[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 even the improbable and incredible, from which the
highest degree of the surprising results, because there the action is
not seen.]
* * * * *
No. 316. Monday, March 3, 1712. John Hughes.
Libertas; quæ sera tamen respexit Inertem.
Virg. Ecl. I.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
If you ever read a Letter which is sent with 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
Regrets which follow will be thought, I hope, the most justifiable.
The regaining of my Liberty from a long State of Indolence and
Inactivity, and the Desire of resisting the further Encroachments of
Idleness, make me apply to you; and the Uneasiness with which I I
recollect the past Years, and the Apprehensions with which I expect
the Future, soon determined me to it.
Idleness is so general a Distemper that I cannot but imagine a
Speculation on this Subject will be of universal Use. There is hardly
any one Person without some Allay of it; and thousands besides my self
spend more Time in an idle Uncertainty which to begin first of two
Affairs, that would have been sufficient to have ended them both. The
Occasion of this seems to be the Want of some necessary Employment, to
put the Spirits in Motion, and awaken them out of their Lethargy. If I
had less Leisure, I should have more; for I should then find my Time
distinguished into Portions, some for Business, 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, like Water inclosed in its Banks, it
would have some determined Course; but unless it be put into some
Channel it has no Current, but becomes a Deluge without either Use or
Motion.
When Scanderbeg Prince of Epirus was dead, the Turks, who had but too
often felt the Force of his Arm in the Battels he had won from them,
imagined that by wearing a piece of his Bones near their Heart, they
should be animated with a Vigour and Force like 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 disposed of in this Manner for the
Good of my Countrymen, who are troubled with too exorbitant a Degree
of Fire. All Fox-hunters upon wearing me, would in a short Time be
brought to endure their Beds in a Morning, and perhaps even quit them
with Regret at Ten: Instead of hurrying away to teaze a poor Animal,
and run away from their own Thoughts, a Chair or a Chariot would be
thought the most desirable Means of performing a Remove from one Place
to another. I should be a Cure for the unnatural Desire of John Trott
for Dancing, and a Specifick to lessen the Inclination Mrs. Fidget has
to Motion, and cause her always to give her Approbation to the present
Place she is in. In fine, no Egyptian Mummy was ever half so useful in
Physick, as I should be to these feaverish Constitutions, to repress
the violent Sallies of Youth, and give each Action its proper Weight
and Repose.
I can stifle any violent Inclination, and oppose a Torrent of Anger,
or the Sollicitations of Revenge, with Success. But Indolence is a
Stream which flows slowly on, but yet undermines the Foundation of
every Virtue. A Vice of a more lively Nature were a more desirable
Tyrant than this Rust of the Mind, which gives a Tincture of 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 is to no
Purpose to have within one the Seeds of a thousand good Qualities, if
we want the Vigour and Resolution necessary for the exerting them.
Death brings all Persons back to an Equality; and this Image of it,
this Slumber of the Mind, leaves no Difference between the greatest
Genius and the meanest Understanding: A Faculty of doing things
remarkably praise-worthy thus 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 when all is to be rectified:
To-Morrow comes, it goes, and still I please my self with the Shadow,
whilst I lose the Reality; unmindful that the present Time alone is
ours, the future is yet unborn, and the past is dead, and can only
live (as Parents in their Children) in the Actions it has produced.
The Time we live ought not to be computed by the Numbers of Years,
but by the Use has been made of it; thus tis not the Extent of
Ground, but the yearly Rent which gives the Value to the Estate.
Wretched and thoughtless Creatures, in the only Place where
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, whilst that which is above the
Price of an Estate, is flung away with Disregard and Contempt. There
is nothing now-a-days so much avoided, as a sollicitous Improvement of
every part of Time; tis a Report must be shunned as one tenders the
Name of a Wit and a fine Genius, and as one fears the Dreadful
Character of a laborious Plodder: But notwithstanding this, the
greatest Wits any Age has produced thought far otherwise; for who can
think either Socrates or Demosthenes lost any Reputation, by their
continual Pains both in overcoming the Defects and improving the Gifts
of Nature. All are acquainted with the Labour and Assiduity with which
Tully acquired his Eloquence.
Seneca in his Letters to Lucelius[1] assures him, there was not a Day
in which he did not either write something, or read and epitomize some
good Author; and I remember Pliny in one of his Letters, where he
gives an Account of the various Methods he used to fill up every
Vacancy of Time, after several 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 of the
Nets and other Matters I may be employed in something that may be
useful to me in my Studies; and that if I miss of my Game, I may at
the least bring home some of my own Thoughts with me, and not have the
Mortification of having caught nothing all Day.[2]
Thus, Sir, you see how many Examples I recall to Mind, and what
Arguments I use with my self, to regain my Liberty: But as I am afraid
tis no Ordinary Perswasion that will be of Service, I shall expect
your Thoughts on this Subject, with the greatest Impatience,
especially since the Good will not be confined to me alone, but will
be of Universal Use. For there is no Hopes of Amendment where Men are
pleased with their Ruin, and whilst they think Laziness is a desirable
Character: Whether it be that they like the State it self, or that
they think it gives them a new Lustre when they do exert themselves,
seemingly to be able to do that without Labour and Application, which
others attain 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 all I desire, to conquer all the
Difficulties those about you place in my Way, to surmount and acquire
all those Qualifications you expect in him who pretends to the Honour
of being,
Madam,
Your most humble Servant,
Clytander.