Observations I have beenable to make, for these many Years last past, uponour publick Affairs, and from the natural Tendencyof several Principles and Practices, that have of latebeen studiously revived, and from what has followedthereupon, I could not help both fearing and presaging,that these Nations would some time or other, ifever we should have an enterprising Prince upon theThrone, of more Ambition than Virtue, Justice, andtrue Honour, fall into the way of all other Nations,and lose their Liberty.
Nor could I help foreseeing to whose Chargea great deal of this dreadful Mischief, wheneverit should happen, would be laid, whether justlyor unjustly, was not my Business to determine; butI resolved for my own particular part, to delivermy self, as well as I could, from the Reproachesand the Curses of Posterity, by publickly declaringto all the World, That although in the constant Courseof my Ministry, I have never failed, on proper Occasions,to recommend, urge, and insist upon the loving,honouring, and the reverencing the Prince’sPerson, and holding it, according to the Laws, inviolableand sacred; and paying all Obedience and Submissionto the Laws, though never so hard and inconvenientto private People: Yet did I never think myself at liberty, or authorized to tell the People,that either Christ, St. Peter, or St. Paul, or anyother Holy Writer, had by any Doctrine deliveredby them, subverted the Laws and Constitutions ofthe Country in which they lived, or put them in aworse Condition, with respect to their Civil Liberties,than they would have been had they not been Christians.I ever thought it a most impious Blasphemy againstthat holy Religion, to father any thing upon itthat might encourage Tyranny, Oppression, or Injusticein a Prince, or that easily tended to make a freeand happy People Slaves and Miserable. No:People may make themselves as wretched as they will,but let not God be called into that wicked Party.When Force and Violence, and hard Necessity havebrought the Yoak of Servitude upon a People’sNeck, Religion will supply them with a patient andsubmissive Spirit under it till they can innocentlyshake it off; but certainly Religion never putsit on. This always was, and this at present is,my Judgment of these Matters: And I would betransmitted to Posterity (for the little Share ofTime such Names as mine can live) under the Characterof one who lov’d his Country, and would be thoughta good Englishman, as well as a good Clergyman.
This Character I thought would be transmittedby the following Sermons, which were made for, andpreached in a private Audience, when I could thinkof nothing else but doing my Duty on the Occasionsthat were then offered by God’s Providence,without any manner of design of making them publick:And for that reason I give them now as they were thendelivered; by which I hope to satisfie those Peoplewho have objected a Change of Principles to me,as if I were not now the same Man I formerly was.I never had but one Opinion of these Matters; andthat I think is so reasonable and well-grounded,that I believe I never can have any other.Another Reason of my publishing these Sermons atthis time, is, that I have a mind to do my self someHonour, by doing what Honour I could to the Memoryof two most excellent Princes, and who have veryhighly deserved at the hands of all the People ofthese Dominions, who have any true Value for the ProtestantReligion, and the Constitution of the English Government,of which they were the great Deliverers and Defenders.I have lived to see their illustrious Names veryrudely handled, and the great Benefits they didthis Nation treated slightly and contemptuously.I have lived to see our Deliverance from ArbitraryPower and Popery, traduced and vilified by somewho formerly thought it was their greatest Merit,and made it part of their Boast and Glory, to havehad a little hand and share in bringing it about;and others who, without it, must have liv’din Exile, Poverty, and Misery, meanly disclaimingit, and using ill the glorious Instruments thereof.Who could expect such a Requital of such Merit?I have, I own it, an Ambition of exempting my selffrom the Number of unthankful People: And as Iloved and honoured those great Princes living, andlamented over them when dead, so I would gladlyraise them up a Monument of Praise as lasting asany thing of mine can be; and I chuse to do it at thistime, when it is so unfashionable a thing to speakhonourably of them.
The Sermon that was preached upon theDuke of Gloucester’s Death was printed quicklyafter, and is now, because the Subject was so suitable,join’d to the others. The Loss of that mostpromising and hopeful Prince was, at that time,I saw, unspeakably great; and many Accidents sincehave convinced us, that it could not have been over-valued.That precious Life, had it pleased God to have prolongedit the usual Space, had saved us many Fears and Jealousies,and dark Distrusts, and prevented many Alarms, thathave long kept us, and will keep us still, wakingand uneasy. Nothing remained to comfort and supportus under this heavy Stroke, but the Necessity it broughtthe King and Nation under, of settling the Successionin the House of HANNOVER, and giving it an HereditaryRight, by Act of Parliament, as long as it continuesProtestant. So much good did God, in his mercifulProvidence, produce from a Misfortune, which we couldnever otherwise have sufficiently deplored.
The fourth Sermon was preached upon theQueen’s Accession to the Throne, and the firstYear in which that Day was solemnly observed, (for,by some Accident or other, it had been overlook’dthe Year before;) and every one will see, withoutthe date of it, that it was preached very earlyin this Reign, since I was able only to promise andpresage its future Glories and Successes, from thegood Appearances of things, and the happy Turn ourAffairs began to take; and could not then countup the Victories and Triumphs that, for seven Yearsafter, made it, in the Prophet’s Language, aName and a Praise among all the People of the Earth.Never did seven such Years together pass over thehead of any English Monarch, nor cover it with so muchHonour: The Crown and Sceptre seemed to be theQueen’s least Ornaments; those, other Princeswore in common with her, and her great personalVirtues were the same before and since; but such wasthe Fame of her Administration of Affairs at home,such was the Reputation of her Wisdom and Felicityin chusing Ministers, and such was then esteemedtheir Faithfulness and Zeal, their Diligence and greatAbilities in executing her Commands; to such a heightof military Glory did her great General and herArmies carry the British Name abroad; such was theHarmony and Concord betwixt her and her Allies, andsuch was the Blessing of God upon all her Counselsand Undertakings, that I am as sure as History canmake me, no Prince of ours was ever yet so prosperousand successful, so beloved, esteemed, and honouredby their Subjects and their Friends, nor near so formidableto their Enemies. We were, as all the World imaginedthen, just ent’ring on the ways that promisedto lead to such a Peace, as would have answeredall the Prayers of our religious Queen, the Care andVigilance of a most able Ministry, the Payments ofa willing and obedient People, as well as all theglorious Toils and Hazards of the Soldiery; whenGod, for our Sins, permitted the Spirit of Discordto go forth, and, by troubling sore the Camp, theCity, and the Country, (and oh that it had altogetherspared the Places sacred to his Worship!) to spoil,for a time, this beautiful and pleasing Prospect,and give us, in its stead, I know not what—OurEnemies will tell the rest with Pleasure. Itwill become me better to pray to God to restoreus to the Power of obtaining such a Peace, as willbe to his Glory, the Safety, Honour, and the Welfareof the Queen and her Dominions, and the generalSatisfaction of all her High and Mighty Allies.
May 2, 1712.
T.
[Footnote 1: Dr. William Fleetwood, Bishop ofSt. Asaph, had published Four Sermons.
1. On the death of Queen Mary, 1694. 2.On the death of the Duke of Gloucester, 1700. 3.On the death of King William, 1701. 4. On theQueen’s Accession to the Throne, in 1702, witha Preface. 8vo. London, 1712.
The Preface which, says Dr. Johnson, overflowed withWhiggish principles, was ordered to be burnt by theHouse of Commons. This moved Steele to diffuseit by inserting it in the Spectator, which, as itsauthor said in a letter to Burnet, conveyed about fourteenthousand copies of the condemned preface into people’shands that would otherwise have never seen or heardof it. Moreover, to ensure its delivery intothe Queen’s hands the publication of this numberis said to have been deferred till twelve oclock,her Majesty’s breakfast hour, that no time mightbe allowed for a decision that it should not be laid,as usual, upon her breakfast table.
Fleetwood was born in 1656; had been chaplain to KingWilliam, and in 1706 had been appointed to the Bishopricof St. Asaph without any solicitation. He wastranslated to Ely in 1714, and died in 1723.]
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No. 385. Thursday, May 22, 1712. Budgell.
‘Thesea pectora juncta fide.’
Ovid.
I intend the Paper for this Day as a loose Essay uponFriendship, in which I shall throw my Observationstogether without any set Form, that I may avoid repeatingwhat has been often said on this Subject.
Friendship is a strong and habitual Inclination intwo Persons to promote the Good and Happiness of oneanother. Tho’ the Pleasures and Advantagesof Friendship have been largely celebrated by the bestmoral Writers, and are considered by all as greatIngredients of human Happiness, we very rarely meetwith the Practice of this Virtue in the World.
Every Man is ready to give in a long Catalogue ofthose Virtues and good Qualities he expects to findin the Person of a Friend, but very few of us arecareful to cultivate them in our selves.
Love and Esteem are the first Principles of Friendship,which always is imperfect where either of these twois wanting.
As, on the one hand, we are soon ashamed of lovinga Man whom we cannot esteem: so, on the other,tho we are truly sensible of a Man’s Abilities,we can never raise ourselves to the Warmths of Friendship,without an affectionate Good-will towards his Person.
Friendship immediately banishes Envy under all itsDisguises. A Man who can once doubt whether heshould rejoice in his Friends being happier than himself,may depend upon it that he is an utter Stranger tothis Virtue.
There is something in Friendship so very great andnoble, that in those fictitious Stories which areinvented to the Honour of any particular Person, theAuthors have thought it as necessary to make theirHero a Friend as a Lover. Achilles has his Patroclus,and AEneas his Achates. In the first of theseInstances we may observe, for the Reputation of theSubject I am treating of, that Greece was almost ruin’dby the Hero’s Love, but was preserved by hisFriendship.
The Character of Achates suggests to us an Observationwe may often make on the Intimacies of great Men,who frequently chuse their Companions rather for theQualities of the Heart than those of the Head, andprefer Fidelity in an easy inoffensive complying Temperto those Endowments which make a much greater Figureamong Mankind. I do not remember that Achates,who is represented as the first Favourite, either giveshis Advice, or strikes a Blow, thro’ the wholeAEneid.
A Friendship which makes the least noise, is veryoften most useful: for which reason I shouldprefer a prudent Friend to a zealous one.
Atticus, one of the best Men of ancient Rome, wasa very remarkable Instance of what I am here speaking.This extraordinary Person, amidst the Civil Wars ofhis Country, when he saw the Designs of all Partiesequally tended to the Subversion of Liberty, by constantlypreserving the Esteem and Affection of both the Competitors,found means to serve his Friends on either side:and while he sent Money to young Marius, whose Fatherwas declared an Enemy of the Commonwealth, he was himselfone of Sylla’s chief Favourites, and always nearthat General.
During the War between Caesar and Pompey, he stillmaintained the same Conduct. After the Deathof Caesar he sent Money to Brutus in his Troubles,and did a thousand good Offices to Antony’s Wifeand Friends when that Party seemed ruined. Lastly,even in that bloody War between Antony and Augustus,Atticus still kept his place in both their Friendships;insomuch that the first, says Cornelius Nepos, wheneverhe was absent from Rome in any part of the Empire,writ punctually to him what he was doing, what heread, and whither he intended to go; and the lattergave him constantly an exact Account of all his Affairs.
A Likeness of Inclinations in every Particular isso far from being requisite to form a Benevolencein two Minds towards each other, as it is generallyimagined, that I believe we shall find some of thefirmest Friendships to have been contracted betweenPersons of different Humours; the Mind being oftenpleased with those Perfections which are new to it,and which it does not find among its own Accomplishments.Besides that a Man in some measure supplies his ownDefects, and fancies himself at second hand possessedof those good Qualities and Endowments, which arein the possession of him who in the Eye of the Worldis looked on as his other self.
The most difficult Province in Friendship is the lettinga Man see his Faults and Errors, which should, ifpossible, be so contrived, that he may perceive ourAdvice is given him not so much to please ourselvesas for his own Advantage. The Reproaches thereforeof a Friend should always be strictly just, and nottoo frequent.
The violent Desire of pleasing in the Person reproved,may otherwise change into a Despair of doing it, whilehe finds himself censur’d for Faults he is notConscious of. A Mind that is softened and humanizedby Friendship, cannot bear frequent Reproaches; eitherit must quite sink under the Oppression, or abateconsiderably of the Value and Esteem it had for himwho bestows them.
The proper Business of Friendship is to inspire Lifeand Courage; and a Soul thus supported, outdoes itself:whereas if it be unexpectedly deprived of these Succours,it droops and languishes.
We are in some measure more inexcusable if we violateour Duties to a Friend, than to a Relation: sincethe former arise from a voluntary Choice, the latterfrom a Necessity to which we could not give our ownConsent.
As it has been said on one side, that a Man oughtnot to break with a faulty Friend, that he may notexpose the Weakness of his Choice; it will doubtlesshold much stronger with respect to a worthy one, thathe may never be upbraided for having lost so valuablea Treasure which was once in his Possession.
X.
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No. 386. Friday, May 23, 1712. Steele.
’Cum Tristibus severe, cum Remissisjucunde, cum Senibus graviter, cum
Juventute comiter vivere.’
Tull.
The piece of Latin on the Head of this Paper is partof a Character extremely vicious, but I have set downno more than may fall in with the Rules of Justiceand Honour. Cicero spoke it of Catiline, who,he said, lived with the Sad severely, with the Chearfulagreeably, with the Old gravely, with the Young pleasantly;he added, with the Wicked boldly, with the Wantonlasciviously. The two last Instances of his ComplaisanceI forbear to consider, having it in my thoughts atpresent only to speak of obsequious Behaviour as itsits upon a Companion in Pleasure, not a Man of Designand Intrigue. To vary with every Humour in thisManner, cannot be agreeable, except it comes froma Man’s own Temper and natural Complection;to do it out of an Ambition to excel that Way, is themost fruitless and unbecoming Prostitution imaginable.To put on an artful Part to obtain no other End butan unjust Praise from the Undiscerning, is of allEndeavours the most despicable. A Man must besincerely pleased to become Pleasure, or not to interruptthat of others: For this Reason it is a mostcalamitous Circ*mstance, that many People who wantto be alone or should be so, will come into Conversation.It is certain, that all Men who are the least givento Reflection, are seized with an Inclination thatWay; when, perhaps, they had rather be inclined toCompany: but indeed they had better go home, andbe tired with themselves, than force themselves uponothers to recover their good Humour. In all thisthe Cases of communicating to a Friend a sad Thoughtor Difficulty, in order to relieve [a [1]] heavy Heart,stands excepted; but what is here meant, is, thata Man should always go with Inclination to the Turnof the Company he is going into, or not pretend tobe of the Party. It is certainly a very happyTemper to be able to live with all kinds of Dispositions,because it argues a Mind that lies open to receivewhat is pleasing to others, and not obstinately benton any Particularity of its own.
This is that which makes me pleased with the Characterof my good Acquaintance Acasto. You meet himat the Tables and Conversations of the Wise, the Impertinent,the Grave, the Frolick, and the Witty; and yet hisown Character has nothing in it that can make him particularlyagreeable to any one Sect of Men; but Acasto has naturalgood Sense, good Nature and Discretion, so that everyMan enjoys himself in his company; and tho’Acasto contributes nothing to the Entertainment, henever was at a Place where he was not welcome a secondtime. Without these subordinate good Qualitiesof Acasto, a Man of Wit and Learning would be painfulto the Generality of Mankind, instead of being pleasing.Witty Men are apt to imagine they are agreeable assuch, and by that means grow the worst Companionsimaginable; they deride the Absent or rally the Presentin a wrong manner, not knowing that if you pinch ortickle a Man till he is uneasy in his Seat, or ungracefullydistinguished from the rest of the Company, you equallyhurt him.
I was going to say, the true Art of being agreeablein Company, (but there can be no such thing as Artin it) is to appear well pleased with those you areengaged with, and rather to seem well entertained,than to bring Entertainment to others. A Manthus disposed is not indeed what we ordinarily calla good Companion, but essentially is such, and in allthe Parts of his Conversation has something friendlyin his Behaviour, which conciliates Men’s Mindsmore than the highest Sallies of Wit or Starts ofHumour can possibly do. The Feebleness of Agein a Man of this Turn, has something which shouldbe treated with respect even in a Man no otherwisevenerable. The Forwardness of Youth, when it proceedsfrom Alacrity and not Insolence, has also its Allowances.The Companion who is formed for such by Nature, givesto every Character of Life its due Regards, and isready to account for their Imperfections, and receivetheir Accomplishments as if they were his own.It must appear that you receive Law from, and notgive it to your Company, to make you agreeable.
I remember Tully, speaking, I think, of Anthony, says,That in eo facetiae erant, quae nulla arte tradi possunt:He had a witty Mirth, which could be acquired by noArt. This Quality must be of the Kind of whichI am now speaking; for all sorts of Behaviour whichdepend upon Observation and Knowledge of Life, isto be acquired: but that which no one can describe,and is apparently the Act of Nature, must be everywhere prevalent, because every thing it meets is afit Occasion to exert it; for he who follows Nature,can never be improper or unseasonable.
How unaccountable then must their Behaviour be, who,without any manner of Consideration of what the Companythey have just now entered are upon, give themselvesthe Air of a Messenger, and make as distinct Relationsof the Occurrences they last met with, as if they hadbeen dispatched from those they talk to, to be punctuallyexact in a Report of those Circ*mstances: Itis unpardonable to those who are met to enjoy oneanother, that a fresh Man shall pop in, and give usonly the last part of his own Life, and put a stopto ours during the History. If such a Man comesfrom Change, whether you will or not, you must hearhow the Stocks go; and tho’ you are ever sointently employed on a graver Subject, a young Fellowof the other end of the Town will take his place,and tell you, Mrs. Such-a-one is charmingly handsome,because he just now saw her. But I think I neednot dwell on this Subject, since I have acknowledgedthere can be no Rules made for excelling this Way;and Precepts of this kind fare like Rules for writingPoetry, which, ’tis said, may have preventedill Poets, but never made good ones.
T.
[Footnote 1: [an]]
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No. 387. [1] Saturday, May 24, 1712. Addison.
‘Quid pure tranquillet—’
Hor.
In my last Saturday’s Paper I spoke of Chearfulnessas it is a Moral Habit of the Mind, and accordinglymentioned such moral Motives as are apt to cherishand keep alive this happy Temper in the Soul of Man:I shall now consider Chearfulness in its natural State,and reflect on those Motives to it, which are indifferenteither as to Virtue or Vice.
Chearfulness is, in the first place, the best Promoterof Health. Repinings and secret Murmurs of Heart,give imperceptible Strokes to those delicate Fibresof which the vital parts are composed, and wear outthe Machine insensibly; not to mention those violentFerments which they stir up in the Blood, and thoseirregular disturbed Motions, which they raise in theanimal Spirits. I scarce remember, in my ownObservation, to have met with many old Men, or withsuch, who (to use our English Phrase) wear well, thathad not at least a certain Indolence in their Humour,if not a more than ordinary Gaiety and Chearfulnessof Heart. The truth of it is, Health and Chearfulnessmutually beget each other; with this difference, thatwe seldom meet with a great degree of Health whichis not attended with a certain Chearfulness, but veryoften see Chearfulness where there is no great degreeof Health.
Chearfulness bears the same friendly regard to theMind as to the Body: It banishes all anxiousCare and Discontent, sooths and composes the Passions,and keeps the Soul in a Perpetual Calm. But havingalready touched on this last Consideration, I shallhere take notice, that the World, in which we areplaced, is filled with innumerable Objects that areproper to raise and keep alive this happy Temper ofMind.
If we consider the World in its Subserviency to Man,one would think it was made for our Use; but if weconsider it in its natural Beauty and Harmony, onewould be apt to conclude it was made for our Pleasure.The Sun, which is as the great Soul of the Universe,and produces all the Necessaries of Life, has a particularInfluence in chearing the Mind of Man, and makingthe Heart glad.
Those several living Creatures which are made forour Service or Sustenance, at the same time eitherfill the Woods with their Musick, furnish us withGame, or raise pleasing Ideas in us by the delightfulnessof their Appearance, Fountains, Lakes, and Rivers,are as refreshing to the Imagination, as to the Soilthrough which they pass.
There are Writers of great Distinction, who have madeit an Argument for Providence, that the whole Earthis covered with Green, rather than with any otherColour, as being such a right Mixture of Light andShade, that it comforts and strengthens the Eye insteadof weakning or grieving it. For this reason severalPainters have a green Cloth hanging near them, toease the Eye upon, after too great an Application totheir Colouring. A famous modern Philosopher[2] accounts for it in the following manner:All Colours that are more luminous, overpower and dissipatethe animal Spirits which are employd in Sight; onthe contrary, those that are more obscure do not givethe animal Spirits a sufficient Exercise; whereasthe Rays that produce in us the Idea of Green, fallupon the Eye in such a due proportion, that they givethe animal Spirits their proper Play, and by keepingup the struggle in a just Ballance, excite a verypleasing and agreeable Sensation. Let the Causebe what it will, the Effect is certain, for whichreason the Poets ascribe to this particular Colourthe Epithet of Chearful.
To consider further this double End in the Works ofNature, and how they are at the same time both usefuland entertaining, we find that the most importantParts in the vegetable World are those which are themost beautiful. These are the Seeds by whichthe several Races of Plants are propagated and continued,and which are always lodged in Flowers or Blossoms.Nature seems to hide her principal Design, and to beindustrious in making the Earth gay and delightful,while she is carrying on her great Work, and intentupon her own Preservation. The Husbandman afterthe same manner is employed in laying out the wholeCountry into a kind of Garden or Landskip, and makingevery thing smile about him, whilst in reality hethinks of nothing but of the Harvest, and Encreasewhich is to arise from it.
We may further observe how Providence has taken careto keep up this Chearfulness in the Mind of Man, byhaving formed it after such a manner, as to make itcapable of conceiving Delight from several Objectswhich seem to have very little use in them; as fromthe Wildness of Rocks and Desarts, and the like grotesqueParts of Nature. Those who are versed in Philosophymay still carry this Consideration higher, by observingthat if Matter had appeared to us endowed only withthose real Qualities which it actually possesses,it would have made but a very joyless and uncomfortableFigure; and why has Providence given it a Power ofproducing in us such imaginary Qualities, as Tastesand Colours, Sounds and Smells, Heat and Cold, butthat Man, while he is conversant in the lower Stationsof Nature, might have his Mind cheared and delightedwith agreeable Sensations? In short, the wholeUniverse is a kind of Theatre filled with Objectsthat either raise in us Pleasure, Amusem*nt, or Admiration.
The Reader’s own Thoughts will suggest to himthe Vicissitude of Day and Night, the Change of Seasons,with all that Variety of Scenes which diversify theFace of Nature, and fill the Mind with a perpetualSuccession of beautiful and pleasing Images.
I shall not here mention the several Entertainmentsof Art, with the Pleasures of Friendship, Books, Conversation,and other accidental Diversions of Life, because Iwould only take notice of such Incitements to a ChearfulTemper, as offer themselves to Persons of all Ranksand Conditions, and which may sufficiently shew usthat Providence did not design this World should befilled with Murmurs and Repinings, or that the Heartof Man should be involved in Gloom and Melancholy.
I the more inculcate this Chearfulness of Temper,as it is a Virtue in which our Countrymen are observedto be more deficient than any other Nation. Melancholyis a kind of Demon that haunts our Island, and oftenconveys her self to us in an Easterly Wind. Acelebrated French Novelist, in opposition to thosewho begin their Romances with the flow’ry Seasonof the Year, enters on his Story thus: In thegloomy Month of November, when the People of Englandhang and drown themselves, a disconsolate Lover walkedout into the Fields, &c.
Every one ought to fence against the Temper of hisClimate or Constitution, and frequently to indulgein himself those Considerations which may give hima Serenity of Mind, and enable him to bear up chearfullyagainst those little Evils and Misfortunes which arecommon to humane Nature, and which by a right Improvementof them will produce a Satiety of Joy, and an uninterruptedHappiness.
At the same time that I would engage my Reader toconsider the World in its most agreeable Lights, Imust own there are many Evils which naturally springup amidst the Entertainments that are provided forus; but these, if rightly consider’d, shouldbe far from overcasting the Mind with Sorrow, or destroyingthat Chearfulness of Temper which I have been recommending.This Interspersion of Evil with Good, and Pain withPleasure, in the Works of Nature, is very truly ascribedby Mr. Locke, in his Essay on Human Understanding,to a moral Reason, in the following Words:
Beyond all this, we may find another Reasonwhy God hath scattered up and down several Degreesof Pleasure and Pain, in all the things that environand affect us, and blended them together, in almostall that our Thoughts and Senses have to do with;that we finding Imperfection, Dissatisfaction, andWant of compleat Happiness in all the Enjoyments whichthe Creatures can afford us, might be led to seek itin the Enjoyment of him, with whom there is Fulnessof Joy, and at whose Right Hand are Pleasures forevermore.
L.
[Footnote 1: Numbered by mistake, in the dailyissue 388, No. 388 is then numbered 390; 389 is right,390 is called 392, the next 391, which is right, another392 follows, and thus the error is corrected.]
[Footnote 2: Sir Isaac Newton.]
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No. 388. Monday, May 26, 1712. Barr? [1]
’—Tibi res antiquae Laudiset Artis
Ingredior; sanctos ausus recludere Fontes.’
Virg.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
It is my Custom, when I read your Papers,to read over the Quotations in the Authors fromwhence you take them: As you mentiond a Passagelately out of the second Chapter of Solomon’sSong, it occasion’d my looking into it; andupon reading it I thought the Ideas so exquisitelysoft and tender, that I could not help making thisParaphrase of it; which, now it is done, I can aslittle forbear sending to you. Some Marks ofyour Approbation, which I have already receiv’d,have given me so sensible a Taste of them, that I cannotforbear endeavouring after them as often as I canwith any Appearance of Success. I am, SIR,Your most [obedient [2]] humble Servant.
The Second Chapter of Solomon’sSong.
I. As when in Sharon’s Fieldthe blushing Rose
Doesits chaste Bosom to the Morn disclose,
Whilstall around the Zephyrs bear
Thefragrant Odours thro’ the Air:
Oras the Lilly in the shady Vale,
Doeso’er each Flower with beauteous Pride prevail,
Andstands with Dews and kindest Sun-shine blest,
Infair Pre-eminence, superior to the rest:
Soif my Love, with happy Influence, shed
HisEyes bright Sun-shine on his Lover’s Head,
Thenshall the Rose of Sharon’s Field,
Andwhitest Lillies to my Beauties yield.
Thenfairest Flowers with studious Art combine,
TheRoses with the Lillies join,
Andtheir united [Charms are [3]] less than mine.
II. As much as fairest Lilliescan surpass
AThorn in Beauty, or in Height the Grass;
Sodoes my Love among the Virgins shine,
Adorn’dwith Graces more than half Divine;
Oras a Tree, that, glorious to behold,
HesperianFruit! and beautifully high,
Extendsits Branches to the Sky;
Sodoes my Love the Virgin’s Eyes invite:
’Tishe alone can fix their wand’ring Sight,
[Among[4]] ten thousand eminently bright.
III. Beneath this pleasing Shade
Myweaned Limbs at Ease I laid,
Andon his fragrant Boughs reclined my Head.
Ipull’d the Golden Fruit with eager haste;
Sweetwas the Fruit, and pleasing to the Taste:
Withsparkling Wine he crown’d the Bowl,
Withgentle Ecstacies he fill’d my Soul;
Joyouswe sate beneath the shady Grove,
Ando’er my Head he hung the Banners of his Love.
IV. I faint; I die! my labouringBreast
Iswith the mighty Weight of Love opprest:
Ifeel the Fire possess my Heart,
Andpain conveyed to every Part.
Thro’all my Veins the Passion flies,
Myfeeble Soul forsakes its Place,
Atrembling Faintness seals my Eyes,
AndPaleness dwells upon my Face;
Oh!let my Love with pow’rful Odours stay
Myfainting lovesick Soul that dies away;
OneHand beneath me let him place,
Witht’other press me in a chaste Embrace.
V. I charge you, Nymphs of Sion, asyou go
Arm’dwith the sounding Quiver and the Bow,
Whilstthro’ the lonesome Woods you rove,
Youne’er disturb my sleeping Love,
Beonly gentle Zephyrs there,
Withdowny Wings to fan the Air;
Letsacred Silence dwell around,
Tokeep off each intruding Sound:
Andwhen the balmy Slumber leaves his Eyes,
Mayhe to Joys, unknown till then, arise.
VI. But see! he comes! with whatmajestick Gate
Heonward bears his lovely State!
Nowthro’ the Lattice he appears,
Withsoftest Words dispels my Fears,
Arise,my Fair-One, and receive
Allthe Pleasures Love can give.
Fornow the sullen Winters past,
Nomore we fear the Northern Blast:
NoStorms nor threatning Clouds appear,
Nofalling Rains deform the Year.
MyLove admits of no delay,
Arise,my Fair, and come away.
VII. Already, see! the teeming Earth
Bringsforth the Flow’rs, her beauteous Birth.
TheDews, and soft-descending Showers,
Nursethe new-born tender Flow’rs.
Hark!the Birds melodious sing,
Andsweetly usher in the Spring.
Closeby his Fellow sits the Dove,
Andbilling whispers her his Love.
Thespreading Vines with Blossoms swell,
Diffusinground a grateful Smell,
Arise,my Fair-One, and receive
Allthe Blessings Love can give:
ForLove admits of no delay,
Arise,my Fair, and come away.
VIII. As to its Mate the constantDove
Fliesthro’ the Covert of the spicy Grove,
Solet us hasten to some lonely Shade,
Therelet me safe in thy lov’d Arms be laid,
Whereno intruding hateful Noise
Shalldamp the Sound of thy melodious Voice;
WhereI may gaze, and mark each beauteous Grace;
Forsweet thy Voice, and lovely is thy Face.
IX. As all of me, my Love, is thine,
Letall of thee be ever mine.
Amongthe Lillies we will play,
Fairer,my Love, thou art than they,
Tillthe purple Morn arise,
Andbalmy Sleep forsake thine Eyes;
Tillthe gladsome Beams of Day
Removethe Shades of Night away;
Thenwhen soft Sleep shall from thy Eyes depart,
Riselike the bounding Roe, or lusty Hart,
Gladto behold the Light again
FromBether’s Mountains darting o’er the Plain.
T.
[Footnote 1: Percy had heard that a poeticaltranslation of a chapter in the Proverbs, and anotherpoetical translation from the Old Testament, wereby Mr. Barr, a dissenting minister at Morton Hampsteadin Devonshire.]
[Footnote 2: obliged]
[Footnote 3: [Beauties shall be]]
[Footnote 4: [And stands among]]
* * * * *
No. 389. Tuesday, May 27, 1712. Budgell.
‘Meliora pii docuere parentes.’
Hor.
Nothing has more surprized the Learned in England,than the Price which a small Book, intitled Spacciodella Bestia triom fante, [1] bore in a late Auction.This Book was sold for [thirty [2]] Pound. Asit was written by one Jordanus Brunus, a professedAtheist, with a design to depreciate Religion, everyone was apt to fancy, from the extravagant Price itbore, that there must be something in it very formidable.
I must confess that happening to get a sight of oneof them my self, I could not forbear perusing it withthis Apprehension; but found there was so very littleDanger in it, that I shall venture to give my Readersa fair Account of the whole Plan upon which this wonderfulTreatise is built.
The Author pretends that Jupiter once upon a Timeresolved on a Reformation of the Constellations:for which purpose having summoned the Stars together,he complains to them of the great Decay of the Worshipof the Gods, which he thought so much the harder, havingcalled several of those Celestial Bodies by the Namesof the Heathen Deities, and by that means made theHeavens as it were a Book of the Pagan Theology.Momus tells him, that this is not to be wondered at,since there were so many scandalous Stories of theDeities; upon which the Author takes occasion to castReflections upon all other Religions, concluding, thatJupiter, after a full Hearing, discarded the Deitiesout of Heaven, and called the Stars by the Names ofthe Moral Virtues.
This short Fable, which has no Pretence in it to Reasonor Argument, and but a very small Share of Wit, hashowever recommended it self wholly by its Impietyto those weak Men, who would distinguish themselvesby the Singularity of their Opinions.
There are two Considerations which have been oftenurged against Atheists, and which they never yet couldget over. The first is, that the greatest andmost eminent Persons of all Ages have been againstthem, and always complied with the publick Forms ofWorship established in their respective Countries,when there was nothing in them either derogatory tothe Honour of the Supreme Being, or prejudicial tothe Good of Mankind.
The Platos and Ciceros among the Ancients; the Bacons,the Boyles, and the Lockes, among our own Countrymen,are all Instances of what I have been saying; notto mention any of the Divines, however celebrated,since our Adversaries challenge all those, as Men whohave too much Interest in this Case to be impartialEvidences.
But what has been often urged as a Consideration ofmuch more Weight, is, not only the Opinion of theBetter Sort, but the general Consent of Mankind tothis great Truth; which I think could not possiblyhave come to pass, but from one of the three followingReasons; either that the Idea of a God is innate andco-existent with the Mind it self; or that this Truthis so very obvious, that it is discoverd by the firstExertion of Reason in Persons of the most ordinaryCapacities; or, lastly, that it has been delivereddown to us thro’ all Ages by a Tradition fromthe first Man.
The Atheists are equally confounded, to which everof these three Causes we assign it; they have beenso pressed by this last Argument from the generalConsent of Mankind, that after great search and painsthey pretend to have found out a Nation of Atheists,I mean that Polite People the Hottentots.
I dare not shock my Readers with a Description ofthe Customs and Manners of these Barbarians, who arein every respect scarce one degree above Brutes, havingno Language among them but a confused [Gabble [3]]which is neither well understood by themselves or others.
It is not however to be imagin’d how much theAtheists have gloried in these their good Friendsand Allies.
If we boast of a Socrates, or a Seneca, they may nowconfront them with these great Philosophers the Hottentots.
Tho even this Point has, not without Reason, beenseveral times controverted, I see no manner of harmit could do Religion, if we should entirely give themup this elegant Part of Mankind.
Methinks nothing more shews the Weakness of theirCause, than that no Division of their Fellow-Creaturesjoin with them, but those among whom they themselvesown Reason is almost defaced, and who have little elsebut their Shape, which can entitle them to any Placein the Species.
Besides these poor Creatures, there have now and thenbeen Instances of a few crazed People in several Nations,who have denied the Existence of a Deity.
The Catalogue of these is however very short; evenVanini [4] the most celebrated Champion for the Cause,professed before his Judges that he believed the Existenceof a God, and taking up a Straw which lay before himon the Ground, assured them, that alone was sufficientto convince him of it; alledging several Argumentsto prove that ’twas impossible Nature alonecould create anything.
I was the other day reading an Account of CasimirLiszynski, a Gentleman of Poland, who was convictedand executed for this Crime. [5] The manner of hisPunishment was very particular. As soon as hisBody was burnt his Ashes were put into a Cannon, andshot into the Air towards Tartary.
I am apt to believe, that if something like this Methodof Punishment should prevail in England, such is thenatural good Sense of the British Nation, that whetherwe rammed an Atheist [whole] into a great Gun, orpulverized our Infidels, as they do in Poland, we shouldnot have many Charges.
I should, however, propose, while our Ammunition lasted,that instead of Tartary, we should always keep twoor three Cannons ready pointed towards the Cape ofGood Hope, in order to shoot our Unbelievers intothe Country of the Hottentots.
In my Opinion, a solemn judicial Death is too greatan Honour for an Atheist, tho’ I must allowthe Method of exploding him, as it is practised inthis ludicrous kind of Martyrdom, has something init proper [enough] to the Nature of his Offence.
There is indeed a great Objection against this Mannerof treating them. Zeal for Religion is of soactive a Nature, that it seldom knows where to rest;for which reason I am afraid, after having dischargedour Atheists, we might possibly think of shootingoff our Sectaries; and, as one does not foresee theVicissitude of human Affairs, it might one time orother come to a Man’s own turn to fly out ofthe Mouth of a Demi-culverin.
If any of my Readers imagine that I have treated theseGentlemen in too Ludicrous a Manner, I must confess,for my own part, I think reasoning against such Unbelieversupon a Point that shocks the Common Sense of Mankind,is doing them too great an Honour, giving them a Figurein the Eye of the World, and making People fancy thatthey have more in them than they really have.
As for those Persons who have any Scheme of ReligiousWorship, I am for treating such with the utmost Tenderness,and should endeavour to shew them their Errors withthe greatest Temper and Humanity: but as theseMiscreants are for throwing down Religion in general,for stripping Mankind of what themselves own is ofexcellent use in all great Societies, without onceoffering to establish any thing in the Room of it;I think the best way of dealing with them, is to retorttheir own Weapons upon them, which are those of Scornand Mockery.
X.
[Footnote 1: The book was bought in 1711 forL28 by Mr. Walter Clavel at the sale of the libraryof Mr. Charles Barnard. It had been bought in1706 at the sale of Mr. Bigot’s library withfive others for two shillings and a penny. AlthoughGiordano Bruno was burnt as a heretic, he was a noblethinker, no professed atheist, but a man of the reformedfaith, who was in advance of Calvin, a friend of SirPhilip Sydney, and as good a man as Mr. Budgell.]
[Footnote 2: Fifty]
[Footnote 3: Gabling]
[Footnote 4: Vanini, like Giordano Bruno, hashis memory dishonoured through the carelessness withwhich men take for granted the assertions of his enemies.Whether burnt or not, every religious thinker of thesixteenth century who opposed himself to the narrowestviews of those who claimed to be the guardians oforthodoxy was remorselessly maligned. If he wasthe leader of a party, there were hundreds to maintainhis honour against calumny. If he was a solitarysearcher after truth, there was nothing but his singlelife and work to set against the host of his defamers.Of Vanini’s two books, one was written to provethe existence of a God, yet here is Mr. Budgell callinghim the most celebrated champion for the cause ofatheism.]
[Footnote 5: Casimir Lyszynski was a Polish Knight,executed at Warsaw in 1689, in the barbarous mannerwhich appears to tickle Mr. Budgell’s fancy.It does not appear that he had written anything.]
* * * * *
No. 390. Wednesday, May 28, 1712. Steele.
’Non pudendo sed non faciendo idquod non decet impudentiae nomen
effugere debemus.’
Tull.
Many are the Epistles I receive from Ladies extremelyafflicted that they lie under the Observation of scandalousPeople, who love to defame their Neighbours, and makethe unjustest Interpretation of innocent and indifferentActions. They describe their own Behaviour sounhappily, that there indeed lies some Cause of Suspicionupon them. It is certain, that there is no Authorityfor Persons who have nothing else to do, to pass awayHours of Conversation upon the Miscarriages of otherPeople; but since they will do so, they who valuetheir Reputation should be cautious of Appearancesto their Disadvantage. But very often our youngWomen, as well as the middle-aged and the gay Partof those growing old, without entering into a formalLeague for that purpose, to a Woman agree upon a shortWay to preserve their Characters, and go on in a Waythat at best is only not vicious. The Methodis, when an ill-naturd or talkative Girl has saidany thing that bears hard upon some part of another’sCarriage, this Creature, if not in any of their littleCabals, is run down for the most censorious dangerousBody in the World. Thus they guard their Reputationrather than their Modesty; as if Guilt lay in beingunder the Imputation of a Fault, and not in a Commissionof it. Orbicilla is the kindest poor thing inthe Town, but the most blushing Creature living:It is true she has not lost the Sense of Shame, butshe has lost the Sense of Innocence. If she hadmore Confidence, and never did anything which oughtto stain her Cheeks, would she not be much more modestwithout that ambiguous Suffusion, which is the Liveryboth of Guilt and Innocence? Modesty consistsin being conscious of no Ill, and not in being ashamed
of having done it. When People go upon any otherFoundation than the Truth of their own Hearts for theConduct of their Actions, it lies in the power ofscandalous Tongues to carry the World before them,and make the rest of Mankind fall in with the Ill,for fear of Reproach. On the other hand, to dowhat you ought, is the ready way to make Calumny eithersilent or ineffectually malicious. Spencer, inhis Fairy Queen, says admirably to young Ladies underthe Distress of being defamed;’The best, said he, that I can youadvise,
Is to avoid th’ Occasionof the Ill;
For when the Cause, whence Evil doth arise,
Removed is, th’ Effectsurceaseth still.
Abstain from Pleasure, and restrain yourWill,
Subdue Desire, and bridleloose Delight:
Use scanted Diet, and forbear your Fill;
Shun Secrecy, and talk inopen sight:
So shall you soon repair your presentevil Plight. [1]’
Instead of this Care over their Words and Actions,recommended by a Poet in old Queen Bess’s Days,the modern Way is to do and say what you please, andyet be the prettiest sort of Woman in the World.If Fathers and Brothers will defend a Lady’sHonour, she is quite as safe as in her own Innocence.Many of the Distressed, who suffer under the Maliceof evil Tongues, are so harmless that they are everyDay they live asleep till twelve at Noon; concernthemselves with nothing but their own Persons tilltwo; take their necessary Food between that time andfour; visit, go to the Play, and sit up at Cards tilltowards the ensuing Morn; and the malicious Worldshall draw Conclusions from innocent Glances, shortWhispers, or pretty familiar Railleries with fashionableMen, that these Fair ones are not as rigid as Vestals.It is certain, say these goodest Creatures very well,that Virtue does not consist in constrain’dBehaviour and wry Faces, that must be allow’d;but there is a Decency in the Aspect and Manner ofLadies contracted from an Habit of Virtue, and fromgeneral Reflections that regard a modest Conduct, allwhich may be understood, tho’ they cannot bedescribed. A young Woman of this sort claimsan Esteem mixed with Affection and Honour, and meetswith no Defamation; or if she does, the wild Maliceis overcome with an undisturbed Perseverance in herInnocence. To speak freely, there are such Coveysof Coquets about this Town, that if the Peace werenot kept by some impertinent Tongues of their ownSex, which keep them under some Restraint, we shouldhave no manner of Engagement upon them to keep themin any tolerable Order.
As I am a SPECTATOR, and behold how plainly one Partof Womankind ballance the Behaviour of the other,whatever I may think of Talebearers or Slanderers,I cannot wholly suppress them, no more than a Generalwould discourage Spies. The Enemy would easilysurprize him whom they knew had no Intelligence oftheir Motions. It is so far otherwise with me,that I acknowledge I permit a She-Slanderer or twoin every Quarter of the Town, to live in the Charactersof Coquets, and take all the innocent Freedoms ofthe rest, in order to send me Information of the Behaviourof their respective Sisterhoods.
But as the Matter of Respect to the World, which lookson, is carried on, methinks it is so very easie tobe what is in the general called Virtuous, that itneed not cost one Hour’s Reflection in a Monthto preserve that Appellation. It is pleasantto hear the pretty Rogues talk of Virtue and Viceamong each other: She is the laziest Creaturein the World, but I must confess strictly Virtuous:The peevishest Hussy breathing, but as to her Virtueshe is without Blemish: She has not the leastCharity for any of her Acquaintance, but I must allowrigidly Virtuous. As the unthinking Part of theMale World call every Man a Man of Honour, who isnot a Coward; so the Crowd of the other Sex termsevery Woman who will not be a Wench, Virtuous.
T.
[Footnote 1: F. Q. Bk VI. canto vi. st. 14.]
* * * * *
No. 391. Thursday, May 29, 1712. Addison.
’—Non tu prece poscisemaci, Qua nisi seductis nequeas committere Divis:At bona pars procerum tacita libabit acerra.Haud cuivis promptum est, murmurque humilesque susurrosTollere de Templis; et aperto vivere voto.Mens bona, fama, fides, haec clare, et ut audiathospes. Illa sibi introrsum, et sub linguaimmurmurat: O si Ebullit patrui praeclarumfunus! Et O si Sub rastro crepet argenti mihiseria dextro Hercule! pupillumve utinam, quem proximushaeres Impello, expungam!—’
Pers.
Where Homer [1] represents Phoenix, the Tutor of Achilles,as persuading his Pupil to lay aside his Resentments,and give himself up to the Entreaties of his Countrymen,the Poet, in order to make him speak in Character,ascribes to him a Speech full of those Fables and Allegorieswhich old Men take Delight in relating, and which arevery proper for Instruction. The Gods, says he,suffer themselves to be prevailed upon by Entreaties.When Mortals have offended them by their Transgressions,they appease them by Vows and Sacrifices. Youmust know, Achilles, that PRAYERS are the Daughtersof Jupiter. They are crippled by frequent Kneeling,have their Faces full of Cares and Wrinkles, and theirEyes always cast towards Heaven. They are constantAttendants on the Goddess ATE, and march behind her.This Goddess walks forward with a bold and haughtyAir, and being very light of foot, runs thro’the whole Earth, grieving and afflicting the Sonsof Men. She gets the start of PRAYERS, who alwaysfollow her, in, order to heal those Persons whom shewounds. He who honours these Daughters of Jupiter,when they draw near to him, receives great Benefitfrom them; but as for him who rejects them, they intreattheir Father to give his Orders to the Goddess ATEto punish him for his Hardness of Heart. Thisnoble Allegory needs but little Explanation; for whetherthe Goddess ATE signifies Injury, as some have explainedit; or Guilt in general, as others; or divine Justice,as I am the more apt to think; the Interpretationis obvious enough.
I shall produce another Heathen Fable relating toPrayers, which is of a more diverting kind. Onewould think by some Passages in it, that it was composedby Lucian, or at least by some Author who has endeavourdto imitate his Way of Writing; but as Dissertationsof this Nature are more curious than useful, I shallgive my Reader the Fable, without any further Enquiriesafter the Author.
Menippus [2] the Philosopher was a secondtime taken up into Heaven by Jupiter, when for hisEntertainment he lifted up a Trap-Door that was placedby his Foot-stool. At its rising, there issuedthrough it such a Din of Cries as astonished thePhilosopher. Upon his asking what they meant,Jupiter told him they were the Prayers that were sentup to him from the Earth. Menippus, amidstthe Confusion of Voices, which was so great, thatnothing less than the Ear of Jove could distinguishthem, heard the Words, Riches, Honour, and Long Liferepeated in several different Tones and Languages.When the first Hubbub of Sounds was over, the Trap-Doorbeing left open, the Voices came up more separateand distinct. The first Prayer was a very oddone, it came from Athens, and desired Jupiter toincrease the Wisdom and the Beard of his humbleSupplicant. Menippus knew it by the Voice to bethe Prayer of his Friend Licander the Philosopher.This was succeeded by the Petition of one who hadjust laden a Ship, and promised Jupiter, if he tookcare of it, and returned it home again full of Riches,he would make him an Offering of a Silver Cup.Jupiter thanked him for nothing; and bending downhis Ear more attentively than ordinary, heard aVoice complaining to him of the Cruelty of an EphesianWidow, and begging him to breed Compassion in herHeart: This, says Jupiter, is a very honestFellow. I have received a great deal of Incensefrom him; I will not be so cruel to him as to hearhis Prayers. He was [then] interrupted witha whole Volly of Vows, which were made for the Healthof a tyrannical Prince by his Subjects who pray’dfor him in his Presence. Menippus was surprized,after having listned to Prayers offered up withso much Ardour and Devotion, to hear low Whispers fromthe same Assembly, expostulating with Jove for sufferingsuch a Tyrant to live, and asking him how his Thundercould lie idle? Jupiter was so offended atthese prevaricating Rascals, that he took down thefirst Vows, and puffed away the last. The Philosopherseeing a great Cloud mounting upwards, and makingits way directly to the Trap-Door, enquired of Jupiterwhat it meant. This, says Jupiter, is the Smokeof a whole Hecatomb that is offered me by the Generalof an Army, who is very importunate with me to lethim cut off an hundred thousand Men that are drawnup in Array against him: What does the impudentWretch think I see in him, to believe that I willmake a Sacrifice of so many Mortals as good as himself,and all this to his Glory, forsooth? But hark,says Jupiter, there is a Voice I never heard but intime of danger; tis a Rogue that is shipwreck’din the Ionian Sea: I sav’d him on a Plankbut three Days ago, upon his Promise to mend his Manners,the Scoundrel is not worth a Groat, and yet has theImpudence to offer me a Temple if I will keep himfrom sinking—But yonder, says he, is aspecial Youth for you, he desires me to take hisFather, who keeps a great Estate from him, out ofthe Miseries of human Life. The old Fellowshall live till he makes his Heart ake, I can tellhim that for his pains. This was followed bythe soft Voice of a Pious Lady, desiring Jupiterthat she might appear amiable and charming in theSight of her Emperor. As the Philosopher wasreflecting on this extraordinary Petition, thereblew a gentle Wind thro the Trap-Door, which heat first mistook for a Gale of Zephirs, but afterwardsfound it to be a Breeze of Sighs: They smeltstrong of Flowers and Incense, and were succeededby most passionate Complaints of Wounds and Torments,Fires and Arrows, Cruelty, Despair and Death.Menippus fancied that such lamentable Cries arosefrom some general Execution, or from Wretches lyingunder the Torture; but Jupiter told him that theycame up to him from the Isle of Paphos, and that heevery day received Complaints of the same naturefrom that whimsical Tribe of Mortals who are calledLovers. I am so trifled with, says he, by thisGeneration of both Sexes, and find it so impossibleto please them, whether I grant or refuse theirPetitions, that I shall order a Western Wind forthe future to intercept them in their Passage, andblow them at random upon the Earth. The lastPetition I heard was from a very aged Man of nearan hundred Years old, begging but for one Year moreof Life, and then promising to die contented.This is the rarest old Fellow! says Jupiter.He has made this Prayer to me for above twenty Yearstogether. When he was but fifty Years old, hedesired only that he might live to see his Son settledin the World; I granted it. He then beggedthe same Favour for his Daughter, and afterwards thathe might see the Education of a Grandson: Whenall this was brought about, he puts up a Petitionthat he might live to finish a House he was building.In short, he is an unreasonable old Cur, and neverwants an Excuse; I will hear no more of him. Uponwhich, he flung down the Trap-Door in a Passion,and was resolved to give no more Audiences thatday.
Notwithstanding the Levity of this Fable, the Moralof it very well deserves our Attention, and is thesame with that which has been inculcated by Socratesand Plato, not to mention Juvenal and Persius, whohave each of them made the finest Satire in their wholeWorks upon this Subject. The Vanity of Mens Wishes,which are the natural Prayers of the Mind, as wellas many of those secret Devotions which they offerto the Supreme Being, are sufficiently exposed by it.Among other Reasons for set Forms of Prayer, I haveoften thought it a very good one, that by this meansthe Folly and Extravagance of Mens Desires may bekept within due Bounds, and not break out in absurdand ridiculous Petitions on so great and solemn anOccasion.
I.
[Footnote 1: Iliad, Bk ix.]
[Footnote 2: Menippus was a Cynic philosopherof Gadara, who made money in Thebes by usury, lostit, and hanged himself. He wrote satirical pieces,which are lost; some said that they were the jointwork of two friends, Dionysius and Zopyrus of Colophon,in whom it was one jest the more to ascribe theirjesting to Menippus. These pieces were imitatedby Terentius Varro in Satirae Menippeae.]
* * * * *
No. 392. Friday, May 30, 1712. Steele.
’Per Ambages et Ministeria Deorum
Praecipitandus est liber Spiritus.’
Pet.
To the SPECTATOR.
The Transformation of Fidelio into a Looking-Glass.
I was lately at a Tea-Table, where someyoung Ladies entertained the Company with a Relationof a Coquet in the Neighbourhood, who had been discoveredpractising before her Glass. To turn the Discourse,which from being witty grew to be malicious, theMatron of the Family took occasion, from the Subject,to wish that there were to be found amongst Mensuch faithful Monitors to dress the Mind by, as weconsult to adorn the Body. She added, thatif a sincere Friend were miraculously changed intoa Looking-Glass, she should not be ashamed to askits Advice very often. This whimsical Thoughtworked so much upon my Fancy the whole Evening,that it produced [a very odd Dream. [1]]
Methought, that as I stood before my Glass,the Image of a Youth, of
an open ingenuous Aspect, appeared init; who with a small shrill
Voice spoke in the following manner.
The Looking-Glass, you see, was heretoforea Man, even I, the unfortunate Fidelio. Ihad two Brothers, whose Deformity in Shape wasmade out by the Clearness of their Understanding:It must be owned however, that (as it generallyhappens) they had each a Perverseness of Humoursuitable to their Distortion of Body. The eldest,whose Belly sunk in monstrously, was a great Coward;and tho’ his splenetick contracted Tempermade him take fire immediately, he made Objectsthat beset him appear greater than they were.The second, whose Breast swelled into a bold Relievo,on the contrary, took great pleasure in lesseningevery thing, and was perfectly the Reverse ofhis Brother. These Oddnesses pleased Companyonce or twice, but disgusted when often seen; for whichreason the young Gentlemen were sent from Courtto study Mathematicks at the University.
I need not acquaint you, that I wasvery well made, and reckoned a bright polite Gentleman.I was the Confident and Darling of all the Fair;and if the Old and Ugly spoke ill of me, all the Worldknew it was because I scorned to flatter them.No Ball, no Assembly was attended till I had beenconsulted. Flavia colour’d her Hair beforeme, Celia shew’d me her Teeth, Panthea heavedher Bosom, Cleora brandished her Diamonds; I haveseen Cloe’s Foot, and tied artificiallythe Garters of Rhodope.
’Tis a general Maxim, that thosewho doat upon themselves, can have no violentAffection for another: But on the contrary, Ifound that the Women’s Passion for me rosein proportion to the Love they bare to themselves.This was verify’d in my Amour with Narcissa,who was so constant to me, that it was pleasantlysaid, had I been little enough, she would havehung me at her Girdle. The most dangerous RivalI had, was a gay empty Fellow, who by the Strengthof a long Intercourse with Narcissa, joined tohis natural Endowments, had formed himself intoa perfect Resemblance with her. I had been discarded,had she not observed that he frequently asked my Opinionabout Matters of the last Consequence: Thismade me still more considerable in her Eye.
Tho’ I was eternally caressedby the Ladies, such was their Opinion of my Honour,that I was never envy’d by the Men. A jealousLover of Narcissa one day thought he had caughther in an Amorous Conversation; for tho’he was at such a Distance that he could hear nothing,he imagined strange things from her Airs and Gestures.Sometimes with a serene Look she stepped back ina listning Posture, and brightened into an innocentSmile. Quickly after she swelled into anAir of Majesty and Disdain, then kept her Eyes halfshut after a languishing Manner, then coveredher Blushes with her Hand, breathed a Sigh, andseemd ready to sink down. In rushed the furiousLover; but how great was his Surprize to see noone there but the innocent Fidelio, with his Backagainst the Wall betwixt two Windows?
It were endless to recountall my Adventures. Let me hasten to that
which cost me my Life, andNarcissa her Happiness.
She had the misfortune to have the Small-Pox,upon which I was expressly forbid her Sight, itbeing apprehended that it would increase her Distemper,and that I should infallibly catch it at the firstLook. As soon as she was suffered to leave herBed, she stole out of her Chamber, and found meall alone in an adjoining Apartment. Sheran with Transport to her Darling, and without Mixtureof Fear, lest I should dislike her. But, oh me!what was her Fury when she heard me say, I wasafraid and shockd at so loathsome a Spectacle.She stepped back, swollen with Rage, to see if I hadthe Insolence to repeat it. I did, with thisAddition, that her ill-timed Passion had increasedher Ugliness. Enraged, inflamed, distracted,she snatched a Bodkin, and with all her Force stabbedme to the Heart. Dying, I preserv’dmy Sincerity, and expressed the Truth, tho’in broken Words; and by reproachful Grimaces to thelast I mimick’d the Deformity of my Murderess.
Cupid, who always attends the Fair,and pity’d the Fate of so useful a Servantas I was, obtained of the Destinies, that my Body shouldbe made incorruptible, and retain the Qualitiesmy Mind had possessed. I immediately lostthe Figure of a Man, and became smooth, polished,and bright, and to this day am the first Favouriteof the Ladies.
T.
[Footnote 1: [so odd a Dream, that no one butthe SPECTATOR could believe that the Brain, cloggedin Sleep, could furnish out such a regular Wildnessof Imagination.]
* * * * *
No. 393. Saturday, May 31, 1712. Addison.
‘Nescio qua praeter solitum dulcedinelaeti.’
Virg.
Looking over the Letters that have been sent me, Ichanced to find the following one, which I receivedabout two years ago from an ingenious Friend, whowas then in Denmark.
Copenhagen, May 1, 1710.
Dear Sir,
The Spring with you has already takenPossession of the Fields and Woods: Now isthe Season of Solitude, and of moving Complaints upontrivial Sufferings: Now the Griefs of Loversbegin to flow, and their Wounds to bleed afresh.I too, at this Distance from the softer Climates,am not without my Discontents at present. Youperhaps may laugh at me for a most Romantick Wretch,when I have disclosed to you the Occasion of myUneasiness; and yet I cannot help thinking my Unhappinessreal, in being confined to a Region, which is the veryReverse of Paradise. The Seasons here are allof them unpleasant, and the Country quite Destituteof Rural Charms. I have not heard a Bird sing,nor a Brook murmur, nor a Breeze whisper, neither haveI been blest with the Sight of a flow’ry Meadowthese two years. Every Wind here is a Tempest,and every Water a turbulent Ocean. I hope, whenyou reflect a little, you will not think the Groundsof my Complaint in the least frivolous and unbecominga Man of serious Thought; since the Love of Woods,of Fields and Flowers, of Rivers and Fountains, seemsto be a Passion implanted in our Natures the mostearly of any, even before the Fair Sex had a Being.
I am, Sir, &c.
Could I transport my self with a Wish from one Countryto another, I should chuse to pass my Winter in Spain,my Spring in Italy, my Summer in England, and my Autumnin France. Of all these Seasons there is nonethat can vie with the Spring for Beauty and Delightfulness.It bears the same Figure among the Seasons of theYear, that the Morning does among the Divisions ofthe Day, or Youth among the Stages of Life. TheEnglish Summer is pleasanter than that of any otherCountry in Europe on no other account but becauseit has a greater Mixture of Spring in it. TheMildness of our Climate, with those frequent Refreshmentsof Dews and Rains that fall among us, keep up a perpetualChearfulness in our Fields, and fill the hottest Monthsof the Year with a lively Verdure.
In the opening of the Spring, when all Nature beginsto recover her self, the same animal Pleasure whichmakes the Birds sing, and the whole brute Creationrejoice, rises very sensibly in the Heart of Man.I know none of the Poets who have observed so wellas Milton those secret Overflowings of Gladness whichdiffuse themselves thro’ the Mind of the Beholder,upon surveying the gay Scenes of Nature: he hastouched upon it twice or thrice in his Paradise Lost,and describes it very beautifully under the Name ofVernal Delight, in that Passage where he representsthe Devil himself as almost sensible of it.
Blossoms and Fruits at once of goldenhue
Appear’d, with gay enamel’dColours mixt:
On which the Sun more glad impress’dhis Beams
Than in fair evening Cloud, or humid Bow,
When God hath shower’d the Earth;so lovely seem’d
That Landskip: And of pure now purerAir
Meets his approach, and to the Heart inspires
Vernal Delight, and Joy able to drive
All Sadness but Despair, &c. [1]
Many Authors have written on the Vanity of the Creature,and represented the Barrenness of every thing in thisWorld, and its Incapacity of producing any solid orsubstantial Happiness. As Discourses of thisNature are very useful to the Sensual and Voluptuous;those Speculations which shew the bright Side of Things,and lay forth those innocent Entertainments whichare to be met with among the several Objects thatencompass us, are no less beneficial to Men of darkand melancholy Tempers. It was for this reasonthat I endeavoured to recommend a Chearfulness ofMind in my two last Saturday’s Papers, and whichI would still inculcate, not only from the Considerationof our selves, and of that Being on whom we depend,nor from the general Survey of that Universe in whichwe are placed at present, but from Reflections on theparticular Season in which this Paper is written.The Creation is a perpetual Feast to the Mind of agood Man, every thing he sees chears and delightshim; Providence has imprinted so many Smiles on Nature,that it is impossible for a Mind, which is not sunkin more gross and sensual Delights, to take a Surveyof them without several secret Sensations of Pleasure.The Psalmist has in several of his Divine Poems celebratedthose beautiful and agreeable Scenes which make theHeart glad, and produce in it that vernal Delightwhich I have before taken Notice of.
Natural Philosophy quickens this Taste of the Creation,and renders it not only pleasing to the Imagination,but to the Understanding. It does not rest inthe Murmur of Brooks, and the Melody of Birds, in theShade of Groves and Woods, or in the Embroidery ofFields and Meadows, but considers the several Endsof Providence which are served by them, and the Wondersof Divine Wisdom which appear in them. It heightensthe Pleasures of the Eye, and raises such a rationalAdmiration in the Soul as is little inferior to Devotion.
It is not in the Power of every one to offer up thiskind of Worship to the great Author of Nature, andto indulge these more refined Meditations of Heart,which are doubtless highly acceptable in his Sight:I shall therefore conclude this short Essay on thatPleasure which the Mind naturally conceives from thepresent Season of the Year, by the recommending ofa Practice for which every one has sufficient Abilities.
I would have my Readers endeavour to moralize thisnatural Pleasure of the Soul, and to improve thisvernal Delight, as Milton calls it, into a ChristianVirtue. When we find our selves inspired withthis pleasing Instinct, this secret Satisfaction andComplacency arising from the Beauties of the Creation,let us consider to whom we stand indebted for allthese Entertainments of Sense, and who it is that thusopens his Hand and fills the World with Good.The Apostle instructs us to take advantage of ourpresent Temper of Mind, to graft upon it such a religiousExercise as is particularly conformable to it, by thatPrecept which advises those who are sad to pray, andthose who are merry to sing Psalms. The Chearfulnessof Heart which springs up in us from the Survey ofNature’s Works, is an admirable Preparation forGratitude. The Mind has gone a great way towardsPraise and Thanksgiving, that is filled with sucha secret Gladness: A grateful Reflection on thesupreme Cause who produces it, sanctifies it in theSoul, and gives it its proper Value. Such anhabitual Disposition of Mind consecrates every Fieldand Wood, turns an ordinary Walk into a morning orevening Sacrifice, and will improve those transientGleams of Joy, which naturally brighten up and refreshthe Soul on such Occasions, into an inviolable andperpetual State of Bliss and Happiness.
I.
[Footnote 1: Paradise Lost, Bk iv. ll. 148-156.]
* * * * *
No. 394. Monday, June 2, 1712. Steele.
’Bene colligitur haec Pueris etMulierculis et Servis et Servorum
simillimis Liberis esse grata. Gravivero homini et ea quae fiunt
Judicio certo ponderanti probari possenullo modo.’
Tull.
I have been considering the little and frivolous thingswhich give Men Accesses to one another, and Powerwith each other, not only in the common and indifferentAccidents of Life, but also in Matters of greaterimportance. You see in Elections for Members tosit in Parliament, how far saluting Rows of old Women,drinking with Clowns, and being upon a level withthe lowest Part of Mankind in that wherein they themselvesare lowest, their Diversions, will carry a Candidate.A Capacity for prostituting a Man’s Self inhis Behaviour, and descending to the present Humourof the Vulgar, is perhaps as good an Ingredient asany other for making a considerable Figure in theWorld; and if a Man has nothing else, or better, tothink of, he could not make his way to Wealth andDistinction by properer Methods, than studying theparticular Bent or Inclination of People with whomhe converses, and working from the Observation ofsuch their Biass in all Matters wherein he has anyIntercourse with them: For his Ease and Comforthe may assure himself, he need not be at the Expenceof any great Talent or Virtue to please even those
who are possessd of the highest Qualifications.Pride in some particular Disguise or other, (oftena Secret to the proud Man himself) is the most ordinarySpring of Action among Men. You need no more thanto discover what a Man values himself for; then ofall things admire that Quality, but be sure to befailing in it your self in comparison of the Man whomyou court. I have heard, or read, of a Secretaryof State in Spain, who served a Prince who was happyin an elegant use of the Latin Tongue, and often writDispatches in it with his own Hand. The Kingshewed his Secretary a Letter he had written to a foreignPrince, and under the Colour of asking his Advice,laid a Trap for his Applause. The honest Manread it as a faithful Counsellor, and not only exceptedagainst his tying himself down too much by some Expressions,but mended the Phrase in others. You may guessthe Dispatches that Evening did not take much longerTime. Mr. Secretary, as soon as he came to hisown House, sent for his eldest Son, and communicatedto him that the Family must retire out of Spain assoon as possible; for, said he, the King knows I understandLatin better than he does.This egregious Fault in a Man of the World, shouldbe a Lesson to all who would make their Fortunes:But a Regard must be carefully had to the Person withwhom you have to do; for it is not to be doubted buta great Man of common Sense must look with secretIndignation or bridled Laughter, on all the Slaveswho stand round him with ready Faces to approve andsmile at all he says in the gross. It is goodComedy enough to observe a Superior talking half Sentences,and playing an humble Admirer’s Countenancefrom one thing to another, with such Perplexity thathe knows not what to sneer in Approbation of.But this kind of Complaisance is peculiarly the Mannerof Courts; in all other Places you must constantlygo farther in Compliance with the Persons you haveto do with, than a mere Conformity of Looks and Gestures.If you are in a Country Life, and would be a leadingMan, a good Stomach, a loud Voice, and a rustick Chearfulnesswill go a great way, provided you are able to drink,and drink any thing. But I was just now goingto draw the Manner of Behaviour I would advise Peopleto practise under some Maxim, and intimated, thatevery one almost was governed by his Pride. Therewas an old Fellow about forty Years ago so peevishand fretful, though a Man of Business, that no onecould come at him: But he frequented a particularlittle Coffee-house, where he triumphed over everybody at Trick-track and Baggammon. The way topass his Office well, was first to be insulted byhim at one of those Games in his leisure Hours; forhis Vanity was to shew, that he was a Man of Pleasureas well as Business. Next to this sort of Insinuation,which is called in all Places (from its taking itsBirth in the Housholds of Princes) making one’sCourt, the most prevailing way is, by what better-bred
People call a Present, the Vulgar a Bribe. Ihumbly conceive that such a thing is conveyed withmore Gallantry in a Billet-doux that should be understoodat the Bank, than in gross Money; But as to stubbornPeople, who are so surly as to accept of neither Noteor Cash, having formerly dabbled in Chymistry, I canonly say that one part of Matter asks one thing, andanother another, to make it fluent; but there is nothingbut may be dissolved by a proper Mean: Thus theVirtue which is too obdurate for Gold or Paper, shallmelt away very kindly in a Liquid. The Islandof Barbadoes (a shrewd People) manage all their Appealsto Great-Britain, by a skilful Distribution of Citron-Wateramong the Whisperers about Men in Power. GenerousWines do every Day prevail, and that in great Points,where ten thousand times their Value would have beenrejected with Indignation.But to wave the Enumeration of the sundry Ways ofapplying by Presents, Bribes, Management of People,Passions and Affections, in such a Manner as it shallappear that the Virtue of the best Man is by one Methodor other corruptible; let us look out for some Expedientto turn those Passions and Affections on the sideof Truth and Honour. When a Man has laid it downfor a Position, that parting with his Integrity, inthe minutest Circ*mstance, is losing so much of hisvery Self, Self-love will become a Virtue. Bythis means Good and Evil will be the only Objectsof Dislike and Approbation; and he that injures anyMan, has effectually wounded the Man of this Turnas much as if the Harm had been to himself. Thisseems to be the only Expedient to arrive at an Impartiality;and a Man who follows the Dictates of Truth and rightReason, may by Artifice be led into Error, but nevercan into Guilt.
T.
* * * * *
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES EARL OF SUNDERLAND [1]
My Lord,
Very many Favours and Civilities (received from Youin a private Capacity) which I have no other Way toacknowledge, will, I hope, excuse this Presumption;but the Justice I, as a Spectator, owe your Character,places me above the want of an Excuse. Candorand Openness of Heart, which shine in all your Wordsand Actions, exacts the highest Esteem from all whohave the Honour to know You, and a winning Condescentionto all subordinate to You, made Business a Pleasureto those who executed it under You, at the same timethat it heightened Her Majesty’s Favour to allwho had the Happiness of having it convey’d throughYour Hands: A Secretary of State, in the Interestsof Mankind, joined with that of his Fellow-Subjects,accomplished with a great Facility and Elegance inall the Modern as well as Ancient Languages, was ahappy and proper Member of a Ministry, by whose ServicesYour Sovereign and Country are in so high and flourishinga Condition, as makes all other Princes and Potentates
powerful or inconsiderable in Europe, as they are Friendsor Enemies to Great-Britain. The Importance ofthose great Events which happened during that Administration,in which Your Lordship bore so important a Charge,will be acknowledgd as long as Time shall endure; Ishall not therefore attempt to rehearse those illustriousPassages, but give this Application a more privateand particular Turn, in desiring Your Lordship wouldcontinue your Favour and Patronage to me, as You area Gentleman of the most polite Literature, and perfectlyaccomplished in the Knowledge of Books and Men, whichmakes it necessary to beseech Your Indulgence to thefollowing Leaves, and the Author of them: Whois, with the greatest Truth and Respect,My Lord,
Your Lordship’s Obliged,
Obedient, and Humble Servant,
THE SPECTATOR.
[Footnote 1: Charles Spencer, to whom the SixthVolume of the Spectator is here inscribed, representedTiverton, in 1700, when he took the Lady Anne Churchill,Marlborough’s second daughter, for his secondwife. On the death of his father Robert, in 1702,he became Earl of Sunderland. He was an accomplishedman and founder of the library at Althorpe. In1705 he was employed diplomatically at the courts ofPrussia, Austria, and Hanover. Early in 1706he was one of the Commissioners for arranging theUnion with Scotland, and in September of that yearhe was forced by the Whigs on Queen Anne, as successorto Sir Charles Hedges in the office of Secretary ofState. Steele held under him the office of Gazetteer,to which he was appointed in the following May.In 1710 Sunderland shared in the political reversesuffered by Marlborough. In the summer of thatyear Sunderland was dismissed from office, but withan offer from the Queen of a pension of L3000 a year.He replied that he was glad her Majesty was satisfiedthat he had done his duty; but if he could not havethe honour to serve his country, he would not plunderit. The accession of George I. restored him tofavour and influence. He became Lord-lieutenantof Ireland; had, in 1715, a pension of L12,000 a yearsettled on him; in April, 1717, was again Secretaryof State; and in the following March, Lord Presidentof the Council. His political influence was brokenin 1721, the year before his death.]
* * * * *
No. 395. Tuesday, June 3, 1712. Budgell.
‘Quod nunc ratio est, Impetus antefuit.’
Ovid.
Beware of the Ides of March, said the Roman Augurto Julius Caesar: Beware of the Month of May,says the British Spectator to his fair Country-women.The Caution of the first was unhappily neglected, andCaesar’s Confidence cost him his Life. Iam apt to flatter my self that my pretty Readers hadmuch more regard to the Advice I gave them, sinceI have yet received very few Accounts of any notoriousTrips made in the last Month.
But tho’ I hope for the best, I shall not pronouncetoo positively on this point, till I have seen fortyWeeks well over, at which Period of Time, as my goodFriend Sir ROGER has often told me, he has more Businessas a Justice of Peace, among the dissolute young Peoplein the Country, than at any other Season of the Year.
Neither must I forget a Letter which I received neara Fortnight since from a Lady, who, it seems, couldhold out no longer, telling me she looked upon theMonth as then out, for that she had all along reckonedby the New Style.
On the other hand, I have great reason to believe,from several angry Letters which have been sent tome by disappointed Lovers, that my Advice has beenof very signal Service to the fair Sex, who, accordingto the old Proverb, were Forewarned forearm’d.
One of these Gentlemen tells me, that he would havegiven me an hundred Pounds, rather than I should havepublishd that Paper; for that his Mistress, who hadpromised to explain herself to him about the Beginningof May, upon reading that Discourse told him that shewould give him her Answer in June.
Thyrsis acquaints me, that when he desired Sylviato take a Walk in the Fields, she told him the Spectatorhad forbidden her.
Another of my Correspondents, who writes himself MatMeager, complains, that whereas he constantly usedto Breakfast with his Mistress upon Chocolate, goingto wait upon her the first of May he found his usualTreat very much changed for the worse, and has beenforced to feed ever since upon Green Tea.
As I begun this Critical Season with a Caveat to theLadies, I shall conclude it with a Congratulation,and do most heartily wish them Joy of their happyDeliverance.
They may now reflect with Pleasure on the Dangersthey have escaped, and look back with as much Satisfactionon their Perils that threat’ned them, as theirGreat-Grandmothers did formerly on the Burning Plough-shares,after having passed through the Ordeal Tryal.The Instigations of the Spring are now abated.The Nightingale gives over her Love-labourd Song,as Milton phrases it, the Blossoms are fallen, andthe Beds of Flowers swept away by the Scythe of theMower.
I shall now allow my Fair Readers to return to theirRomances and Chocolate, provided they make use ofthem with Moderation, till about the middle of theMonth, when the Sun shall have made some Progress inthe Crab. Nothing is more dangerous, than toomuch Confidence and Security. The Trojans, whostood upon their Guard all the while the Grecianslay before their City, when they fancied the Siegewas raised, and the Danger past, were the very nextNight burnt in their Beds: I must also observe,that as in some Climates there is a perpetual Spring,so in some Female Constitutions there is a perpetualMay: These are a kind of Valetudinarians in Chastity,whom I would continue in a constant Diet. I cannotthink these wholly out of Danger, till they have lookedupon the other Sex at least Five Years through a Pairof Spectacles. WILL. HONEYCOMB has oftenassured me, that its much easier to steal one of thisSpecies, when she has passed her grand Climacterick,than to carry off an icy Girl on this side Five andTwenty; and that a Rake of his Acquaintance, who hadin vain endeavoured to gain the Affections of a youngLady of Fifteen, had at last made his Fortune by runningaway with her Grandmother.
But as I do not design this Speculation for the Evergreensof the Sex, I shall again apply my self to those whowould willingly listen to the Dictates of Reason andVirtue, and can now hear me in cold Blood. Ifthere are any who have forfeited their Innocence, theymust now consider themselves under that MelancholyView, in which Chamont regards his Sister, in thosebeautiful Lines.
—Long she flourish’d,
Grew sweet to Sense, and lovely to theEye;
Till at the last a cruel Spoiler came,
Cropt this fair Rose, and rifled all itsSweetness;
Then cast it like a loathsome Weed away.[1]
On the contrary, she who has observed the timely CautionsI gave her, and lived up to the Rules of Modesty,will now Flourish like a Rose in June, with all herVirgin Blushes and Sweetness about her: I must,however, desire these last to consider, how shamefulit would be for a General, who has made a SuccessfulCampaign, to be surprized in his Winter Quarters:It would be no less dishonourable for a Lady to losein any other Month of the Year, what she has beenat the pains to preserve in May.
There is no Charm in the Female Sex, that can supplythe place of Virtue. Without Innocence, Beautyis unlovely, and Quality contemptible, Good-breedingdegenerates into Wantonness, and Wit into Impudence.It is observed, that all the Virtues are representedby both Painters and Statuaries under Female Shapes,but if any one of them has a more particular Titleto that Sex, it is Modesty. I shall leave it tothe Divines to guard them against the opposite Vice,as they may be overpowerd by Temptations; It is sufficientfor me to have warned them against it, as they maybe led astray by Instinct.
I desire this Paper may be read with more than ordinaryAttention, at all Tea-Tables within the Cities ofLondon and Westminster.
X.
[Footnote 1: Otway’s Orphan, Act IV.]
* * * * *
No. 396. Wednesday, June 4, 1712. Henley.
‘Barbara, Celarent, Darii, Ferio,Baralipton.’
To Mr. SPECTATOR. [1]
From St. John’s College Cambridge,Feb. 3, 1712.
SIR,
The Monopoly of Punns in this Universityhas been an immemorial Privilege of the Johnians;and we can’t help resenting the late Invasionof our ancient Right as to that Particular, by a littlePretender to Clenching in a neighbouring College,who in an Application to you by way of Letter, awhile ago, styled himself Philobrune. DearSir, as you are by Character a profest Well-wisherto Speculation, you will excuse a Remark which thisGentleman’s Passion for the Brunette has suggestedto a Brother Theorist; ’tis an Offer towardsa mechanical Account of his Lapse to Punning, for hebelongs to a Set of Mortals who value themselvesupon an uncommon Mastery in the more humane andpolite Part of Letters. A Conquest by one of thisSpecies of Females gives a very odd Turn to the Intellectualsof the captivated Person, and very different fromthat way of thinking which a Triumph from the Eyesof another more emphatically of the fair Sex, doesgenerally occasion. It fills the Imagination withan Assemblage of such Ideas and Pictures as arehardly any thing but Shade, such as Night, the Devil,&c. These Portraitures very near over-power theLight of the Understanding, almost benight the Faculties,and give that melancholy Tincture to the most sanguineComplexion, which this Gentleman calls an Inclinationto be in a Brown-study, and is usually attendedwith worse Consequences in case of a Repulse.During this Twilight of Intellects, the Patientis extremely apt, as Love is the most witty Passionin Nature, to offer at some pert Sallies now and then,by way of Flourish, upon the amiable Enchantress, andunfortunately stumbles upon that Mongrel miscreated(to speak in Miltonic) kind of Wit, vulgarly termed,the Punn. It would not be much amiss to consultDr. T—W—[2] (who is certainlya very able Projector, and whose system of Divinityand spiritual Mechanicks obtains very much amongthe better Part of our Under-Graduates) whethera general Intermarriage, enjoyned by Parliament, betweenthis Sisterhood of the Olive Beauties, and the Fraternityof the People call’d Quakers, would not bea very serviceable Expedient, and abate that Overflowof Light which shines within them so powerfully, thatit dazzles their Eyes, and dances them into a thousandVagaries of Error and Enthusiasm. These Reflectionsmay impart some Light towards a Discovery of theOrigin of Punning among us, and the Foundation of itsprevailing so long in this famous Body. Tisnotorious from the Instance under Consideration,that it must be owing chiefly to the use of brownJuggs, muddy Belch, and the Fumes of a certain memorablePlace of Rendezvous with us at Meals, known by theName of Staincoat Hole: For the Atmosphereof the Kitchen, like the Tail of a Comet, predominatesleast about the Fire, but resides behind and fillsthe fragrant Receptacle above-mentioned. Besides,’tis farther observable that the delicateSpirits among us, who declare against these nauseousproceedings, sip Tea, and put up for Critic and Amour,profess likewise an equal Abhorrency for Punning,the ancient innocent Diversion of this Society.After all, Sir, tho’ it may appear somethingabsurd, that I seem to approach you with the Air ofan Advocate for Punning, (you who have justifiedyour Censures of the Practice in a set Dissertationupon that Subject;) yet, I’m confident, you’llthink it abundantly atoned for by observing, that thishumbler Exercise may be as instrumental in divertingus from any innovating Schemes and Hypothesis inWit. as dwelling upon honest Orthodox Logic wouldbe in securing us from Heresie in Religion. HadMr. W—n’s [3] Researches been confinedwithin the Bounds of Ramus or Crackanthorp, thatlearned News-monger might have acquiesced in what theholy Oracles pronounce upon the Deluge, like otherChristians; and had the surprising Mr. L—y[4]been content with the Employment of refining uponShakespear’s Points and Quibbles, (for whichhe must be allowed to have a superlative Genius)and now and then penning a Catch or a Ditty, insteadof inditing Odes, and Sonnets, the Gentlemen of theBon Goust in the Pit would never have been put toall that Grimace in damning the Frippery of State,the Poverty and Languor of Thought, the unnaturalWit, and inartificial Structure of his Dramas.I am, SIR, Your very humble Servant, Peterde Quir.
[Footnote 1: This letter was by John Henley,commonly called Orator Henley. The paper is withoutsignature in first issue or reprint, but the few introductorylines, doubtless, are by Steele. John Henley wasat this time but 20 years old. He was born atMelton Mowbray in 1692, and entered St. John’sCollege, Cambridge, in 1709. After obtaining hisdegree he was invited to take charge of the GrammarSchool in his native place, and raised it from decay.He published Esther, a poem; went to London; introducedaction into pulpit oratory; missing preferment, gavelectures and orations, religious on Sundays, and politicalon Wednesdays; was described by Pope in the Dunciadas the Zany of his age, and represented by Hogarthupon a scaffold with a monkey by his side saying Amen.He edited a paper of nonsense called the Hip Doctor,and once attracted to his oratory an audience of shoemakersby announcing that he would teach a new and shortway of making shoes; his way being to cut off thetops of boots. He died in 1756.]
[Footnote 2: Percy suggests very doubtfully thatthis may mean Thomas Woolston, who was bom in 1669,educated at Sidney College, Cambridge, published,in 1705, The Old Apology for the Truth against theJews and Gentiles revived, and afterwards was imprisonedand fined for levity in discussing sacred subjects.The text points to a medical theory of intermarriage.There was a Thomas Winston, of Clare Hall, Cambridge,who travelled over the continent, took degrees atBasle and Padua, returned to take his M.D. at Cambridge,and settled in London in 1607.]
[Footnote 3: William Whiston, born 1667, educatedat Tamworth School and Clare Hall, Cambridge, becamea Fellow in 1693, and then Chaplain to Bishop Moore.In 1696 he published his New Theory of the Earth, whichdivided attention with Burnet’s Sacred Theoryof the Earth already mentioned. In 1700 Whistonwas invited to Cambridge, to act as deputy to SirIsaac Newton, whom he succeeded in 1703 as LucasianProfessor. For holding some unorthodox opinionsas to the doctrines of the early Christians, he was,in 1710, deprived of his Professorship, and banishedfrom the University. He was a pious and learnedman, who, although he was denied the Sacrament, didnot suffer himself to be driven out of the Churchof England till 1747. At last he established asmall congregation in his own house in accordancewith his own notion of primitive Christianity.He lived till 1752.]
[Footnote 4: No L—y of that time haswritten plays that are remembered. The John Lacywhom Charles II. admired so much that he had his picturepainted in three of his characters, died in 1681, leavingfour comedies and an alteration of Shakespeare’sTaming of the Shrew. He was a handsome man:first dancing-master, then quarter-master, then anadmired comedian. Henley would hardly have useda blank in referring to a well-known writer who diedthirty years before. There was another John Lacyadvertising in the Post Boy, Aug. 3, 1714, The Steeleids,or the Trial of Wits, a Poem in three cantos, witha motto:
Then will I say, swelled with poetic rage,
That I, John Lacy, have reformed the age.]
* * * * *
No. 397. Thursday, June 5, 1712. Addison.
’—Dolor ipse disertum
Fecerat—’
Ovid.
As the Stoick Philosophers discard all Passions ingeneral, they will not allow a Wise Man so much asto pity the Afflictions of another. If thou seestthy Friend in Trouble, says Epictetus, thou mayst puton a Look of Sorrow, and condole with him, but takecare that thy Sorrow be not real. [1] The more rigidof this Sect would not comply so far as to shew evensuch an outward Appearance of Grief, but when one toldthem of any Calamity that had befallen even the nearestof their Acquaintance, would immediately reply, Whatis that to me? If you aggravated the Circ*mstancesof the Affliction, and shewed how one Misfortune wasfollowed by another, the Answer was still, All thismay be true, but what is it to me?
For my own part, I am of Opinion, Compassion doesnot only refine and civilize Humane Nature, but hassomething in it more pleasing and agreeable than whatcan be met with in such an indolent Happiness, suchan Indifference to Mankind as that in which the Stoicksplaced their Wisdom. As Love is the most delightfulPassion, Pity is nothing else but Love softned bya degree of Sorrow: In short, it is a kind ofpleasing Anguish, as well as generous Sympathy, thatknits Mankind together, and blends them in the samecommon Lot.
Those who have laid down Rules for Rhetorick or Poetry,advise the Writer to work himself up, if possible,to the Pitch of Sorrow which he endeavours to producein others. There are none therefore who stir upPity so much as those who indite their own Sufferings.Grief has a natural Eloquence belonging to it, andbreaks out in more moving Sentiments than be suppliedby the finest Imagination. Nature on this Occasiondictates a thousand passionate things which cannotbe supplied by Art.
It is for this Reason that the short Speeches, orSentences which we often meet with in Histories, makea deeper Impression on the Mind of the Reader, thanthe most laboured Strokes in a well-written Tragedy.Truth and Matter of Fact sets the Person actually beforeus in the one, whom Fiction places at a greater Distancefrom us in the other. I do not remember to haveseen any Ancient or Modern Story more affecting thana Letter of Ann of Bologne, Wife to King Henry theEighth, and Mother to Queen Elizabeth, which is stillextant in the Cotton Library, as written by her ownHand.
Shakespear himself could not have made her talk ina Strain so suitable to her Condition and Character.One sees in it the Expostulations of a slighted Lover,the Resentments of an injured Woman, and the Sorrowsof an imprisoned Queen. I need not acquaint myReader that this Princess was then under Prosecutionfor Disloyalty to the King’s Bed, and that shewas afterwards publickly beheaded upon the same Account,though this Prosecution was believed by many to proceed,as she her self intimates, rather from the King’sLove to Jane Seymour than from any actual Crime inAnn of Bologne.
Queen Ann Boleyn’s last Letter toKing Henry.
[Cotton Libr. Otho C. 10.]
SIR,
Your Grace’s Displeasure, and myImprisonment, are Things so strange unto me, aswhat to write, or what to excuse, I am altogetherignorant. Whereas you send unto me (willingme to confess a Truth, and so obtain your Favour)by such an one, whom you know to be mine ancientprofessed Enemy, I no sooner received this Messageby him, than I rightly conceived your Meaning; andif, as you say, confessing a Truth indeed may procuremy Safety, I shall with all Willingness and Dutyperform your Command.
But let not your Grace ever imagine, thatyour poor Wife will ever be brought to acknowledgea Fault, where not so much as a Thought thereof preceded.And to speak a Truth, never Prince had Wife more Loyalin all Duty, and in all true Affection, than youhave ever found in Ann Boleyn: with which Nameand Place I could willingly have contented my self,if God and your Grace’s Pleasure had been sopleased. Neither did I at any time so far forgetmy self in my Exaltation, or received Queenship,but that I always looked for such an Alteration asnow I find; for the Ground of my Preferment beingon no surer Foundation than your Grace’s Fancy,the least Alteration I knew was fit and sufficientto draw that Fancy to some other [Object. [2]] Youhave chosen me, from a low Estate, to be your Queenand Companion, far beyond my Desert or Desire.If then you found me worthy of such Honour, goodyour Grace let not any light Fancy, or bad Counselof mine Enemies, withdraw your Princely Favour fromme; neither let that Stain, that unworthy Stain,of a Disloyal Heart towards your good Grace, evercast so foul a Blot on your most Dutiful Wife, andthe Infant-Princess your Daughter. Try me,good King, but let me have a lawful Tryal, and letnot my sworn Enemies sit as my Accusers and Judges;Yea let me receive an open Tryal, for my Truth shallfear no open Shame; then shall you see either mineInnocence cleared, your Suspicion and Consciencesatisfied, the Ignominy and Slander of the Worldstopped, or my Guilt openly declared. So thatwhatsoever God or you may determine of me, yourGrace may be freed from an open Censure, and mineOffence being so lawfully proved, your Grace is atliberty, both before God and Man, not only to Executeworthy Punishment on me as an unlawful Wife, butto follow your Affection, already settled on thatParty, for whose sake I am now as I am, whose NameI could some good while since have pointed unto,your Grace being not ignorant of my Suspicion therein.
But if you have already determined ofme, and that not only my Death, but an InfamousSlander must bring you the enjoying of your desiredHappiness; then I desire of God, that he will pardonyour great Sin therein, and likewise mine Enemies,the Instruments thereof; and that he will not callyou to a strict Account for your unprincely and cruelUsage of me, at his general Judgment Seat, whereboth you and my self must shortly appear, and inwhose Judgment I doubt not (whatsoever the Worldmay think of me) mine Innocence shall be openly known,and sufficiently cleared.
My last and only Request shall be, thatmy self may only bear the Burthen of your Grace’sDispleasure, and that it may not touch the innocentSouls of those poor Gentlemen, who (as I understand)are likewise in strait Imprisonment for my sake.If ever I have found Favour in your Sight, if everthe Name of Ann Boleyn hath been pleasing in yourEars, then let me obtain this Request, and I will soleave to trouble your Grace any further, with mineearnest Prayers to the Trinity to have your Gracein his good Keeping, and to direct you in all yourActions. From my doleful Prison in the Tower,this sixth of May;
Your most Loyal,
And ever Faithful Wife,
Ann Boleyn.
[Footnote 1:
When you see a Neighbour in Tears, andhear him lament the Absence of his Son, the Hazardsof his Voyage into some remote Part of the World,or the Loss of his Estate; keep upon your Guard,for fear lest some false Ideas that may rise uponthese Occasions, surprise you into a Mistake, asif this Man were really miserable, upon the Accountof these outward Accidents. But be sure todistinguish wisely, and tell your self immediately,that the Thing which really afflicts this Personis not really the Accident it self, (for other People,under his Circ*mstances, are not equally afflictedwith it) but merely the Opinion which he hath formedto himself concerning this Accident. Notwithstandingall which, you may be allowed, as far as Expressionsand outward Behaviour go, to comply with him; andif Occasion require, to bear a part in his Sighs,and Tears too; but then you must be sure to takecare, that this Compliance does not infect your Mind,nor betray you to an inward and real Sorrow, uponany such Account.
Epictetus his Morals, with Simplicius his Comment.
Made English from the Greek by George Stanhope (1694)chapter xxii.]
[Footnote 2: Subject.]
* * * * *
No. 398. Friday, June 6, 1712. Steele.
‘Insanire pares certa ratione modoque.’
Hor.
Cynthio and Flavia are Persons of Distinction in thisTown, who have been Lovers these ten Months last past,and writ to each other for Gallantry Sake, under thosefeigned Names; Mr. Such a one and Mrs. Such a onenot being capable of raising the Soul out of the ordinaryTracts and Passages of Life, up to that Elevationwhich makes the Life of the Enamoured so much superiorto that of the rest of the World. But ever sincethe beauteous Cecilia has made such a Figure as shenow does in the Circle of Charming Women, Cynthiohas been secretly one of her Adorers. Laetitiahas been the finest Woman in Town these three Months,and so long Cynthio has acted the Part of a Lover veryawkwardly in the Presence of Flavia. Flavia hasbeen too blind towards him, and has too sincere anHeart of her own to observe a thousand things whichwould have discovered this Change of Mind to any oneless engaged than she was. Cynthio was musingYesterday in the Piazza in Covent-Garden, and wassaying to himself that he was a very ill Man to goon in visiting and professing Love to Flavia, whenhis Heart was enthralled to another. It is anInfirmity that I am not constant to Flavia; but itwould be still a greater Crime, since I cannot continueto love her, to profess that I do. To marry aWoman with the Coldness that usually indeed comeson after Marriage, is ruining one’s self withone’s Eyes open; besides it is really doingher an Injury. This last Consideration, forsooth,of injuring her in persisting, made him resolve tobreak off upon the first favourable Opportunity ofmaking her angry. When he was in this Thought,he saw Robin the Porter who waits at Will’s Coffee-House,passing by. Robin, you must know, is the bestMan in Town for carrying a Billet; the Fellow hasa thin Body, swift Step, demure Looks, sufficient Sense,and knows the Town. This Man carried Cynthio’sfirst Letter to Flavia, and by frequent Errands eversince, is well known to her. The Fellow covershis Knowledge of the Nature of his Messages with themost exquisite low Humour imaginable: The firsthe obliged Flavia to take, was, by complaining toher that he had a Wife and three Children, and if shedid not take that Letter, which, he was sure, therewas no Harm in, but rather Love, his Family must gosupperless to Bed, for the Gentleman would pay himaccording as he did his Business. Robin thereforeCynthio now thought fit to make use of, and gave himOrders to wait before Flavia’s Door, and ifshe called him to her, and asked whether it was Cynthiowho passed by, he should at first be loth to own itwas, but upon Importunity confess it. There needednot much Search into that Part of the Town to finda well-dressed Hussey fit for the Purpose Cynthiodesigned her. As soon as he believed Robin wasposted, he drove by Flavia’s Lodgings in anHackney-Coach and a Woman in it. Robin was atthe Door talking with Flavia’s Maid, and Cynthiopulled up the Glass as surprized, and hid his Associate.The Report of this Circ*mstance soon flew up Stairs,and Robin could not deny but the Gentleman favouredhis Master; yet if it was he, he was sure the Ladywas but his Cousin whom he had seen ask for him; addingthat he believed she was a poor Relation, becausethey made her wait one Morning till he was awake.Flavia immediately writ the following Epistle, whichRobin brought to Wills
June 4, 1712.
SIR,
It is in vain to deny it, basest, falsestof Mankind; my Maid, as well
as the Bearer, saw you.
The injur’d Flavia.
After Cynthio had read the Letter, he asked Robinhow she looked, and what she said at the Deliveryof it. Robin said she spoke short to him, andcalled him back again, and had nothing to say to him,and bid him and all the Men in the World go out ofher Sight; but the Maid followed, and bid him bringan Answer.
Cynthio returned as follows.
June 4, Three Afternoon, 1712.
Madam,
That your Maid and the Bearer has seenme very often is very certain;
but I desire to know, being engaged atPicket, what your Letter means
by ’tis in vain to deny it.I shall stay here all the Evening.
Your amazed Cynthio.
As soon as Robin arrived with this, Flavia answered:
Dear Cynthio,
I have walked a Turn or two in my Anti-Chambersince I writ to you, and have recovered my selffrom an impertinent Fit which you ought to forgiveme, and desire you would come to me immediately tolaugh off a Jealousy that you and a Creature ofthe Town went by in an Hackney-Coach an Hour ago.I am Your most humble Servant,
FLAVIA.
I will not open the Letter which my Cynthiowrit, upon the
Misapprehension you must have been underwhen you writ, for want of
hearing the whole Circ*mstance.
Robin came back in an Instant, and Cynthio answered:
Half Hour, six Minutes after Three,
June 4. Will’s Coffee-house.
Madam, It is certain I went by your Lodgingswith a Gentlewoman to whom I have the Honour tobe known, she is indeed my Relation, and a prettysort of Woman. But your starting Manner of Writing,and owning you have not done me the Honour so muchas to open my Letter, has in it something very unaccountable,and alarms one that has had Thoughts of passinghis Days with you. But I am born to admire youwith all your little Imperfections.
CYNTHIO.
Robin run back, and brought for Answer;
Exact Sir, that are at Will’s Coffee-housesix Minutes after Three, June 4; one that has hadThoughts and all my little Imperfections. Sir,come to me immediately, or I shall determine what mayperhaps not be very pleasing to you. FLAVIA.
Robin gave an Account that she looked excessive angrywhen she gave him the Letter; and that he told her,for she asked, that Cynthio only looked at the Clock,taking Snuff, and writ two or three Words on the Topof the Letter when he gave him his.
Now the Plot thickened so well, as that Cynthio sawhe had not much more to do to accomplish being irreconciliablybanished, he writ,
Madam, I have that Prejudice in Favourof all you do, that it is not possible for you todetermine upon what will not be very pleasing to YourObedient Servant, CYNTHIO.
This was delivered, and the Answer returned, in alittle more than two Seconds.
SIR, Is it come to this? You neverloved me; and the Creature you were with is theproperest Person for your Associate. I despiseyou, and hope I shall soon hate you as a Villainto The Credulous Flavia.
Robin ran back, with
Madam, Your Credulity when you areto gain your Point, and Suspicion when you fearto lose it make it a very hard Part to behave as becomesYour humble Slave, CYNTHIO.
Robin whipt away, and returned with,
Mr. Wellford, Flavia and Cynthio areno more. I relieve you from the hard Part ofwhich you complain, and banish you from my Sightfor ever. Ann Heart.
Robin had a Crown for his Afternoon’s Work;and this is published to admonish Cecilia to avengethe Injury done to Flavia.
T.
* * * * *
No. 399. Saturday, June 7, 1712. Addison.
‘Ut nemo in sese tentat descendere!’
Pers.
Hypocrisie, at the fashionable End of the Town, isvery different from Hypocrisie in the City. Themodish Hypocrite endeavours to appear more viciousthan he really is, the other kind of Hypocrite morevirtuous. The former is afraid of every thingthat has the Shew of Religion in it, and would bethought engaged in many Criminal Gallantries and Amours,which he is not guilty of. The latter assumesa Face of Sanctity, and covers a Multitude of Vicesunder a seeming Religious Deportment.
But there is another kind of Hypocrisie, which differsfrom both these, and which I intend to make the Subjectof this Paper: I mean that Hypocrisie, by whicha Man does not only deceive the World, but very oftenimposes on himself; That Hypocrisie, which concealshis own Heart from him, and makes him believe he ismore virtuous than he really is, and either not attendto his Vices, or mistake even his Vices for Virtues.It is this fatal Hypocrisie and Self-deceit, whichis taken notice of in those Words, Who can understandhis Errors? cleanse thou me from secret Faults. [1]
If the open Professors of Impiety deserve the utmostApplication and Endeavours of Moral Writers to recoverthem from Vice and Folly, how much more may thoselay a Claim to their Care and Compassion, who arewalking in the Paths of Death, while they fancy themselvesengaged in a Course of Virtue! I shall endeavour,therefore, to lay down some Rules for the Discoveryof those Vices that lurk in the secret Corners of theSoul, and to show my Reader those Methods by whichhe may arrive at a true and impartial Knowledge ofhimself. The usual Means prescribed for thisPurpose, are to examine our selves by the Rules whichare laid down for our Direction in Sacred Writ, andto compare our Lives with the Life of that Personwho acted up to the Perfection of Human Nature, andis the standing Example, as well as the great Guideand Instructor, of those who receive his Doctrines.Though these two Heads cannot be too much insistedupon, I shall but just mention them, since they havebeen handled by many Great and Eminent Writers.
I would therefore propose the following Methods tothe Consideration of such as would find out theirsecret Faults, and make a true Estimate of themselves.
In the first Place, let them consider well what arethe Characters which they bear among their Enemies.Our Friends very often flatter us, as much as ourown Hearts. They either do not see our Faults,or conceal them from us, or soften them by their Representations,after such a manner, that we think them too trivialto be taken notice of. An Adversary, on the contrary,makes a stricter Search into us, discovers every Flawand Imperfection in our Tempers, and though his Malicemay set them in too strong a Light, it has generallysome Ground for what it advances. A Friend exaggeratesa Man’s Virtues, an Enemy inflames his Crimes.A Wise Man should give a just Attention to both ofthem, so far as they may tend to the Improvement ofthe one, and Diminution of the other. Plutarchhas written an Essay on the Benefits which a Man mayreceive from his Enemies, [2] and, among the good Fruitsof Enmity, mentions this in particular, that by theReproaches which it casts upon us we see the worstside of our selves, and open our Eyes to several Blemishesand Defects in our Lives and Conversations, which weshould not have observed, without the Help of suchill-natured Monitors.
In order likewise to come at a true Knowledge of ourselves, we should consider on the other hand how farwe may deserve the Praises and Approbations whichthe World bestow upon us: whether the Actionsthey celebrate proceed from laudable and worthy Motives;and how far we are really possessed of the Virtueswhich gain us Applause among those with whom we converse.Such a Reflection is absolutely necessary, if we considerhow apt we are either to value or condemn ourselvesby the Opinions of others, and to sacrifice the Reportof our own Hearts to the Judgment of the World.
In the next Place, that we may not deceive our selvesin a Point of so much Importance, we should not laytoo great a Stress on any supposed Virtues we possessthat are of a doubtful Nature: And such we mayesteem all those in which Multitudes of Men dissentfrom us, who are as good and wise as our selves.We should always act with great Cautiousness and Circ*mspectionin Points, where it is not impossible that we may bedeceived. Intemperate Zeal, Bigotry and Persecutionfor any Party or Opinion, how praiseworthy soeverthey may appear to weak Men of our own Principles,produce infinite Calamities among Mankind, and arehighly Criminal in their own Nature; and yet how manyPersons eminent for Piety suffer such monstrous andabsurd Principles of Action to take Root in theirMinds under the Colour of Virtues? For my ownPart, I must own I never yet knew any Party so justand reasonable, that a Man could follow it in itsHeight and Violence, and at the same time be innocent.
We should likewise be very apprehensive of those Actionswhich proceed from natural Constitution, favouritePassions, particular Education, or whatever promotesour worldly Interest or Advantage. In these andthe like Cases, a Man’s Judgment is easily perverted,and a wrong Bias hung upon his Mind. These arethe Inlets of Prejudice, the unguarded Avenues ofthe Mind, by which a thousand Errors and secret Faultsfind Admission, without being observed or taken Noticeof. A wise Man will suspect those Actions towhich he is directed by something [besides [3]] Reason,and always apprehend some concealed Evil in every Resolutionthat is of a disputable Nature, when it is conformableto his particular Temper, his Age, or Way of Life,or when it favours his Pleasure or his Profit.
There is nothing of greater Importance to us thanthus diligently to sift our Thoughts, and examineall these dark Recesses of the Mind, if we would establishour Souls in such a solid and substantial Virtue aswill turn to Account in that great Day, when it muststand the Test of infinite Wisdom and Justice.
I shall conclude this Essay with observing that thetwo kinds of Hypocrisie I have here spoken of, namelythat of deceiving the World, and that of imposingon our selves, are touched with wonderful Beauty inthe hundred and thirty ninth Psalm. The Follyof the first kind of Hypocrisie is there set forthby Reflections on God’s Omniscience and Omnipresence,which are celebrated in as noble Strains of Poetryas any other I ever met with, either Sacred or Profane.The other kind of Hypocrisie, whereby a Man deceiveshimself, is intimated in the two last Verses, wherethe Psalmist addresses himself to the great Searcherof Hearts in that emphatical Petition; Try me, O God,and seek the ground of my heart; prove me, and examinemy Thoughts. Look well if there be any way ofwickedness in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.
L.
[Footnote 1: Psalm xix. 12.]
[Footnote 2: See note on p. 441 [Footnote 1 ofNo. 125], vol. i.]
[Footnote 3: more than]
* * * * *
No. 400. Monday, June 9, 1712. Steele.
‘—Latet Anguis in Herba.’
Virg.
It should, methinks, preserve Modesty and its Interestsin the World, that the Transgression of it alwayscreates Offence; and the very Purposes of Wantonnessare defeated by a Carriage which has in it so muchBoldness, as to intimate that Fear and Reluctance arequite extinguishd in an Object which would be otherwisedesirable. It was said of a Wit of the last Age,
Sedley has that prevailing gentle Art, }
Which, can with a resistless Charm impart }
The loosest Wishes to the chastest Heart; }
Raise such a Conflict, kindle such a Fire,
Between declining Virtue and Desire,
That the poor vanquished Maid dissolvesaway
In Dreams all Night, in Sighs and Tearsall Day. [1]
This prevailing gentle Art was made up of Complaisance,Courtship, and artful Conformity to the Modesty ofa Woman’s Manners. Rusticity, broad Expression,and forward Obtrusion, offend those of Education, andmake the Transgressors odious to all who have Meritenough to attract Regard. It is in this Tastethat the Scenery is so beautifully ordered in theDescription which Antony makes, in the Dialogue betweenhim and Dolabella, of Cleopatra in her Barge.
Her Galley down the Silver Cydnos row’d;
The Tackling Silk, the Streamers wav’dwith Gold;
The gentle Winds were lodg’d inpurple Sails:
Her Nymphs, like Nereids, round her Couchwere placed,
Where she, another Sea-born Venus, lay;
She lay, and lean’d her Cheek uponher Hand,
And cast a Look so languishingly sweet,
As if, secure of all Beholders Hearts,
Neglecting she could take ’em.Boys like Cupids
Stood fanning with their painted Wingsthe Winds
That play’d about her Face; butif she smil’d,
A darting Glory seemed to blaze abroad,
That Men’s desiring Eyes were neverweary’d,
But hung upon the Object. To softFlutes
The Silver Oars kept Time; and while theyplay’d,
The Hearing gave new Pleasure to the Sight,
And both to Thought [2]—
Here the Imagination is warmed with all the Objectspresented, and yet there is nothing that is luscious,or what raises any Idea more loose than that of abeautiful Woman set off to Advantage. The like,or a more delicate and careful Spirit of Modesty,appears in the following Passage in one of Mr. Philip’sPastorals. [3]
’Breathe soft ye Winds, ye Watersgently flow,
Shield her ye Trees, ye Flowers aroundher grow,
Ye Swains, I beg you, pass in Silenceby,
My Love in yonder Vale asleep does lie.’
Desire is corrected when there is a Tenderness orAdmiration expressed which partakes the Passion.Licentious Language has something brutal in it, whichdisgraces Humanity, and leaves us in the Conditionof the Savages in the Field. But it may be askdto what good Use can tend a Discourse of this Kindat all? It is to alarm chaste Ears against suchas have what is above called the prevailing gentleArt. Masters of that Talent are capable of cloathingtheir Thoughts in so soft a Dress, and something sodistant from the secret Purpose of their Heart, thatthe Imagination of the Unguarded is touched with aFondness which grows too insensibly to be resisted.Much Care and Concern for the Lady’s Welfare,to seem afraid lest she should be annoyed by the veryAir which surrounds her, and this uttered rather withkind Looks, and expressed by an Interjection, an Ah,or an Oh, at some little Hazard in moving or makinga Step, than in my direct Profession of Love, are theMethods of skilful Admirers: They are honestArts when their Purpose is such, but infamous whenmisapplied. It is certain that many a young Woman
in this Town has had her Heart irrecoverably won,by Men who have not made one Advance which ties theirAdmirers, tho’ the Females languish with theutmost Anxiety. I have often, by way of Admonitionto my female Readers, give them Warning against agreeableCompany of the other Sex, except they are well acquaintedwith their Characters. Women may disguise it ifthey think fit, and the more to do it, they may beangry at me for saying it; but I say it is naturalto them, that they have no Manner of Approbation ofMen, without some Degree of Love: For this Reasonhe is dangerous to be entertaind as a Friend or Visitantwho is capable of gaining any eminent Esteem or Observation,though it be never so remote from Pretensions as aLover. If a Man’s Heart has not the Abhorrenceof any treacherous Design, he may easily improve Approbationinto Kindness, and Kindness into Passion. Theremay possibly be no manner of Love between them inthe Eyes of all their Acquaintance, no it is all Friendship;and yet they may be as fond as Shepherd and Shepherdessin a Pastoral, but still the Nymph and the Swain maybe to each other no other I warrant you, than Pyladesand Orestes.When Lucy decks with Flowers her swellingBreast,
And on her Elbow leans, dissembling Rest,
Unable to refrain my madding Mind,
Nor Sleep nor Pasture worth my Care Ifind.
Once Delia slept, on easie Moss reclin’d,
Her lovely Limbs half bare, and rude theWind;
I smoothed her Coats, and stole a silentKiss:
Condemn me Shepherds if I did amiss. [4]
Such good Offices as these, and such friendly Thoughtsand Concerns for one another, are what make up theAmity, as they call it, between Man and Woman.
It is the Permission of such Intercourse, that makesa young Woman come to the Arms of her Husband, afterthe Disappointment of four or five Passions whichshe has successively had for different Men, beforeshe is prudentially given to him for whom she hasneither Love nor Friendship. For what shoulda poor Creature do that has lost all her Friends?There’s Marinet the Agreeable, has, to my Knowledge,had a Friendship for Lord Welford, which had liketo break her Heart; then she had so great a Friendshipfor Colonel Hardy, that she could not endure any Womanelse should do any thing but rail at him. Manyand fatal have been Disasters between Friends whohave fallen out, and their Resentments are more keenthan ever those of other Men can possibly be:But in this it happens unfortunately, that as thereought to be nothing concealed from one Friend to another,the Friends of different Sexes [very often [5]] findfatal Effects from their Unanimity.
For my Part, who study to pass Life in as much Innocenceand Tranquility as I can, I shun the Company of agreeableWomen as much as possible; and must confess that Ihave, though a tolerable good Philosopher, but a lowOpinion of Platonick Love: for which Reason Ithought it necessary to give my fair Readers a Cautionagainst it, having, to my great Concern, observedthe Waste of a Platonist lately swell to a Roundnesswhich is inconsistent with that Philosophy.
T.
[Footnote 1: Rochester’s ’Allusionto the 10th Satire of the 1st Book of Horace.’]
[Footnote 2: Dryden’s All for Love, ActIII. sc. i. ]
[Footnote 3: The Sixth.]
[Footnote 4: Two stanzas from different partsof Ambrose Philips’s sixth Pastoral. Thefirst in the original follows the second, with threestanzas intervening.]
[Footnote 5: (, for want of other Amusem*nt,often study Anatomy together; and what is worse thanhappens in any other Friendship, they)]
* * * * *
No. 401. Tuesday, June 10, 1712. Budgell.
’In amore haec omnia insunt vitia:Injuriae,
Suspiciones, Inimicitiae, Induciae,
Bellum, pax rursum:’
Ter.
I shall publish for the Entertainment of this Day,an odd sort of a Packet, which I have just receivedfrom one of my Female Correspondents.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Since you have often confess’d thatyou are not displeased your Paper should sometimesconvey the Complaints of distressed Lovers to eachother, I am in Hopes you will favour one who givesyou an undoubted Instance of her Reformation, andat the same time a convincing Proof of the happyInfluence your Labours have had over the most IncorrigiblePart of the most Incorrigible Sex. You must know,Sir, I am one of that Species of Women, whom youhave often Characteriz’d under the Name ofJilts, and that I send you these Lines, as well todo Publick Penance for having so long continued ina known Error, as to beg Pardon of the Party offended.I the rather chuse this way, because it in somemeasure answers the Terms on which he intimated theBreach between us might possibly be made up, as youwill see by the Letter he sent me the next Day afterI had discarded him; which I thought fit to sendyou a Copy of, that you might the better know thewhole Case.
I must further acquaint you, that beforeI Jilted him, there had been the greatest Intimacybetween us for an Year and half together, during allwhich time I cherished his Hopes, and indulged hisFlame. I leave you to guess after this whatmust be his Surprize, when upon his pressing formy full Consent one Day, I told him I wondered whatcould make him fancy he had ever any Place in myAffections. His own Sex allow him Sense, andall ours Good-Breeding. His Person is such asmight, without Vanity, make him believe himself notincapable to be beloved. Our Fortunes indeed,weighed in the nice Scale of Interest, are not exactlyequal, which by the way was the true Case of my Jiltinghim, and I had the Assurance to acquaint him with thefollowing Maxim, That I should always believe thatMan’s Passion to be the most Violent, whocould offer me the largest Settlement. I havesince changed my Opinion, and have endeavoured tolet him know so much by several Letters, but thebarbarous Man has refused them all; so that I haveno way left of writing to him, but by your Assistance.If we can bring him about once more, I promise tosend you all Gloves and Favours, and shall desirethe Favour of Sir ROGER and your self to stand asGod-Fathers to my first Boy. I am, SIR, Yourmost Obedient most Humble Servant, Amoret.
Philander to Amoret.
Madam,
I am so surprised at the Question youwere pleased to ask me Yesterday, that I am stillat a loss what to say to it. At least my Answerwould be too long to trouble you with, as it wouldcome from a Person, who, it seems, is so veryindifferent to you. Instead of it, I shallonly recommend to your Consideration the Opinion ofone whose Sentiments on these matters I have oftenheard you say are extremely just. A generousand Constant Passion, says your favourite Author,in an agreeable Lover, where there is not too greata Disparity in their Circ*mstances, is the greatestBlessing that can befal a Person beloved; andif overlook’d in one, may perhaps never befound in another.
I do not, however, at all despair ofbeing very shortly much better beloved by youthan Antenor is at present; since whenever my Fortuneshall exceed his, you were pleased to intimateyour Passion would encrease accordingly.
The World has seen me shamefully losethat Time to please a fickle Woman, which mighthave been employed much more to my Credit and Advantagein other Pursuits. I shall therefore take theLiberty to acquaint you, however harsh it maysound in a Lady’s Ears, that tho your Love-Fitshould happen to return, unless you could contrivea way to make your Recantation as well known tothe Publick, as they are already apprised of themanner with which you have treated me, you shallnever more see Philander.
Amoret to Philander.
SIR,
Upon Reflection, I find the Injury Ihave done both to you and my self to be so great,that though the Part I now act may appear contraryto that Decorum usually observed by our Sex, yet Ipurposely break through all Rules, that my Repentancemay in some measure equal my Crime. I assureyou that in my present Hopes of recovering you,I look upon Antenor’s Estate with Contempt.The Fop was here Yesterday in a gilt Chariot andnew Liveries, but I refused to see him. Tho’I dread to meet your Eyes after what has pass’d,I flatter my self, that amidst all their Confusionyou will discover such a Tenderness in mine, asnone can imitate but those who Love. I shallbe all this Month at Lady D—’s inthe Country; but the Woods, the Fields and Gardens,without Philander, afford no Pleasures to theunhappy Amoret.
I must desire you, dear Mr. Spectator,to publish this my Letter to
Philander as soon as possible, and toassure him that I know nothing
at all of the Death of his rich Unclein Gloucestershire.
X.
* * * * *
No. 402. Wednesday, June 11, 1712. Steele.
[—quae Spectator tradit sibi—
Hor. [1]]
Were I to publish all the Advertisem*nts I receivefrom different Hands, and Persons of different Circ*mstancesand Quality, the very Mention of them, without Reflectionson the several Subjects, would raise all the Passionswhich can be felt by human Mind[s], As Instances ofthis, I shall give you two or three Letters; the Writersof which can have no Recourse to any legal Power forRedress, and seem to have written rather to vent theirSorrow than to receive Consolation.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a young Woman of Beauty and Quality,and suitably married to a Gentleman who doats onme. But this Person of mine is the Object of anunjust Passion in a Nobleman who is very intimatewith my Husband. This Friendship gives himvery easie Access, and frequent Opportunities ofentertaining me apart. My Heart is in the utmostAnguish, and my Face is covered over with Confusion,when I impart to you another Circ*mstance, whichis, that my Mother, the most mercenary of all Women,is gained by this false Friend of my Husband to sollicitme for him. I am frequently chid by the poorbelieving Man my Husband, for shewing an Impatienceof his Friend’s Company; and I am never alonewith my Mother, but she tells me Stories of the discretionaryPart of the World, and such a one, and such a onewho are guilty of as much as she advises me to.She laughs at my Astonishment; and seems to hintto me, that as virtuous as she has always appeared,I am not the Daughter of her Husband. It ispossible that printing this Letter may relieve mefrom the unnatural Importunity of my Mother, and theperfidious Courtship of my Husband’s Friend.I have an unfeigned Love of Virtue, and am resolvedto preserve my Innocence. The only Way I canthink of to avoid the fatal Consequences of the Discoveryof this Matter, is to fly away for ever; which Imust do to avoid my Husband’s fatal Resentmentagainst the Man who attempts to abuse him, and theShame of exposing the Parent to Infamy. ThePersons concerned will know these Circ*mstancesrelate to ’em; and though the Regard to Virtueis dead in them, I have some Hopes from their Fearof Shame upon reading this in your Paper; whichI conjure you to do, if you have any Compassionfor Injured Virtue.
Sylvia.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am the Husband of a Woman of Merit,but am fallen in Love, as they call it, with a Ladyof her Acquaintance, who is going to be married toa Gentleman who deserves her. I am in a Trustrelating to this Lady’s Fortune, which makesmy Concurrence in this Matter necessary; but I haveso irresistible a Rage and Envy rise in me when I considerhis future Happiness, that against all Reason, Equity,and common Justice, I am ever playing mean Tricksto suspend the Nuptials. I have no manner ofHopes for my self; Emilia, for so I’ll call her,is a Woman of the most strict Virtue; her Loveris a Gentleman who of all others I could wish myFriend; but Envy and Jealousie, though placed sounjustly, waste my very Being, and with the Tormentand Sense of a Daemon, I am ever cursing what Icannot but approve. I wish it were the Beginningof Repentance, that I sit down and describe my presentDisposition with so hellish an Aspect; but at presentthe Destruction of these two excellent Persons wouldbe more welcome to me than their Happiness.Mr. SPECTATOR, pray let me have a Paper on these terriblegroundless Sufferings, and do all you can to exorciseCrowds who are in some Degree possessed as I am.
Canniball.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I have no other Means but this to expressmy Thanks to one Man, and my Resentment againstanother. My Circ*mstances are as follows.I have been for five Years last past courted bya Gentleman of greater Fortune than I ought to expect,as the Market for Women goes. You must to besure have observed People who live in that sort ofWay, as all their Friends reckon it will be a Match,and are marked out by all the World for each other.In this View we have been regarded for some Time,and I have above these three Years loved him tenderly.As he is very careful of his Fortune, I always thoughthe lived in a near Manner to lay up what he thoughtwas wanting in my Fortune to make up what he mightexpect in another. Within few Months I have observedhis Carriage very much altered, and he has affecteda certain Air of getting me alone, and talking witha mighty Profusion of passionate Words, How I amnot to be resisted longer, how irresistible his Wishesare, and the like. As long as I have been acquaintedwith him, I could not on such Occasions say down-rightto him, You know you may make me yours when youplease. But the other Night he with great Franknessand Impudence explained to me, that he thought ofme only as a Mistress. I answered this Declarationas it deserv’d; upon which he only doubled theTerms on which he proposed my yielding. When myAnger heightned upon him, he told me he was sorryhe had made so little Use of the unguarded Hourswe had been together so remote from Company, as indeed,continued he, so we are at present. I flew fromhim to a neighbouring Gentlewoman’s House,and tho’ her Husband was in the Room, threwmy self on a Couch, and burst into a Passion of Tears.My Friend desired her Husband to leave the Room.But, said he, there is something so extraordinaryin this, that I will partake in the Affliction;and be it what it will, she is so much your Friend,that she knows she may command what Services I cando her. The Man sate down by me, and spokeso like a Brother, that I told him my whole Affliction.He spoke of the Injury done me with so much Indignation,and animated me against the Love he said he saw Ihad for the Wretch who would have betrayed me, withso much Reason and Humanity to my Weakness, thatI doubt not of my Perseverance. His Wife and heare my Comforters, and I am under no more Restraintin their Company than if I were alone; and I doubtnot but in a small time Contempt and Hatred willtake Place of the Remains of Affection to a Rascal.
I am
SIR,
Your affectionate Reader,
Dorinda.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I had the Misfortune to be an Uncle beforeI knew my Nephews from my Nieces, and now we aregrown up to better Acquaintance they deny me theRespect they owe. One upbraids me with being theirFamiliar, another will hardly be perswaded thatI am an Uncle, a third calls me Little Uncle, anda fourth tells me there is no Duty at all due to anUncle. I have a Brother-in-law whose Son willwin all my Affection, unless you shall think thisworthy of your Cognizance, and will be pleased toprescribe some Rules for our future reciprocal Behaviour.It will be worthy the Particularity of your Geniusto lay down Rules for his Conduct who was as itwere born an old Man, in which you will much oblige,
Sir,
Your most obedient Servant,
Cornelius Nepos.
T.
[Footnote 1: No motto in the first issue.]
* * * * *
No. 403. Thursday, June 12, 1712. Addison
‘Qui mores hominun multorum vidit?’
Hor.
When I consider this great City in its several Quartersand Divisions, I look upon it as an Aggregate of variousNations distinguished from each other by their respectiveCustoms, Manners and Interests. The Courts oftwo Countries do not so much differ from one another,as the Court and City in their peculiar Ways of Lifeand Conversation. In short, the Inhabitants ofSt. James’s, notwithstanding they live underthe same Laws, and speak the same Language, are adistinct People from those of Cheapside, who are likewiseremoved from those of the Temple on the one side,and those of Smithfield on the other, by several Climatesand Degrees in their way of Thinking and Conversingtogether.
For this Reason, when any publick Affair is upon theAnvil, I love to hear the Reflections that arise uponit in the several Districts and Parishes of Londonand Westminster, and to ramble up and down a wholeDay together, in order to make my self acquainted withthe Opinions of my Ingenious Countrymen. By thismeans I know the Faces of all the principal Politicianswithin the Bills of Mortality; and as every Coffee-househas some particular Statesman belonging to it, whois the Mouth of the Street where he lives, I alwaystake care to place my self near him, in order to knowhis Judgment on the present Posture of Affairs.The last Progress that I made with this Intention,was about three Months ago, when we had a currentReport of the King of France’s Death. AsI foresaw this would produce a new Face of things inEurope, and many curious Speculations in our BritishCoffee-houses, I was very desirous to learn the Thoughtsof our most eminent Politicians on that Occasion.
That I might begin as near the Fountain Head as possible,I first of all called in at St James’s, whereI found the whole outward Room in a Buzz of Politics.The Speculations were but very indifferent towardsthe Door, but grew finer as you advanced to the upperend of the Room, and were so very much improved bya Knot of Theorists, who sat in the inner Room, withinthe Steams of the Coffee-Pot, that I there heard thewhole Spanish Monarchy disposed of, and all the Lineof Bourbon provided for in less than a Quarter ofan Hour.
I afterwards called in at Giles’s, where I sawa Board of French Gentlemen sitting upon the Lifeand Death of their Grand Monarque. Those amongthem who had espoused the Whig Interest, very positivelyaffirmed, that he departed this Life about a Weeksince, and therefore proceeded without any furtherDelay to the Release of their Friends on the Gallies,and to their own Re-establishment; but finding theycould not agree among themselves, I proceeded on myintended Progress.
Upon my Arrival at Jenny Man’s, I saw an alerteyoung Fellow that co*cked his Hat upon a Friend ofhis who entered just at the same time with my self,and accosted him after the following Manner. Well,Jack, the old Prig is dead at last. Sharp’sthe Word. Now or never, Boy. Up to the Wallsof Paris directly. With several other deep Reflectionsof the same Nature.
I met with very little Variation in the Politics betweenCharing-Cross and Covent-Garden. And upon mygoing into Wills I found their Discourse was goneoff from the Death of the French King to that of MonsieurBoileau, Racine, Corneile, and several other Poets,whom they regretted on this Occasion, as Persons whowould have obliged the World with very noble Elegieson the Death of so great a Prince, and so eminent aPatron of Learning.
At a Coffee-house near the Temple, I found a coupleof young Gentlemen engaged very smartly in a Disputeon the Succession to the Spanish Monarchy. Oneof them seemed to have been retained as Advocate forthe Duke of Anjou, the other for his Imperial Majesty.They were both for regulating the Title to that Kingdomby the Statute Laws of England; but finding them goingout of my Depth, I passed forward to Paul’sChurch-Yard, where I listen’d with great Attentionto a learned Man, who gave the Company an Accountof the deplorable State of France during the Minorityof the deceased King. I then turned on my rightHand into Fish-street, where the chief Politicianof that Quarter, upon hearing the News, (after havingtaken a Pipe of Tobacco, and ruminated for some time)If, says he, the King of France is certainly dead,we shall have Plenty of Mackerell this Season; ourFishery will not be disturbed by Privateers, as ithas been for these ten Years past. He afterwardsconsidered how the Death of this great Man would affectour Pilchards, and by several other Remarks infuseda general Joy into his whole Audience.
I afterwards entered a By Coffee-house that stoodat the upper end of a narrow Lane, where I met witha Nonjuror, engaged very warmly with a Laceman whowas the great Support of a neighbouring Conventicle.The Matter in Debate was, whether the late FrenchKing was most like Augustus Caesar, or Nero.The Controversie was carried on with great Heat onboth Sides, and as each of them looked upon me veryfrequently during the Course of their Debate, I wasunder some Apprehension that they would appeal tome, and therefore laid down my Penny at the Bar, andmade the best of my way to Cheapside.
I here gazed upon the Signs for some time before Ifound one to my Purpose. The first Object I metin the Coffeeroom was a Person who expressed a greatGrief for the Death of the French King; but upon hisexplaining himself, I found his Sorrow did not arisefrom the Loss of the Monarch, but for his having soldout of the Bank about three Days before he heard theNews of it: Upon which a Haberdasher, who wasthe Oracle of the Coffee-house, and had his Circleof Admirers about him, called several to witness thathe had declared his Opinion above a Week before, thatthe French King was certainly dead; to which he added,that considering the late Advices we had receivedfrom France, it was impossible that it could be otherwise.As he was laying these together, and dictating tohis Hearers with great Authority, there came in aGentleman from Garraway’s, who told us that therewere several Letters from France just come in, withAdvice that the King was in good Health, and was goneout a Hunting the very Morning the Post came away:Upon which the Haberdasher stole off his Hat thathung upon a wooden Pegg by him, and retired to hisShop with great Confusion. This Intelligence puta Stop to my Travels, which I had prosecuted with [much[1]] Satisfaction; not being a little pleased to hearso many different Opinions upon so great an Event,and to observe how naturally upon such a Piece ofNews every one is apt to consider it with a Regardto his own particular Interest and Advantage.
L.
[Footnote 1: [great]]
* * * * *
No. 404. Friday, June 13, 1712. Budgell
[’—Non omnia possumusomnes.’
Virg. [1]]
Nature does nothing in vain: the Creator of theUniverse has appointed every thing to a certain Useand Purpose, and determin’d it to a settledCourse and Sphere of Action, from which, if it in theleast deviates, it becomes unfit to answer those Endsfor which it was designed. In like manner itis in the Dispositions of Society, the civil Oeconomyis formed in a Chain as well as the natural; and ineither Case the Breach but of one Link puts the Wholeinto some Disorder. It is, I think, pretty plain,that most of the Absurdity and Ridicule we meet within the World, is generally owing to the impertinentAffectation of excelling in Characters Men are notfit for, and for which Nature never designed them.
Every Man has one or more Qualities which may makehim useful both to himself and others: Naturenever fails of pointing them out, and while the Infantcontinues under her Guardianship, she brings him onin this Way; and then offers her self for a Guidein what remains of the Journey; if he proceeds inthat Course, he can hardly miscarry: Nature makesgood her Engagements; for as she never promises whatshe is not able to perform, so she never fails ofperforming what she promises. But the Misfortuneis, Men despise what they may be Masters of, and affectwhat they are not fit for; they reckon themselves alreadypossessed of what their Genius inclined them to, andso bend all their Ambition to excel in what is outof their Reach: Thus they destroy the Use of theirnatural Talents, in the same manner as covetous Mendo their Quiet and Repose; they can enjoy no Satisfactionin what they have, because of the absurd Inclinationthey are possessed with for what they have not.
Cleanthes had good Sense, a great Memory, and a Constitutioncapable of the closest Application: In a Word,there was no Profession in which Cleanthes might nothave made a very good Figure; but this won’tsatisfie him, he takes up an unaccountable Fondnessfor the Character of a fine Gentleman; all his Thoughtsare bent upon this: instead of attending a Dissection,frequenting the Courts of Justice, or studying theFathers, Cleanthes reads Plays, dances, dresses, andspends his Time in drawing-rooms; instead of beinga good Lawyer, Divine, or Physician, Cleanthes isa downright Coxcomb, and will remain to all that knewhim a contemptible Example of Talents misapplied.It is to this Affectation the World owes its wholeRace of Coxcombs: Nature in her whole Drama neverdrew such a Part: she has sometimes made a Fool,but a Coxcomb is always of a Man’s own making,by applying his Talents otherwise than Nature designed,who ever bears an high Resentment for being put outof her Course, and never fails of taking her Revengeon those that do so. Opposing her Tendency inthe Application of a Man’s Parts, has the sameSuccess as declining from her Course in the Productionof Vegetables; by the Assistance of Art and an hotBed, we may possibly extort an unwilling Plant, oran untimely Sallad; but how weak, how tasteless andinsipid? Just as insipid as the Poetry of Valerio:Valerio had an universal Character, was genteel, hadLearning, thought justly, spoke correctly; ’twasbelieved there was nothing in which Valerio did notexcel; and ’twas so far true, that there wasbut one; Valerio had no Genius for Poetry, yet he’sresolved to be a Poet; he writes Verses, and takesgreat Pains to convince the Town, that Valerio is notthat extraordinary Person he was taken for.
If Men would be content to graft upon Nature, andassist her Operations, what mighty Effects might weexpect? Tully would not stand so much alone inOratory, Virgil in Poetry, or Caesar in War. Tobuild upon Nature, is laying the Foundation upon aRock; every thing disposes its self into Order asit were of Course, and the whole Work is half doneas soon as undertaken. Cicero’s Geniusinclined him to Oratory, Virgil’s to followthe Train of the Muses; they piously obeyed the Admonition,and were rewarded. Had Virgil attended the Bar,his modest and ingenious Virtue would surely havemade but a very indifferent Figure; and Tully’sdeclamatory Inclination would have been as uselessin Poetry. Nature, if left to her self, leadsus on in the best Course, but will do nothing by Compulsionand Constraint; and if we are not satisfied to go herWay, we are always the greatest Sufferers by it.
Wherever Nature designs a Production, she always disposesSeeds proper for it, which are as absolutely necessaryto the Formation of any moral or intellectual Excellence,as they are to the Being and Growth of Plants; andI know not by what Fate and Folly it is, that Men aretaught not to reckon him equally absurd that willwrite Verses in Spite of Nature, with that Gardenerthat should undertake to raise a Jonquil or Tulipwithout the Help of their respective Seeds.
As there is no Good or bad Quality that does not affectboth Sexes, so it is not to be imagined but the fairSex must have suffered by an Affectation of this Nature,at least as much as the other: The ill Effectof it is in none so conspicuous as in the two oppositeCharacters of Caelia and Iras; Caelia has all theCharms of Person, together with an abundant Sweetnessof Nature, but wants Wit, and has a very ill Voice;Iras is ugly and ungenteel, but has Wit and good Sense:If Caelia would be silent, her Beholders would adoreher; if Iras would talk, her Hearers would admireher; but Caelia’s Tongue runs incessantly, whileIras gives her self silent Airs and soft Languors;so that ’tis difficult to persuade one’sself that Caelia has Beauty and Iras Wit: Eachneglects her own Excellence, and is ambitious of theother’s Character; Iras would be thought tohave as much Beauty as Caelia, and Caelia as muchWit as Iras.
The great Misfortune of this Affectation is, thatMen not only lose a good Quality, but also contracta bad one: They not only are unfit for what theywere designed, but they assign themselves to what theyare not fit for; and instead of making a very goodFigure one Way, make a very ridiculous one another.If Semanthe would have been satisfied with her naturalComplexion, she might still have been celebrated bythe Name of the Olive Beauty; but Semanthe has takenup an Affectation to White and Red, and is now distinguishedby the Character of the Lady that paints so well.In a word, could the World be reformed to the Obedienceof that famed Dictate, Follow Nature, which the Oracle
of Delphos pronounced to Cicero when he consultedwhat Course of Studies he should pursue, we shouldsee almost every Man as eminent in his proper Sphereas Tully was in his, and should in a very short timefind Impertinence and Affectation banished from amongthe Women, and Coxcombs and false Characters fromamong the Men. For my Part, I could never considerthis preposterous Repugnancy to Nature any otherwise,than not only as the greatest Folly, but also oneof the most heinous Crimes, since it is a direct Oppositionto the Disposition of Providence, and (as Tully expressesit) like the Sin of the Giants, an actual Rebellionagainst Heaven.Z.
[Footnote 1:
Continuo has leges aeternaque foederacertis
Imposuit natura locis.
Virg.]
* * * * *
No. 405. Saturday, June 14, 1712. Addison.
[Greek: Oi de panaemerioi molpaetheon hilaskonto, Kalon aeidontes paiaeona kouroiAchaion, Melpontes Ekaergon. Ho de phrena terpetakouon.]
Hom.
I am very sorry to find, by the Opera Bills for thisDay, that we are likely to lose the greatest Performerin Dramatick Musick that is now living, or that perhapsever appeared upon a Stage. I need not acquaintmy Reader, that I am speaking of Signior Nicolini.[1] The Town is highly obliged to that Excellent Artist,for having shewn us the Italian Musick in its Perfection,as well as for that generous Approbation he latelygave to an Opera of our own Country, in which the Composerendeavoured to do Justice to the Beauty of the Words,by following that Noble Example, which has been sethim by the greatest Foreign Masters in that Art.
I could heartily wish there was the same Applicationand Endeavours to cultivate and improve our Church-Musick,as have been lately bestowed on that of the Stage.Our Composers have one very great Incitement to it:They are sure to meet with Excellent Words, and, atthe same time, a wonderful Variety of them. Thereis no Passion that is not finely expressed in thoseparts of the inspired Writings, which are proper forDivine Songs and Anthems.
There is a certain Coldness and Indifference in thePhrases of our European Languages, when they are comparedwith the Oriental Forms of Speech: and it happensvery luckily, that the Hebrew Idioms run into theEnglish Tongue with a particular Grace and Beauty.Our Language has received innumerable Elegancies andImprovements, from that Infusion of Hebraisms, whichare derived to it out of the Poetical Passages in HolyWrit. They give a Force and Energy to our Expressions,warm and animate our Language, and convey our Thoughtsin more ardent and intense Phrases, than any thatare to be met with in our own Tongue. There issomething so pathetick in this kind of Diction, thatit often sets the Mind in a Flame, and makes our Heartsburn within us. How cold and dead does a Prayer
appear, that is composed in the most Elegant and PoliteForms of Speech, which are natural to our Tongue, whenit is not heightened by that Solemnity of Phrase,which may be drawn from the Sacred Writings.It has been said by some of the Ancients, that if theGods were to talk with Men, they would certainly speakin Plato’s Style; but I think we may say, withJustice, that when Mortals converse with their Creator,they cannot do it in so proper a Style as in that ofthe Holy Scriptures.If any one would judge of the Beauties of Poetry thatare to be met with in the Divine Writings, and examinehow kindly the Hebrew Manners of Speech mix and incorporatewith the English Language; after having perused theBook of Psalms, let him read a literal Translationof Horace or Pindar. He will find in these twolast such an Absurdity and Confusion of Style, withsuch a Comparative Poverty of Imagination, as willmake him very sensible of what I have been here advancing.
Since we have therefore such a Treasury of Words,so beautiful in themselves, and so proper for theAirs of Musick, I cannot but wonder that Persons ofDistinction should give so little Attention and Encouragementto that Kind of Musick, which would have its Foundationin Reason, and which would improve our Virtue in proportionas it raised our Delight. The Passions that areexcited by ordinary Compositions generally flow fromsuch silly and absurd Occasions, that a Man is ashamedto reflect upon them seriously; but the Fear, the Love,the Sorrow, the Indignation that are awakened in theMind by Hymns and Anthems, make the Heart better,and proceed from such Causes as are altogether reasonableand praise-worthy. Pleasure and Duty go hand inhand, and the greater our Satisfaction is, the greateris our Religion.
Musick among those who were styled the chosen Peoplewas a Religious Art. The Songs of Sion, whichwe have reason to believe were in high Repute amongthe Courts of the Eastern Monarchs, were nothing elsebut Psalms and Pieces of Poetry that adored or celebratedthe Supreme Being. The greatest Conqueror inthis Holy Nation, after the manner of the old GrecianLyricks, did not only compose the Words of his DivineOdes, but generally set them to Musick himself:After which, his Works, tho’ they were consecratedto the Tabernacle, became the National Entertainment,as well as the Devotion of his People.
The first Original of the Drama was a Religious Worshipconsisting only of a Chorus, which was nothing elsebut an Hymn to a Deity. As Luxury and Voluptuousnessprevailed over Innocence and Religion, this Form ofWorship degenerated into Tragedies; in which howeverthe Chorus so far remembered its first Office, asto brand every thing that was vicious, and recommendevery thing that was laudable, to intercede with Heavenfor the Innocent, and to implore its Vengeance on theCriminal.
Homer and Hesiod intimate to us how this Art shouldbe applied, when they represent the Muses as surroundingJupiter, and warbling their Hymns about his Throne.I might shew from innumerable Passages in AncientWriters, not only that Vocal and Instrumental Musickwere made use of in their Religious Worship, but thattheir most favourite Diversions were filled with Songsand Hymns to their respective Deities. Had wefrequent Entertainments of this Nature among us, theywould not a little purifie and exalt our Passions,give our Thoughts a proper Turn, and cherish thoseDivine Impulses in the Soul, which every one feelsthat has not stifled them by sensual and immoderatePleasures.
Musick, when thus applied, raises noble Hints in theMind of the Hearer, and fills it with great Conceptions.It strengthens Devotion, and advances Praise intoRapture. It lengthens out every Act of Worship,and produces more lasting and permanent Impressionsin the Mind, than those which accompany any transientForm of Words that are uttered in the ordinary Methodof Religious Worship.
O.
[Footnote 1: See note on p. 51, vol. i [Footnote1 of No. 13]. He took leave, June 14, in theOpera of Antiochus.]
* * * * *
No. 406. Monday, June 16, 1712. Steele.
’Haec studia Adolescentiam alunt,Senectutem oblectant, secundas res
ornant, adversis solatium et perfugiumpraebet delectant domi, non
impediunt foris; Pernoctant nobiscum,peregrinantur, rusticantur.’
Tull.
The following Letters bear a pleasing Image of theJoys and Satisfactions of private Life. The firstis from a Gentleman to a Friend, for whom he has avery great Respect, and to whom he communicates theSatisfaction he takes in Retirement; the other is aLetter to me, occasioned by an Ode written by my LaplandLover; this Correspondent is so kind as to translateanother of Scheffer’s Songs [1] in a very agreeableManner. I publish them together, that the Youngand Old may find something in the same Paper whichmay be suitable to their respective Taste in Solitude;for I know no Fault in the Description of ardent Desires,provided they are honourable.
Dear Sir,
You have obliged me with a very kind Letter;by which I find you shift the Scene of your Lifefrom the Town to the Country, and enjoy that mixtState which wise Men both delight in, and are qualifiedfor. Methinks most of the Philosophers andMoralists have run too much into Extreams, in praisingentirely either Solitude or publick Life; in the formerMen generally grow useless by too much Rest, and inthe latter are destroyed by too much Precipitation:As Waters lying still, putrifie and are good fornothing; and running violently on, do but the moreMischief in their Passage to others, and are swallowedup and lost the sooner themselves. Those who,like you, can make themselves useful to all States,should be like gentle Streams, that not only glidethrough lonely Vales and Forests amidst the Flocksand Shepherds, but visit populous Towns in theirCourse, and are at once of Ornament and Serviceto them. But there is another sort of Peoplewho seem designed for Solitude, those I mean whohave more to hide than to shew: As for my ownPart, I am one of those of whom Seneca says, TumUmbratiles sunt, ut putent in turbido esse quicquidin luce est. Some Men, like Pictures, are fitterfor a Corner than a full Light; and I believe suchas have a natural Bent to Solitude, are like Waterswhich may be forced into Fountains, and exalted toa great Height, may make a much nobler Figure, anda much louder Noise, but after all run more smoothly,equally and plentifully, in their own natural Courseupon the Ground. The Consideration of this wouldmake me very well contented with the Possessiononly of that Quiet which Cowley calls the Companionof Obscurity; but whoever has the Muses too forhis Companions, can never be idle enough to be uneasie.Thus, Sir, you see I would flatter my self intoa good Opinion of my own Way of Living; Plutarchjust now told me, that ’tis in human Life asin a Game at Tables, one may wish he had the highestCast, but if his Chance be otherwise, he is evento play it as well as he can, and make the bestof it.
I am, SIR,
Your most obliged,
and most humble Servant.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
The Town being so well pleased with thefine Picture of artless Love, which Nature inspiredthe Laplander to paint in the Ode you lately printed;we were in Hopes that the ingenious Translator wouldhave obliged it with the other also which Schefferhas given us; but since he has not, a much inferiorHand has ventured to send you this.
It is a Custom with the Northern Loversto divert themselves with a Song, whilst they Journeythrough the fenny Moors to pay a visit to theirMistresses. This is addressed by the Lover tohis Rain-Deer, which is the Creature that in thatCountry supplies the Want of Horses. The Circ*mstanceswhich successively present themselves to him inhis Way, are, I believe you will think, naturally interwoven.The Anxiety of Absence, the Gloominess of the Roads,and his Resolution of frequenting only those, sincethose only can carry him to the Object of his Desires;the Dissatisfaction he expresses even at the greatestSwiftness with which he is carried, and his joyfulSurprize at an unexpected Sight of his Mistressas she is bathing, seems beautifully described inthe Original.
If all those pretty Images of Rural Natureare lost in the Imitation, yet possibly you maythink fit to let this supply the Place of a long Letter,when Want of Leisure or Indisposition for Writing willnot permit our being entertained by your own Hand.I propose such a Time, because tho it is naturalto have a Fondness for what one does ones self,yet I assure you I would not have any thing of minedisplace a single Line of yours.
I. Haste, my Rain-Deer, andlet us nimbly go
Our am’rous Journey through thisdreery Waste;
Haste, my Rain-Deer! still still thouart too slow;
Impetuous Love demands the Lightning’sHaste.
II. Around us far theRushy Moors are spread:
Soon will the Sun withdraw her chearfulRay:
Darkling and tir’d we shall theMarshes tread,
No Lay unsung to cheat the tedious Way.
III. The wat’ry Lengthof these unjoyous Moors
Does all the flow’ry Meadow’sPride excel,
Through these I fly to her my Soul adores;
Ye flowery Meadows, empty Pride, Farewel.
IV. Each Moment from theCharmer I’m confin’d,
My Breast is tortur’d with impatientFires;
Fly, my Rain-Deer, fly swifter than theWind,
Thy tardy Feet wing with my fierce Desires.
V. Our pleasing Toil willthen be soon o’erpaid,
And thou, in Wonder lost, shalt viewmy Fair,
Admire each Feature of the lovely Maid,
Her artless Charms, her Bloom, her sprightlyAir,
VI. But lo! with gracefulMotion there she swims,
Gently moving each ambitious Wave;
The crowding Waves transported clasp herLimbs:
When, when, oh when, shall I such Freedomshave!
VII. In vain, you enviousStreams, so fast you flow,
To hide her from a Lover’s ardentGaze:
From ev’ry Touch you more transparentgrow,
And all reveal’d the beauteousWanton plays.
T.
[Footnote 1: See No. 366 and note.]
* * * * *
No. 407. Tuesday, June 17, 1712. Addison.
‘—abest facundis Gratiadictis.’
Ovid.
Most Foreign Writers who have given any Characterof the English Nation, whatever Vices they ascribeto it, allow in general, that the People are naturallyModest. It proceeds perhaps from this our NationalVirtue, that our Orators are observed to make useof less Gesture or Action than those of other Countries.Our Preachers stand stock-still in the Pulpit, andwill not so much as move a Finger to set off the bestSermons in the World. We meet with the same speakingStatues at our Bars, and in all publick Places ofDebate. Our Words flow from us in a smooth continuedStream, without those Strainings of the Voice, Motionsof the Body, and Majesty of the Hand, which are somuch celebrated in the Orators of Greece and Rome.We can talk of Life and Death in cold Blood, and keepour Temper in a Discourse which turns upon every thingthat is dear to us. Though our Zeal breaks outin the finest Tropes and Figures, it is not able tostir a Limb about us. I have heard it observedmore than once by those who have seen Italy, thatan untravelled Englishman cannot relish all the Beautiesof Italian Pictures, because the Postures which areexpressed in them are often such as are peculiar tothat Country. One who has not seen an Italianin the Pulpit, will not know what to make of thatnoble Gesture in Raphael’s Picture of St. Paulpreaching at Athens, where the Apostle is representedas lifting up both his Arms, and pouring out the Thunderof his Rhetorick amidst an Audience of Pagan Philosophers.
It is certain that proper Gestures and vehement Exertionsof the Voice cannot be too much studied by a publickOrator. They are a kind of Comment to what heutters, and enforce every thing he says, with weakHearers, better than the strongest Argument he canmake use of. They keep the Audience awake, andfix their Attention to what is delivered to them,at the same time that they shew the Speaker is in earnest,and affected himself with what he so passionatelyrecommends to others. Violent Gesture and Vociferationnaturally shake the Hearts of the Ignorant, and fillthem with a kind of Religious Horror. Nothingis more frequent than to see Women weep and trembleat the Sight of a moving Preacher, though he is placedquite out of their Hearing; as in England we veryfrequently see People lulled asleep with solid andelaborate Discourses of Piety, who would be warmedand transported out of themselves by the Bellowingsand Distortions of Enthusiasm.
If Nonsense, when accompanied with such an Emotionof Voice and Body, has such an Influence on Men’sMinds, what might we not expect from many of thoseAdmirable Discourses which are printed in our Tongue,were they delivered with a becoming Fervour, and withthe most agreeable Graces of Voice and Gesture?
We are told that the great Latin Orator very muchimpaired his Health by this laterum contentio, thisVehemence of Action, with which he used to deliverhimself. The Greek Orator was likewise so veryFamous for this Particular in Rhetorick, that oneof his Antagonists, whom he had banished from Athens,reading over the Oration which had procured his Banishment,and seeing his Friends admire it, could not forbearasking them, if they were so much affected by thebare reading of it, how much more they would havebeen alarmed, had they heard him actually throwingout such a Storm of Eloquence?
How cold and dead a Figure in Comparison of thesetwo great Men, does an Orator often make at the BritishBar, holding up his Head with the most insipid Serenity,and streaking the sides of a long Wigg that reachesdown to his Middle? The truth of it is, thereis often nothing more ridiculous than the Gesturesof an English Speaker; you see some of them runningtheir Hands into their Pockets as far as ever theycan thrust them, and others looking with great Attentionon a piece of Paper that has nothing written in it;you may see many a smart Rhetorician turning his Hatin his Hands, moulding it into several different co*cks,examining sometimes the Lining of it, and sometimesthe Button, during the whole course of his Harangue.A deaf Man would think he was Cheap’ning a Beaver,when perhaps he is talking of the Fate of the BritishNation. I remember, when I was a young Man, andused to frequent Westminster-Hall, there was a Counsellorwho never pleaded without a Piece of Pack-thread inhis Hand, which he used to twist about a Thumb, ora Finger, all the while he was speaking: The Waggsof those Days used to call it the Thread of his Discourse,for he was not able to utter a Word without it.One of his Clients, who was more merry than wise, stoleit from him one Day in the midst of his Pleading; buthe had better have let it alone, for he lost his Causeby his Jest.
I have all along acknowledged my self to be a DumbMan, and therefore may be thought a very improperPerson to give Rules for Oratory; but I believe everyone will agree with me in this, that we ought eitherto lay aside all kinds of Gesture, (which seems tobe very suitable to the Genius of our Nation) or atleast to make use of such only as are graceful andexpressive.
O.
* * * * *
No. 408. Wednesday, June 18, 1712. Pope.
’Decet affectus animi neque se nimiumerigere, nec subjacere
serviliter.’
Tull. de Finibus.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I have always been a very great Loverof your Speculations, as well in Regard to the Subject,as to your Manner of Treating it. Human NatureI always thought the most useful Object of humanReason, and to make the Consideration of it pleasantand entertaining, I always thought the best Employmentof human Wit: Other Parts of Philosophy may perhapsmake us wiser, but this not only answers that End,but makes us better too. Hence it was thatthe Oracle pronounced Socrates the wisest of allMen living, because he judiciously made Choice of humanNature for the Object of his Thoughts; an Enquiryinto which as much exceeds all other Learning, asit is of more Consequence to adjust the true Natureand Measures of Right and Wrong, than to settle theDistance of the Planets, and compute the Times oftheir Circumvolutions.
One good Effect that will immediatelyarise from a near Observation of human Nature, is,that we shall cease to wonder at those Actions whichMen are used to reckon wholly unaccountable; foras nothing is produced without a Cause, so by observingthe Nature and Course of the Passions, we shallbe able to trace every Action from its first Conceptionto its Death; We shall no more admire at the Proceedingsof Catiline or Tiberius, when we know the one wasactuated by a cruel Jealousie, the other by a furiousAmbition; for the Actions of Men follow their Passionsas naturally as Light does Heat, or as any other Effectflows from its Cause; Reason must be employed in adjustingthe Passions, but they must ever remain the Principlesof Action.
The strange and absurd Variety that isso apparent in Men’s Actions, shews plainlythey can never proceed immediately from Reason; sopure a Fountain emits no such troubled Waters:They must necessarily arise from the Passions, whichare to the Mind as the Winds to a Ship, they onlycan move it, and they too often destroy it; if fairand gentle, they guide it into the Harbour; if contraryand furious, they overset it in the Waves:In the same manner is the Mind assisted or endangeredby the Passions; Reason must then take the Placeof Pilot, and can never fail of securing her Chargeif she be not wanting to her self: The Strengthof the Passions will never be accepted as an Excusefor complying with them, they were designed forSubjection, and if a Man suffers them to get theupper Hand, he then betrays the Liberty of his ownSoul.
As Nature has framed the several Speciesof Beings as it were in a Chain, so Man seems tobe placed as the middle Link between Angels and Brutes:Hence he participates both of Flesh and Spirit by anadmirable Tie, which in him occasions perpetualWar of Passions; and as a Man inclines to the angelickor brute Part of his Constitution, he is then denominatedgood or bad, virtuous or wicked; if Love, Mercy, andGood-nature prevail, they speak him of the Angel;if Hatred, Cruelty, and Envy predominate, they declarehis Kindred to the Brute. Hence it was thatsome of the Ancients imagined, that as Men in thisLife inclined more to the Angel or Brute, so aftertheir Death they should transmigrate into the oneor the other: and it would be no unpleasant Notion,to consider the several Species of Brutes, into whichwe may imagine that Tyrants, Misers, the Proud,Malicious, and Ill-natured might be changed.
As a Consequence of this Original, allPassions are in all Men, but all appear not in all;Constitution, Education, Custom of the Country, Reason,and the like Causes, may improve or abate the Strengthof them, but still the Seeds remain, which are everready to sprout forth upon the least Encouragement.I have heard a Story of a good religious Man, who,having been bred with the Milk of a Goat, was verymodest in Publick by a careful Reflection he madeon his Actions, but he frequently had an Hour inSecret, wherein he had his Frisks and Capers; andif we had an Opportunity of examining the Retirementof the strictest Philosophers, no doubt but we shouldfind perpetual Returns of those Passions they soartfully conceal from the Publick. I rememberMatchiavel observes, that every State should entertaina perpetual jealousie of its Neighbours, that soit should never be unprovided when an Emergencyhappens; [1] in like manner should the Reason beperpetually on its Guard against the Passions, andnever suffer them to carry on any Design that maybe destructive of its Security; yet at the sameTime it must be careful, that it don’t so farbreak their Strength as to render them contemptible,and consequently it self unguarded.
The Understanding being of its self tooslow and lazy to exert it self into Action, itsnecessary it should be put in Motion by the gentleGales of the Passions, which may preserve it fromstagnating and Corruption; for they are as necessaryto the Health of the Mind, as the Circulation ofthe animal Spirits is to the Health of the Body; theykeep it in Life, and Strength, and Vigour; nor is itpossible for the Mind to perform its Offices withouttheir Assistance: These Motions are given uswith our Being, they are little Spirits that are bornand dye with us; to some they are mild, easie, andgentle, to others wayward and unruly, yet nevertoo strong for the Reins of Reason and the Guidanceof Judgment.
We may generally observe a pretty niceProportion between the Strength of Reason and Passion;the greatest Genius’s have commonly the strongestAffections, as on the other hand, the weaker Understandingshave generally the weaker Passions; and ’tisfit the Fury of the Coursers should not be too greatfor the Strength of the Charioteer. Young Menwhose Passions are not a little unruly, give smallHopes of their ever being considerable; the Fireof Youth will of course abate, and is a Fault, ifit be a Fault, that mends every Day; but surely unlessa Man has Fire in Youth, he can hardly have Warmthin Old Age. We must therefore be very cautious,lest while we think to regulate the Passions, weshould quite extinguish them, which is putting outthe Light of the Soul: for to be without Passion,or to be hurried away with it, makes a Man equallyblind. The extraordinary Severity used in mostof our Schools has this fatal Effect, it breaks theSpring of the Mind, and most certainly destroys moregood Genius’s than it can possibly improve.And surely ’tis a mighty Mistake that thePassions should be so intirely subdued; for littleIrregularities are sometimes not only to be bornewith, but to be cultivated too, since they are frequentlyattended with the greatest Perfections. All greatGenius’s have Faults mixed with their Virtues,and resemble the flaming Bush which has Thorns amongstLights.
Since, therefore the Passions are thePrinciples of human Actions, we must endeavour tomanage them so as to retain their Vigour, yet keepthem under strict Command; we must govern them ratherlike free Subjects than Slaves, lest while we intendto make them obedient, they become abject, and unfitfor those great Purposes to which they were designed.For my Part I must confess, I could never have anyRegard to that Sect of Philosophers, who so muchinsisted upon an absolute Indifference and Vacancyfrom all Passion; for it seems to me a Thing veryinconsistent for a Man to divest himself of Humanity,in order to acquire Tranquility of Mind, and toeradicate the very Principles of Action, becauseits possible they may produce ill Effects.
I am, SIR,
Your Affectionate Admirer,
T. B.
Z.
[Footnote 1: The Prince, ch. xlv, at close.]
* * * * *
No. 409. Thursday, June 19, 1712. Addison.
‘Musaeo contingere cuncta lepore.’
Lucr.
Gratian very often recommends the Fine Taste, [1]as the utmost Perfection of an accomplished Man.As this Word arises very often in Conversation, Ishall endeavour to give some Account of it, and tolay down Rules how we may know whether we are possessedof it, and how we may acquire that fine Taste of Writing,which is so much talked of among the Polite World.
Most Languages make use of this Metaphor, to expressthat Faculty of the Mind, which distinguishes allthe most concealed Faults and nicest Perfections inWriting. We may be sure this Metaphor would nothave been so general in all Tongues, had there notbeen a very great Conformity between that Mental Taste,which is the Subject of this Paper, and that SensitiveTaste which gives us a Relish of every different Flavourthat affects the Palate. Accordingly we find,there are as many Degrees of Refinement in the intellectualFaculty, as in the Sense, which is marked out by thiscommon Denomination.
I knew a Person who possessed the one in so greata Perfection, that after having tasted ten differentKinds of Tea, he would distinguish, without seeingthe Colour of it, the particular Sort which was offeredhim; and not only so, but any two Sorts of them thatwere mixt together in an equal Proportion; nay hehas carried the Experiment so far, as upon tastingthe Composition of three different Sorts, to name theParcels from whence the three several Ingredients weretaken. A Man of a fine Taste in Writing willdiscern, after the same manner, not only the generalBeauties and Imperfections of an Author, but discoverthe several Ways of thinking and expressing himself,which diversify him from all other Authors, with theseveral Foreign Infusions of Thought and Language,and the particular Authors from whom they were borrowed.
After having thus far explained what is generallymeant by a fine Taste in Writing, and shewn the Proprietyof the Metaphor which is used on this Occasion, Ithink I may define it to be that Faculty of the Soul,which discerns the Beauties of an Author with Pleasure,and the Imperfections with Dislike. If a Manwould know whether he is possessed of this Faculty,I would have him read over the celebrated Works ofAntiquity, which have stood the Test of so many differentAges and Countries, or those Works among the Modernswhich have the Sanction of the Politer Part of ourContemporaries. If upon the Perusal of such Writingshe does not find himself delighted in an extraordinaryManner, or if, upon reading the admired Passages insuch Authors, he finds a Coldness and Indifferencein his Thoughts, he ought to conclude, not (as istoo usual among tasteless Readers) that the Authorwants those Perfections which have been admired inhim, but that he himself wants the Faculty of discoveringthem.
He should, in the second Place, be very careful toobserve, whether he tastes the distinguishing Perfections,or, if I may be allowed to call them so, the SpecifickQualities of the Author whom he peruses; whether heis particularly pleased with Livy for his Manner oftelling a Story, with Sallust for his entering intothose internal Principles of Action which arise fromthe Characters and Manners of the Persons he describes,or with Tacitus for his displaying those outward Motivesof Safety and Interest, which give Birth to the wholeSeries of Transactions which he relates.
He may likewise consider, how differently he is affectedby the same Thought, which presents it self in a greatWriter, from what he is when he finds it deliveredby a Person of an ordinary Genius. For there isas much Difference in apprehending a Thought cloathedin Cicero’s Language, and that of a common Author,as in seeing an Object by the Light of a Taper, orby the Light of the Sun.
It is very difficult to lay down Rules for the Acquirementof such a Taste as that I am here speaking of.The Faculty must in some degree be born with us, andit very often happens, that those who have other Qualitiesin Perfection are wholly void of this. One ofthe most eminent Mathematicians of the Age has assuredme, that the greatest Pleasure he took in readingVirgil, was in examining AEneas his Voyage by the Map;as I question not but many a Modern Compiler of History,would be delighted with little more in that DivineAuthor, than in the bare Matters of Fact.
But notwithstanding this Faculty must in some measurebe born with us, there are several Methods for Cultivatingand Improving it, and without which it will be veryuncertain, and of little use to the Person that possessesit. The most natural Method for this Purpose isto be conversant among the Writings of the most PoliteAuthors. A Man who has any Relish for fine Writing,either discovers new Beauties, or receives strongerImpressions from the Masterly Strokes of a great Authorevery time he peruses him; Besides that he naturallywears himself into the same manner of Speaking andThinking.
Conversation with Men of a Polite Genius is anotherMethod for improving our Natural Taste. It isimpossible for a Man of the greatest Parts to consideranything in its whole Extent, and in all its Varietyof Lights. Every Man, besides those General Observationswhich are to be made upon an Author, forms severalReflections that are peculiar to his own Manner ofThinking; so that Conversation will naturally furnishus with Hints which we did not attend to, and makeus enjoy other Men’s Parts and Reflections aswell as our own. This is the best Reason I cangive for the Observation which several have made,that Men of great Genius in the same way of Writingseldom rise up singly, but at certain Periods of Timeappear together, and in a Body; as they did at Romein the Reign of Augustus, and in Greece about theAge of Socrates. I cannot think that Corneille,Racine, Moliere, Boileau, la Fontaine, Bruyere, Bossu,or the Daciers, would have written so well as theyhave done, had they not been Friends and Contemporaries.
It is likewise necessary for a Man who would formto himself a finished Taste of good Writing, to bewell versed in the Works of the best Criticks bothAncient and Modern. I must confess that I couldwish there were Authors of this kind, who beside theMechanical Rules which a Man of very little Tastemay discourse upon, would enter into the very Spiritand Soul of fine Writing, and shew us the several Sourcesof that Pleasure which rises in the Mind upon thePerusal of a noble Work. Thus although in Poetryit be absolutely necessary that the Unities of Time,Place and Action, with other Points of the same Nature,should be thoroughly explained and understood; thereis still something more essential to the Art, somethingthat elevates and astonishes the Fancy, and givesa Greatness of Mind to the Reader, which few of theCriticks besides Longinus have considered.
Our general Taste in England is for Epigram, Turnsof Wit, and forced Conceits, which have no mannerof Influence, either for the bettering or enlargingthe Mind of him who reads them, and have been carefullyavoided by the greatest Writers, both among the Ancientsand Moderns. I have endeavoured in several ofmy Speculations to banish this Gothic Taste, whichhas taken Possession among us. I entertained theTown, for a Week together, with an Essay upon Wit,in which I endeavoured to detect several of thosefalse Kinds which have been admired in the differentAges of the World; and at the same time to shew whereinthe Nature of true Wit consists. I afterwardsgave an Instance of the great Force which lyes ina natural Simplicity of Thought to affect the Mindof the Reader, from such vulgar Pieces as have littleelse besides this single Qualification to recommendthem. I have likewise examined the Works of thegreatest Poet which our Nation or perhaps any otherhas produced, and particularized most of those rationaland manly Beauties which give a Value to that DivineWork. I shall next Saturday enter upon an Essayon the Pleasures of the Imagination, which, thoughit shall consider that Subject at large, will perhapssuggest to the Reader what it is that gives a Beautyto many Passages of the finest Writers both in Proseand Verse. As an Undertaking of this Nature isentirely new, I question not but it will be receivedwith Candour.
O.
[Footnote 1: See note on p. 620, ante [Footnote3 of No. 379]. This fine taste was the ‘cultismo’,the taste for false concepts, which Addison condemns.]
* * * * *
No. 410. Friday, June 20, 1712. Tickell.
’Dum foris sunt, nihil videtur Mundius,
Nec magis compositum quidquam, nec magiselegans:
Quae, cum amatore suo cum coenant, Liguriunt,
Harum videre ingluviem, sordes, inopiam:
Quam inhonestae solae sint domi, atqueavidae cibi,
Quo pacto ex Jure Hesterno panem atrumvarent.
Nosse omnia haec, salus est adolescentulis.’
Ter.
WILL. HONEYCOMB, who disguises his present Decayby visiting the Wenches of the Town only by Way ofHumour, told us, that the last rainy Night he withSir ROGER DE COVERLY was driven into the Temple Cloister,whither had escaped also a Lady most exactly dressedfrom Head to Foot. WILL, made no Scruple to acquaintus, that she saluted him very familiarly by his Name,and turning immediately to the Knight, she said, shesupposed that was his good Friend, Sir ROGER DE COVERLY:Upon which nothing less could follow than Sir ROGER’SApproach to Salutation, with, Madam the same at yourService. She was dressed in a black Tabby Mantuaand Petticoat, without Ribbons; her Linnen stripedMuslin, and in the whole in an agreeable Second-Mourning;decent Dresses being often affected by the Creaturesof the Town, at once consulting Cheapness and thePretensions to Modesty. She went on with a familiareasie Air. Your Friend, Mr. HONEYCOMB, is a littlesurprized to see a Woman here alone and unattended;but I dismissed my Coach at the Gate, and tripped itdown to my Council’s Chambers, for Lawyer’sFees take up too much of a small disputed Joyntureto admit any other Expence but meer Necessaries.Mr. HONEYCOMB begged they might have the Honour ofsetting her down, for Sir ROGER’S Servant wasgone to call a Coach. In the Interim the Footmanreturned, with no Coach to be had; and there appearednothing to be done but trusting herself with Mr. HONEYCOMBand his Friend to wait at the Tavern at the Gate fora Coach, or to be subjected to all the Impertinenceshe must meet with in that publick Place. Mr.HONEYCOMB being a Man of Honour determined the Choiceof the first, and Sir ROGER, as the better Man, tookthe Lady by the Hand, leading through all the Shower,covering her with his Hat, and gallanting a familiarAcquaintance through Rows of young Fellows, who winkedat Sukey in the State she marched off, WILL.HONEYCOMB bringing up the Rear.
Much Importunity prevailed upon the Fair one to admitof a Collation, where, after declaring she had noStomach, and eaten a Couple of Chickens, devoureda Trusse of Sallet, and drunk a full Bottle to herShare, she sung the Old Man’s Wish to Sir ROGER.The Knight left the Room for some Time after Supper,and writ the following Billet, which he conveyed toSukey, and Sukey to her Friend WILL. HONEYCOMB.WILL. has given it to Sir ANDREW FREEPORT, who readit last Night to the Club.
Madam,
I am not so meer a Country-Gentleman,but I can guess at the Law-Business you had at theTemple. If you would go down to the Countryand leave off all your Vanities but your Singing, letme know at my Lodgings in Bow-street Covent-Garden,and you shall be encouraged by
Your humble Servant,
ROGER DE COVERLY.
My good Friend could not well stand the Raillery whichwas rising upon him; but to put a Stop to it I deliverdWILL. HONEYCOMB the following Letter, and desiredhim to read it to the Board.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Having seen a Translation of one of theChapters in the Canticles into English Verse insertedamong your late Papers, I have ventured to send youthe 7th Chapter of the Proverbs in a poetical Dress.If you think it worthy appearing among your Speculations,it will be a sufficient Reward for the Trouble of
Your constant Reader,
A. B.
My Son, th’ Instructionthat my Words impart,
Grave on the Living Tabletof thy Heart;
And all the wholesome Preceptsthat I give,
Observe with strictest Reverence,and live.
Let all thy Homagebe to Wisdom paid,
Seek her Protection and imploreher Aid;
That she may keep thy Soulfrom Harm secure,
And turn thy Footsteps fromthe Harlot’s Door,
Who with curs’d Charmslures the Unwary in,
And sooths with Flattery theirSouls to Sin.
Once from my Windowas I cast mine Eye
On those that pass’din giddy Numbers by,
A Youth among the foolishYouths I spy’d,
Who took not sacred Wisdomfor his Guide.
Just as the Sunwithdrew his cooler Light,
And Evening soft led on theShades of Night,
He stole in covert Twilightto his Fate,
And passd the Corner nearthe Harlot’s Gate
When, lo, a Woman comes!—
Loose her Attire, and suchher glaring Dress,
As aptly did the Harlot’sMind express:
Subtle she is, and practisdin the Arts,
By which the Wanton conquerheedless Hearts:
Stubborn and loud she is;she hates her Home,
Varying her Place and Form;she loves to roam;
Now she’s within, nowin the Street does stray;
Now at each Corner stands,and waits her Prey.
The Youth she seiz’d;and laying now aside
All Modesty, the Female’sjustest Pride,
She said, with an Embrace,Here at my House
Peace-offerings are, thisDay I paid my Vows.
I therefore came abroad tomeet my Dear,
And, Lo, in Happy Hour I findthee here.
My Chamber I’veadornd, and o’er my Bed
Are cov’rings of therichest Tap’stry spread,
With Linnen it is deck’dfrom Egypt brought,
And Carvings by the CuriousArtist wrought,
It wants no Glad Perfume Arabiayields
In all her Citron Groves,and spicy Fields;
Here all her store of richestOdours meets,
Ill lay thee in a Wildernessof Sweets.
Whatever to the Sense cangrateful be
I have collected there—Iwant but Thee.
My Husband’s gone aJourney far away, }
Much Gold he took abroad,and long will stay, }
He nam’d for his returna distant Day. }
Upon her Tonguedid such smooth Mischief dwell,
And from her Lips such welcomeFlatt’ry fell,
Th’ unguarded Youth,in Silken Fetters ty’d,
Resign’d his Reason,and with Ease comply’d.
And thus is senseless of th’impending Blow.
Thus flies the simple Birdinto the Snare,
That skilful Fowlers for hisLife prepare.
But let my Sons attend, Attendmay they
Whom Youthful Vigour may toSin betray;
Let them false Charmers fly,and guard their Hearts
Against the wily Wanton’spleasing Arts,
With Care direct their Steps,nor turn astray,
To tread the Paths of herdeceitful Way;
Lest they too late of Herfell Power complain,
And fall, where many mightierhave been Slain.
T.
* * * * *
No. 411. Saturday, June 21, 1712. Addison.
’Avia Pieridum peragro loca, nulliusante
Trita solo; juvat integros accedere fonteis;
Atque haurire:—’
Lucr.
Our Sight is the most perfect and most delightfulof all our Senses. It fills the Mind with thelargest Variety of Ideas, converses with its Objectsat the greatest Distance, and continues the longestin Action without being tired or satiated with itsproper Enjoyments. The Sense of Feeling can indeedgive us a Notion of Extension, Shape, and all otherIdeas that enter at the Eye, except Colours; but atthe same time it is very much streightned and confinedin its Operations, to the number, bulk, and distanceof its particular Objects. Our Sight seems designedto supply all these Defects, and may be consideredas a more delicate and diffusive kind of Touch, thatspreads it self over an infinite Multitude of Bodies,comprehends the largest Figures, and brings into ourreach some of the most remote Parts of the Universe.
It is this Sense which furnishes the Imagination withits Ideas; so that by the Pleasures of the Imaginationor Fancy (which I shall use promiscuously) I heremean such as arise from visible Objects, either whenwe have them actually in our View, or when we callup their Ideas in our Minds by Paintings, Statues,Descriptions, or any the like Occasion. We cannotindeed have a single Image in the Fancy that did notmake its first Entrance through the Sight; but we havethe Power of retaining, altering and compounding thoseImages, which we have once received, into all thevarieties of Picture and Vision that are most agreeableto the Imagination; for by this Faculty a Man in aDungeon is capable of entertaining himself with Scenesand Landskips more beautiful than any that can befound in the whole Compass of Nature.
There are few Words in the English Language whichare employed in a more loose and uncirc*mscribed Sensethan those of the Fancy and the Imagination.I therefore thought it necessary to fix and determinethe Notion of these two Words, as I intend to makeuse of them in the Thread of my following Speculations,that the Reader may conceive rightly what is the Subjectwhich I proceed upon. I must therefore desirehim to remember, that by the Pleasures of the Imagination,I mean only such Pleasures as arise originally fromSight, and that I divide these Pleasures into twoKinds: My Design being first of all to Discourseof those Primary Pleasures of the Imagination, whichentirely proceed from such Objects as are [beforeour [1]] Eye[s]; and in the next place to speak ofthose Secondary Pleasures of the Imagination whichflow from the Ideas of visible Objects, when the Objectsare not actually before the Eye, but are called upinto our Memories, or formed into agreeable Visionsof Things that are either Absent or Fictitious.
The Pleasures of the Imagination, taken in the fullExtent, are not so gross as those of Sense, nor sorefined as those of the Understanding. The lastare, indeed, more preferable, because they are foundedon some new Knowledge or Improvement in the Mind ofMan; yet it must be confest, that those of the Imaginationare as great and as transporting as the other.A beautiful Prospect delights the Soul, as much asa Demonstration; and a Description in Homer has charmedmore Readers than a Chapter in Aristotle. Besides,the Pleasures of the Imagination have this Advantage,above those of the Understanding, that they are moreobvious, and more easie to be acquired. It isbut opening the Eye, and the Scene enters. TheColours paint themselves on the Fancy, with very littleAttention of Thought or Application of Mind in theBeholder. We are struck, we know not how, withthe Symmetry of any thing we see, and immediatelyassent to the Beauty of an Object, without enquiringinto the particular Causes and Occasions of it.
A Man of a Polite Imagination is let into a greatmany Pleasures, that the Vulgar are not capable ofreceiving. He can converse with a Picture, andfind an agreeable Companion in a Statue. He meetswith a secret Refreshment in a Description, and oftenfeels a greater Satisfaction in the Prospect of Fieldsand Meadows, than another does in the Possession.It gives him, indeed, a kind of Property in every thinghe sees, and makes the most rude uncultivated Partsof Nature administer to his Pleasures: So thathe looks upon the World, as it were in another Light,and discovers in it a Multitude of Charms, that concealthemselves from the generality of Mankind.
There are, indeed, but very few who know how to beidle and innocent, or have a Relish of any Pleasuresthat are not Criminal; every Diversion they take isat the Expence of some one Virtue or another, and theirvery first Step out of Business is into Vice or Folly.A Man should endeavour, therefore, to make the Sphereof his innocent Pleasures as wide as possible, thathe may retire into them with Safety, and find in themsuch a Satisfaction as a wise Man would not blush totake. Of this Nature are those of the Imagination,which do not require such a Bent of Thought as isnecessary to our more serious Employments, nor, atthe same time, suffer the Mind to sink into that Negligenceand Remissness, which are apt to accompany our moresensual Delights, but, like a gentle Exercise to theFaculties, awaken them from Sloth and Idleness, withoutputting them upon any Labour or Difficulty.
We might here add, that the Pleasures of the Fancyare more conducive to Health, than those of the Understanding,which are worked out by Dint of Thinking, and attendedwith too violent a Labour of the Brain. DelightfulScenes, whether in Nature, Painting, or Poetry, havea kindly Influence on the Body, as well as the Mind,and not only serve to clear and brighten the Imagination,but are able to disperse Grief and Melancholy, andto set the Animal Spirits in pleasing and agreeableMotions. For this Reason Sir Francis Bacon, inhis Essay upon Health, has not thought it improperto prescribe to his Reader a Poem or a Prospect, wherehe particularly dissuades him from knotty and subtileDisquisitions, and advises him to pursue Studies thatfill the Mind with splendid and illustrious Objects,as Histories, Fables, and Contemplations of Nature.
I have in this Paper, by way of Introduction, settledthe Notion of those Pleasures of the Imagination whichare the Subject of my present Undertaking, and endeavoured,by several Considerations, to recommend to my Readerthe Pursuit of those Pleasures. I shall, in mynext Paper, examine the several Sources from whencethese Pleasures are derived. [2]
O.
[Footnote 1: [present to the]]
[Footnote 2: From a MS. Note-book of Addison’s,met with in 1858, Mr. J. Dykes Campbell printed atGlasgow, in 1864, 250 copies of some portions of thefirst draught of these papers on Imagination with theEssay on Jealousy (No. 176) and that on Fame (No.255). The MS. was an old calf bound 8vo volumeobtained from a dealer. There were about 31 pageswritten on one side of each leaf in a beautiful print-likehand, which contained the Essays in their first state.Passages were added by Addison in his ordinary handwritingupon the blank pages opposite to this carefully-writtentext, and there are pieces in a third hand-writingwhich neither the keeper of the MSS. Departmentof the British Museum nor the Librarian of the Bodleiancould identify. The insertions in this thirdhand form part of the paper as finally published.
Thus in the paper on Jealousy (No. 171) it wrote theEnglish verse translation added to the quotation fromHorace’s Ode I. xiii. The MS. shows withhow much care Addison revised and corrected the firstdraught of his papers, especially where, as in theseries of eleven upon Imagination here commenced,he meant to put out all his strength. In Blair’sRhetoric four Lectures (20-23) are given to a criticalExamination of the Style of Mr. Addison in Nos. 411,412, 413, and 414 of the Spectator. Akenside’spoem on the Pleasures of the Imagination, publishedin 1744, when he was 23 years old, was suggested bythese papers. Many disquisitions upon Taste werewritten towards the close of the last century.They formed a new province in literature, of whichAddison here appears as the founder and first lawgiver.]* * * * *
No. 412. Monday, June 23, 1712. Addison.
‘—Divisum sic breve fietOpus.’
Mart.
I shall first consider those Pleasures of the Imagination,which arise from the actual View and Survey of outwardObjects: And these, I think, all proceed fromthe Sight of what is Great, Uncommon, or Beautiful.There may, indeed, be something so terrible or offensive,that the Horror or Loathsomeness of an Object mayover-bear the Pleasure which results from its Greatness,Novelty, or Beauty; but still there will be such aMixture of Delight in the very Disgust it gives us,as any of these three Qualifications are most conspicuousand prevailing.
By Greatness, I do not only mean the Bulk of any singleObject, but the Largeness of a whole View, consideredas one entire Piece. Such are the Prospects ofan open Champain Country, a vast uncultivated Desart,of huge Heaps of Mountains, high Rocks and Precipices,or a wide Expanse of Waters, where we are not struckwith the Novelty or Beauty of the Sight, but withthat rude kind of Magnificence which appears in manyof these stupendous Works of Nature. Our Imaginationloves to be filled with an Object, or to grasp atany thing that is too big for its Capacity. Weare flung into a pleasing Astonishment at such unboundedViews, and feel a delightful Stillness and Amazementin the Soul at the Apprehension[s] of them. TheMind of Man naturally hates every thing that lookslike a Restraint upon it, and is apt to fancy it selfunder a sort of Confinement, when the Sight is pentup in a narrow Compass, and shortned on every sideby the Neighbourhood of Walls or Mountains. Onthe contrary, a spacious Horizon is an Image of Liberty,where the Eye has Room to range abroad, to expatiateat large on the Immensity of its Views, and to loseit self amidst the Variety of Objects that offer themselvesto its Observation. Such wide and undeterminedProspects are as pleasing to the Fancy, as the Speculationsof Eternity or Infinitude are to the Understanding.But if there be a Beauty or Uncommonness joined withthis Grandeur, as in a troubled Ocean, a Heaven adornedwith Stars and Meteors, or a spacious Landskip cutout into Rivers, Woods, Rocks, and Meadows, the Pleasurestill grows upon us, as it rises from more than asingle Principle.
Every thing that is new or uncommon raises a Pleasurein the Imagination, because it fills the Soul withan agreeable Surprize, gratifies its Curiosity, andgives it an Idea of which it was not before possest.We are indeed so often conversant with one Set of Objects,and tired out with so many repeated Shows of the sameThings, that whatever is new or uncommon contributesa little to vary human Life, and to divert our Minds,for a while, with the Strangeness of its Appearance:It serves us for a kind of Refreshment, and takes offfrom that Satiety we are apt to complain of in ourusual and ordinary Entertainments. It is thisthat bestows Charms on a Monster, and makes even theImperfections of Nature [please [1]] us. It isthis that recommends Variety, where the Mind is everyInstant called off to something new, and the Attentionnot suffered to dwell too long, and waste it self onany particular Object. It is this, likewise, thatimproves what is great or beautiful, and make it affordthe Mind a double Entertainment. Groves, Fields,and Meadows, are at any Season of the Year pleasantto look upon, but never so much as in the Openingof the Spring, when they are all new and fresh, withtheir first Gloss upon them, and not yet too muchaccustomed and familiar to the Eye. For this Reasonthere is nothing that more enlivens a Prospect thanRivers, Jetteaus, or Falls of Water, where the Sceneis perpetually shifting, and entertaining the Sightevery Moment with something that is new. We arequickly tired with looking upon Hills and Vallies,where every thing continues fixed and settled in thesame Place and Posture, but find our Thoughts a littleagitated and relieved at the Sight of such Objectsas are ever in Motion, and sliding away from beneaththe Eye of the Beholder.
But there is nothing that makes its Way more directlyto the Soul than Beauty, which immediately diffusesa secret Satisfaction and Complacency through theImagination, and gives a Finishing to any thing thatis Great or Uncommon. The very first Discoveryof it strikes the Mind with an inward Joy, and spreadsa Chearfulness and Delight through all its Faculties.There is not perhaps any real Beauty or Deformity morein one Piece of Matter than another, because we mighthave been so made, that whatsoever now appears loathsometo us, might have shewn it self agreeable; but wefind by Experience, that there are several Modificationsof Matter which the Mind, without any previous Consideration,pronounces at first sight Beautiful or Deformed.Thus we see that every different Species of sensibleCreatures has its different Notions of Beauty, andthat each of them is most affected with the Beautiesof its own Kind. This is no where more remarkablethan in Birds of the same Shape and Proportion, wherewe often see the Male determined in his Courtshipby the single Grain or Tincture of a Feather, and neverdiscovering any Charms but in the Colour of its Species.
Scit thalamo servare fidem, sanctasqueveretur
Connubii leges, non illum in pectore candor
Sollicitat niveus; neque pravum accenditamorem
Splendida Lanugo, vel honesta in verticecrista,
Purpureusve nitor pennarum; ast agminalate
Foeminea explorat cautus, maculasque requirit
Cognatas, paribusque interlita corporaguttis:
Ni faceret, pictis sylvam circum undiquemonstris
Confusam aspiceres vulgo, partusque biformes,
Et genus ambiguum, et Veneris monumentanefandae.
Hinc merula in nigro se oblectat nigramarito,
Hinc socium lasciva petit Philomela canorum,
Agnoscitque pares sonitus, hinc Noctuatetram
Canitiem alarum, et glaucos miratur ocellos.
Nempe sibi semper constat, crescitquequotannis
Lucida progenies, castos confessa parentes;
Dum virides inter saltus lucosque sonoros
Vere novo exultat, plumasque decora Juventus
Explicat ad solem, patriisque coloribusardet. [2]
There is a second Kind of Beauty that we find in theseveral Products of Art and Nature, which does notwork in the Imagination with that Warmth and Violenceas the Beauty that appears in our proper Species, butis apt however to raise in us a secret Delight, anda kind of Fondness for the Places or Objects in whichwe discover it. This consists either in the Gaietyor Variety of Colours, in the Symmetry and Proportionof Parts, in the Arrangement and Disposition of Bodies,or in a just Mixture and Concurrence of all together.Among these several Kinds of Beauty the Eye takesmost Delight in Colours. We no where meet witha more glorious or pleasing Show in Nature than whatappears in the Heavens at the rising and setting ofthe Sun, which is wholly made up of those differentStains of Light that shew themselves in Clouds of adifferent Situation. For this Reason we find thePoets, who are always addressing themselves to theImagination, borrowing more of their Epithets fromColours than from any other Topic. As the Fancydelights in every thing that is Great, Strange, orBeautiful, and is still more pleased the more it findsof these Perfections in the same Object, so is itcapable of receiving a new Satisfaction by the Assistanceof another Sense. Thus any continued Sound, asthe Musick of Birds, or a Fall of Water, awakens everymoment the Mind of the Beholder, and makes him moreattentive to the several Beauties of the Place thatlye before him. Thus if there arises a Fragrancyof Smells or Perfumes, they heighten the Pleasuresof the Imagination, and make even the Colours and Verdureof the Landskip appear more agreeable; for the Ideasof both Senses recommend each other, and are pleasantertogether than when they enter the Mind separately:As the different Colours of a Picture, when they arewell disposed, set off one another, and receive anadditional Beauty from the Advantage of their Situation.
O.
[Footnote 1: [to please]]
[Footnote 2: Addison’s MS. described inthe note to No. 411 shows, by corrections in his handwritingof four or five lines in this piece of Latin verse,that he was himself its author. Thus in the lastline he had begun with Scintillat solitis, alteredthat to Ostentat solitas, struck out that also, andwritten, as above, Explicat ad solem.]
* * * * *
No. 413. Tuesday, June 24, 1712. Addison.
‘—Causa latet, vis estnotissima—’
Ovid.
Though in Yesterday’s Paper we considered howevery thing that is Great, New, or Beautiful, is aptto affect the Imagination with Pleasure, we must ownthat it is impossible for us to assign the necessaryCause of this Pleasure, because we know neither theNature of an Idea, nor the Substance of a Human Soul,which might help us to discover the Conformity orDisagreeableness of the one to the other; and therefore,for want of such a Light, all that we can do in Speculationsof this kind is to reflect on those Operations ofthe Soul that are most agreeable, and to range undertheir proper Heads, what is pleasing or displeasingto the Mind, without being able to trace out the severalnecessary and efficient Causes from whence the Pleasureor Displeasure arises.
Final Causes lye more bare and open to our Observation,as there are often a great Variety that belong tothe same Effect; and these, tho’ they are notaltogether so satisfactory, are generally more usefulthan the other, as they give us greater Occasion ofadmiring the Goodness and Wisdom of the first Contriver.
One of the Final Causes of our Delight, in any thingthat is great, may be this. The Supreme Authorof our Being has so formed the Soul of Man, that nothingbut himself can be its last, adequate, and properHappiness. Because, therefore, a great Part ofour Happiness must arise from the Contemplation ofhis Being, that he might give our Souls a just Relishof such a Contemplation, he has made them naturallydelight in the Apprehension of what is Great or Unlimited.Our Admiration, which is a very pleasing Motion ofthe Mind, immediately rises at the Consideration ofany Object that takes up a great deal of Room in theFancy, and by Consequence, will improve into the highestPitch of Astonishment and Devotion when we contemplatehis Nature, that is neither circ*mscribed by Timenor Place, nor to be comprehended by the largest Capacityof a Created Being.
He has annexed a secret Pleasure to the Idea of anything that is new or uncommon, that he might encourageus in the Pursuit after Knowledge, and engage us tosearch into the Wonders of his Creation; for everynew Idea brings such a Pleasure along with it, asrewards any Pains we have taken in its Acquisition,and consequently serves as a Motive to put us uponfresh Discoveries.
He has made every thing that is beautiful in our ownSpecies pleasant, that all Creatures might be temptedto multiply their Kind, and fill the World with Inhabitants;for ’tis very remarkable that where-ever Natureis crost in the Production of a Monster (the Resultof any unnatural Mixture) the Breed is incapable ofpropagating its Likeness, and of founding a new Orderof Creatures; so that unless all Animals were alluredby the Beauty of their own Species, Generation wouldbe at an End, and the Earth unpeopled.
In the last Place, he has made every thing that isbeautiful in all other Objects pleasant, or ratherhas made so many Objects appear beautiful, that hemight render the whole Creation more gay and delightful.He has given almost every thing about us the Powerof raising an agreeable Idea in the Imagination:So that it is impossible for us to behold his Workswith Coldness or Indifference, and to survey so manyBeauties without a secret Satisfaction and Complacency.Things would make but a poor Appearance to the Eye,if we saw them only in their proper Figures and Motions:And what Reason can we assign for their exciting inus many of those Ideas which are different from anything that exists in the Objects themselves, (for suchare Light and Colours) were it not to add SupernumeraryOrnaments to the Universe, and make it more agreeableto the Imagination? We are every where entertainedwith pleasing Shows and Apparitions, we discover ImaginaryGlories in the Heavens, and in the Earth, and see someof this Visionary Beauty poured out upon the wholeCreation; but what a rough unsightly Sketch of Natureshould we be entertained with, did all her Colouringdisappear, and the several Distinctions of Light andShade vanish? In short, our Souls are at presentdelightfully lost and bewildered in a pleasing Delusion,and we walk about like the enchanted Hero of a Romance,who sees beautiful Castles, Woods and Meadows; andat the same time hears the warbling of Birds, andthe purling of Streams; but upon the finishing ofsome secret Spell, the fantastick Scene breaks up,and the disconsolate Knight finds himself on a barrenHeath, or in a solitary Desart. It is not improbablethat something like this may be the State of the Soulafter its first Separation, in respect of the Imagesit will receive from Matter; tho indeed the Ideas ofColours are so pleasing and beautiful in the Imagination,that it is possible the Soul will not be deprivedof them, but perhaps find them excited by some otherOccasional Cause, as they are at present by the differentImpressions of the subtle Matter on the Organ of Sight.
I have here supposed that my Reader is acquaintedwith that great Modern Discovery, which is at presentuniversally acknowledged by all the Enquirers intoNatural Philosophy: Namely, that Light and Colours,as apprehended by the Imagination, are only Ideasin the Mind, and not Qualities that have any Existencein Matter. As this is a Truth which has beenproved incontestably by many Modern Philosophers, andis indeed one of the finest Speculations in that Science,if the English Reader would see the Notion explainedat large, he may find it in the Eighth Chapter ofthe second Book of Mr. Lock’s Essay on HumanUnderstanding.
O.
[To Addison’s short paper there was added innumber 413 of the Spectator the following letter,which was not included in the reprint into volumes:
June 24, 1712.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I would not divert the Course of yourDiscourses, when you seem bent upon obliging theWorld with a train of Thinking, which, rightly attendedto, may render the Life of every Man who reads it,more easy and happy for the future. The Pleasuresof the Imagination are what bewilder Life, whenReason and Judgment do not interpose; It is thereforea worthy Action in you to look carefully into the Powersof Fancy, that other Men, from the Knowledge ofthem, may improve their Joys and allay their Griefs,by a just use of that Faculty: I say, Sir,I would not interrupt you in the progress of this Discourse;but if you will do me the Favour of inserting thisLetter in your next Paper, you will do some Serviceto the Public, though not in so noble a way of Obliging,as that of improving their Minds. Allow me, Sir,to acquaint you with a Design (of which I am partlyAuthor), though it tends to no greater a Good thanthat of getting Money. I should not hope forthe Favour of a Philosopher in this Matter, if it werenot attempted under all the Restrictions which youSages put upon private Acquisitions.
The first Purpose which every good Manis to propose to himself, is the Service of hisPrince and Country; after that is done, he cannotadd to himself, but he must also be beneficial tothem. This Scheme of Gain is not only consistentwith that End, but has its very Being in Subordinationto it; for no Man can be a Gainer here but at the sametime he himself, or some other, must succeed in theirDealings with the Government. It is calledthe Multiplication Table, and is so far calculatedfor the immediate Service of Her Majesty, that thesame Person who is fortunate in the Lottery of theState, may receive yet further Advantage in thisTable. And I am sure nothing can be more pleasingto Her gracious Temper than to find out additionalMethods of increasing their good Fortune who adventureanything in Her Service, or laying Occasions forothers to become capable of serving their Countrywho are at present in too low Circ*mstances to exertthemselves. The manner of executing the Designis, by giving out Receipts for half Guineas received,which shall entitle the fortunate Bearer to certainSums in the Table, as is set forth at large in theProposals Printed the 23rd instant. There isanother Circ*mstance in this Design, which givesme hopes of your Favour to it, and that is whatTully advises, to wit, that the Benefit is made asdiffusive as possible. Every one that has halfa Guinea is put into a possibility, from that smallSum, to raise himself an easy Fortune; when theselittle parcels of Wealth are, as it were, thus thrownback again into the Redonation of Providence, weare to expect that some who live under Hardshipor Obscurity, may be produced to the World in theFigure they deserve by this means. I doubt notbut this last Argument will have Force with you,and I cannot add another to it, but what your Severitywill, I fear, very little regard; which is, that Iam, SIR, Your greatest Admirer, Richard Steele.
* * * * *
No. 414. Wednesday, June 25, 1712. Addison.
—Alterius sic
Altera poscit opem res et conjurat amice.
Hor.
If we consider the Works of Nature and Art, as theyare qualified to entertain the Imagination, we shallfind the last very defective, in Comparison of theformer; for though they may sometimes appear as Beautifulor Strange, they can have nothing in them of that Vastnessand Immensity, which afford so great an Entertainmentto the Mind of the Beholder. The one may be asPolite and Delicate as the other, but can never shewher self so August and Magnificent in the Design.There is something more bold and masterly in the roughcareless Strokes of Nature, than in the nice Touchesand Embellishments of Art. The Beauties of themost stately Garden or Palace lie in a narrow Compass,the Imagination immediately runs them over, and requiressomething else to gratifie her; but, in the wide Fieldsof Nature, the Sight wanders up and down without Confinement,and is fed with an infinite variety of Images, withoutany certain Stint or Number. For this Reason wealways find the Poet in Love with a Country-Life,where Nature appears in the greatest Perfection, andfurnishes out all those Scenes that are most apt todelight the Imagination.
‘Scriptorum chorus omnis amat nemuset fugit Urbes.’
Hor.
’Hic Secura quies, et nescia fallerevita,
Dives opum variarum; hic latis otia fundis,
Speluncae, vivique lacus, hic frigidaTempe,
Mugitusque boum, mollesque sub arboresomni.’
Virg.
But tho’ there are several of these wild Scenes,that are more delightful than any artificial Shows;yet we find the Works of Nature still more pleasant,the more they resemble those of Art: For in thiscase our Pleasure rises from a double Principle; fromthe Agreeableness of the Objects to the Eye, and fromtheir Similitude to other Objects: We are pleasedas well with comparing their Beauties, as with surveyingthem, and can represent them to our Minds, either asCopies or Originals. Hence it is that we takeDelight in a Prospect which is well laid out, anddiversified with Fields and Meadows, Woods and Rivers;in those accidental Landskips of Trees, Clouds andCities, that are sometimes found in the Veins of Marble;in the curious Fret-work of Rocks and Grottos; and,in a Word, in any thing that hath such a Variety orRegularity as may seem the Effect of Design, in whatwe call the Works of Chance.
If the Products of Nature rise in Value, accordingas they more or less resemble those of Art, we maybe sure that artificial Works receive a greater Advantagefrom their Resemblance of such as are natural; becausehere the Similitude is not only pleasant, but the Patternmore perfect. The prettiest Landskip I ever saw,was one drawn on the Walls of a dark Room, which stoodopposite on one side to a navigable River, and on theother to a Park. The Experiment is very commonin Opticks. Here you might discover the Wavesand Fluctuations of the Water in strong and properColours, with the Picture of a Ship entering at oneend, and sailing by Degrees through the whole Piece.On another there appeared the Green Shadows of Trees,waving to and fro with the Wind, and Herds of Deeramong them in Miniature, leaping about upon the Wall.I must confess, the Novelty of such a Sight may beone occasion of its Pleasantness to the Imagination,but certainly the chief Reason is its near Resemblanceto Nature, as it does not only, like other Pictures,give the Colour and Figure, but the Motion of the Thingsit represents.
We have before observed, that there is generally inNature something more Grand and August, than whatwe meet with in the Curiosities of Art. Whentherefore, we see this imitated in any measure, itgives us a nobler and more exalted kind of Pleasurethan what we receive from the nicer and more accurateProductions of Art. On this Account our EnglishGardens are not so entertaining to the Fancy as thosein France and Italy, where we see a large Extent ofGround covered over with an agreeable mixture of Gardenand Forest, which represent every where an artificialRudeness, much more charming than that Neatness andElegancy which we meet with in those of our own Country.It might, indeed, be of ill Consequence to the Publick,as well as unprofitable to private Persons, to alienateso much Ground from Pasturage, and the Plow, in manyParts of a Country that is so well peopled, and cultivatedto a far greater Advantage. But why may not awhole Estate be thrown into a kind of Garden by frequentPlantations, that may turn as much to the Profit,as the Pleasure of the Owner? A Marsh overgrownwith Willows, or a Mountain shaded with Oaks, arenot only more beautiful, but more beneficial, thanwhen they lie bare and unadorned. Fields of Cornmake a pleasant Prospect, and if the Walks were alittle taken care of that lie between them, if thenatural Embroidery of the Meadows were helpt and improvedby some small Additions of Art, and the several Rowsof Hedges set off by Trees and Flowers, that the Soilwas capable of receiving, a Man might make a prettyLandskip of his own Possessions.
Writers who have given us an Account of China, tellus the Inhabitants of that Country laugh at the Plantationsof our Europeans, which are laid out by the Rule andLine; because, they say, any one may place Trees inequal Rows and uniform Figures. They chuse ratherto shew a Genius in Works of this Nature, and thereforealways conceal the Art by which they direct themselves.They have a Word, it seems, in their Language, bywhich they express the particular Beauty of a Plantationthat thus strikes the Imagination at first Sight, withoutdiscovering what it is that has so agreeable an Effect.Our British Gardeners, on the contrary, instead ofhumouring Nature, love to deviate from it as muchas possible. Our Trees rise in Cones, Globes,and Pyramids. We see the Marks of the Scissarsupon every Plant and Bush. I do not know whetherI am singular in my Opinion, but, for my own part,I would rather look upon a Tree in all its Luxuriancyand Diffusion of Boughs and Branches, than when itis thus cut and trimmed into a Mathematical Figure;and cannot but fancy that an Orchard in Flower looksinfinitely more delightful, than all the little Labyrinthsof the [more [1]] finished Parterre. But as ourgreat Modellers of Gardens have their Magazines ofPlants to dispose of, it is very natural for them totear up all the beautiful Plantations of Fruit Trees,and contrive a Plan that may most turn to their ownProfit, in taking off their Evergreens, and the likeMoveable Plants, with which their Shops are plentifullystocked.
O.
[Footnote 1: [most]]
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No. 415. Thursday, June 26, 1712. Addison.
‘Adde tot egregias urbes, operumquelaborem.’
Virg.
Having already shewn how the Fancy is affected bythe Works of Nature, and afterwards considered ingeneral both the Works of Nature and of Art, how theymutually assist and compleat each other, in formingsuch Scenes and Prospects as are most apt to delightthe Mind of the Beholder, I shall in this Paper throwtogether some Reflections on that Particular Art,which has a more immediate Tendency, than any other,to produce those Primary Pleasures of the Imagination,which have hitherto been the Subject of this Discourse.The Art I mean is that of Architecture, which I shallconsider only with regard to the Light in which theforegoing Speculations have placed it, without entringinto those Rules and Maxims which the great Mastersof Architecture have laid down, and explained at largein numberless Treatises upon that Subject.
Greatness, in the Works of Architecture, may be consideredas relating to the Bulk and Body of the Structure,or to the Manner in which it is built. As forthe first, we find the Ancients, especially among theEastern Nations of the World, infinitely superior tothe Moderns.
Not to mention the Tower of Babel, of which an oldAuthor says, there were the Foundations to be seenin his time, which looked like a spacious Mountain;what could be more noble than the Walls of Babylon,its hanging Gardens, and its Temple to Jupiter Belus,that rose a Mile high by Eight several Stories, eachStory a Furlong in Height, and on the Top of whichwas the Babylonian Observatory; I might here, likewise,take Notice of the huge Rock that was cut into theFigure of Semiramis, with the smaller Rocks that layby it in the Shape of Tributary Kings; the prodigiousBasin, or artificial Lake, which took in the wholeEuphrates, till such time as a new Canal was formedfor its Reception, with the several Trenches throughwhich that River was conveyed. I know there arepersons who look upon some of these Wonders of Artas Fabulous, but I cannot find any [Grand [1]] forsuch a Suspicion, unless it be that we have no suchWorks among us at present. There were indeedmany greater Advantages for Building in those Times,and in that Part of the World, than have been metwith ever since. The Earth was extremely fruitful,Men lived generally on Pasturage, which requires amuch smaller number of Hands than Agriculture:There were few Trades to employ the busie Part ofMankind, and fewer Arts and Sciences to give Workto Men of Speculative Tempers; and what is more thanall the rest, the Prince was absolute; so that whenhe went to War, he put himself at the Head of a wholePeople: As we find Semiramis leading her [three[2]] Millions to the Field, and yet over-powered bythe Number of her Enemies. ’Tis no wonder,therefore, when she was at Peace, and turned her Thoughtson Building, that she could accomplish so great Works,with such a prodigious Multitude of Labourers:Besides that, in her Climate, there was small Interruptionof Frosts and Winters, which make the Northern Workmenlie half the Year Idle. I might mention too, amongthe Benefits of the Climate, what Historians say ofthe Earth, that it sweated out a Bitumen or naturalkind of Mortar, which is doubtless the same with thatmentioned in Holy Writ, as contributing to the Structureof Babel. Slime they used instead of Mortar.
In Egypt we still see their Pyramids, which answerto the Descriptions that have been made of them; andI question not but a traveller might find out someRemains of the Labyrinth that covered a whole Province,and had a hundred Temples disposed among its severalQuarters and Divisions.
The Wall of China is one of these Eastern Pieces ofMagnificence, which makes a Figure even in the Mapof the World, altho an Account of it would have beenthought Fabulous, were not the Wall it self stillextant.
We are obliged to Devotion for the noblest Buildingsthat have adornd the several Countries of the World.It is this which has set Men at work on Temples andPublick Places of Worship, not only that they might,by the Magnificence of the Building, invite the Deityto reside within it, but that such stupendous Worksmight, at the same time, open the Mind to vast Conceptions,and fit it to converse with the Divinity of the Place.For every thing that is Majestick imprints an Awfulnessand Reverence on the Mind of the Beholder, and strikesin with the Natural Greatness of the Soul.
In the Second place we are to consider Greatness ofManner in Architecture, which has such Force uponthe Imagination, that a small Building, where it appears,shall give the Mind nobler Ideas than one of twentytimes the Bulk, where the Manner is ordinary or little.Thus, perhaps, a Man would have been more astonishedwith the Majestick Air that appeared in one of [Lysippus’s[3]] Statues of Alexander, tho’ no bigger thanthe Life, than he might have been with Mount Athos,had it been cut into the Figure of the Hero, accordingto the Proposal of Phidias, [4] with a River in oneHand, and a City in the other.
Let any one reflect on the Disposition of Mind hefinds in himself, at his first Entrance into the Pantheonat Rome, and how his Imagination is filled with somethingGreat and Amazing; and, at the same time, considerhow little, in proportion, he is affected with theInside of a Gothick Cathedral, tho’ it be fivetimes larger than the other; which can arise fromnothing else, but the Greatness of the Manner in theone, and the Meanness in the other.
I have seen an Observation upon this Subject in aFrench Author, which very much pleased me. Itis in Monsieur Freart’s Parallel of the Ancientand Modern Architecture. I shall give it the Readerwith the same Terms of Art which he has made use of.I am observing (says he) a thing which, in my Opinion,is very curious, whence it proceeds, that in the sameQuantity of Superficies, the one Manner seems greatand magnificent, and the other poor and trifling;the Reason is fine and uncommon. I say then,that to introduce into Architecture this Grandeur ofManner, we ought so to proceed, that the Divisionof the Principal Members of the Order may consistbut of few Parts, that they be all great and of a boldand ample Relievo, and Swelling; and that the Eye,beholding nothing little and mean, the Imaginationmay be more vigorously touched and affected with theWork that stands before it. For example; In aCornice, if the Gola or Cynatium of the Corona, theCoping, the Modillions or Dentelli, make a noble Showby their graceful Projections, if we see none of thatordinary Confusion which is the Result of those littleCavities, Quarter Rounds of the Astragal and I knownot how many other intermingled Particulars, whichproduce no Effect in great and massy Works, and whichvery unprofitably take up place to the Prejudice ofthe Principal Member, it is most certain that thisManner will appear Solemn and Great; as on the contrary,that it will have but a poor and mean Effect, wherethere is a Redundancy of those smaller Ornaments, whichdivide and scatter the Angles of the Sight into sucha Multitude of Rays, so pressed together that thewhole will appear but a Confusion.
Among all the Figures in Architecture, there are nonethat have a greater Air than the Concave and the Convex,and we find in all the Ancient and Modern Architecture,as well in the remote Parts of China, as in Countriesnearer home, that round Pillars and Vaulted Roofs makea great Part of those Buildings which are designedfor Pomp and Magnificence. The Reason I taketo be, because in these Figures we generally see moreof the Body, than in those of other Kinds. Thereare, indeed, Figures of Bodies, where the Eye maytake in two Thirds of the Surface; but as in suchBodies the Sight must split upon several Angles, itdoes not take in one uniform Idea, but several Ideasof the same kind. Look upon the Outside of aDome, your Eye half surrounds it; look up into theInside, and at one Glance you have all the Prospectof it; the entire Concavity falls into your Eye atonce, the Sight being as the Center that collectsand gathers into it the Lines of the whole Circumference:In a Square Pillar, the Sight often takes in but afourth Part of the Surface: and in a Square Concave,must move up and down to the different Sides, beforeit is Master of all the inward Surface. For thisReason, the Fancy is infinitely more struck with theView of the open Air, and Skies, that passes throughan Arch, than what comes through a Square, or anyother Figure. The Figure of the Rainbow doesnot contribute less to its Magnificence, than the Coloursto its Beauty, as it is very poetically describedby the Son of Sirach: Look upon the Rainbow andpraise him that made it; very beautiful it is in itsBrightness; it encompasses the Heavens with a gloriousCircle, and the Hands of the [most High [5]] havebended it.
Having thus spoken of that Greatness which affectsthe Mind in Architecture, I might next shew the Pleasurethat arises in the Imagination from what appears newand beautiful in this Art; but as every Beholder hasnaturally a greater Taste of these two Perfectionsin every Building which offers it self to his View,than of that which I have hitherto considered, I shallnot trouble my Reader with any Reflections upon it.It is sufficient for my present Purpose, to observe,that there is nothing in this whole Art which pleasesthe Imagination, but as it is Great, Uncommon, orBeautiful.
O.
[Footnote 1: Grounds]
[Footnote 2: two]
[Footnote 3: Protogenes’s]
[Footnote 4: Dinocrates.]
[Footnote 5: [Almighty]]
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No. 416. Friday, June 27, 1712. Addison.
‘Quatenus hoc simile est oculis,quod mente videmus.’
Lucr.
I at first divided the Pleasures of the Imagination,into such as arise from Objects that are actuallybefore our Eyes, or that once entered in at our Eyes,and are afterwards called up into the Mind either barelyby its own Operations, or on occasion of somethingwithout us, as Statues, or Descriptions. We havealready considered the first Division, and shall thereforeenter on the other, which for Distinction sake, I havecalled the Secondary Pleasures of the Imagination.When I say the Ideas we receive from Statues, Descriptions,or such like Occasions, are the same that were onceactually in our View, it must not be understood thatwe had once see the very Place, Action, or Person whichare carved or described. It is sufficient, thatwe have seen Places, Persons, or Actions, in general,which bear a Resemblance, or at least some remoteAnalogy with what we find represented. Since itis in the Power of the Imagination, when it is onceStocked with particular Ideas, to enlarge, compound,and vary them at her own Pleasure.
Among the different Kinds of Representation, Statuaryis the most natural, and shews us something likestthe Object that is represented. To make use ofa common Instance, let one who is born Blind take anImage in his Hands, and trace out with his Fingersthe different Furrows and Impressions of the Chissel,and he will easily conceive how the Shape of a Man,or Beast, may be represented by it; but should he drawhis Hand over a Picture, where all is smooth and uniform,he would never be able to imagine how the severalProminencies and Depressions of a human Body couldbe shewn on a plain Piece of Canvas, that has in itno Unevenness or Irregularity. Description runsyet further from the Things it represents than Painting;for a Picture bears a real Resemblance to its Original,which Letters and Syllables are wholly void of.Colours speak of Languages, but Words are understoodonly by such a People or Nation. For this Reason,tho’ Men’s Necessities quickly put themon finding out Speech, Writing is probably of a laterinvention than Painting; particularly we are told,that in America when the Spaniards first arrived thereExpresses were sent to the Emperor of Mexico in Paint,and the News of his Country delineated by the Strokesof a Pencil, which was a more natural Way than thatof Writing, tho’ at the same time much moreimperfect, because it is impossible to draw the littleConnexions of Speech, or to give the Picture of a Conjunctionor an Adverb. It would be yet more strange, torepresent visible Objects by Sounds that have no Ideasannexed to them, and to make something like Descriptionin Musick. Yet it is certain, there may be confused,imperfect Notions of this Nature raised in the Imaginationby an Artificial Composition of Notes; and we findthat great Masters in the Art are able, sometimes,to set their Hearers in the Heat and Hurry of a Battel,to overcast their Minds with melancholy Scenes andApprehensions of Deaths and Funerals, or to lull theminto pleasing Dreams of Groves and Elisiums.
In all these Instances, this Secondary Pleasure ofthe Imagination proceeds from that Action of the Mind,which compares the Ideas arising from the OriginalObjects, with the Ideas we receive from the Statue,Picture, Description, or Sound that represents them.It is impossible for us to give the necessary Reason,why this Operation of the Mind is attended with somuch Pleasure, as I have before observed on the sameOccasion; but we find a great Variety of Entertainmentsderived from this single Principle: For it isthis that not only gives us a Relish of Statuary,Painting and Description, but makes us delight in allthe Actions and Arts of Mimickry. It is thisthat makes the several kinds of Wit Pleasant, whichconsists, as I have formerly shewn, in the Affinityof Ideas: And we may add, it is this also thatraises the little Satisfaction we sometimes find inthe different Sorts of false Wit; whether it consistsin the Affinity of Letters, as in Anagram, Acrostick;or of Syllables, as in Doggerel Rhimes, Ecchos; orof Words, as in Punns, Quibbles; or of a whole Sentenceor Poem, to Wings, and Altars. The final Cause,probably, of annexing Pleasure to this Operation ofthe Mind, was to quicken and encourage us in our Searchesafter Truth, since the distinguishing one thing fromanother, and the right discerning betwixt our Ideas,depends wholly upon our comparing them together, andobserving the Congruity or Disagreement that appearsamong the several Works of Nature.
But I shall here confine my self to those Pleasuresof the Imagination, [which [1]] proceed from Ideasraised by Words, because most of the Observationsthat agree with Descriptions, are equally Applicableto Painting and Statuary.
Words, when well chosen, have so great a Force inthem, that a Description often gives us more livelyIdeas than the Sight of Things themselves. TheReader finds a Scene drawn in stronger Colours, andpainted more to the Life in his Imagination, by thehelp of Words, than by an actual Survey of the Scenewhich they describe. In this case the Poet seemsto get the better of Nature; he takes, indeed, theLandskip after her, but gives it more vigorous Touches,heightens its Beauty, and so enlivens the whole Piece,that the Images which flow from the Objects themselvesappear weak and faint, in Comparison of those thatcome from the Expressions. The Reason, probably,may be, because in the Survey of any Object we haveonly so much of it painted on the Imagination, ascomes in at the Eye; but in its Description, the Poetgives us as free a View of it as he pleases, and discoversto us several Parts, that either we did not attendto, or that lay out of our Sight when we first beheldit. As we look on any Object, our Idea of it is,perhaps, made up of two or three simple Ideas; butwhen the Poet represents it, he may either give usa more complex Idea of it, or only raise in us suchIdeas as are most apt to affect the Imagination.
It may be here worth our while to Examine how it comesto pass that several Readers, who are all acquaintedwith the same Language, and know the Meaning of theWords they read, should nevertheless have a differentRelish of the same Descriptions. We find one transportedwith a Passage, which another runs over with Coldnessand Indifference, or finding the Representation extreamlynatural, where another can perceive nothing of Likenessand Conformity. This different Taste must proceed,either from the Perfection of Imagination in one morethan in another, or from the different Ideas thatseveral Readers affix to the same Words. For,to have a true Relish, and form a right Judgment ofa Description, a Man should be born with a good Imagination,and must have well weighed the Force and Energy thatlye in the several Words of a Language, so as to beable to distinguish which are most significant andexpressive of their proper Ideas, and what additionalStrength and Beauty they are capable of receivingfrom Conjunction with others. The Fancy must bewarm to retain the Print of those Images it hath receivedfrom outward Objects and the Judgment discerning,to know what Expressions are most proper to cloathand adorn them to the best Advantage. A Man whois deficient in either of these Respects, tho’he may receive the general Notion of a Description,can never see distinctly all its particular Beauties:As a Person, with a weak Sight, may have the confusedProspect of a Place that lies before him, withoutentering into its several Parts, or discerning thevariety of its Colours in their full Glory and Perfection.
O.
[Footnote 1: [that]]
