Their Fifth Professor, it is thought, will be chosen out of the Society

of Jesuits, and is to be well read in the Controversies of probable

Doctrines, mental Reservation, and the Rights of Princes. This Learned

Man is to instruct them in the Grammar, Syntax, and construing Part of

Treaty-Latin; how to distinguish between the Spirit and the Letter, and

likewise demonstrate how the same Form of Words may lay an Obligation

upon any Prince in Europe, different from that which it lays upon his

Most Christian Majesty. He is likewise to teach them the Art of finding

Flaws, Loop-holes, and Evasions, in the most solemn Compacts, and

particularly a great Rabbinical Secret, revived of late Years by the

Fraternity of Jesuits, namely, that contradictory Interpretations, of

the same Article may both of them be true and valid.

When our Statesmen are sufficiently improved by these several

Instructors, they are to receive their last Polishing from one who is to

act among them as Master of the Ceremonies. This Gentleman is to give

them Lectures upon those important Points of the Elbow Chair, and the

Stair Head, to instruct them in the different Situations of the

Right-Hand, and to furnish them with Bows and Inclinations of all Sizes,

Measures and Proportions. In short, this Professor is to give the

Society their Stiffening, and infuse into their Manners that beautiful

Political Starch, which may qualifie them for Levees, Conferences,

Visits, and make them shine in what vulgar Minds are apt to look upon as

Trifles. I have not yet heard any further Particulars, which are to be

observed in this Society of unfledged Statesmen; but I must confess, had

I a Son of five and twenty, that should take it into 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

Arts which are to enable him to negotiate between Potentates might a

little infect his ordinary behaviour between Man and Man. There is no

Question but these young Machiavil's will, in a little time, turn their

College upside-down with Plots and Stratagems, and lay as many Schemes

to Circumvent one another in a Frog or a Sallad, as they may hereafter

put in Practice to over-reach a Neighbouring Prince or State.

We are told, that the Spartans, tho they punished Theft in their young

Men when it was discovered, looked upon it as Honourable if it

succeeded. Provided the Conveyance was clean and unsuspected, a Youth

might afterwards boast of it. This, say the Historians, was to keep them

sharp, and to hinder them from being imposed upon, either in their

publick or private Negotiations. Whether any such Relaxations of

Morality, such little jeux desprit, ought not to be allowed in this

intended Seminary of Politicians, I shall leave to the Wisdom of their

Founder.

In the mean time we have fair Warning given us by this doughty Body of

Statesmen: and as Sylla saw many Marius's in Cæsar, so I think we may

discover many Torcys in this College of Academicians. Whatever we think

of our selves, I am afraid neither our Smyrna or St. James's will be a

Match for it. Our Coffee-houses are, indeed, very good Institutions, but

whether or no these our British Schools of Politicks may furnish out as

able Envoys and Secretaries as an Academy that is set apart for that

Purpose, will deserve our serious Consideration, especially if we

remember that our Country is more famous for producing Men of Integrity

than Statesmen; and that on the contrary, French Truth and British

Policy make a Conspicuous Figure in NOTHING, as the Earl of Rochester

has very well observed in his admirable Poem upon that Barren Subject.

L.

* * * * *

No. 306. Wednesday, February 20, 1712. Steele.

Quæ forma, ut se tibi semper

Imputet?

Juv.

Mr. SPECTATOR, [1]

I write this to communicate to you a Misfortune which frequently

happens, and therefore deserves a consolatory Discourse on the

Subject. I was within this Half-Year in the Possession of as much

Beauty and as many Lovers as any young Lady in England. But my

Admirers have left me, and I cannot complain of their Behaviour. I

have within that Time had the Small-Pox; and this Face, which

(according to many amorous Epistles which I have by me) was the Seat

of all that is beautiful in Woman, is now disfigured with Scars. It

goes to the very Soul of me to speak what I really think of my Face;

and tho I think I did not over-rate my Beauty while I had it, it has

extremely advanc'd in its value with me now it is lost. There is one

Circumstance which makes my Case very particular; the ugliest Fellow

that ever pretended to me, was and is most in my Favour, and he treats

me at present the most unreasonably. If you could make him return an

Obligation which he owes me, in liking a Person that is not

amiable;--But there is, I fear, no Possibility of making Passion move

by the Rules of Reason and Gratitude. But say what you can to one who

has survived her self, and knows not how to act in a new Being. My

Lovers are at the Feet of my Rivals, my Rivals are every Day bewailing

me, and I cannot enjoy what I am, by reason of the distracting

Reflection upon what I was. Consider the Woman I was did not die of

old Age, but I was taken off in the Prime of my Youth, and according

to the Course of Nature may have Forty Years After-Life to come. I

have nothing of my self left which I like, but that

I am, 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 his Fortitude, and they turned his

Misfortune to his Glory; in that, during his Prosperity, he could never

have manifested his heroick Constancy under Distresses, and so the World

had lost the most eminent Part of his Character. Parthenissa's Condition

gives her the same Opportunity; and to resign Conquests is a Task as

difficult in a Beauty as an Hero. In the very Entrance upon this Work

she must burn all her Love-Letters; or since she is so candid as not to

call her Lovers who follow her no longer Unfaithful, it would be a very

good beginning of a new Life from that of a Beauty, to send them back to

those who writ them, with this honest Inscription, Articles of a

Marriage Treaty broken off by the Small-Pox. I have known but one

Instance, where a Matter of this Kind went on after a like Misfortune,

where the Lady, who was a Woman of Spirit, writ this Billet to her

Lover.

SIR,

If you flattered me before I had this terrible Malady, pray come and

see me now: But if you sincerely liked me, stay away; for I am not the

same

Corinna.

The Lover thought there was something so sprightly in her Behaviour,

that he answered,

Madam,

I am not obliged, since you are not the same Woman, to let you know

whether I 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 we are both one, as well as you do what

happens to your self now you are single; therefore I am ready to take

such a Spirit for my Companion as soon as you please.

Amilcar.

If Parthenissa can now possess her own Mind, and think as little of her

Beauty as she ought to have done when she had it, there will be no great

Diminution of her Charms; and if she was formerly affected too much with

them, an easie Behaviour will more than make up for the Loss of them.

Take the whole Sex together, and you find those who have the strongest

Possession of Mens Hearts are not eminent for their Beauty: You see it

often happen that those who engage Men to the greatest Violence, are

such as those who are Strangers to them would take to be remarkably

defective for that End. The fondest Lover I know, said to me one Day in

a Crowd of Women at an Entertainment of Musick, You have often heard me

talk of my Beloved: That Woman there, continued he, smiling when he had

fixed my Eye, is her very Picture. The Lady he shewed me was by much the

least remarkable for Beauty of any in the whole Assembly; but having my

Curiosity extremely raised, I could not keep my Eyes off of her. Her

Eyes at last met mine, and with a sudden Surprize she looked round her

to see who near her was remarkably handsome that I was gazing at. This

little Act explain'd the Secret: She did not understand herself for the

Object of Love, and therefore she was so. The Lover is a very honest

plain Man; and what charmed him was a Person that goes along with him in

the Cares and Joys of Life, not taken up with her self, but sincerely

attentive with a ready and chearful Mind, to accompany him in either.

I can tell Parthenissa for her Comfort, That the Beauties, generally

speaking, are the most impertinent and disagreeable of Women. An

apparent Desire of Admiration, a Reflection upon their own Merit, and a

precious Behaviour in their general Conduct, are almost inseparable

Accidents in Beauties. All you obtain of them is granted to Importunity

and Sollicitation for what did not deserve so much of your Time, and you

recover from the Possession of it, as out of a Dream.

You are ashamed of the Vagaries of Fancy which so strangely mis-led you,

and your Admiration of a Beauty, merely as such, is inconsistent with a

tolerable Reflection upon your self: The chearful good-humoured

Creatures, into whose Heads it never entred that they could make any Man

unhappy, are the Persons formed for making Men happy. There's Miss Liddy

can dance a Jigg, raise Paste, write a good Hand, keep an Account, give

a reasonable Answer, and do as she is bid; while her elder Sister Madam

Martha is out of Humour, has the Spleen, learns by Reports of People of

higher Quality new Ways of being uneasie and displeased. And this

happens for no Reason in the World, but that poor Liddy knows she has no

such thing as a certain Negligence that is so becoming, that there is

not I know not what in her Air: And that if she talks like a Fool, there

is no one will say, Well! I know not what it is, but every Thing pleases

when she speaks it.

Ask any of the Husbands of your great Beauties, and they'll tell you

that they hate their Wives Nine Hours of every Day they pass together.

There is such a Particularity for ever affected by them, that they are

incumbered with their Charms in all they say or do. They pray at publick

Devotions as they are Beauties. They converse on ordinary Occasions as

they are Beauties. Ask Belinda what it is a Clock, and she is at a stand

whether so great a Beauty should answer you. In a Word, I think, instead

of offering to administer Consolation to Parthenissa, I should

congratulate her Metamorphosis; and however she thinks she was not in

the least insolent in the Prosperity of her Charms, she was enough so to

find she may make her self a much more agreeable Creature in her present

Adversity. The Endeavour to please is highly promoted by a Consciousness

that the Approbation of the Person you would be agreeable to, is a

Favour you do not deserve; for in this Case Assurance of Success is the

most certain way to Disappointment. Good-Nature will always supply the

Absence of Beauty, but Beauty cannot long supply the Absence of

Good-Nature.

P. S.

Madam, February 18.

I have yours of this Day, wherein you twice bid me not to disoblige

you, but you must explain yourself further before I know what to do.

Your most obedient Servant,

The SPECTATOR.

T.

[Footnote 1: Mr. John Duncombe ascribed this letter to his relative,

John Hughes, and said that by Parthenissa was meant a Miss Rotherham,

afterwards married to the Rev. Mr. Wyatt, master of Felsted School, in

Essex. The name of Parthenissa is from the heroine 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, that I am in hopes it

will not be a disagreeable Present to the Publick.

Sir,

Though I believe none of your Readers more admire your agreeable

manner of working up Trifles than my self, yet as your Speculations

are now swelling into Volumes, and will in all Probability pass down

to future Ages, methinks I would have no single Subject in them,

wherein the general Good of Mankind is concern'd, left unfinished.

I have a long time expected with great Impatience that you would

enlarge upon the ordinary Mistakes which are committed in the

Education of our Children. I the more easily flattered my self that

you would one time or other resume this Consideration, because you

tell us that your 168th Paper was only composed of a few broken Hints;

but finding myself hitherto disappointed, I have ventur'd to send you

my own Thoughts on this Subject.

I remember Pericles in his famous Oration at the Funeral of those

Athenian young Men who perished in the Samian Expedition, has a

Thought very much celebrated by several Ancient Criticks, namely, That

the Loss which the Commonwealth suffered by the Destruction of its

Youth, was like the Loss which the Year would suffer by the

Destruction of the Spring. The Prejudice which the Publick sustains

from a wrong Education of Children, is an Evil of the same Nature, as

it in a manner starves Posterity, and defrauds our Country of those

Persons who, with due Care, might make an eminent Figure in their

respective Posts 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 particular Art

or Science which he studies, his utmost Pains and Application,

assisted by the ablest Masters, will be to no purpose.

He illustrates this by the Example of Tully's Son Marcus.

Cicero, in order to accomplish his Son in that sort of Learning which

he designed him for, sent him to Athens, the most celebrated Academy

at that time in the World, and where a vast Concourse, out of the most

Polite Nations, could not but furnish a young Gentleman with a

Multitude of great Examples, and Accidents that might insensibly have

instructed him in his designed Studies: He placed him under the Care

of Cratippus, who was one of the greatest Philosophers of the Age,

and, as if all the Books which were at that time written had not been

sufficient for his Use, he composed others on purpose for him:

Notwithstanding all this, History informs us, that Marcus proved a

meer Blockhead, and that Nature, (who it seems was even with the Son

for her Prodigality to the Father) rendered him incapable of improving

by all the Rules of Eloquence, the Precepts of Philosophy, his own

Endeavours, and the most refined Conversation in Athens. This Author

therefore proposes, that there should be certain Tryers or Examiners

appointed by the State to inspect the Genius of every particular Boy,

and to allot him the Part that is most suitable to his natural

Talents.

Plato in one of his Dialogues tells us, that Socrates, who was the

Son of a Midwife, used to say, that as his Mother, tho she was very

skilful in her Profession, could not deliver a Woman, unless she was

first with Child; so neither could he himself raise Knowledge out of a

Mind, where Nature had not planted it.

Accordingly the Method this Philosopher took, of instructing his

Scholars by several Interrogatories or Questions, was only helping the

Birth, and bringing their own Thoughts to Light.

The Spanish Doctor above mentioned, as his Speculations grow more

refined, asserts that every kind of Wit has a particular Science

corresponding to it, and in which alone it can be truly Excellent. As

to those Genius's, which may seem to have an equal Aptitude for

several things, he regards them as so many unfinished Pieces of Nature

wrought off in haste.

There are, indeed, but very few to whom Nature has been so unkind,

that they are not capable of shining in some Science or other. There

is a certain Byass towards Knowledge in every Mind, which may be

strengthened and improved by proper Applications.

The Story of Clavius [2] is very well known; he was entered in a

College of Jesuits, and after having been tryed at several Parts of

Learning, was upon the Point of being dismissed as an hopeless

Blockhead, till one of the Fathers took it into his Head to make an

assay of his Parts in Geometry, which it seems hit his Genius so

luckily that he afterwards became one of the greatest Mathematicians

of the Age. It is commonly thought that the Sagacity of these Fathers,

in discovering the Talent of a young Student, has not a little

contributed to the Figure which their Order has made in the World.

How different from this manner of Education is that which prevails in

our own Country? Where nothing is more usual than to see forty or

fifty Boys of several Ages, Tempers and Inclinations, ranged together

in the same Class, employed upon the same Authors, and enjoyned the

same Tasks? Whatever their natural Genius may be, they are all to be

made Poets, Historians, and Orators alike. They are all obliged to

have the same Capacity, to bring in the same Tale of Verse, and to

furnish out the same Portion of Prose. Every Boy is bound to have as

good a Memory as the Captain of the Form. To be brief, instead of

adapting Studies to the particular Genius of a Youth, we expect from

the young Man, that he should adapt his Genius to his Studies. This, I

must confess, is not so much to be imputed to the Instructor, as to

the Parent, who will never be brought to believe, that his Son is not

capable of performing as much as his Neighbours, and that he may not

make him whatever he has a Mind to.

If the present Age is more laudable than those which have gone before

it in any single Particular, it is in that generous Care which several

well-disposed Persons have taken in the Education of poor Children;

and as in these Charity-Schools there is no Place left for the

over-weening Fondness of a Parent, the Directors of them would make

them beneficial to the Publick, if they considered the Precept which I

have been thus long inculcating. They might easily, by well examining

the Parts of those under their Inspection, make a just Distribution of

them into proper Classes and Divisions, and allot to them this or that

particular Study, as their Genius qualifies them for Professions,

Trades, Handicrafts, or Service by Sea or Land.

How is this kind of Regulation wanting in the three great

Professions!

Dr. South complaining of Persons who took upon them Holy Orders, tho

altogether unqualified for the Sacred Function, says somewhere, that

many a Man runs his Head against a Pulpit, who might have done his

Country excellent Service at a Plough-tail.

In like manner many a Lawyer, who makes but an indifferent Figure at

the Bar, might have made a very elegant Waterman, and have shined at

the Temple Stairs, tho he can get no Business in the House.

I have known a Corn-cutter, who with a right Education would have

been an excellent Physician.

To descend lower, are not our Streets filled with sagacious Draymen,

and Politicians in Liveries? We have several Taylors of six Foot high,

and meet with many a broad pair of Shoulders that are thrown away upon

a Barber, when perhaps at the same time we see a pigmy Porter reeling

under a Burthen, who might have managed a Needle with much Dexterity,

or have snapped his Fingers with great Ease to himself, and Advantage

to the Publick.

The Spartans, tho they acted with the Spirit which I am here

speaking of, carried it much farther than what I propose: Among them

it was not lawful for the Father himself to bring up his Children

after his own Fancy. As soon as they were seven Years old they were

all listed in several Companies, and disciplined by the Publick. The

old Men were Spectators of their Performances, who often raised

Quarrels among them, and set them at Strife with one another, that by

those early Discoveries they might see how their several Talents lay,

and without any regard to their Quality, dispose of them accordingly

for the Service of the Commonwealth. By this Means Sparta soon became

the Mistress of Greece, and famous through the whole World for her

Civil and Military Discipline.

If you think this Letter deserves a place among your Speculations, I

may perhaps trouble you with some other Thoughts on the same Subject.

I am, &c.

X.

[Footnote 1: Juan Huarte was born in French Navarre, and obtained much

credit in the sixteenth century for the book here cited. It was

translated into Latin and French. The best edition is of Cologne, 1610.]

[Footnote 2: Christopher Clavius, a native of Bamberg, died in 1612,

aged 75, at Rome, whither he had been sent by the Jesuits, and where he

was regarded as the Euclid of his age. It was Clavius whom Pope Gregory

XIII. employed in 1581 to effect the reform in the Roman Calendar

promulgated in 1582, when the 5th of October became throughout Catholic

countries the 15th of the New Style, an improvement that was not

admitted into Protestant England until 1752. Clavius wrote an Arithmetic

and Commentaries on Euclid, and justified his reform of the Calendar

against 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 propose my self to you as an

Assistant in the weighty Cares which you have thought fit to undergo

for the publick Good. I am a very great Lover of Women, that is to say

honestly, and as it is natural to study what one likes, I have

industriously applied my self to understand them. The present

Circumstance relating to them, is, that I think there wants under you,

as SPECTATOR, a Person to be distinguished and vested in the Power and

Quality of a Censor on Marriages. I lodge at the Temple, and know, by

seeing Women come hither, and afterwards observing them conducted by

their Council to Judges Chambers, that there is a Custom in Case of

making Conveyance of a Wife's Estate, that she is carried to a Judges

Apartment and left alone with him, to be examined in private whether

she has not been frightened or sweetned by her Spouse into the Act she

is going to do, or whether it is of her own free Will. Now if this be

a Method founded upon Reason and Equity, why should there not be also

a proper Officer for examining such as are entring into the State of

Matrimony, whether they are forced by Parents on one Side, or moved by

Interest only on the other, to come together, and bring forth such

awkward Heirs as are the Product of half Love and constrained

Compliances? There is no Body, though I say it my self, would be

fitter for this Office than I am: For I am an ugly Fellow of great Wit

and Sagacity. My Father was an hail Country-Squire, my Mother a witty

Beauty of no Fortune: The Match was made by Consent of my Mothers

Parents against her own: and I am the Child of a Rape on the

Wedding-Night; so that I am as healthy and as homely as my Father, but

as sprightly and agreeable as my Mother. It would be of great Ease to

you if you would use me under you, that Matches might be better

regulated for the future, and we might have no more Children of

Squabbles. I shall not reveal all my Pretensions till I receive your

Answer; and am, Sir,

Your most humble Servant,

Mules Palfrey.

Mr. Spectator,

I am one of those unfortunate Men within the City-Walls, who am

married to a Woman of Quality, but her Temper is something different

from that of Lady Anvil. My Lady's whole Time and Thoughts are spent

in keeping up to the Mode both in Apparel and Furniture. All the Goods

in my House have been changed three times in seven Years. I have had

seven Children by her; and by our Marriage Articles she was to have

her Apartment new furnished as often as she lay in. Nothing in our

House is useful but that which is fashionable; my Pewter holds out

generally half a Year, my Plate a full Twelvemonth; Chairs are not fit

to sit in that were made two Years since, nor Beds fit for any thing

but to sleep in that have stood up above that Time. My Dear is of

Opinion that an old-fashioned Grate consumes Coals, but gives no Heat:

If she drinks out of Glasses of last Year, she cannot distinguish Wine

from Small-Beer. Oh dear Sir you may guess all the rest. Yours.

P. S. I could bear even all this, if I were not obliged also to eat

fashionably. I have a plain Stomach, and have a constant Loathing of

whatever comes to my own Table; for which Reason I dine at the

Chop-House three Days a Week: Where the good Company wonders they

never see you of late. I am sure by your unprejudiced Discourses you

love Broth better than Soup.

Wills, Feb. 19.

Mr. Spectator,

You may believe you are a Person as much talked of as any Man in Town.

I am one of your best Friends in this House, and have laid a Wager you

are so candid a Man and so honest a Fellow, that you will print this

Letter, tho it is in Recommendation of a new Paper called The

Historian. [1] I have read it carefully, and find it written with

Skill, good Sense, Modesty, and Fire. You must allow the Town is

kinder to you than you deserve; and I doubt not but you have so much

Sense of the World, Change of Humour, and instability of all humane

Things, as to understand, that the only Way to preserve Favour, is to

communicate it to others with Good-Nature and Judgment. You are so

generally read, that what you speak of will be read. This with Men of

Sense and Taste is all that is wanting to recommend The Historian.

I am, Sir,

Your daily Advocate,

Reader Gentle.

I was very much surprised this Morning, that any one should find out my

Lodging, and know it so well, as to come directly to my Closet-Door, and

knock at it, to give me the following Letter. When I came out I opened

it, and saw by a very strong Pair of Shoes and a warm Coat the Bearer

had on, that he walked all the Way to bring it me, tho dated from York.

My Misfortune is that I cannot talk, and I found the Messenger had so

much of me, that he could think better than speak. He had, I observed, a

polite Discerning hid under a shrewd Rusticity: He delivered the Paper

with a Yorkshire Tone and a Town Leer.

Mr. Spectator,

The Privilege you have indulged John Trot has proved of very bad

Consequence to our illustrious Assembly, which, besides the many

excellent Maxims it is founded upon, is remarkable for the

extraordinary Decorum always observed in it. One Instance of which is

that the Carders, (who are always of the first Quality) never begin to

play till the French-Dances are finished, and the Country-Dances

begin: But John Trot having now got your Commission in his Pocket,

(which every one here has a profound Respect for) has the Assurance to

set up for a Minuit-Dancer. Not only so, but he has brought down upon

us the whole Body of the Trots, which are very numerous, with their

Auxiliaries the Hobblers and the Skippers, by which Means the Time is

so much wasted, that unless we break all Rules of Government, it must

redound to the utter Subversion of the Brag-Table, the discreet

Members of which value Time as Fribble's Wife does her Pin-Money. We

are pretty well assured that your Indulgence to Trot was only in

relation to Country-Dances; however we have deferred the issuing an

Order of Council upon the Premisses, hoping to get you to join with

us, that Trot, nor any of his Clan, presume for the future to dance

any but Country-Dances, unless a Horn-Pipe upon a Festival-Day. If you

will 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 should confine himself to

Country-Dances. And I further direct, that he shall take out none but

his own Relations according to their Nearness of Blood, but any

Gentlewoman may 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, Silent Monitor, 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.

Dî, quibus imperium est animarum, umbræque silentes,

Et Chaos, et Phlegethon, loca nocte silentia late;

Sit mihi fas audita loqui! sit numine vestro

Pandere res alta terra et caligine mersas.

Virg.

I have before observed in general, that the Persons whom Milton

introduces into his Poem always discover such Sentiments and Behaviour,

as are in a peculiar manner conformable to their respective Characters.

Every Circumstance in their Speeches and Actions is with great Justness

and Delicacy adapted to the Persons who speak and act. As the Poet very

much excels in this Consistency of his Characters, I shall beg Leave to

consider several Passages of the Second Book in 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 himself that great

Enterprize at the Thought of which the whole Infernal Assembly trembled;

his encountering the hideous Phantom who guarded the Gates of Hell, and

appeared to him in all his Terrors, are Instances of that proud and

daring Mind which could not brook Submission even to Omnipotence.

Satan was now at hand, and from his Seat

The Monster moving onward came as fast

With horrid strides, Hell trembled as he strode,

Th' undaunted Fiend what this might be admir'd,

Admired, not fear'd--

The same Boldness and Intrepidity of Behaviour discovers it self in the

several Adventures which he meets with during his Passage through the

Regions of unformed Matter, and particularly in his Address to those

tremendous Powers who are described as presiding over it.

The Part of Moloch is likewise in all its Circumstances full of that

Fire and Fury which distinguish this Spirit from the rest of the fallen

Angels. He is described in the first Book as besmeared with the Blood of

Human Sacrifices, and delighted with the Tears of Parents and the Cries

of Children. In the Second Book he is marked out as the fiercest Spirit

that fought in Heaven: and if we consider the Figure which he makes in

the Sixth Book, where the Battle of the Angels is described, we find it

every way answerable to the same furious enraged Character.

--Where the might of Gabriel fought,

And with fierce Ensigns pierc'd the deep array

Of Moloc, furious King, who him defy'd,

And at his chariot wheels to drag him bound

Threatened, nor from the Holy one of Heavn

Refrain'd his tongue blasphemous; but anon

Down cloven to the waste, with shatter'd arms

And uncouth pain fled bellowing.--

It may be worth while to observe, that Milton has represented this

violent impetuous Spirit, who is hurried only by such precipitate

Passions, as the first that rises in that Assembly, to give his Opinion

upon their present Posture of Affairs. Accordingly he declares himself

abruptly for War, and appears incensed at his Companions, for losing so

much Time as even to deliberate upon it. All his Sentiments are Rash,

Audacious and Desperate. Such is that of arming themselves with their

Tortures, and turning their 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 to force resistless way,

Turning our tortures into horrid arms

Against the Torturer; when to meet the Noise

Of his almighty Engine he shall hear

Infernal Thunder, and for Lightning see

Black fire and horror shot with equal rage

Among his Angels; and his throne it self

Mixt with Tartarean Sulphur, and strange Fire,

His own invented Torments--

His preferring Annihilation to Shame or Misery, is also highly suitable

to his Character; as the Comfort he draws from their disturbing the

Peace of Heaven, that if it be not Victory it is Revenge, is a Sentiment

truly Diabolical, and becoming the Bitterness of this implacable Spirit.

Belial is described in the first Book, as the Idol of the Lewd and

Luxurious. He is in the Second Book, pursuant to that Description,

characterised as timorous and slothful; and if we look in the Sixth

Book, we find him celebrated in the Battel of Angels for nothing but

that scoffing Speech which he makes to Satan, on their supposed

Advantage over the Enemy. As his Appearance is uniform, and of a Piece,

in these three several Views, we find his Sentiments in the Infernal

Assembly every way conformable to his Character. Such are his

Apprehensions of a second Battel, his Horrors of Annihilation, his

preferring to be miserable rather than not to be. I need not observe,

that the Contrast of Thought in this Speech, and that which precedes it,

gives an agreeable Variety to the Debate.

Mammon's Character is so fully drawn in the First Book, that the Poet

adds nothing to it in the Second. We were before told, that he was the

first who taught Mankind to ransack the Earth for Gold and Silver, and

that he was the Architect of Pandæmonium, or the Infernal Place, where

the Evil Spirits were to meet in Council. His Speech in this Book is

every way suitable to so depraved a Character. How proper is that

Reflection, of their being unable to taste the Happiness of Heaven were

they actually there, in the Mouth of one, who while he was in Heaven, is

said to have had his Mind dazled with the outward Pomps and Glories of

the Place, and to have been more intent on the Riches of the Pavement,

than on the Beatifick Vision. I shall also leave the Reader to judge how

agreeable the following Sentiments are to the same Character.

--This deep World

Of Darkness do we dread? How oft amidst

Thick cloud and dark doth Heavns all-ruling Sire

Chuse to reside, his Glory umobscured,

And with the Majesty of Darkness round

Covers his Throne; from whence deep Thunders roar

Mustering their Rage, and Heavn resembles Hell?

As he our Darkness, cannot we his Light

Imitate when we please? This desart Soil

Wants not her hidden Lustre, Gems and Gold;

Nor want we Skill or Art, from whence to raise

Magnificence; and what can Heavn shew more?

Beelzebub, who is reckoned the second in Dignity that fell, and is, in

the First Book, the second that awakens out of the Trance, and confers

with Satan upon the Situation of their Affairs, maintains his Rank in

the Book now before us. There is a wonderful Majesty described in his

rising up to speak. He acts as a kind of Moderator between the two

opposite Parties, and proposes a third Undertaking, which the whole

Assembly gives into. The Motion he makes of detaching one of their Body

in search of a new World is grounded upon a Project devised by Satan,

and cursorily proposed by him in the following Lines of the first Book.

Space may produce new Worlds, whereof so 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 these Thoughts

Full Counsel must mature:--

It is on this Project that Beelzebub grounds his Proposal.

--What if we find

Some easier Enterprise? There is a Place

(If ancient and prophetick Fame in Heavn

Err not) another World, the happy Seat

Of some new Race call'd MAN, about this Time

To be created like to us, though less

In Power and Excellence, but favoured more

Of him who rules above; so was his Will

Pronounc'd among the Gods, and by an Oath,

That shook Heavns whole Circumference, confirm'd.

The Reader may observe how just it was not to omit in the First Book the

Project upon which the whole Poem turns: As also that the Prince of the

fallen Angels was the only proper Person to give it Birth, and that the

next to him in Dignity was the fittest to second and support it.

There is besides, I think, something wonderfully Beautiful, and very apt

to affect the Readers Imagination in this ancient Prophecy or Report in

Heaven, concerning the Creation of Man. Nothing could shew more the

Dignity of the Species, than this Tradition which ran of them before

their Existence. They are represented to have been the Talk of Heaven,

before they were created. 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 in

general, as he gives us a Glimpse of them even before they are in Being.

The rising of this great Assembly is described in a 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 particular Account of

their Place of Habitation, are described with great Pregnancy of

Thought, and Copiousness of Invention. The Diversions are every way

suitable to Beings who had nothing left them but Strength and Knowledge

misapplied. Such are their Contentions at the Race, and in Feats of

Arms, with their Entertainment in the following Lines.

Others with vast Typhæan rage more fell

Rend up both Rocks and Hills, and ride the Air

In Whirlwind; Hell scarce holds the wild Uproar.

Their Musick is employed in celebrating their own criminal Exploits, and

their Discourse in sounding the unfathomable Depths of Fate, Free-will

and Fore-knowledge.

The several Circumstances in the Description of Hell are finely

imagined; as the four Rivers which disgorge themselves into the Sea of

Fire, the Extreams of Cold and Heat, and the River of Oblivion. The

monstrous Animals produced in that Infernal World are represented by a

single Line, which gives us a more horrid Idea of them, than a much

longer Description would have done.

--Nature breeds,

Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious Things,

Abominable, inutterable, and worse

Than Fables yet have feign'd, or Fear conceiv'd,

Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimeras dire.

This Episode of the fallen Spirits, and their Place of Habitation, comes

in very happily to unbend the Mind of the Reader from its Attention to

the Debate. An ordinary Poet would indeed have spun out so many

Circumstances to a great Length, and by that means have weakned, instead

of illustrated, the principal Fable.

The Flight of Satan to the Gates of Hell is finely imaged. I have

already declared my Opinion of the Allegory concerning Sin and Death,

which is however a very finished Piece in its kind, when it is not

considered as a Part of an Epic Poem. The Genealogy of the several

Persons is contrived with great Delicacy. Sin is the Daughter of Satan,

and Death the Offspring of Sin. The incestuous Mixture between Sin and

Death produces those Monsters and Hell-hounds which from time to time

enter into their Mother, and tear the Bowels of her who gave them Birth.

These are the Terrors of an evil Conscience, and the proper Fruits of

Sin, which naturally rise from the Apprehensions of Death. This last

beautiful Moral is, I think, clearly intimated in the Speech of Sin,

where complaining of this her dreadful Issue, she adds,

Before mine Eyes in Opposition sits

Grim Death my Son and Foe, who sets them on,

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 Circumstance in the last

Part of this Quotation. He will likewise observe how naturally the three

Persons concerned in this Allegory are tempted by one common Interest to

enter into a Confederacy together, and how properly Sin is made the

Portress of Hell, and the only Being that can open the Gates to that

World of Tortures.

The descriptive Part of this Allegory is likewise very strong, and full

of Sublime Ideas. The Figure of Death, [the Regal Crown upon his Head,]

his Menace of Satan, his advancing to the Combat, the Outcry at his

Birth, are Circumstances too noble to be past over in Silence, and

extreamly suitable to this King of Terrors. I need not mention the

Justness of Thought which is observed in the Generation of these several

Symbolical Persons; that Sin was produced upon the first Revolt of

Satan, that Death appear'd soon after he was cast into Hell, and that

the Terrors of Conscience were conceived at the Gate of this Place of

Torments. The Description of the Gates is very poetical, as the opening

of them is full of Milton's Spirit.

--On a sudden open fly

With impetuous Recoil and jarring Sound

Th' infernal Doors, and on their Hinges grate

Harsh Thunder, that the lowest Bottom shook

Of Erebus. She open'd, but to shut

Excell'd her Powr; the Gates wide open stood,

That with extended Wings a banner'd Host

Under spread Ensigns marching might pass through

With Horse and Chariots rank'd in loose Array;

So wide they stood, and like a Furnace Mouth

Cast forth redounding Smoak and ruddy Flame.

In Satan's Voyage through the Chaos there are several Imaginary Persons

described, as residing in that immense Waste of Matter. This may perhaps

be conformable to the Taste of those Criticks who are pleased with

nothing in a Poet which has not Life and Manners ascribed to it; but for

my own Part, I am pleased most with those Passages in this Description

which 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 that rises from the Infernal Pit, his falling into a Cloud of

Nitre, and the like combustible Materials, that by their Explosion still

hurried him forward in his Voyage; his springing upward like a Pyramid

of Fire, with his laborious Passage through that Confusion of Elements

which the Poet calls

The Womb of Nature, and perhaps her Grave.

The Glimmering Light which shot into the Chaos from the utmost Verge of

the Creation, with the distant discovery 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 a certain young Man very

heartily; and my Father and Mother were for it a great while, but now

they say I can do better, but I think I cannot. They bid me love him,

and I cannot unlove him. What must I do? speak quickly.

Biddy Dow-bake.

Dear SPEC,

Feb. 19, 1712.

I have lov'd a Lady entirely for this Year and Half, tho for a great

Part of the Time (which has contributed not a little to my Pain) I

have been debarred the Liberty of conversing with her. The Grounds of

our Difference was this; that when we had enquired into each others

Circumstances, we found that at our first setting out into the World,

we should owe five hundred Pounds more than her Fortune would pay off.

My Estate is seven hundred Pounds a Year, besides the benefit of

Tin-Mines. Now, dear SPEC, upon this State of the Case, and the Lady's

positive Declaration that there is still no other Objection, I beg

you'll not fail to insert this, with your Opinion as soon as possible,

whether this ought to be esteemed a just Cause or Impediment why we

should not be join'd, and you will for ever oblige

Yours sincerely,

Dick Lovesick.

P. S. Sir, if I marry this Lady by the Assistance of your Opinion, you

may expect a Favour for it.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I have the misfortune to be one of those unhappy Men who are

distinguished by the Name of discarded Lovers; but I am the less

mortified at my Disgrace, because the young Lady is one of those

Creatures who set up for Negligence of Men, are forsooth the most

rigidly Virtuous in the World, and yet their Nicety will permit them,

at the Command of Parents, to go to Bed to the most utter Stranger

that can be proposed to them. As to me my self, I was introduced by

the Father of my Mistress; but find I owe my being at first received

to a Comparison of my Estate with that of a former Lover, and that I

am now in like manner turned off, to give Way to 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 way of Fraud, and

obeys her Fathers Orders on these Occasions without any Manner of

Reluctance, and does it with the same Air that one of your Men of the

World would signifie the Necessity of Affairs for turning another out

of Office. When I came home last Night I found this Letter from my

Mistress.

SIR,

I hope you will not think it is any manner 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 than

you can make, and has ordered me to break off the Treaty between us.

If it had proceeded, I should have behaved my self with all suitable

Regard to you, but as it is, I beg we may be Strangers for the

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 beg

of you to give me your Thoughts upon it. My Answer to Lydia was as

follows, which I hope you will approve; for you are to know the

Woman's Family affect a wonderful Ease on these Occasions, tho they

expect it should be painfully received on the Man's Side.

MADAM,

"I have received yours, and knew the Prudence of your House so well,

that I always took Care to be ready to obey your Commands, tho they

should be to see you no more. Pray give my Service to all the good

Family.

Adieu,

The Opera Subscription is full.

Clitophon."

Memorandum. The Censor of Marriage to consider this Letter, and report

the common Usages on such Treaties, with how many Pounds or Acres are

generally esteemed sufficient Reason for preferring a new to an old

Pretender; with his Opinion what is proper to be determined in such

Cases for the future.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

There is an elderly Person, lately left off Business and settled in

our Town, in order, as he thinks, to retire from the World; but he has

brought with him such an Inclination to Talebearing, that he disturbs

both himself and all our Neighbourhood. Notwithstanding this Frailty,

the honest Gentleman is so happy as to have no Enemy: At the same time

he has not one Friend who will venture to acquaint him with his

Weakness. It is not to be doubted but if this Failing were set in a

proper Light, he would quickly perceive the Indecency and evil

Consequences of it. Now, Sir, this being an Infirmity which I hope may

be corrected, and knowing that he pays much Deference to you, I beg

that when you are at Leisure to give us a Speculation on Gossiping,

you would think of my Neighbour: You will hereby oblige several who

will be glad to find a Reformation in their gray-hair'd Friend: And

how becoming will it be for him, instead of pouring forth Words at all

Adventures to set a Watch before the Door of his Mouth, to refrain his

Tongue, to check its Impetuosity, and guard against the Sallies of

that little, pert, forward, busie Person; which, under a sober

Conduct, might prove a useful Member of a Society. 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 my self and many more of your

gentle Readers, that at any time when you have private Reasons against

letting us know what you think your self, you would be pleased to

pardon us such Letters of your Correspondents as seem to be of no use

but to the Printer.

It is further our humble Request, that you would substitute

Advertisements in the Place of such Epistles; and that in order

hereunto Mr. Buckley may be authorized to take up of your zealous

Friend Mr. Charles Lillie, any Quantity of Words he shall from time to

time have occasion for.

The many useful parts of Knowledge which may be communicated to the

Publick this Way, will, we hope, be a Consideration 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 examined for 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 been marked with a T.]

* * * * *

No. 311. Tuesday, February 26, 1712. Addison.

Nec Veneris pharetris macer est; aut lampade fervet:

Inde faces ardent, veniunt a dote sagittæ.

Juv.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am amazed that among all the Variety of Characters, with which you

have enriched your Speculations, you have never given us a Picture of

those audacious young Fellows among us, who commonly go by the Name of

Fortune-Stealers. You must know, Sir, I am one who live in a continual

Apprehension of this sort of People that lye in wait, Day and Night,

for our Children, and may be considered as a kind of Kidnappers within

the Law. I am the Father of a Young Heiress, whom I begin to look upon

as Marriageable, and who has looked upon her self as such for above

these Six Years. She is now in the Eighteenth Year of her Age. The

Fortune-hunters have already cast their Eyes upon her, and take care

to plant themselves in her View whenever she appears in any Publick

Assembly. I have my self caught a young Jackanapes with a pair of

Silver Fringed Gloves, in the very Fact. You must know, Sir, I have

kept her as a Prisoner of State ever since she was in her Teens. Her

Chamber Windows are cross-barred, she is not permitted to go out of

the House but with her Keeper, who is a stay'd Relation of my own; I

have likewise forbid her the use of Pen and Ink for this Twelve-Month

last past, and do not suffer a Ban-box to be carried into her Room

before it has been searched. Notwithstanding these Precautions, I am

at my Wits End for fear of any sudden Surprize. There were, two or

three Nights ago, some Fiddles heard in the Street, which I am afraid

portend me no Good; not to mention a tall Irish-Man, that has been

seen walking before my House more than once this Winter. My Kinswoman

likewise informs me, that the Girl has talked to her twice or thrice

of a Gentleman in a Fair Wig, and that she loves to go to Church more

than ever she did in her Life. She gave me the slip about a Week ago,

upon which my whole House was in Alarm. I immediately dispatched a Hue

and Cry after her to the Change, to her Mantua-maker, and to the young

Ladies that Visit her; but after above an Hours search she returned

of herself, having been taking a Walk, as she told me, by Rosamond's

Pond. I have 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 all her Motions. This, Sir, keeps me in a

perpetual Anxiety, and makes me very often watch when my Daughter

sleeps, as I am afraid she is even with me in her turn. Now, Sir, what

I would desire of you is, to represent to this fluttering Tribe of

young Fellows, who are for making their Fortunes by these indirect

Means, that stealing a Man's Daughter for the sake of her Portion, is

but a kind of Tolerated Robbery; and that they make but a poor Amends

to the Father, whom they plunder after this Manner, by going to bed

with his Child. Dear Sir, be speedy in 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 asked whether he would

chuse to marry his Daughter to an indigent Man of Merit, or to a

worthless Man of an Estate, replied, That he should prefer a Man without

an Estate, to an Estate without a Man. The worst of it is, our Modern

Fortune-Hunters are those who turn their Heads that way, because they

are good for nothing else. If a young Fellow finds he can make nothing

of Cook and Littleton, he provides himself with a Ladder of Ropes, and

by that means very often enters upon the Premises.

The same Art of Scaling has likewise been practised with good Success by

many military Ingineers. Stratagems of this nature make Parts and

Industry superfluous, and cut short the way to Riches.

Nor is Vanity a less Motive than Idleness to this kind of Mercenary

Pursuit. A Fop who admires his Person in a Glass, soon enters into a

Resolution of making his Fortune by it, not questioning but every Woman

that falls in his way will do him as much Justice as he does himself.

When an Heiress sees a Man throwing particular Graces into his Ogle, or

talking loud within her Hearing, she ought to look to her self; but if

withal she observes a pair of Red-Heels, a Patch, or any other

Particularity in his Dress, she cannot take too much care of her Person.

These are Baits not to be trifled with, Charms that have done a world of

Execution, and made their way into Hearts which have been thought

impregnable. The Force of a Man with these Qualifications is so well

known, that I am credibly informed there are several Female Undertakers

about the Change, who upon the Arrival 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-Hunters and

Fortune-Stealers. The first are those assiduous Gentlemen who employ

their whole Lives in the Chace, without ever coming at the Quarry.

Suffenus has combed and powdered at the Ladies for thirty Years

together, and taken his Stand in a Side Box, till he has grown wrinkled

under their Eyes. He is now laying the same Snares for the present

Generation of Beauties, which he practised on their Mothers. Cottilus,

after having made his Applications to more than you meet with in Mr.

Cowley's Ballad of Mistresses, was at last smitten with a City Lady of

20,000£. Sterling: but died of old Age before he could bring Matters to

bear. Nor must I here omit my worthy Friend Mr. HONEYCOMB, who has often

told us in the Club, that for twenty years successively, upon the death

of a Childless rich Man, he immediately drew on his Boots, called for

his Horse, and made up to the Widow. When he is rallied upon his ill

Success, WILL, with his usual Gaiety tells us, that he 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 six Foot high, that has not passed

in Review before one or other of these wealthy Relicts. Hudibrass's

Cupid, who

--took his Stand

Upon a Widows Jointure Land, [2]

is daily employed in throwing Darts, and kindling Flames. But as for

Widows, they are such a Subtle Generation of People, that they may be

left to their own Conduct; or if they make a false Step in it, they are

answerable for it to no Body but themselves. The young innocent

Creatures who have no Knowledge and Experience of the World, are those

whose Safety I 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 no Judgment there is no Choice; and why the

inveigling a Woman before she is come to Years of Discretion, should not

be as Criminal as the seducing of her before she 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, quæ laus, quod Decus erit tanti, quod adipisci

cum colore Corporis velit, qui dolorem summum malum sibi persuaserit?

Quam porro 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 usually so weak, that

it is absolutely necessary for them to know Sorrow and Pain to be in

their right Senses. Prosperous People (for Happy there are none) are

hurried away 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 Discourses as these, for what is wrought by the unseen

Hand of the Disposer of all Things. But methinks the Disposition of a

Mind which is truly great, is that which makes Misfortunes and Sorrows

little when they befall our selves, great and lamentable when they

befall other Men. The most unpardonable Malefactor in the World going 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, but

because he seems himself not to deplore it: We suffer for him who is

less sensible of his own Misery, and are inclined to despise him who

sinks under the Weight of his Distresses. On the other hand, without any

Touch of Envy, a temperate and well-govern'd Mind 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 therefore who turns his Face from the unhappy Man, who will not

look again when his Eye is cast upon modest Sorrow, who shuns Affliction

like a Contagion, does but pamper himself up for a Sacrifice, and

contract in himself a 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 good Discerning in him: He took Notice that

whenever Men have looked into their Heart for the Idea of true

Excellency in human Nature, they have found it to consist in Suffering

after a right Manner and with a good Grace. Heroes are always drawn

bearing Sorrows, struggling with Adversities, undergoing all kinds of

Hardships, and having in the Service of Mankind a kind of Appetite to

Difficulties and Dangers. The Gentleman went on to observe, that it is

from this secret Sense of the high Merit which there is in Patience

under Calamities, that the Writers of Romances, when they attempt to

furnish out Characters of the highest Excellence, ransack Nature for

things terrible; they raise a new Creation of Monsters, Dragons, and

Giants: Where the Danger ends, the Hero ceases; when he won an Empire,

or gained his Mistress, the rest of his Story is not worth relating. My

Friend carried his Discourse so far as to say, that it was for higher

Beings than Men to join Happiness and Greatness in the same Idea; but

that in our Condition we have no Conception of superlative Excellence,

or Heroism, but as it is surrounded with a Shade of Distress.

It is certainly the proper Education we should give our selves, to be

prepared for the ill Events and Accidents we are to meet with in a Life

sentenced to 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 and Virtue, which should support us in

Hours of Anguish. The constant Pursuit of Pleasure has in it something

insolent and improper for our Being. There is a pretty sober Liveliness

in the Ode of Horace to Delius, where he tells him, loud Mirth, or

immoderate Sorrow, Inequality of Behaviour either in Prosperity or

Adversity, are alike ungraceful in Man that is born to die. Moderation

in both Circumstances is peculiar to generous Minds: Men of that Sort

ever taste the Gratifications of Health, and all other Advantages of

Life, as if they were liable to part with them, and when bereft of them,

resign them with a Greatness of Mind which shews they know their Value

and Duration. The Contempt of Pleasure is a certain Preparatory for the

Contempt of Pain: Without this, the Mind is as it were taken suddenly by

any unforeseen Event; but he that has always, during Health and

Prosperity, been abstinent in his Satisfactions, enjoys, in the worst of

Difficulties, the Reflection, that his Anguish is not aggravated with

the Comparison of past Pleasures which upbraid his present Condition.

Tully tells us a Story after Pompey, which gives us a good Taste of the

pleasant Manner the Men of Wit and Philosophy had in old Times of

alleviating the Distresses of Life by the Force of Reason and

Philosophy. Pompey, when he came to Rhodes, had a Curiosity to visit the

famous Philosopher Possidonius; but finding him in his sick Bed, he

bewailed the Misfortune that he should not hear a Discourse from him:

But you may, answered Possidonius; and immediately entered into the

Point of Stoical Philosophy, which says Pain is not an Evil. During the

Discourse, upon every Puncture he felt from his Distemper, he smiled and

cried out, Pain, Pain, be as impertinent and troublesome as you please,

I shall never own that thou art an Evil.

Mr. Spectator,

Having seen in several of your Papers, a Concern for the Honour of the

Clergy, and their doing every thing as becomes their Character, and

particularly performing the publick Service with a due Zeal and

Devotion; I am the more encouraged to lay before them, by your Means,

several Expressions used by some of them in their Prayers before

Sermon, which I am not well satisfied in: As their giving some Titles

and Epithets to great Men, which are indeed 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 State here, and have no place in Heaven: We see they are

omitted in the Liturgy; which I think the Clergy should take for their

Pattern in their own Forms of [Devotion. [1]] There is another

Expression which I would not mention, but that I have heard it several

times before a learned Congregation, to bring in the last Petition of

the Prayer in these Words, O let not the Lord be angry and I will

speak but this once; as if there was no Difference between Abraham's

interceding for Sodom, for which he had no Warrant as we can find, and

our asking those Things which we are required to pray for; they would

therefore have much more Reason to fear his Anger if they did not make

such Petitions to him. There is another pretty Fancy: When a young Man

has a Mind to let us know who gave him his Scarf, he speaks a

Parenthesis to the Almighty, Bless, as I am in Duty bound to pray, the

right honourable the Countess; is not that as much as to say, Bless

her, for thou knowest I am her Chaplain?

Your humble Servant,

J. O.

T.

[Footnote 1: Devotion. Another Expression which I take to be improper,

is this, the whole Race of Mankind, when they pray for all Men; for Race

signifies Lineage or Descent; and if the Race of Mankind may be used for

the present generation, (though I think not very fitly) the whole Race

takes in all from the Beginning to the End of the World. I don't

remember to have met with that Expression in their sense anywhere but in

the old Version of Psal. 14, which those Men, I suppose, have but little

Esteem for. And some, when they have prayed for all Schools and Nurserys

of good Learning and True Religion, especially the two Universities, add

these Words, Grant that from them and all other Places dedicated to thy

Worship and Service, may come forth such Persons. But what do they mean

by all other Places? It seems to me that this is either a Tautology, as

being the same with all Schools and Nurserys before expressed, or else

it runs too far; for there are general Places dedicated to the Divine

Service which cannot properly be intended here.]

* * * * *

No. 313. Thursday, February 28, 1712. Budgell.

Exigite ut mores teneros ceu pollice ducat,

Ut si quis cerâ vultum facit.

Juv.

I shall give the following Letter no other Recommendation, than by

telling my Readers that it comes from the same Hand with that of last

_Thursday_.

Sir,

I send you, according to my Promise, some farther Thoughts on the

Education of Youth, in which I intend to discuss that famous Question,

_Whether the Education at a publick School, or under a private Tutor,

is to be preferred_?

As some of the greatest Men in most Ages have been of very different

Opinions in this Matter, I shall give a short Account of what I think

may be best urged on both sides, and afterwards leave every Person to

determine for himself.

It is certain from _Suetonius_, that the Romans thought the Education

of their Children a 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 excellent Grammarian, and who taught a great many other Youths.

On the contrary, the Greeks seemed more inclined to Publick Schools

and Seminaries.

A private Education promises in the first place Virtue and

Good-Breeding; a publick School Manly Assurance, and an early

Knowledge in the Ways of the World.

Mr. Locke in his celebrated Treatise of Education [1], confesses

that there are Inconveniencies to be feared on both sides; If, says

he, I keep my Son at Home, he is in danger of becoming my young

Master; If I send him Abroad, it is scarce possible to keep him from

the reigning Contagion of Rudeness and Vice. He will perhaps be more

Innocent at Home, but more ignorant of the World, and more sheepish

when he comes Abroad. However, as this learned Author asserts, That

Virtue is much more difficult to be attained than Knowledge of the

World; and that Vice is a more stubborn, as well as a more dangerous

Fault than Sheepishness, he is altogether for a private Education; and

the more so, because he does not see why a Youth, with right

Management, might not attain the same Assurance in his Fathers House,

as at a publick School. To this end he advises Parents to accustom

their Sons to whatever strange Faces come to 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, that Conversation is not the only

thing necessary, but that unless it be a Conversation with such as are

in 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 Nation ever 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 Senate or a

Privy Council; and Mr. Osborn speaking like a Man versed in the Ways

of the World, affirms, that the well laying and carrying on of a

design to rob an Orchard, trains up a Youth insensibly to Caution,

Secrecy and Circumspection, and fits him for Matters of greater

Importance.

In short, a private Education seems the most natural Method for the

forming of a virtuous Man; a Publick Education for making a Man of

Business. The first would furnish out a good Subject for Plato's

Republick, the latter a Member for a Community over-run with Artifice

and Corruption.

It must however be confessed, that a Person at the head of a publick

School has sometimes so many Boys under his Direction, that it is

impossible he should extend a due proportion of his Care to each of

them. This is, however, in reality, the Fault 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 while for any

Man of a liberal Education to take upon him the Care of their

Instruction.

In our great Schools indeed this Fault has been of late Years

rectified, so that we have at present not only Ingenious Men for the

chief Masters, but such as have proper Ushers and Assistants under

them; I must nevertheless own, that for want of the same Encouragement

in the Country, we have many a promising Genius spoiled and abused in

those Seminaries.

I am the more inclined to this Opinion, having my self experienced

the Usage of two Rural Masters, each of them very unfit for the Trust

they took upon them to discharge. The first imposed much more upon me

than my Parts, tho none of the weakest, could endure; and used me

barbarously for not performing Impossibilities. The latter was of

quite another Temper; and a Boy, who would run upon his Errands, wash

his Coffee-pot, or ring the Bell, might have as little Conversation

with any of the Classicks as he thought fit. I have known a Lad at

this Place excused his Exercise for assisting the Cook-maid; and

remember a Neighbouring Gentleman's Son was among us five Years, most

of which time he employed in airing and watering our Masters grey

Pad. I scorned to Compound for my Faults, by doing any of these

Elegant Offices, and was accordingly the best Scholar, and the worst

used of any Boy in the School.

I shall conclude this Discourse with an Advantage mentioned by

Quintilian, as accompanying a Publick way of Education, which I have

not yet taken notice of; namely, That we very often contract such

Friendships at School, as are a Service to us all the following Part

of our Lives.

I shall give you, under this Head, a Story very well known to several

Persons, and which you may depend upon as a real Truth.

Every one, who is acquainted with Westminster-School, knows that

there is a Curtain which used to be drawn a-cross the Room, to

separate the upper School from the lower. A Youth happened, by some

Mischance, to tear the above-mentioned Curtain: The Severity of the

Master [2] was too well known for the Criminal to expect any Pardon

for such a Fault; so that the Boy, who was of a meek Temper, was

terrified to Death at the Thoughts of his Appearance, when his Friend,

who sat next to him, bad him be of good Cheer, for that he would take

the Fault on himself. He kept his word accordingly. As soon as they

were grown up to be Men the Civil War broke out, in which our two

Friends took the opposite Sides, one of them followed the Parliament,

the other the Royal Party.

As their Tempers were different, the Youth, who had torn the Curtain,

endeavoured to raise himself on the Civil List, and the other, who had

born the Blame of it, on the Military: The first succeeded so well,

that he was in a short time made a Judge under the Protector. The

other was engaged in the unhappy Enterprize of Penruddock and Groves

in the West. I suppose, Sir, I need not acquaint you with the Event of

that Undertaking. Every one knows that the Royal Party was routed, and

all the Heads of them, among whom was the Curtain Champion, imprisoned

at Exeter. It happened to be his Friends 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 pass Sentence

on them; when the Judge hearing the Name of 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 the

Answer, he was soon convinced that it was his former generous Friend;

and, without saying any thing more at that time, made the best of his

Way to London, where employing all his Power and Interest with the

Protector, he saved his Friend from the Fate of his unhappy

Associates.

The Gentleman, whose Life was thus preserv'd by the Gratitude of his

School-Fellow, was afterwards the Father of a Son, whom he lived to

see promoted in the Church, and who still deservedly fills one of the

highest Stations in it. [3]

X.

[Footnote 1: Some Thoughts concerning Education, § 70. The references to

Suetonius and Plutarch's Life 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 Lincoln when this paper was written, and because

in 1716 Archbishop of Canterbury. The trials of Penruddock and his

friends 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 Years of Age, and have been in Love

with a young Woman of the same Age about this half Year. I go to see

her six Days in the Week, but never could have the Happiness of being

with her alone. If any of her Friends are at home, she will see me in

their Company; but if they be not in the Way, she flies to her

Chamber. I can discover no Signs of her Aversion; but either a Fear of

falling into the Toils of Matrimony, or a childish Timidity, deprives

us of an Interview apart, and drives us upon the Difficulty of

languishing out our Lives in fruitless Expectation. Now, Mr.

SPECTATOR, if you think us ripe for Oeconomy, perswade the dear

Creature, that to pine away into Barrenness and Deformity under a

Mothers Shade, is not so honourable, nor does she appear so amiable,

as she would in full Bloom. [_There is a great deal left out before he

concludes_] Mr. SPECTATOR,

_Your humble Servant_,

Bob Harmless.

If this Gentleman be really no more than Eighteen, I must do him the

Justice to say he is the most knowing Infant 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 to her Mother. The

SPECTATOR.

I cannot comply with the Request in Mr. Trott's Letter; but let it go

just as it came to my Hands, for being so familiar with the old

Gentleman, as rough as he is to him. Since Mr. Trott has an Ambition to

make him his Father-in-Law, he ought to treat him with more Respect;

besides, his Style to me might have been more distant than he has

thought fit to afford me: Moreover, his Mistress shall continue in her

Confinement, till he has found out which Word in his Letter is not

wrightly spelt.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I shall ever own my self your obliged humble Servant for the Advice

you gave me concerning my Dancing; which unluckily came too late: For,

as I said, I would not leave off Capering till I had your Opinion of

the Matter; was at our famous Assembly the Day before I received your

Papers, and there was observed by an old Gentleman, who was informed I

had a Respect for his Daughter; told me I was an insignificant little

Fellow, and said that for the future he would take Care of his Child;

so that he did not doubt but to crosse my amorous Inclinations. The

Lady is confined to her Chamber, and for my Part, am ready to hang my

self with the Thoughts that I have danced my self out of Favour with

her Father. I hope you will pardon the Trouble I give; but shall take

it for a mighty Favour, if you will give me a little more of your

Advice to put me in a write Way to cheat the old Dragon and obtain my

Mistress. I am once more,

SIR,

Your obliged humble Servant, John Trott.

York, Feb. 23, 1711-12.

Let me desire you to make what Alterations you please, and insert this

as soon as possible. Pardon Mistake by Haste.

I never do pardon Mistakes by Haste. The SPECTATOR.

Feb. 27, 1711-12.

SIR,

Pray be so kind as to let me know what you esteem to be the chief

Qualification of a good Poet, especially of 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

delighted with Battles on the Stage. I give you this Trouble to

complain to you, that Nicolini refused to gratifie me in that Part of

the Opera for which I have most Taste. I observe its become a Custom,

that whenever any Gentlemen are particularly pleased with a Song, at

their crying out Encore or Altro Volto, the Performer is so obliging

as to sing it over again. I was at the Opera the last time Hydaspes

was performed. At that Part of it where the Heroe engages with the

Lion, the graceful Manner with which he put that terrible Monster to

Death gave me so great a Pleasure, and at the same time so just a

Sense of that Gentleman's Intrepidity and Conduct, that I could not

forbear desiring a Repetition of it, by crying out Altro Volto in a

very audible Voice; and my Friends flatter me, that I pronounced those

Words with a tolerable good Accent, considering that was but the third

Opera I had ever seen in my Life. Yet, notwithstanding all this, there

was so little Regard had to me, that the Lion was carried off, and

went to Bed, without being killed any more that Night. Now, Sir, pray

consider that I did not understand a Word of what Mr. Nicolini said to

this cruel Creature; besides, I have no Ear for Musick; so that during

the long Dispute between em, the whole Entertainment I had was from

my Eye; Why then have not I as much Right to have a graceful Action

repeated as another has a pleasing Sound, since he only hears as I

only see, and we neither of us know that there is any reasonable thing

a doing? Pray, Sir, settle the Business of this Claim in the Audience,

and let us know when we may cry Altro Volto, Anglicè, again, again,

for the Future. I am an Englishman, and expect some Reason or other to

be given me, and perhaps an ordinary one 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 rest of your Female

Correspondents, to address you about an Affair which has already given

you many a Speculation; and which, I know, I need not tell you have

had a very happy Influence over the adult Part of our Sex: But as many

of us are either too old to learn, or too obstinate in the Pursuit of

the Vanities which have been bred up with us from our Infancy, and all

of us quitting the Stage whilst you are prompting us to act our Part

well; you ought, methinks, rather to turn your Instructions for the

Benefit of that Part of our Sex, who are yet in their native

Innocence, and ignorant of the Vices and that Variety of Unhappinesses

that reign amongst us.

I must tell you, Mr. SPECTATOR, that it is as much a Part of your

Office to oversee the Education of the female Part of the Nation, as

well as of the Male; and to convince the World you are not partial,

pray proceed to detect the Male Administration of Governesses as

successfully as you have exposed that of Pedagogues; and rescue our

Sex from the Prejudice and Tyranny of Education as well as that of

your own, who without your seasonable Interposition are like to

improve upon the Vices that are now in vogue.

I who know the Dignity of your Post, as SPECTATOR, and the Authority a

skilful Eye ought to bear in the Female World, could not forbear

consulting you, and beg your Advice in so critical a Point, as is that

of the Education of young Gentlewomen. Having already provided myself

with a very convenient House in a good Air, I'm not without Hope but

that you will promote this generous Design. I must farther tell you,

Sir, that all who shall be committed to my Conduct, beside the usual

Accomplishments of the Needle, Dancing, and the French Tongue, shall

not fail to be your constant Readers. It is therefore my humble

Petition, that you will entertain the Town on this important Subject,

and so far oblige a Stranger, as to raise a Curiosity and Enquiry in

my Behalf, by publishing the following Advertisement.

I am, SIR,

Your constant Admirer,

M. W.

T.

* * * * *

ADVERTISEMENT.

The Boarding-School for young Gentlewomen, which was formerly kept on

Mile-End-Green, being laid down, there is now one set up almost opposite

to it at the two Golden-Balls, and much more convenient in every

Respect; where, beside the common Instructions given to young

Gentlewomen, they will be taught the whole Art of Paistrey and

Preserving, with whatever may render them accomplished. Those who please

to make Tryal of the Vigilance and Ability of the Persons concerned may

enquire at the two Golden-Balls on Mile-End-Green near Stepney, where

they will receive further Satisfaction.

This is to give Notice, that the SPECTATOR has taken upon him to be

Visitant of all Boarding-Schools, where young Women are educated; and

designs to proceed in the said Office after the same Manner that the

Visitants of Colleges do in the two famous Universities of this Land.

All Lovers who write to the SPECTATOR, are desired to forbear one

Expression which is in most of the Letters to him, either out of

Laziness, or want of Invention, and is true of not above two thousand

Women in the whole World; viz. She has in her all that is valuable in

Woman.

* * * * *

No. 315 Saturday, March 1, 1712. Addison.

Nec deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus

Inciderit.

Hor.

Horace advises a Poet to consider thoroughly the Nature and Force of his

Genius. [1] Milton seems to have known perfectly well, wherein his

Strength lay, and has therefore chosen a Subject entirely conformable to

those Talents, of which he was Master. As his Genius was wonderfully

turned to the Sublime, his Subject is the noblest that could have

entered into the Thoughts of Man. Every thing that is truly 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 into

the Constitution of his Poem.

Having in the First and Second Books represented the Infernal World with

all its Horrors, the Thread of his Fable naturally leads him into the

opposite Regions of Bliss and Glory.

If Milton's Majesty forsakes him any where, it is in those Parts of his

Poem, where the Divine Persons are introduced as Speakers. One may, I

think, observe that the Author proceeds with a kind of Fear and

Trembling, whilst he describes the Sentiments of the Almighty. He dares

not give his Imagination its full Play, but chuses to confine himself to

such Thoughts as are drawn from the Books of the most Orthodox Divines,

and to such Expressions as may be met with in Scripture. The Beauties,

therefore, which we are to look for in these Speeches, are not of a

Poetical Nature, nor so proper to fill the Mind with Sentiments of

Grandeur, as with Thoughts of Devotion. The Passions, which they are

designed to raise, are a Divine Love and Religious Fear. The Particular

Beauty of the Speeches in the Third Book, consists in that Shortness and

Perspicuity of Style, in which the Poet has couched the greatest

Mysteries of Christianity, and drawn together, in a regular Scheme, the

whole Dispensation 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 Incarnation and Redemption, (which

naturally grow up in a Poem that treats of the Fall of Man) with great

Energy of Expression, and in a clearer and stronger Light than I ever

met with in any other Writer. As these Points are dry in themselves to

the generality of Readers, the concise and clear manner in which he has

treated them, is very much to be admired, as is likewise that particular

Art which he has made use of 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 thing that is transacted

in it, is a Prospect worthy of Omniscience; and as much above that, in

which Virgil has drawn his Jupiter, as the Christian Idea of the Supreme

Being is more Rational and Sublime than that of the Heathens. The

particular Objects on which he is described to have cast his Eye, are

represented in the most beautiful and lively Manner.

Now had th' Almighty Father from above,

(From the pure Empyrean where he sits

High thron'd above all height) bent down his Eye,

His own Works and their Works at once to view.

About him all the Sanctities of Heavn

Stood thick as Stars, and from his Sight received

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 Satan there

Coasting the Wall of Heaven on this side Night,

In the dun air sublime; and ready now

To stoop with wearied wings, and willing feel

On the bare outside of this world, that seem'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, which immediately follows. The Effects of

this Speech in the blessed Spirits, and in the Divine Person to whom it

was addressed, cannot but fill the Mind of the Reader with a secret

Pleasure and Complacency.

Thus while God spake, ambrosial fragrance fill'd

All Heavn, and in the blessed Spirits elect

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 measure Grace.

I need not point out the Beauty of that Circumstance, wherein the whole

Host of Angels are represented as standing Mute; nor shew how proper the

Occasion was to produce such a Silence in Heaven. The Close of this

Divine Colloquy, with the Hymn of Angels that follows upon it, are so

wonderfully Beautiful and Poetical, that I should not forbear inserting

the whole Passage, if the Bounds of my Paper would give me 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, Heavn rung

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 globular Form, but, upon his nearer Approach,

looked like an unbounded Plain, is natural and noble: As his Roaming

upon the Frontiers of the Creation between that Mass of Matter, which

was wrought into a World, and that shapeless unformed Heap of Materials,

which still lay in Chaos and Confusion, strikes the Imagination with

something astonishingly great and wild. I have before spoken of the

Limbo of Vanity, which the Poet places upon this outermost Surface of

the Universe, and shall here explain my self more at large on that, and

other Parts of the Poem, which are of the same Shadowy Nature.

Aristotle observes[1], that the Fable of an Epic Poem should abound in

Circumstances that are both credible and astonishing; or as the French

Criticks chuse to phrase it, the Fable should be filled with the

Probable and the Marvellous. This Rule is as fine and just as any in

Aristotle's whole Art of Poetry.

If the Fable is only Probable, it differs nothing from a true History;

if it is only Marvellous, it is no better than a Romance. The great

Secret therefore of Heroic Poetry is to relate such Circumstances, as

may produce in the Reader at the same time both Belief and Astonishment.

This is brought to pass in a well-chosen Fable, by the Account of such

things as have really happened, or at least of such things as have

happened according to the received Opinions of Mankind. Milton's Fable

is a Masterpiece of this Nature; as the War in Heaven, the Condition of

the fallen Angels, the State of Innocence, and Temptation of the

Serpent, and the Fall of Man, though they are very astonishing in

themselves, are not only credible, 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, who are capable of effecting what is wonderful, and

what is not to be met with in the ordinary course of things. Ulysses's

Ship being turned into a Rock, and Æneas's Fleet into a Shoal of Water

Nymphs; though they are very surprising Accidents, are nevertheless

probable, when we are told that they were the Gods who thus transformed

them. It is this kind of Machinery which fills the Poems both of Homer

and Virgil with such Circumstances as are wonderful, but not impossible,

and so frequently produce in the Reader the most pleasing Passion that

can rise in the Mind of Man, which is Admiration. If there be any

Instance in the Æneid liable to Exception upon this Account, it is in

the Beginning of the Third Book, where Æneas is represented as tearing

up the Myrtle that dropped Blood. To qualifie this wonderful

Circumstance, Polydorus tells a Story from the Root of the Myrtle, that

the barbarous Inhabitants of the Country having pierced him with Spears

and Arrows, the Wood which was left in his Body took Root in his Wounds,

and gave Birth to that bleeding Tree. This Circumstance seems to have

the Marvellous without the Probable, because it is represented as

proceeding from Natural Causes, without the Interposition of any God, or

other Supernatural Power capable of producing it. 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, they are generally suited to our

Notions of the Things and Persons described, and tempered with a due

Measure of Probability. I must only make an Exception to the Limbo of

Vanity, with his Episode of Sin and Death, 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 to see a Possibility in

them; they are the Description of Dreams and Shadows, not of Things or

Persons. I know that many Criticks look upon the Stories of Circe,

Polypheme, the Sirens, nay the whole Odyssey and Iliad, to be

Allegories; but allowing this to be true, they are Fables, which

considering the Opinions of 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 ascribed to them, as the Circumstances

in which they are represented, might possibly have been Truths and

Realities. This Appearance of Probability is so absolutely requisite in

the greater kinds of Poetry, that Aristotle observes the Ancient Tragick

Writers made use of the Names of such great Men as had actually lived in

the World, tho the Tragedy proceeded upon Adventures they were never

engaged in, on purpose to make the Subject more Credible. In a Word,

besides the hidden Meaning of an Epic Allegory, the plain litteral Sense

ought to appear Probable. The Story should be such as an ordinary Reader

may acquiesce in, whatever Natural, Moral, or Political Truth may be

discovered in it by Men of greater Penetration.

Satan, after having long wandered upon the Surface, or outmost Wall of

the Universe, discovers at last a wide Gap in it, which led into the

Creation, and is described as the Opening through which the Angels pass

to and fro into the lower World, upon their Errands to Mankind. His

Sitting upon the Brink of this Passage, and taking a Survey of the whole

Face of Nature that appeared to him new and fresh in all its Beauties,

with the Simile illustrating this Circumstance, fills the Mind of the

Reader with as surprizing and glorious an Idea as any that arises in the

whole Poem. He looks down into that vast Hollow of the Universe with the

Eye, or (as Milton calls it in his first Book) with the Kenn of an

Angel. He surveys all the Wonders in this immense Amphitheatre that lye

between both the Poles of Heaven, and takes in at one View the whole

Round of the Creation.

His Flight between the several Worlds that shined on every side of him,

with the particular Description of the Sun, are set forth in all the

Wantonness of a luxuriant Imagination. His Shape, Speech and Behaviour

upon his transforming himself into an Angel of Light, are touched with

exquisite Beauty. The Poets Thought of directing Satan to the Sun,

which in the vulgar Opinion of Mankind is the most conspicuous Part of

the Creation, and the placing in it an Angel, is a Circumstance very

finely contrived, and the more adjusted to a Poetical Probability, as it

was a received Doctrine among the most famous Philosophers, that every

Orb had its Intelligence; and as an Apostle in Sacred Writ is said to

have seen such an Angel in the Sun. In the Answer which this Angel

returns to the disguised evil Spirit, there is such a becoming Majesty

as is altogether suitable to a Superior Being. The Part of it in which

he represents himself as present at the Creation, is very noble in it

self, and not only proper where it is introduced, but requisite to

prepare the Reader for what follows in the Seventh Book.

I saw when at his Word the formless Mass,

This Worlds material Mould, came to a Heap:

Confusion heard his Voice, and wild Uproar

Stood rul'd, stood vast Infinitude confin'd.

Till at his second Bidding Darkness fled,

Light shon, &c.

In the following Part of the Speech he points out the Earth with such

Circumstances, that the Reader can scarce forbear fancying himself

employed on the same distant View of it.

Look downward on the Globe whose hither Side

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 Third Book of Paradise

Lost, without taking Notice of that celebrated Complaint of Milton with

which it opens, and which certainly deserves all the Praises that have

been given it; tho as I have before hinted, it may rather be looked

upon as an Excrescence, than as an essential Part of the Poem. The same

Observation might be applied to that beautiful Digression upon

Hypocrisie, 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 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.

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 his Friends who stood

about him, if they thought he had acted his Part well; and upon

receiving such an Answer as was due to his extraordinary Merit, _Let me

then, says he, go off the Stage with your Applause_; using the

Expression with which the Roman Actors made their _Exit_ at the

Conclusion of a Dramatick Piece. I could wish that Men, while they are

in Health, would consider well the Nature of the Part they are engaged

in, and what Figure it will make in the Minds of those they leave behind

them: Whether it was worth coming into the World for; whether it be

suitable to a reasonable Being; in short, whether it appears Graceful in

this Life, or will turn to an Advantage in the next. Let the Sycophant,

or Buffoon, the Satyrist, or the Good Companion, consider with himself,

when his Body shall be laid in the Grave, and his Soul pass into another

State of Existence, how much it will redound to his Praise to have it

said of him, that no Man in England eat better, that he had an admirable

Talent at turning his Friends into Ridicule, that no Body out-did him at

an Ill-natured Jest, or that he never went to Bed before he had

dispatched his third Bottle. These are, however, very common Funeral

Orations, and Elogiums on deceased Persons who have acted among Mankind

with some Figure and Reputation.

But if we look into the Bulk of our Species, they are such as are not

likely to be remembred a Moment after their Disappearance. They leave

behind them no Traces of their Existence, but are forgotten as tho they

had never been. They are neither wanted by the Poor, regretted by the

Rich, [n]or celebrated by the Learned. They are neither missed in the

Commonwealth, nor lamented by private Persons. Their Actions are of no

Significancy to Mankind, and might have been performed by Creatures of

much less Dignity, than those who are distinguished by the Faculty of

Reason. An eminent French Author speaks somewhere to the following

Purpose: I have often seen from my Chamber-window two noble Creatures,

both of them of an erect Countenance and endowed with Reason. These two

intellectual Beings are employed from Morning to 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 sitting in the Club last

Night, gave us an Account of a sober Citizen, who died a few Days since.

This honest Man being of greater Consequence in his own Thoughts, than

in the Eye of the World, had for some Years past kept a Journal of his

Life. Sir ANDREW shewed us one Week of it. [Since [1]] the Occurrences

set down in it mark out such a Road of Action as that I have been

speaking of, I shall present my Reader with a faithful Copy of it; after

having first inform'd him, that the Deceased Person had in his Youth

been bred to Trade, but finding himself not so well turned for Business,

he had for several Years last past lived altogether upon a moderate

Annuity.

MONDAY, Eight-a-Clock. I put on my Cloaths and walked into the

Parlour.

Nine a-Clock, ditto. Tied my Knee-strings, and washed my Hands.

Hours Ten, Eleven and Twelve. Smoaked three 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. Chid Ralph 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 Afternoons Nap.

From Four to Six. Walked into the Fields. 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 Walk to 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. Tongue of 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 the Fields. Wind to the South.

From One to Two. Smoaked a Pipe and an half.

Two. Dined as usual. Stomach good.

Three. Nap broke by the falling of a 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 half an Hour in the Club before any

Body else came. Mr. Nisby of Opinion that the Grand Vizier was not

strangled the Sixth Instant.

Ten at Night. Went to Bed. Slept without waking till Nine next

Morning.

THURSDAY, Nine a-Clock. Staid within till Two a-Clock for Sir Timothy;

who did not bring me my Annuity according to his Promise.

Two in the Afternoon. Sate down to Dinner. Loss of Appetite. Small

Beer sour. Beef over-corned.

Three. Could not take my Nap.

Four and Five. Gave Ralph a box on the 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 Meditation upon Sir Timothy, who was

with me a Quarter before Twelve.

Twelve a-Clock. Bought a new Head to my Cane, and a Tongue to my

Buckle. Drank a Glass of Purl to recover 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. Nisby of 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, dreamt that I drank Small Beer with the

Grand Vizier.

SATURDAY. Waked at Eleven, walked in 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 and Hellier.

Three a-Clock. Overslept my self.

Six. Went to the Club. Like to have fal'n into a Gutter. Grand Vizier

certainly Dead. etc.

I question not but the Reader will be surprized to find the

above-mentioned Journalist taking so much care of a Life that was filled

with such inconsiderable Actions, and received so very small

Improvements; and yet, if we look into the Behaviour of many whom we

daily converse with, we shall find that most of their Hours are taken up

in those three Important Articles of Eating, Drinking and Sleeping. I do

not suppose that a Man loses his Time, who is not engaged in publick

Affairs, or in an Illustrious Course of Action. On the Contrary, I

believe our Hours may very often be more profitably laid out in such

Transactions as make no Figure in the World, than in such as are apt to

draw upon them the Attention of Mankind. One may become wiser and better

by several Methods 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 of

Employments during that Space of Time. This Kind of Self-Examination

would give them a true State of themselves, and incline them to consider

seriously what they are about. One Day would rectifie the Omissions of

another, and make a Man weigh all those indifferent Actions, which,

though they are easily forgotten, must certainly be accounted for.

L.

[Footnote 1: [As]]

* * * * *

No. 318. Wednesday, March 5, 1712. Steele.

[--non omnia possumus omnes.

Virg. [1]]

Mr. SPECTATOR,