His first appearance in the Assembly of fallen Angels, is work'd up with

Circumstances which give a delightful Surprize to the Reader; but there

is no Incident in the whole Poem which does this more than the

Transformation of the whole Audience, that follows the Account their

Leader gives them of his Expedition. The gradual Change of Satan himself

is describ'd after Ovid's manner, and may vie with any of those

celebrated Transformations which are look'd upon as the most beautiful

Parts in that Poets Works. Milton never fails of improving his own

Hints, and bestowing the last finishing Touches to every Incident which

is admitted into his Poem. The unexpected Hiss which rises in this

Episode, the Dimensions and Bulk of Satan so much superior to those of

the Infernal Spirits who lay under the same Transformation, with the

annual Change which they are supposed to suffer, are Instances of this

kind. The Beauty of the Diction is very remarkable in this whole

Episode, as I have observed in the sixth Paper of these Remarks the

great Judgment with which it was contrived.

The Parts of Adam and Eve, or the human Persons, come next under our

Consideration. Milton's Art is no where more shewn than in his

conducting the Parts of these our first Parents. The Representation he

gives of them, without falsifying the Story, is wonderfully contriv'd to

influence the Reader with Pity and Compassion towards them. Tho Adam

involves the whole Species in Misery, his Crime proceeds from a Weakness

which every Man is inclined to pardon and commiserate, as it seems

rather the Frailty of Human Nature, than of the Person who offended.

Every one is apt to excuse a Fault which he himself might have fallen

into. It was the Excess of Love for Eve, that ruin'd Adam, and his

Posterity. I need not add, that the Author is justify'd in this

Particular by many of the Fathers, and the most orthodox Writers. Milton

has by this means filled a great part of his Poem with that kind of

Writing which the French Criticks call the Tender, and which is in a

particular manner engaging to all sorts of Readers.

Adam and Eve, in the Book we are now considering, are likewise drawn

with such Sentiments as do not only interest the Reader in their

Afflictions, but raise in him the most melting Passions of Humanity and

Commiseration. When Adam sees the several Changes in Nature produced

about him, he appears in a Disorder of Mind suitable to one who had

forfeited both his Innocence and his Happiness; he is filled with

Horrour, Remorse, Despair; in the Anguish of his Heart he expostulates

with his Creator for having given him an unasked Existence.

Did I request thee, Maker, from my Clay

To mould me Man? did I sollicite thee

From Darkness to promote me? or here place

In this delicious Garden? As my Will

Concurr'd not to my Being, twere but right

And equal to reduce me to my Dust,

Desirous to resign, and render back

All I received--

He immediately after recovers from his Presumption, owns his Doom to be

just, and begs that the Death which is threatned him may be inflicted on

him.

--Why delays

His Hand to execute, what his Decree

Fix'd on this day? Why do I overlive?

Why am I mock'd with Death, and lengthened out

To deathless Pain? how gladly would I meet

Mortality my Sentence, and be Earth

Insensible! how glad would lay me down,

As in my Mothers Lap? there should I rest

And sleep secure; his dreadful Voice no more

Would thunder in my Ears: no fear of worse

To me and to my Offspring, would torment me

With cruel Expectation--

This whole Speech is full of the like Emotion, and varied with all those

Sentiments which we may suppose natural to a Mind so broken and

disturb'd. I must not omit that generous Concern which our first Father

shews in it for his Posterity, and which is so proper to affect the

Reader.

--Hide me from the Face

Of God, whom to behold was then my heighth

Of Happiness! yet well, if here would end

The Misery, I deserved it, and would bear

My own Deservings: but this will not serve;

All that I eat, or drink, or shall beget

Is propagated Curse. O Voice once heard

Delightfully, Increase and Multiply;

Now Death to hear!--

--In me all

Posterity stands curst! Fair Patrimony,

That I must leave ye, Sons! O were I able

To waste it all my self, and leave you none!

So disinherited, how would you bless

Me, now your Curse! Ah, why should all Mankind,

For one Man's Fault, thus guiltless be condemn'd,

If guiltless? But from me what can proceed

But all corrupt--

Who can afterwards behold the Father of Mankind extended upon the Earth,

uttering his midnight Complaints, bewailing his Existence, and wishing

for Death, without sympathizing with him in his Distress?

Thus Adam to himself lamented loud,

Thro the still Night; not now, (as ere Man fell)

Wholesome, and cool, and mild, but with black Air

Accompanied, with Damps and dreadful Gloom;

Which to his evil Conscience represented

All things with double Terror. On the Ground

Outstretched he lay; on the cold Ground! and oft

Curs'd his Creation; Death as oft accusd

Of tardy Execution--

The Part of Eve in this Book is no less passionate, and apt to sway the

Reader in her Favour. She is represented with great Tenderness as

approaching Adam, but is spurn d from him with a Spirit of Upbraiding

and Indignation, conformable to the Nature of Man, whose Passions had

now gained the Dominion over him. The following Passage, wherein she is

described as renewing her Addresses to him, with the whole Speech that

follows it, have something in them exquisitely moving and pathetick.

He added not, and from her turned: But Eve

Not so repulst, with Tears that ceas'd not flowing,

And Tresses all disorderd, at his feet

Fell humble; and embracing them, besought

His Peace, and thus proceeding in her Plaint.

Forsake me not thus, Adam! Witness Heav'n

What Love sincere, and Reverence in my Heart

I bear thee, and unweeting have offended,

Unhappily deceived! Thy Suppliant

I beg, and clasp thy Knees; bereave me not

(Whereon I live!) thy gentle Looks, thy Aid,

Thy Counsel, in this uttermost Distress,

My only Strength, and Stay! Forlorn of thee,

Whither shall I betake me, where subsist?

While yet we live, (scarce one short Hour perhaps)

Between us two let there be Peace, &c.

Adams Reconcilement to her is workd up in the same Spirit of

Tenderness. Eve afterwards proposes to her Husband, in the Blindness of

her Despair, that to prevent their Guilt from descending upon Posterity

they should resolve to live Childless; or, if that could not be done,

they should seek their own Deaths by violent Methods. As those

Sentiments naturally engage the Reader to regard the Mother of Mankind

with more than ordinary Commiseration, they likewise contain a very fine

Moral. The Resolution of dying to end our Miseries, does not shew such a

degree of Magnanimity as a Resolution to bear them, and submit to the

Dispensations of Providence. Our Author has therefore, with great

Delicacy, represented Eve as entertaining this Thought, and Adam as

disapproving it.

We are, in the last place, to consider the Imaginary Persons, or [Death

and Sin [3]] who act a large Part in this Book. Such beautiful extended

Allegories are certainly some of the finest Compositions of Genius: but,

as, I have before observed, are not agreeable to the Nature of an

Heroick Poem. This of Sin and Death is very exquisite in its Kind, if

not considered as a Part of such a Work. The Truths contained in it are

so clear and open, that I shall not lose time in explaining them; but

shall only observe, that a Reader who knows the Strength of the English

Tongue, will be amazed to think how the Poet could find such apt Words

and Phrases to describe the Action[s] of those two imaginary Persons,

and particularly in that Part where Death is exhibited as forming a

Bridge over the Chaos; a Work suitable to the Genius of Milton.

Since the Subject I am upon, gives me an Opportunity of speaking more at

large of such Shadowy and Imaginary Persons as may be introduced into

Heroick Poems, I shall beg leave to explain my self in a Matter which is

curious in its Kind, and which none of the Criticks have treated of. It

is certain Homer and Virgil are full of imaginary Persons, who are very

beautiful in Poetry when they are just shewn, without being engaged in

any Series of Action. Homer indeed represents Sleep as a Person, and

ascribes a short Part to him in his Iliad, [4] but we must consider that

tho we now regard such a Person as entirely shadowy and unsubstantial,

the Heathens made Statues of him, placed him in their Temples, and

looked upon him as a real Deity. When Homer makes use of other such

Allegorical Persons, it is only in short Expressions, which convey an

ordinary Thought to the Mind in the most pleasing manner, and may rather

be looked upon as Poetical Phrases than Allegorical Descriptions.

Instead of telling us, that Men naturally fly when they are terrified,

he introduces the Persons of Flight and Fear, who, he tells us, are

inseparable Companions. Instead of saying that the time was come when

Apollo ought to have received his Recompence, he tells us, that the

Hours brought him his Reward. Instead of describing the Effects which

Minervas Ægis produced in Battel, he tells us, that the Brims of it

were encompassed by Terror, Rout, Discord, Fury, Pursuit, Massacre, and

Death. In the same Figure of speaking, he represents Victory as

following Diomedes; Discord as the Mother of Funerals and Mourning;

Venus as dressed by the Graces; Bellona as wearing Terror and

Consternation like a Garment. I might give several other Instances out

of Homer, as well as a great many out of Virgil. Milton has likewise

very often made use of the same way of Speaking, as where he tells us,

that Victory sat on the right Hand of the Messiah when he marched forth

against the Rebel Angels; that at the rising of the Sun the Hours

unbarrd the Gates of Light; that Discord was the Daughter of Sin. Of

the same nature are those Expressions, where describing the singing of

the Nightingale, he adds, Silence was pleased; and upon the Messiahs

bidding Peace to the Chaos, Confusion heard his Voice. I might add

innumerable Instances of our Poets writing in this beautiful Figure. It

is plain that these I have mentioned, in which Persons of an imaginary

Nature are introduced, are such short Allegories as are not designed to

be taken in the literal Sense, but only to convey particular

Circumstances to the Reader after an unusual and entertaining Manner.

But when such Persons are introduced as principal Actors, and engaged in

a Series of Adventures, they take too much upon them, and are by no

means proper for an Heroick Poem, which ought to appear credible in its

principal Parts. I cannot forbear therefore thinking that Sin and Death

are as improper Agents in a Work of this nature, as Strength and

Necessity in one of the Tragedies of Eschylus, who represented those two

Persons nailing down Prometheus to a Rock, [5] for which he has been

justly censured by the greatest Criticks. I do not know any imaginary

Person made use of in a more sublime manner of thinking than that in one

of the Prophets, who describing God as descending from Heaven, and

visiting the Sins of Mankind, adds that dreadful Circumstance, Before

him went the Pestilence. [6] It is certain this imaginary Person might

have been described in all her purple Spots. The Fever might have

marched before her, Pain might have stood at her right Hand, Phrenzy on

her Left, and Death in her Rear. She might have been introduced as

gliding down from the Tail of a Comet, or darted upon the Earth in a

Flash of Lightning: She might have tainted the Atmosphere with her

Breath; the very glaring of her Eyes might have scattered Infection. But

I believe every Reader will think, that in such sublime Writings the

mentioning of her as it is done in Scripture, has something in it more

just, as well as great, than all that the most fanciful Poet could have

bestowed upon her in the Richness of his Imagination.

L.

[Footnote 1:

Reddere personæ scit convenientia cuique.

Hor.]

[Footnote 2: Revelation vi. 8.]

[Footnote 3: [Sin and Death]]

[Footnote 4: In the fourteenth Book, where Heré visits the home of

Sleep, the brother of Death, and offers him the bribe of a gold chain if

he will shut the eyes of Zeus, Sleep does not think it can be done. Heré

then doubles her bribe, and offers Sleep a wife, the youngest of the

Graces. Sleep makes her swear by Styx that she will hold to her word,

and when she has done so flies off in her company, sits in the shape of

a night-hawk in a pine tree upon the peak of Ida, whence when Zeus was

subdued by love and sleep, Sleep went down to the ships to tell Poseidon

that now was his time to help the Greeks.]

[Footnote 5: In the Prometheus Bound of Æschylus, the binding of

Prometheus by pitiless Strength, who mocks at compassion in the god

Hephaistos, charged to serve him in this office, opens the sublimest of

the ancient dramas. Addison is wrong in saying that there is a

personification here of Strength and Necessity; Hephaistos does indeed

say that he obeys Necessity, but his personified companions are Strength

and Force, and of these Force appears only as the dumb attendant of

Strength. Addisons greatest critics had something to learn when they

were blind to the significance of the contrast between Visible Strength

at the opening of this poem, and the close with sublime prophecy of an

unseen Power of the Future that disturbs Zeus on his throne, and gathers

his thunders about the undaunted Prometheus.

Now let the shrivelling flame at me be driven,

Let him, with flaky snowstorms and the crash

Of subterraneous thunders, into ruins

And wild confusion hurl and mingle all:

For nought of these will bend me that I speak

Who is foredoomed to cast him from his throne.

(Mrs. Websters translation.)]

[Footnote 6: Habakkuk iii. 5.]

* * * * *

No. 358. Monday, April 21, 1702. Steele.

Desipere in loco.

Hor.

Charles Lillie attended me the other day, and made me a Present of a

large Sheet of Paper, on which is delineated a Pavement of Mosaick Work,

lately discovered at Stunsfield near Woodstock. [1] A Person who has so

much the Gift of Speech as Mr. Lillie, and can carry on a Discourse

without Reply, had great Opportunity on that Occasion to expatiate upon

so fine a Piece of Antiquity. Among other things, I remember, he gave me

his Opinion, which he drew from the Ornaments of the Work, That this was

the Floor of a Room dedicated to Mirth and Concord. Viewing this Work,

made my Fancy run over the many gay Expressions I had read in ancient

Authors, which contained Invitations to lay aside Care and Anxiety, and

give a Loose to that pleasing Forgetfulness wherein Men put off their

Characters of Business, and enjoy their very Selves. These Hours were

usually passed in Rooms adorned for that purpose, and set out in such a

manner, as the Objects all around the Company gladdened their Hearts;

which, joined to the cheerful Looks of well-chosen and agreeable

Friends, gave new Vigour to the Airy, produced the latent Fire of the

Modest, and gave Grace to the slow Humour of the Reserved. A judicious

Mixture of such Company, crowned with Chaplets of Flowers, and the whole

Apartment glittering with gay Lights, cheared with a Profusion of Roses,

artificial Falls of Water, and Intervals of soft Notes to Songs of Love

and Wine, suspended the Cares of human Life, and made a Festival of

mutual Kindness. Such Parties of Pleasure as these, and the Reports of

the agreeable Passages in their Jollities, have in all Ages awakened the

dull Part of Mankind to pretend to Mirth and Good-Humour, without

Capacity for such Entertainments; for if I may be allowed to say so,

there are an hundred Men fit for any Employment, to one who is capable

of passing a Night in the Company of the first Taste, without shocking

any Member of the Society, over-rating his own Part of the Conversation,

but equally receiving and contributing to the Pleasure of the whole

Company. When one considers such Collections of Companions in past

Times, and such as one might name in the present Age, with how much

Spleen must a Man needs reflect upon the aukward Gayety of those who

affect the Frolick with an ill Grace? I have a Letter from a

Correspondent of mine, who desires me to admonish all loud, mischievous,

airy, dull Companions, that they are mistaken in what they call a

Frolick. Irregularity in its self is not what creates Pleasure and

Mirth; but to see a Man who knows what Rule and Decency are, descend

from them agreeably in our Company, is what denominates him a pleasant

Companion. Instead of that, you find many whose Mirth consists only in

doing Things which do not become them, with a secret Consciousness that

all the World know they know better: To this is always added something

mischievous to themselves or others. I have heard of some very merry

Fellows, among whom the Frolick was started, and passed by a great

Majority, that every Man should immediately draw a Tooth; after which

they have gone in a Body and smoaked a Cobler. The same Company, at

another Night, has each Man burned his Cravat; and one perhaps, whose

Estate would bear it, has thrown a long Wigg and laced Hat into the same

Fire. [2] Thus they have jested themselves stark naked, and ran into the

Streets, and frighted Women very successfully. There is no Inhabitant of

any standing in Covent-Garden, but can tell you a hundred good Humours,

where People have come off with little Blood-shed, and yet scowered all

the witty Hours of the Night. I know a Gentleman that has several Wounds

in the Head by Watch Poles, and has been thrice run through the Body to

carry on a good Jest: He is very old for a Man of so much Good-Humour;

but to this day he is seldom merry, but he has occasion to be valiant at

the same time. But by the Favour of these Gentlemen, I am humbly of

Opinion, that a Man may be a very witty Man, and never offend one

Statute of this Kingdom, not excepting even that of Stabbing.

The Writers of Plays have what they call Unity of Time and Place to give

a Justness to their Representation; and it would not be amiss if all who

pretend to be Companions, would confine their Action to the Place of

Meeting: For a Frolick carried farther may be better performed by other

Animals than Men. It is not to rid much Ground, or do much Mischief,

that should denominate a pleasant Fellow; but that is truly Frolick

which is the Play of the Mind, and consists of various and unforced

Sallies of Imagination. Festivity of Spirit is a very uncommon Talent,

and must proceed from an Assemblage of agreeable Qualities in the same

Person: There are some few whom I think peculiarly happy in it; but it

is a Talent one cannot name in a Man, especially when one considers that

it is never very graceful but where it is regarded by him who possesses

it in the second Place. The best Man that I know of for heightening the

Revel-Gayety of a Company, is Estcourt, [3]--whose Jovial Humour

diffuses itself from the highest Person at an Entertainment to the

meanest Waiter. Merry Tales, accompanied with apt Gestures and lively

Representations of Circumstances and Persons, beguile the gravest Mind

into a Consent to be as humourous as himself. Add to this, that when a

Man is in his good Grace, he has a Mimickry that does not debase the

Person he represents; but which, taking from the Gravity of the

Character, adds to the Agreeableness of it. This pleasant Fellow gives

one some Idea of the ancient Pantomime, who is said to have given the

Audience, in Dumb-show, an exact Idea of any Character or Passion, or an

intelligible Relation of any publick Occurrence, with no other

Expression than that of his Looks and Gestures. If all who have been

obliged to these Talents in Estcourt, will be at Love for Love to-morrow

Night, they will but pay him what they owe him, at so easy a Rate as

being present at a Play which no body would omit seeing, that had, or

had not ever seen it before.

[Footnote 1: In No. 353 and some following numbers of the Spectator

appeared an advertisement of this plate, which was engraved by Vertue.

Whereas about nine weeks since there was accidentally discovered by

an Husbandman, at Stunsfield, near Woodstock, in Oxfordshire, (a large

Pavement of rich Mosaick Work of the Ancient Romans, which is adornd

with several Figures alluding to Mirth and Concord, in particular that

of Bacchus seated on a Panther.) This is to give Notice the Exact

Delineation of the same is Engraven and Imprinted on a large Elephant

sheet of Paper, which are to be sold at Mr. Charles Lillies,

Perfumer, at the corner of Beauford Buildings, in the Strand, at 1s.

N.B. There are to be had, at the same Place, at one Guinea each, on

superfine Atlas Paper, some painted with the same variety of Colours

that the said Pavement is beautified with; this piece of Antiquity is

esteemed by the Learned to be the most considerable ever found in

Britain.

The fine pavement discovered at Stonesfield in 1711 measures 35 feet by

60, and although by this time groundworks of more than a hundred Roman

villas have been laid open in this country, the Stonesfield mosaic is

still one of the most considerable of its kind.]

[Footnote 2: Said to have been one of the frolics of Sir Charles Sedley.]

[Footnote 3: See note on p. 204, ante [Footnote 1 of No. 264].

Congreves Love for Love was to be acted at Drury Lane on Tuesday night

At the desire of several Ladies of Quality. For the Benefit of Mr.

Estcourt.]

* * * * *

No. 359. Tuesday, April 22, 1712. Budgell.

Torva leæna lupum sequitur, lupus ipse capellam;

Florentem cytisum sequitur lusciva capella.

Virg.

As we were at the Club last Night, I observd that my Friend Sir ROGER,

contrary to his usual Custom, sat very silent, and instead of minding

what was said by the Company, was whistling to himself in a very

thoughtful Mood, and playing with a Cork. I joggd Sir ANDREW FREEPORT

who sat between us; and as we were both observing him, we saw the Knight

shake his Head, and heard him say to himself, A foolish Woman! I cant

believe it. Sir ANDREW gave him a gentle Pat upon the Shoulder, and

offered to lay him a Bottle of Wine that he was thinking of the Widow.

My old Friend started, and recovering out of his brown Study, told Sir

ANDREW that once in his Life he had been in the right. In short, after

some little Hesitation, Sir ROGER told us in the fulness of his Heart

that he had just received a Letter from his Steward, which acquainted

him that his old Rival and Antagonist in the County, Sir David Dundrum,

had been making a Visit to the Widow. However, says Sir ROGER, I can

never think that shell have a Man thats half a Year older than I am,

and a noted Republican into the Bargain.

WILL. HONEYCOMB, who looks upon Love as his particular Province,

interrupting our Friend with a janty Laugh; I thought, Knight, says he,

thou hadst lived long enough in the World, not to pin thy Happiness upon

one that is a Woman and a Widow. I think that without Vanity I may

pretend to know as much of the Female World as any Man in Great-Britain,

tho' the chief of my Knowledge consists in this, that they are not to be

known. WILL, immediately, with his usual Fluency, rambled into an

Account of his own Amours. I am now, says he, upon the Verge of Fifty,

(tho' by the way we all knew he was turned of Threescore.) You may

easily guess, continued WILL., that I have not lived so long in the

World without having had some thoughts of settling in it, as the Phrase

is. To tell you truly, I have several times tried my Fortune that way,

though I can't much boast of my Success.

I made my first Addresses to a young Lady in the Country; but when I

thought things were pretty well drawing to a Conclusion, her Father

happening to hear that I had formerly boarded with a Surgeon, the old

Put forbid me his House, and within a Fortnight after married his

Daughter to a Fox-hunter in the Neighbourhood.

I made my next Applications to a Widow, and attacked her so briskly,

that I thought myself within a Fortnight of her. As I waited upon her

one Morning, she told me that she intended to keep her Ready-Money and

Jointure in her own Hand, and desired me to call upon her Attorney in

Lyons-Inn, who would adjust with me what it was proper for me to add to

it. I was so rebuffed by this Overture, that I never enquired either for

her or her Attorney afterwards.

A few Months after I addressed my self to a young Lady, who was an only

Daughter, and of a good Family. I danced with her at several Balls,

squeez'd her by the Hand, said soft things to her, and, in short, made

no doubt of her Heart; and though my Fortune was not equal to hers, I

was in hopes that her fond Father would not deny her the Man she had

fixed her Affections upon. But as I went one day to the House in order

to break the matter to him, I found the whole Family in Confusion, and

heard to my unspeakable Surprize, that Miss Jenny was that very Morning

run away with the Butler.

I then courted a second Widow, and am at a Loss to this day how I came

to miss her, for she had often commended my Person and Behaviour. Her

Maid indeed told me one Day, that her Mistress had said she never saw a

Gentleman with such a Spindle Pair of Legs as Mr. HONEYCOMB.

After this I laid Siege to four Heiresses successively, and being a

handsome young Dog in those Days, quickly made a Breach in their Hearts;

but I don't know how it came to pass, tho I seldom failed of getting the

Daughter's Consent, I could never in my Life get the old People on my

side.

I could give you an Account of a thousand other unsuccessful Attempts,

particularly of one which I made some Years since upon an old Woman,

whom I had certainly borne away with flying Colours, if her Relations

had not come pouring in to her Assistance from all Parts of England;

nay, I believe I should have got her at last, had not she been carried

off by an hard Frost.

As WILL'S Transitions are extremely quick, he turnd from Sir ROGER, and

applying himself to me, told me there was a Passage in the Book I had

considered last Saturday, which deserved to be writ in Letters of Gold;

and taking out a Pocket-Milton read the following Lines, which are Part

of one of Adam's Speeches to Eve after the Fall.

--O! why did our

Creator wise! that peopled highest Heav'n

With Spirits masculine, create at last

This Novelty on Earth, this fair Defect

Of Nature? and not fill the World at once

With Men, as Angels, without Feminine?

Or find some other way to generate

Mankind? This Mischief had not then befall'n,

And more that shall befall; innumerable

Disturbances on Earth through Female Snares,

And strait Conjunction with this Sex: for either

He never shall find out fit Mate, but such

As some misfortune brings him, or mistake;

Or, whom he wishes most, shall seldom gain

Through her perverseness; but shall see her gain'd

By a far worse; or if she love, with-held

By Parents; or his happiest Choice too late

Shall meet already link'd, and Wedlock bound

To a fell Adversary, his Hate or Shame;

Which infinite Calamity shall cause

To human Life, and Household Peace confound. [1]

Sir ROGER listened to this Passage with great Attention, and desiring

Mr. HONEYCOMB to fold down a Leaf at the Place, and lend him his Book,

the Knight put it up in his Pocket, and told us that he would read over

those Verses again before he went to Bed.

X.

[Footnote 1: Paradise Lost, Bk x., ll 898-908.]

* * * * *

No. 360. Wednesday, April 23, 1712. Steele.

--De paupertate tacentes

Plus poscente ferent.

Hor.

I have nothing to do with the Business of this Day, any further than

affixing the piece of Latin on the Head of my Paper; which I think a

Motto not unsuitable, since if Silence of our Poverty is a

Recommendation, still more commendable is his Modesty who conceals it by

a decent Dress.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

There is an Evil under the Sun which has not yet come within your

Speculation; and is, the Censure, Disesteem, and Contempt which some

young Fellows meet with from particular Persons, for the reasonable

Methods they take to avoid them in general. This is by appearing in a

better Dress, than may seem to a Relation regularly consistent with a

small Fortune; and therefore may occasion a Judgment of a suitable

Extravagance in other Particulars: But the Disadvantage with which the

Man of narrow Circumstances acts and speaks, is so feelingly set forth

in a little Book called the Christian Hero, [1] that the appearing to

be otherwise is not only pardonable but necessary. Every one knows the

hurry of Conclusions that are made in contempt of a Person that

appears to be calamitous, which makes it very excusable to prepare

ones self for the Company of those that are of a superior Quality and

Fortune, by appearing to be in a better Condition than one is, so far

as such Appearance shall not make us really of worse.

It is a Justice due to the Character of one who suffers hard

Reflections from any particular Person upon this Account, that such

Persons would enquire into his manner of spending his Time; of which,

tho no further Information can be had than that he remains so many

Hours in his Chamber, yet if this is cleared, to imagine that a

reasonable Creature wrung with a narrow Fortune does not make the best

use of this Retirement, would be a Conclusion extremely uncharitable.

From what has, or will be said, I hope no Consequence can be extorted,

implying, that I would have any young Fellow spend more Time than the

common Leisure which his Studies require, or more Money than his

Fortune or Allowance may admit of, in the pursuit of an Acquaintance

with his Betters: For as to his Time, the gross of that ought to be

sacred to more substantial Acquisitions; for each irrevocable Moment

of which he ought to believe he stands religiously Accountable. And as

to his Dress, I shall engage myself no further than in the modest

Defence of two plain Suits a Year: For being perfectly satisfied in

Eutrapeluss Contrivance of making a Mohock of a Man, by presenting

him with lacd and embroiderd Suits, I would by no means be thought

to controvert that Conceit, by insinuating the Advantages of Foppery.

It is an Assertion which admits of much Proof, that a Stranger of

tolerable Sense dressd like a Gentleman, will be better received by

those of Quality above him, than one of much better Parts, whose Dress

is regulated by the rigid Notions of Frugality. A Man's Appearance

falls within the Censure of every one that sees him; his Parts and

Learning very few are Judges of; and even upon these few, they cant

at first be well intruded; for Policy and good Breeding will counsel

him to be reservd among Strangers, and to support himself only by the

common Spirit of Conversation. Indeed among the Injudicious, the Words

Delicacy, Idiom, fine Images, Structure of Periods, Genius, Fire, and

the rest, made use of with a frugal and comely Gravity, will maintain

the Figure of immense Reading, and Depth of Criticism.

All Gentlemen of Fortune, at least the young and middle-aged, are apt

to pride themselves a little too much upon their Dress, and

consequently to value others in some measure upon the same

Consideration. With what Confusion is a Man of Figure obliged to

return the Civilities of the Hat to a Person whose Air and Attire

hardly entitle him to it? For whom nevertheless the other has a

particular Esteem, tho he is ashamed to have it challenged in so

publick a Manner. It must be allowed, that any young Fellow that

affects to dress and appear genteelly, might with artificial

Management save ten Pound a Year; as instead of fine Holland he might

mourn in Sackcloth, and in other Particulars be proportionably shabby:

But of what great Service would this Sum be to avert any Misfortune,

whilst it would leave him deserted by the little good Acquaintance he

has, and prevent his gaining any other? As the Appearance of an easy

Fortune is necessary towards making one, I dont know but it might be

of advantage sometimes to throw into ones Discourse certain

Exclamations about Bank-Stock, and to shew a marvellous Surprize upon

its Fall, as well as the most affected Triumph upon its Rise. The

Veneration and Respect which the Practice of all Ages has preserved to

Appearances, without doubt suggested to our Tradesmen that wise and

Politick Custom, to apply and recommend themselves to the publick by

all those Decorations upon their Sign-posts and Houses, which the most

eminent Hands in the Neighbourhood can furnish them with. What can be

more attractive to a Man of Letters, than that immense Erudition of

all Ages and Languages which a skilful Bookseller, in conjunction with

a Painter, shall image upon his Column and the Extremities of his

Shop? The same Spirit of maintaining a handsome Appearance reigns

among the grave and solid Apprentices of the Law (here I could be

particularly dull in [proving [2]] the Word Apprentice to be

significant of a Barrister) and you may easily distinguish who has

most lately made his Pretensions to Business, by the whitest and most

ornamental Frame of his Window: If indeed the Chamber is a

Ground-Room, and has Rails before it, the Finery is of Necessity more

extended, and the Pomp of Business better maintaind. And what can be

a greater Indication of the Dignity of Dress, than that burdensome

Finery which is the regular Habit of our Judges, Nobles, and Bishops,

with which upon certain Days we see them incumbered? And though it may

be said this is awful, and necessary for the Dignity of the State, yet

the wisest of them have been remarkable, before they arrived at their

present Stations, for being very well dressed Persons. As to my own

Part, I am near Thirty; and since I left School have not been idle,

which is a modern Phrase for having studied hard. I brought off a

clean System of Moral Philosophy, and a tolerable Jargon of

Metaphysicks from the University; since that, I have been engaged in

the clearing Part of the perplexd Style and Matter of the Law, which

so hereditarily descends to all its Professors: To all which severe

Studies I have thrown in, at proper Interims, the pretty Learning of

the Classicks. Notwithstanding which, I am what Shakespear calls A

Fellow of no Mark or Likelihood; [3] which makes me understand the

more fully, that since the regular Methods of making Friends and a

Fortune by the mere Force of a Profession is so very slow and

uncertain, a Man should take all reasonable Opportunities, by

enlarging a good Acquaintance, to court that Time and Chance which is

said to happen to every Man.

T.

[Footnote 1: The passage is nearly at the beginning of Steeles third

chapter,

It is in every bodys observation with what disadvantage a Poor Man

enters upon the most ordinary affairs, &c.]

[Footnote 2: [clearing]]

[Footnote 3: Henry IV. Pt. I. Act iii. sc. 2.]

* * * * *

No. 361. Thursday, April 24, 1712. Addison.

Tartaream intendit vocem, quâ protinus omnis

Contremuit domus--

Virg.

I have lately received the following Letter from a Country Gentleman.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

The Night before I left London I went to see a Play, called The

Humorous Lieutenant. [1] Upon the Rising of the Curtain I was very

much surprized with the great Consort of Cat-calls which was exhibited

that Evening, and began to think with myself that I had made a

Mistake, and gone to a Musick-Meeting, instead of the Play-house. It

appeared indeed a little odd to me to see so many Persons of Quality

of both Sexes assembled together at a kind of Catterwawling; for I

cannot look upon that Performance to have been any thing better,

whatever the Musicians themselves might think of it. As I had no

Acquaintance in the House to ask Questions of, and was forced to go

out of Town early the next Morning, I could not learn the Secret of

this Matter. What I would therefore desire of you, is, to give some

account of this strange Instrument, which I found the Company called a

Cat-call; and particularly to let me know whether it be a piece of

Musick lately come from Italy. For my own part, to be free with you, I

would rather hear an English Fiddle; though I durst not shew my

Dislike whilst I was in the Play-House, it being my Chance to sit the

very next Man to one of the Performers. I am, SIR,

Your most affectionate Friend

and Servant,

John Shallow, Esq.

In compliance with Esquire Shallows Request, I design this Paper as a

Dissertation upon the Cat-call. In order to make myself a Master of the

Subject, I purchased one the Beginning of last Week, though not without

great difficulty, being informd at two or three Toyshops that the

Players had lately bought them all up. I have since consulted many

learned Antiquaries in relation to its Original, and find them very much

divided among themselves upon that Particular. A Fellow of the Royal

Society, who is my good Friend, and a great Proficient in the

Mathematical Part of Musick, concludes from the Simplicity of its Make,

and the Uniformity of its Sound, that the Cat-call is older than any of

the Inventions of Jubal. He observes very well, that Musical Instruments

took their first Rise from the Notes of Birds, and other melodious

Animals; and what, says he, was more natural than for the first Ages of

Mankind to imitate the Voice of a Cat that lived under the same Roof

with them? He added, that the Cat had contributed more to Harmony than

any other Animal; as we are not only beholden to her for this

Wind-Instrument, but for our String Musick in general.

Another Virtuoso of my Acquaintance will not allow the Cat-call to be

older than Thespis, and is apt to think it appeared in the World soon

after the antient Comedy; for which reason it has still a place in our

Dramatick Entertainments: Nor must I here omit what a very curious

Gentleman, who is lately returned from his Travels, has more than once

assured me, namely that there was lately dug up at Rome the Statue of

Momus, who holds an Instrument in his Right-Hand very much resembling

our Modern Cat-call.

There are others who ascribe this Invention to Orpheus, and look upon

the Cat-call to be one of those Instruments which that famous Musician

made use of to draw the Beasts about him. It is certain, that the

Roasting of a Cat does not call together a greater Audience of that

Species than this Instrument, if dexterously played upon in proper Time

and Place.

But notwithstanding these various and learned Conjectures, I cannot

forbear thinking that the Cat-call is originally a Piece of English

Musick. Its Resemblance to the Voice of some of our British Songsters,

as well as the Use of it, which is peculiar to our Nation, confirms me

in this Opinion. It has at least received great Improvements among us,

whether we consider the Instrument it self, or those several Quavers and

Graces which are thrown into the playing of it. Every one might be

sensible of this, who heard that remarkable overgrown Cat-call which was

placed in the Center of the Pit, and presided over all the rest at [the

[2]] celebrated Performance lately exhibited in Drury-Lane.

Having said thus much concerning the Original of the Cat-call, we are in

the next place to consider the Use of it. The Cat-call exerts it self to

most advantage in the British Theatre: It very much Improves the Sound

of Nonsense, and often goes along with the Voice of the Actor who

pronounces it, as the Violin or Harpsichord accompanies the Italian

Recitativo.

It has often supplied the Place of the antient Chorus, in the Works of

Mr.----In short, a bad Poet has as great an Antipathy to a Cat-call, as

many People have to a real Cat.

Mr. Collier, in his ingenious Essay upon Musick [3] has the following

Passage:

I believe tis possible to invent an Instrument that shall have a

quite contrary Effect to those Martial ones now in use: An Instrument

that shall sink the Spirits, and shake the Nerves, and curdle the

Blood, and inspire Despair, and Cowardice and Consternation, at a

surprizing rate. Tis probable the Roaring of Lions, the Warbling of

Cats and Scritch-Owls, together with a Mixture of the Howling of Dogs,

judiciously imitated and compounded, might go a great way in this

Invention. Whether such Anti-Musick as this might not be of Service in

a Camp, I shall leave to the Military Men to consider.

What this learned Gentleman supposes in Speculation, I have known

actually verified in Practice. The Cat-call has struck a Damp into

Generals, and frighted Heroes off the Stage. At the first sound of it I

have seen a Crowned Head tremble, and a Princess fall into Fits. The

Humorous Lieutenant himself could not stand it; nay, I am told that even

Almanzor looked like a Mouse, and trembled at the Voice of this

terrifying Instrument.

As it is of a Dramatick Nature, and peculiarly appropriated to the

Stage, I can by no means approve the Thought of that angry Lover, who,

after an unsuccessful Pursuit of some Years, took leave of his Mistress

in a Serenade of Cat-calls.

I must conclude this Paper with the Account I have lately received of an

ingenious Artist, who has long studied this Instrument, and is very well

versed in all the Rules of the Drama. He teaches to play on it by Book,

and to express by it the whole Art of Criticism. He has his Base and his

Treble Cat-call; the former for Tragedy, the latter for Comedy; only in

Tragy-Comedies they may both play together in Consort. He has a

particular Squeak to denote the Violation of each of the Unities, and

has different Sounds to shew whether he aims at the Poet or the Player.

In short he teaches the Smut-note, the Fustian-note, the Stupid-note,

and has composed a kind of Air that may serve as an Act-tune to an

incorrigible Play, and which takes in the whole Compass of the Cat-call.

[L. [4]]

[Footnote 1: By Beaumont and Fletcher.]

[Footnote 2: [that]]

[Footnote 3: Essays upon several Moral Subjects, by Jeremy Collier, Part

II. p. 30 (ed. 1732). Jeremy Collier published the first volume of these

Essays in 1697, after he was safe from the danger brought on himself by

attending Sir John Friend and Sir William Perkins when they were

executed for the assassination plot. The other two volumes appeared

successively in 1705 and 1709. It was in 1698 that Collier published his

famous Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English

Stage.]

[Footnote 4: [Not being yet determined with whose Name to fill up the

Gap in this Dissertation which is marked with----, I shall defer it

till this Paper appears with others in a Volume. L.]]

* * * * *

No. 362. Friday, April 25, 1712. Steele.

Laudibus arguitur Vini vinosus--

Hor.

Temple, Apr. 24.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

Several of my Friends were this Morning got together over a Dish of

Tea in very good Health, though we had celebrated Yesterday with more

Glasses than we could have dispensed with, had we not been beholden to

Brooke and Hillier. In Gratitude therefore to those good Citizens, I

am, in the Name of the Company, to accuse you of great Negligence in

overlooking their Merit, who have imported true and generous Wine, and

taken care that it should not be adulterated by the Retailers before

it comes to the Tables of private Families, or the Clubs of honest

Fellows. I cannot imagine how a SPECTATOR can be supposed to do his

Duty, without frequent Resumption of such Subjects as concern our

Health, the first thing to be regarded, if we have a mind to relish

anything else. It would therefore very well become your Spectatorial

Vigilance, to give it in Orders to your Officer for inspecting Signs,

that in his March he would look into the Itinerants who deal in

Provisions, and enquire where they buy their several Wares. Ever since

the Decease of [Cully [1]]- Mully-Puff [2] of agreeable and noisy

Memory, I cannot say I have observed any thing sold in Carts, or

carried by Horse or Ass, or in fine, in any moving Market, which is

not perished or putrified; witness the Wheel-barrows of rotten

Raisins, Almonds, Figs, and Currants, which you see vended by a

Merchant dressed in a second-hand Suit of a Foot Soldier. You should

consider that a Child may be poisoned for the Worth of a Farthing; but

except his poor Parents send to one certain Doctor in Town, [3] they

can have no advice for him under a Guinea. When Poisons are thus

cheap, and Medicines thus dear, how can you be negligent in inspecting

what we eat and drink, or take no Notice of such as the

above-mentioned Citizens, who have been so serviceable to us of late

in that particular? It was a Custom among the old Romans, to do him

particular Honours who had saved the Life of a Citizen, how much more

does the World owe to those who prevent the Death of Multitudes? As

these Men deserve well of your Office, so such as act to the Detriment

of our Health, you ought to represent to themselves and their

Fellow-Subjects in the Colours which they deserve to wear. I think it

would be for the publick Good, that all who vend Wines should be under

oaths in that behalf. The Chairman at a Quarter Sessions should inform

the Country, that the Vintner who mixes Wine to his Customers, shall

(upon proof that the Drinker thereof died within a Year and a Day

after taking it) be deemed guilty of Wilful Murder: and the Jury shall

be instructed to enquire and present such Delinquents accordingly. It

is no Mitigation of the Crime, nor will it be conceived that it can be

brought in Chance-Medley or Man-Slaughter, upon Proof that it shall

appear Wine joined to Wine, or right Herefordshire poured into Port O

Port; but his selling it for one thing, knowing it to be another, must

justly bear the foresaid Guilt of wilful Murder: For that he, the said

Vintner, did an unlawful Act willingly in the false Mixture; and is

therefore with Equity liable to all the Pains to which a Man would be,

if it were proved he designed only to run a Man through the Arm, whom

he whipped through the Lungs. This is my third Year at the Temple, and

this is or should be Law. An ill Intention well proved should meet

with no Alleviation, because it [out-ran [4]] it self. There cannot be

too great Severity used against the Injustice as well as Cruelty of

those who play with Mens Lives, by preparing Liquors, whose Nature,

for ought they know, may be noxious when mixed, tho innocent when

apart: And Brooke and Hillier, [5] who have ensured our Safety at our

Meals, and driven Jealousy from our Cups in Conversation, deserve the

Custom and Thanks of the whole Town; and it is your Duty to remind

them of the Obligation. I am, SIR,

Your Humble Servant,

Tom. Pottle.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am a Person who was long immured in a College, read much, saw

little; so that I knew no more of the World than what a Lecture or a

View of the Map taught me. By this means I improved in my Study, but

became unpleasant in Conversation. By conversing generally with the

Dead, I grew almost unfit for the Society of the Living; so by a long

Confinement I contracted an ungainly Aversion to Conversation, and

ever discoursed with Pain to my self, and little Entertainment to

others. At last I was in some measure made sensible of my failing, and

the Mortification of never being spoke to, or speaking, unless the

Discourse ran upon Books, put me upon forcing my self amongst Men. I

immediately affected the politest Company, by the frequent use of

which I hoped to wear off the Rust I had contracted; but by an uncouth

Imitation of Men used to act in publick, I got no further than to

discover I had a Mind to appear a finer thing than I really was.

Such I was, and such was my Condition, when I became an ardent Lover,

and passionate Admirer of the beauteous Belinda: Then it was that I

really began to improve. This Passion changed all my Fears and

Diffidences in my general Behaviour, to the sole Concern of pleasing

her. I had not now to study the Action of a Gentleman, but Love

possessing all my Thoughts, made me truly be the thing I had a Mind to

appear. My Thoughts grew free and generous, and the Ambition to be

agreeable to her I admired, produced in my Carriage a faint Similitude

of that disengaged Manner of my Belinda. The way we are in at present

is, that she sees my Passion, and sees I at present forbear speaking

of it through prudential Regards. This Respect to her she returns with

much Civility, and makes my Value for her as little a Misfortune to

me, as is consistent with Discretion. She sings very charmingly, and

is readier to do so at my Request, because she knows I love her: She

will dance with me rather than another, for the same Reason. My

Fortune must alter from what it is, before I can speak my Heart to

her; and her Circumstances are not considerable enough to make up for

the Narrowness of mine. But I write to you now, only to give you the

Character of Belinda, as a Woman that has Address enough to

demonstrate a Gratitude to her Lover, without giving him Hopes of

Success in his Passion. Belinda has from a great Wit, governed by as

great Prudence, and both adorned with Innocence, the Happiness of

always being ready to discover her real Thoughts. She has many of us,

who now are her Admirers; but her Treatment of us is so just and

proportioned to our Merit towards her, and what we are in our selves,

that I protest to you I have neither Jealousy nor Hatred toward my

Rivals. Such is her Goodness, and the Acknowledgment of every Man who

admires her, that he thinks he ought to believe she will take him who

best deserves her. I will not say that this Peace among us is not

owing to Self-love, which prompts each to think himself the best

Deserver: I think there is something uncommon and worthy of Imitation

in this Ladys Character. If you will please to Print my Letter, you

will oblige the little Fraternity of happy Rivals, and in a more

particular Manner,

SIR,

Your most humble Servant,

Will. Cymon.

T.

[Footnote 1: [Mully]

[Footnote 2: See No. 251. He was a little man just able to bear on his

head his basket of pastry, and who was named from his cry. There is a

half-sheet print of him in the set of London Cries in Granger's

Biographical History of England.]

[Footnote 3: Who advertised that he attended patients at charges ranging

from a shilling to half-a-crown, according to their distance from his

house.]

[Footnote 4: [out-run]]

[Footnote 5: Estcourt, it may be remembered, connected the advertisement

of his Bumper tavern with the recommendation of himself as one ignorant

of the wine trade who relied on Brooke and Hellier, and so ensured his

Customers good wine. Among the advertisers in the Spectator Brooke and

Hellier often appeared. One of their advertisements is preceded by the

following, evidently a contrivance of their own, which shows that the

art of puffing was not then in its infancy:

'This is to give Notice, That Brooke and Hellier have not all the New

Port Wines this Year, nor above one half, the Vintners having bought

130 Pipes of Mr. Thomas Barlow and others, which are all natural, and

shall remain Genuine, on which all Gentlemen and others may depend.

Note.--Altho' Brooke and Hellier have asserted in several Papers that

they had 140 Pipes of New Oporto Wines coming from Bristol, it now

appears, since their landing, that they have only 133 Pipes, I Hhd. of

the said Wines, which shews plainly how little what they say is to be

credited.'

Then follows their long advertisement, which ends with a note that Their

New Ports, just landed, being the only New Ports in Merchants Hands, and

above One Half of all that is in London, will begin to be sold at the

old prices the I2th inst. (April) at all their Taverns and Cellars.]

* * * * *

No. 363. Saturday, April 26, 1712. Addison.

'--Crudelis ubique

Luctus, ubique pavor, et plurima Mortis

Imago.'

Virg.

Milton has shewn a wonderful Art in describing that variety of Passions

which arise in our first Parents upon the Breach of the Commandment that

had been given them. We see them gradually passing from the Triumph of

their Guilt thro Remorse, Shame, Despair, Contrition, Prayer, and Hope,

to a perfect and compleat Repentance. At the end of the tenth Book they

are represented as prostrating themselves upon the Ground, and watering

the Earth with their Tears: To which the Poet joins this beautiful

Circumstance, that they offerd up their penitential Prayers, on the very

Place where their Judge appeared to them when he pronounced their

Sentence.

--They forthwith to the place

Repairing where he judg'd them, prostrate fell

Before him Reverent, and both confess'd

Humbly their Faults, and Pardon begg'd, with Tears

Watering the Ground--

[There is a Beauty of the same kind in a Tragedy of Sophocles, where

OEdipus, after having put out his own Eyes, instead of breaking his Neck

from the Palace-Battlements (which furnishes so elegant an Entertainment

for our English Audience) desires that he may be conducted to Mount

Cithoeron, in order to end his Life in that very Place where he was

exposed in his Infancy, and where he should then have died, had the Will

of his Parents been executed.]

As the Author never fails to give a poetical Turn to his Sentiments, he

describes in the Beginning of this Book the Acceptance which these their

Prayers met with, in a short Allegory, formd upon that beautiful Passage

in holy Writ: And another Angel came and stood at the Altar, having a

golden Censer; and there was given unto him much Incense, that he should

offer it with the Prayers of all Saints upon the Golden Altar, which was

before the Throne: And the Smoak of the Incense which came with the

Prayers of the Saints, ascended up before God.

--To Heavn their Prayers

Flew up, nor miss'd the Way, by envious Winds

Blown vagabond or frustrate: in they passd

Dimensionless through heavnly Doors, then clad

With Incense, where the Golden Altar fumed,

By their great Intercessor, came in sight

Before the Father's Throne--

We have the same Thought expressed a second time in the Intercession of

the Messiah, which is conceived in very Emphatick Sentiments and

Expressions.

Among the Poetical Parts of Scripture, which Milton has so finely

wrought into this Part of his Narration, I must not omit that wherein

Ezekiel speaking of the Angels who appeared to him in a Vision, adds,

that every one had four Faces, and that their whole Bodies, and their

Backs, and their Hands, and their Wings, were full of Eyes round about.

--The Cohort bright

Of watchful Cherubims, four Faces each

Had like a double Janus, all their Shape

Spangled with Eyes--

The Assembling of all the Angels of Heaven to hear the solemn Decree

passed upon Man, is represented in very lively Ideas. The Almighty is

here describd as remembring Mercy in the midst of Judgment, and

commanding Michael to deliver his Message in the mildest Terms, lest the

Spirit of Man, which was already broken with the Sense of his Guilt and

Misery, should fail before him.

--Yet lest they faint

At the sad Sentence rigorously urg'd,

For I behold them softned, and with Tears

Bewailing their Excess, all Terror hide,

The Conference of Adam and Eve is full of moving Sentiments. Upon their

going abroad after the melancholy Night which they had passed together,

they discover the Lion and the Eagle pursuing each of them their Prey

towards the Eastern Gates of Paradise. There is a double Beauty in this

Incident, not only as it presents great and just Omens, which are always

agreeable in Poetry, but as it expresses that Enmity which was now

produced in the Animal Creation. The Poet to shew the like Changes in

Nature, as well as to grace his Fable with a noble Prodigy, represents

the Sun in an Eclipse. This particular Incident has likewise a fine

Effect upon the Imagination of the Reader, in regard to what follows;

for at the same time that the Sun is under an Eclipse, a bright Cloud

descends in the Western Quarter of the Heavens, filled with an Host of

Angels, and more luminous than the Sun it self. The whole Theatre of

Nature is darkned, that this glorious Machine may appear in all its

Lustre and Magnificence.

--Why in the East

Darkness ere Days mid-course, and morning Light

More orient in that Western Cloud that draws

O'er the blue Firmament a radiant White,

And slow descends, with something Heavnly fraught?

He err'd not, for by this the heavenly Bands

Down from a Sky of Jasper lighted now

In Paradise, and on a Hill made halt;

A glorious Apparition--

I need not observe how properly this Author, who always suits his Parts

to the Actors whom he introduces, has employed Michael in the Expulsion

of our first Parents from Paradise. The Archangel on this Occasion

neither appears in his proper Shape, nor in that familiar Manner with

which Raphael the sociable Spirit entertained the Father of Mankind

before the Fall. His Person, his Port, and Behaviour, are suitable to a

Spirit of the highest Rank, and exquisitely describd in the following

Passage.

--Th' Archangel soon drew nigh,

Not in his Shape Celestial; but as Man

Clad to meet Man: over his lucid Arms

A Military Vest of Purple flow'd,

Livelier than Meliboean, or the Grain

Of Sarra, worn by Kings and Heroes old,

In time of Truce: Iris had dipt the Wooff:

His starry Helm, unbuckled, shew'd him prime

In Manhood where Youth ended; by his side,

As in a glistring Zodiack, hung the Sword,

Satan's dire dread, and in his Hand the Spear.

Adam bow'd low, he Kingly from his State

Inclined not, but his coming thus declared.

Eve's Complaint upon hearing that she was to be removed from the Garden

of Paradise, is wonderfully beautiful: The Sentiments are not only

proper to the Subject, but have something in them particularly soft and

womanish.

Must I then leave thee, Paradise? Thus leave

Thee, native Soil, these happy Walks and Shades,

Fit haunt of Gods? Where I had hope to spend

Quiet, though sad, the respite of that Day

That must be mortal to us both. O Flowrs,

That never will in other Climate grow,

My early Visitation, and my last

At Even, which I bred up with tender Hand

From the first opening Bud, and gave you Names;

Who now shall rear you to the Sun, or rank

Your Tribes, and water from th' ambrosial Fount?

Thee, lastly, nuptial Bower, by me adorn'd

With what to Sight or Smell was sweet; from thee

How shall I part, and whither wander down

Into a lower World, to this obscure

And wild? how shall we breathe in other Air

Less pure, accustomd to immortal Fruits?

Adam's Speech abounds with Thoughts which are equally moving, but of a

more masculine and elevated Turn. Nothing can be conceived more Sublime

and Poetical than the following Passage in it.

This most afflicts me, that departing hence

As from his Face I shall be hid, deprived

His blessed Countnance: here I could frequent,

With Worship, place by place where he vouchsaf'd

Presence Divine; and to my Sons relate,

On this Mount he appear'd, under this Tree

Stood visible, among these Pines his Voice

I heard, here with him at this Fountain talk'd;

So many grateful Altars I would rear

Of grassy Turf, and pile up every Stone

Of lustre from the Brook, in memory

Or monument to Ages, and thereon

Offer sweet-smelling Gums and Fruits and Flowers.

In yonder nether World--where shall I seek

His bright Appearances, or Footsteps trace?

For though I fled him angry, yet recalled

To Life prolonged and promised Race, I now

Gladly behold though but his utmost Skirts

Of Glory, and far off his Steps adore.

The Angel afterwards leads Adam to the highest Mount of Paradise, and

lays before him a whole Hemisphere, as a proper Stage for those Visions

which were to be represented on it. I have before observed how the Plan

of Milton's Poem is in many Particulars greater than that of the Iliad

or Æneid. Virgil's Hero, in the last of these Poems, is entertained with

a Sight of all those who are to descend from him; but though that

Episode is justly admired as one of the noblest Designs in the whole

Æneid, every one-must allow that this of Milton is of a much higher

Nature. Adam's Vision is not confined to any particular Tribe of

Mankind, but extends to the whole Species.

In this great Review which Adam takes of all his Sons and Daughters, the

first Objects he is presented with exhibit to him the Story of Cain and

Abel, which is drawn together with much Closeness and Propriety of

Expression. That Curiosity and natural Horror which arises in Adam at

the Sight of the first dying Man, is touched with great Beauty.

But have I now seen Death? is this the way

I must return to native Dust? O Sight

Of Terror foul, and ugly to behold,

Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!

The second Vision sets before him the Image of Death in a great Variety

of Appearances. The Angel, to give him a general Idea of those Effects

which his Guilt had brought upon his Posterity, places before him a

large Hospital or Lazar-House, filled with Persons lying under all kinds

of mortal Diseases. How finely has the Poet told us that the sick

Persons languished under lingering and incurable Distempers, by an apt

and judicious use of such Imaginary Beings as those I mentioned in my

last Saturday's Paper.

Dire was the tossing, deep the Groans. Despair

Tended the Sick, busy from Couch to Couch;

And over them triumphant Death his Dart

Shook, but delayed to strike, though oft invoked

With Vows, as their chief Good and final Hope.

The Passion which likewise rises in Adam on this Occasion, is very

natural.

Sight so deform, what Heart of Rock could long

Dry-eyed behold? Adam could not, but wept,

Tho' not of Woman born; Compassion quell'd

His best of Man, and gave him up to Tears.

The Discourse between the Angel and Adam, which follows, abounds with

noble Morals.

As there is nothing more delightful in Poetry than a Contrast and

Opposition of Incidents, the Author, after this melancholy Prospect of

Death and Sickness, raises up a Scene of Mirth, Love, and Jollity. The

secret Pleasure that steals into Adams Heart as he is intent upon this

Vision, is imagined with great Delicacy. I must not omit the Description

of the loose female Troop, who seduced the Sons of God, as they are

called in Scripture.

For that fair female Troop thou sawst, that seemed

Of Goddesses, so Blithe, so Smooth, so Gay,

Yet empty of all Good wherein consists

Woman's domestick Honour and chief Praise;

Bred only and compleated to the taste

Of lustful Appetence, to sing, to dance,

To dress, and troule the Tongue, and roll the Eye:

To these that sober Race of Men, whose Lives

Religious titled them the Sons of God,

Shall yield up all their Virtue, all their Fame

Ignobly, to the Trains and to the Smiles

Of those fair Atheists--

The next Vision is of a quite contrary Nature, and filled with the

Horrors of War. Adam at the Sight of it melts into Tears, and breaks out

in that passionate Speech,

--O what are these!

Death's Ministers, not Men, who thus deal Death

Inhumanly to Men, and multiply

Ten Thousandfold the Sin of him who slew

His Brother: for of whom such Massacre

Make they but of their Brethren, Men of Men?

Milton, to keep up an agreeable Variety in his Visions, after having

raised in the Mind of his Reader the several Ideas of Terror which are

conformable to the Description of War, passes on to those softer Images

of Triumphs and Festivals, in that Vision of Lewdness and Luxury which

ushers in the Flood.

As it is visible that the Poet had his Eye upon Ovid's Account of the

universal Deluge, the Reader may observe with how much Judgment he has

avoided every thing that is redundant or puerile in the Latin Poet. We

do not here see the Wolf swimming among the Sheep, nor any of those

wanton Imaginations, which Seneca found fault with, [1] as unbecoming

[the [2]] great Catastrophe of Nature. If our Poet has imitated that

Verse in which Ovid tells us that there was nothing but Sea, and that

this Sea had no Shore to it, he has not set the Thought in such a Light

as to incur the Censure which Criticks have passed upon it. The latter

part of that Verse in Ovid is idle and superfluous, but just and

beautiful in Milton.

'Jamque mare et tellus nullum discrimen habebant,

Nil nisi pontus erat, deerant quoque littora ponto.'

(Ovid.)

'--Sea cover'd Sea,

Sea without Shore--'

(Milton.)

In Milton the former Part of the Description does not forestall the

latter. How much more great and solemn on this Occasion is that which

follows in our English Poet,

--And in their Palaces

Where Luxury late reign'd, Sea-Monsters whelp'd

And stabled--

than that in Ovid, where we are told that the Sea-Calfs lay in those

Places where the Goats were used to browze? The Reader may find several

other parallel Passages in the Latin and English Description of the

Deluge, wherein our Poet has visibly the Advantage. The Skys being

overcharged with Clouds, the descending of the Rains, the rising of the

Seas, and the Appearance of the Rainbow, are such Descriptions as every

one must take notice of. The Circumstance relating to Paradise is so

finely imagined, and suitable to the Opinions of many learned Authors,

that I cannot forbear giving it a Place in this Paper.

--Then shall this Mount

Of Paradise by might of Waves be mov'd

Out of his Place, pushed by the horned Flood

With all his Verdure spoil'd, and Trees adrift

Down the great River to the opning Gulf,

And there take root, an Island salt and bare,

The haunt of Seals and Orcs and Sea-Mews clang.

The Transition which the Poet makes from the Vision of the Deluge, to

the Concern it occasioned in Adam, is exquisitely graceful, and copied

after Virgil, though the first Thought it introduces is rather in the

Spirit of Ovid.

How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold

The End of all thy Offspring, End so sad,

Depopulation! thee another Flood

Of Tears and Sorrow, a Flood thee also drowned,

And sunk thee as thy Sons; till gently rear'd

By th' Angel, on thy Feet thou stoodst at last,

Tho' comfortless, as when a Father mourns

His Children, all in view destroyed at once.

I have been the more particular in my Quotations out of the eleventh

Book of Paradise Lost, because it is not generally reckoned among the

most shining Books of this Poem; for which Reason the Reader might be

apt to overlook those many Passages in it which deserve our Admiration.

The eleventh and twelfth are indeed built upon that single Circumstance

of the Removal of our first Parents from Paradise; but tho' this is not

in itself so great a Subject as that in most of the foregoing Books, it

is extended and diversified with so many surprising Incidents and

pleasing Episodes, that these two last Books can by no means be looked

upon as unequal Parts of this Divine Poem. I must further add, that had

not Milton represented our first Parents as driven out of Paradise, his

Fall of Man would not have been compleat, and consequently his Action

would have been imperfect.

L.

[Footnote 1: Nat. Quaest. Bk. III. §27.]

[Footnote 2: [this]]

* * * * *

No. 364. Monday, April 28, 1712. Steele.

'[--Navibus [1]] atque

Quadrigis petimus bene vivere.'

Hor.

Mr. SPECTATOR, [2]

A Lady of my Acquaintance, for whom I have too much Respect to be easy

while she is doing an indiscreet Action, has given occasion to this

Trouble: She is a Widow, to whom the Indulgence of a tender Husband

has entrusted the Management of a very great Fortune, and a Son about

sixteen, both which she is extremely fond of. The Boy has Parts of the

middle Size, neither shining nor despicable, and has passed the common

Exercises of his Years with tolerable Advantage; but is withal what

you would call a forward Youth: By the Help of this last

Qualification, which serves as a Varnish to all the rest, he is

enabled to make the best Use of his Learning, and display it at full

length upon all Occasions. Last Summer he distinguished himself two or

three times very remarkably, by puzzling the Vicar before an Assembly

of most of the Ladies in the Neighbourhood; and from such weighty

Considerations as these, as it too often unfortunately falls out, the

Mother is become invincibly persuaded that her Son is a great Scholar;

and that to chain him down to the ordinary Methods of Education with

others of his Age, would be to cramp his Faculties, and do an

irreparable Injury to his wonderful Capacity.

I happened to visit at the House last Week, and missing the young

Gentleman at the Tea-Table, where he seldom fails to officiate, could

not upon so extraordinary a Circumstance avoid inquiring after him. My

Lady told me, he was gone out with her Woman, in order to make some

Preparations for their Equipage; for that she intended very speedily

to carry him to travel. The Oddness of the Expression shock'd me a

little; however, I soon recovered my self enough to let her know, that

all I was willing to understand by it was, that she designed this

Summer to shew her Son his Estate in a distant County, in which he has

never yet been: But she soon took care to rob me of that agreeable

Mistake, and let me into the whole Affair. She enlarged upon young

Master's prodigious Improvements, and his comprehensive Knowledge of

all Book-Learning; concluding, that it was now high time he should be

made acquainted with Men and Things; that she had resolved he should

make the Tour of France and Italy, but could not bear to have him out

of her Sight, and therefore intended to go along with him.

I was going to rally her for so extravagant a Resolution, but found my

self not in fit Humour to meddle with a Subject that demanded the most

soft and delicate Touch imaginable. I was afraid of dropping something

that might seem to bear hard either upon the Son's Abilities, or the

Mother's Discretion; being sensible that in both these Cases, tho'

supported with all the Powers of Reason, I should, instead of gaining

her Ladyship over to my Opinion, only expose my self to her Disesteem:

I therefore immediately determined to refer the whole Matter to the

SPECTATOR.

When I came to reflect at Night, as my Custom is, upon the Occurrences

of the Day, I could not but believe that this Humour of carrying a Boy

to travel in his Mother's Lap, and that upon pretence of learning Men

and Things, is a Case of an extraordinary Nature, and carries on it a

particular Stamp of Folly. I did not remember to have met with its

Parallel within the Compass of my Observation, tho' I could call to

mind some not extremely unlike it. From hence my Thoughts took

Occasion to ramble into the general Notion of Travelling, as it is now

made a Part of Education. Nothing is more frequent than to take a Lad

from Grammar and Taw, and under the Tuition of some poor Scholar, who

is willing to be banished for thirty Pounds a Year, and a little

Victuals, send him crying and snivelling into foreign Countries. Thus

he spends his time as Children do at Puppet-Shows, and with much the

same Advantage, in staring and gaping at an amazing Variety of strange

things: strange indeed to one who is not prepared to comprehend the

Reasons and Meaning of them; whilst he should be laying the solid

Foundations of Knowledge in his Mind, and furnishing it with just

Rules to direct his future Progress in Life under some skilful Master

of the Art of Instruction.

Can there be a more astonishing Thought in Nature, than to consider

how Men should fall into so palpable a Mistake? It is a large Field,

and may very well exercise a sprightly Genius; but I don't remember

you have yet taken a Turn in it. I wish, Sir, you would make People

understand, that Travel is really the last Step to be taken in the

Institution of Youth; and to set out with it, is to begin where they

should end.

Certainly the true End of visiting Foreign Parts, is to look into

their Customs and Policies, and observe in what Particulars they excel

or come short of our own; to unlearn some odd Peculiarities in our

Manners, and wear off such awkward Stiffnesses and Affectations in our

Behaviour, as may possibly have been contracted from constantly

associating with one Nation of Men, by a more free, general, and mixed

Conversation. But how can any of these Advantages be attained by one

who is a mere Stranger to the Custom sand Policies of his native

Country, and has not yet fixed in his Mind the first Principles of

Manners and Behaviour? To endeavour it, is to build a gawdy Structure

without any Foundation; or, if I may be allow'd the Expression, to

work a rich Embroidery upon a Cobweb.

Another End of travelling which deserves to be considerd, is the

Improving our Taste of the best Authors of Antiquity, by seeing the

Places where they lived, and of which they wrote; to compare the

natural Face of the Country with the Descriptions they have given us,

and observe how well the Picture agrees with the Original. This must

certainly be a most charming Exercise to the Mind that is rightly

turned for it; besides that it may in a good measure be made

subservient to Morality, if the Person is capable of drawing just

Conclusions concerning the Uncertainty of human things, from the

ruinous Alterations Time and Barbarity have brought upon so many

Palaces, Cities and whole Countries, which make the most illustrious

Figures in History. And this Hint may be not a little improved by

examining every Spot of Ground that we find celebrated as the Scene of

some famous Action, or retaining any Footsteps of a Cato, Cicero or

Brutus, or some such great virtuous Man. A nearer View of any such

Particular, tho really little and trifling in it self, may serve the

more powerfully to warm a generous Mind to an Emulation of their

Virtues, and a greater Ardency of Ambition to imitate their bright

Examples, if it comes duly temper'd and prepar'd for the Impression.

But this I believe you'll hardly think those to be, who are so far

from ent'ring into the Sense and Spirit of the Ancients, that they

don't yet understand their Language with any [Exactness. [3]]

But I have wander'd from my Purpose, which was only to desire you to

save, if possible, a fond English Mother, and Mother's own Son, from

being shewn a ridiculous Spectacle thro' the most polite Part of

Europe, Pray tell them, that though to be Sea-sick, or jumbled in an

outlandish Stage-Coach, may perhaps be healthful for the Constitution

of the Body, yet it is apt to cause such a Dizziness in young empty

Heads, as too often lasts their Life-time.

I am, SIR,

Your most Humble Servant,

Philip Homebred.

Birchan-Lane.

SIR,

I was marry'd on Sunday last, and went peaceably to bed; but, to my

Surprize, was awakend the next Morning by the Thunder of a Set of

Drums. These warlike Sounds (methinks) are very improper in a

Marriage-Consort, and give great Offence; they seem to insinuate, that

the Joys of this State are short, and that Jars and Discord soon

ensue. I fear they have been ominous to many Matches, and sometimes

proved a Prelude to a Battel in the Honey-Moon. A Nod from you may

hush them; therefore pray, Sir, let them be silenced, that for the

future none but soft Airs may usher in the Morning of a Bridal Night,

which will be a Favour not only to those who come after, but to me,

who can still subscribe my self,

Your most humble

and most obedient Servant,

Robin Bridegroom.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am one of that sort of Women whom the gayer Part of our Sex are apt

to call a Prude. But to shew them that I have very little Regard to

their Raillery, I shall be glad to see them all at The Amorous Widow,

or the Wanton Wife, which is to be acted, for the Benefit of Mrs.

Porter, on Monday the 28th Instant. I assure you I can laugh at an

Amorous Widow, or Wanton Wife, with as little Temptation to imitate

them, as I could at any other vicious Character. Mrs. Porter obliged

me so very much in the exquisite Sense she seemed to have of the

honourable Sentiments and noble Passions in the Character of Hermione,

that I shall appear in her behalf at a Comedy, tho I have not great

Relish for any Entertainments where the Mirth is not seasond with a

certain Severity, which ought to recommend it to People who pretend to

keep Reason and Authority over all their Actions.

I am, SIR,

Your frequent Reader,

Altamira.

T.

[Footnote 1: [Strenua nos exercet inertia: Navibus.]]

[Footnote 2: Dr. Thomas Birch, in a letter dated June 15, 1764, says

that this letter was by Mr. Philip Yorke, afterwards Earl of Hardwicke,

who was author also of another piece in the Spectator, but his son could

not remember what that was.]

[Footnote 3:

[Exactness.

I cant quit this head without paying my Acknowledgments to one of the

most entertaining Pieces this Age has produc'd, for the Pleasure it gave

me. You will easily guess, that the Book I have in my head is Mr. A----s

Remarks upon Italy. That Ingenious gentleman has with so much Art and

Judgment applied his exact Knowledge of all the Parts of Classical

Learning to illustrate the several occurrences of his Travels, that his

Work alone is a pregnant Proof of what I have said. No Body that has a

Taste this way, can read him going from Rome to Naples, and making

Horace and Silius Italicus his Chart, but he must feel some Uneasiness

in himself to Reflect that he was not in his Retinue. I am sure I wish'd

it Ten Times in every Page, and that not without a secret Vanity to

think in what State I should have Travelled the Appian Road with Horace

for a Guide, and in company with a Countryman of my own, who of all Men

living knows best how to follow his Steps.]

* * * * *

No. 365. Tuesday, April 29, 1712. Budgell.

'Vere magis, quia vere calor redit ossibus--'

Virg.

The author of the Menagiana acquaints us, that discoursing one Day with

several Ladies of Quality about the Effects of the Month of May, which

infuses a kindly Warmth into the Earth, and all its Inhabitants; the

Marchioness of S----, who was one of the Company, told him, That though

she would promise to be chaste in every Month besides, she could not

engage for her self in May. As the beginning therefore of this Month is

now very near, I design this Paper for a Caveat to the Fair Sex, and

publish it before April is quite out, that if any of them should be

caught tripping, they may not pretend they had not timely Notice.

I am induced to this, being persuaded the above-mentioned Observation is

as well calculated for our Climate as for that of France, and that some

of our British Ladies are of the same Constitution with the French

Marchioness.

I shall leave it among Physicians to determine what may be the Cause of

such an Anniversary Inclination; whether or no it is that the Spirits

after having been as it were frozen and congealed by Winter, are now

turned loose, and set a rambling; or that the gay Prospects of Fields

and Meadows, with the Courtship of the Birds in every Bush, naturally

unbend the Mind, and soften it to Pleasure; or that, as some have

imagined, a Woman is prompted by a kind of Instinct to throw herself on

a Bed of Flowers, and not to let those beautiful Couches which Nature

has provided lie useless. However it be, the Effects of this Month on

the lower part of the Sex, who act without Disguise, [are [1]] very

visible. It is at this time that we see the young Wenches in a Country

Parish dancing round a May-Pole, which one of our learned Antiquaries

supposes to be a Relique of a certain Pagan Worship that I do not think

fit to mention.

It is likewise on the first Day of this Month that we see the ruddy

Milk-Maid exerting her self in a most sprightly manner under a Pyramid

of Silver-Tankards, and, like the Virgin Tarpeia, oppress'd by the

costly Ornaments which her Benefactors lay upon her.

I need not mention the Ceremony of the Green Gown, which is also

peculiar to this gay Season.

The same periodical Love-Fit spreads through the whole Sex, as Mr.

Dryden well observes in his Description of this merry Month:

For thee, sweet Month, the Groves green Livries wear,

If not the first, the fairest of the Year;

For thee the Graces lead the dancing Hours,

And Nature's ready Pencil paints the Flow'rs.

The sprightly May commands our Youth to keep

The Vigils of her Night, and breaks their Sleep;

Each gentle Breast with kindly Warmth she moves,

Inspires new Flames, revives extinguish'd Loves. [2]

Accordingly among the Works of the great Masters in Painting, who have

drawn this genial Season of the Year, we often observe Cupids confused

with Zephirs flying up and down promiscuously in several Parts of the

Picture. I cannot but add from my own Experience, that about this Time

of the Year Love-Letters come up to me in great Numbers from all

Quarters of the Nation.

I receiv'd an Epistle in particular by the last Post from a Yorkshire

Gentleman, who makes heavy Complaints of one Zelinda, whom it seems he

has courted unsuccessfully these three Years past. He tells me that he

designs to try her this May, and if he does not carry his Point, he will

never think of her more.

Having thus fairly admonished the female Sex, and laid before them the

Dangers they are exposed to in this critical Month, I shall in the next

place lay down some Rules and Directions for their better avoiding those

Calentures which are so very frequent in this Season.

In the first place, I would advise them never to venture abroad in the

Fields, but in the Company of a Parent, a Guardian, or some other sober

discreet Person. I have before shewn how apt they are to trip in a

flowry Meadow, and shall further observe to them, that Proserpine was

out a Maying, when she met with that fatal Adventure to which Milton

alludes when he mentions

--That fair Field

Of Enna, where Proserpine gathering Flowers,

Herself a fairer Flower, by gloomy Dis

Was gathered--[3]

Since I am got into Quotations, I shall conclude this Head with Virgil's

Advice to young People, while they are gathering wild Strawberries and

Nosegays, that they should have a care of the Snake in the Grass.

In the second place, I cannot but approve those Prescriptions, which our

Astrological Physicians give in their Almanacks for this Month; such as

are a spare and simple Diet, with the moderate Use of Phlebotomy.

Under this Head of Abstinence I shall also advise my fair Readers to be

in a particular manner careful how they meddle with Romances, Chocolate,

Novels, and the like Inflamers, which I look upon as very dangerous to

be made use of during this great Carnival of Nature.

As I have often declared, that I have nothing more at heart than the

Honour of my dear Country-Women, I would beg them to consider, whenever

their Resolutions begin to fail them, that there are but one and thirty

Days of this soft Season, and that if they can but weather out this one

Month, the rest of the Year will be easy to them. As for that Part of

the Fair-Sex who stay in Town, I would advise them to be particularly

cautious how they give themselves up to their most innocent

Entertainments. If they cannot forbear the Play-house, I would recommend

Tragedy to them, rather than Comedy; and should think the Puppet-show

much safer for them than the Opera, all the while the Sun is in Gemini.

The Reader will observe, that this Paper is written for the use of those

Ladies who think it worth while to war against Nature in the Cause of

Honour. As for that abandon'd Crew, who do not think Virtue worth

contending for, but give up their Reputation at the first Summons, such

Warnings and Premonitions are thrown away upon them. A Prostitute is the

same easy Creature in all Months of the Year, and makes no difference

between May and December.

X.

[Footnote 1: [is] and in first Reprint.]

[Footnote 2: This quotation is made up of two passages in Dryden's

version of Chaucer's Knights Tale, Palamon and Arcite. The first four

lines are from Bk. ii. 11. 663-666, the other four lines are from Bk. i.

11. 176-179.]

[Footnote 3: Paradise Lost, Bk. iv. 11. 268-271.]

* * * * *

No. 366. Wednesday, April 30, 1712. Steele.

'Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis

Arbor æstiva recreatur aura,

Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,

Dulce loquentem.'

Hor.

There are such wild Inconsistencies in the Thoughts of a Man in love,

that I have often reflected there can be no reason for allowing him more

Liberty than others possessed with Frenzy, but that his Distemper has no

Malevolence in it to any Mortal. That Devotion to his Mistress kindles

in his Mind a general Tenderness, which exerts it self towards every

Object as well as his Fair-one. When this Passion is represented by

Writers, it is common with them to endeavour at certain Quaintnesses and

Turns of Imagination, which are apparently the Work of a Mind at ease;

but the Men of true Taste can easily distinguish the Exertion of a Mind

which overflows with tender Sentiments, and the Labour of one which is

only describing Distress. In Performances of this kind, the most absurd

of all things is to be witty; every Sentiment must grow out of the

Occasion, and be suitable to the Circumstances of the Character. Where

this Rule is transgressed, the humble Servant, in all the fine things he

says, is but shewing his Mistress how well he can dress, instead of

saying how well he loves. Lace and Drapery is as much a Man, as Wit and

Turn is Passion.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

The following Verses are a Translation of a Lapland Love-Song, which I

met with in Scheffer's History of that Country. [1] I was agreeably

surprized to find a Spirit of Tenderness and Poetry in a Region which

I never suspected for Delicacy. In hotter Climates, tho' altogether

uncivilized, I had not wonder'd if I had found some sweet wild Notes

among the Natives, where they live in Groves of Oranges, and hear the

Melody of Birds about them: But a Lapland Lyric, breathing Sentiments

of Love and Poetry, not unworthy old Greece or Rome; a regular Ode

from a Climate pinched with Frost, and cursed with Darkness so great a

Part of the Year; where 'tis amazing that the poor Natives should get

Food, or be tempted to propagate their Species: this, I confess,

seemed a greater Miracle to me, than the famous Stories of their

Drums, their Winds and Inchantments.

I am the bolder in commending this Northern Song, because I have

faithfully kept to the Sentiments, without adding or diminishing; and

pretend to no greater Praise from my Translation, than they who smooth

and clean the Furs of that Country which have suffered by Carriage.

The Numbers in the Original are as loose and unequal, as those in

which the British Ladies sport their Pindaricks; and perhaps the

fairest of them might not think it a disagreeable Present from a

Lover: But I have ventured to bind it in stricter Measures, as being

more proper for our Tongue, tho perhaps wilder Graces may better suit

the Genius of the Laponian Language.

It will be necessary to imagine, that the Author of this Song, not

having the Liberty of visiting his Mistress at her Father's House, was

in hopes of spying her at a Distance in the Fields.

I. Thou rising Sun, whose gladsome Ray

Invites my Fair to Rural Play,

Dispel the Mist, and clear the Skies,

And bring my Orra to my Eyes.

II. Oh! were I sure my Dear to view,

I'd climb that Pine-Trees topmost Bough,

Aloft in Air that quivering plays,

And round and round for ever gaze.

III. My Orra Moor, where art thou laid?

What Wood conceals my sleeping Maid?

Fast by the Roots enrag'd I'll tear

The Trees that hide my promised Fair.

IV. Oh! I cou'd ride the Clouds and Skies,

Or on the Raven's Pinions rise:

Ye Storks, ye Swans, a moment stay,

And waft a Lover on his Way.

V. My Bliss too long my Bride denies,

Apace the wasting Summer flies:

Nor yet the wintry Blasts I fear,

Not Storms or Night shall keep me here.

VI. What may for Strength with Steel compare?

Oh! Love has Fetters stronger far:

By Bolts of Steel are Limbs confin'd,

But cruel Love enchains the Mind.

VII. No longer then perplex thy Breast,

When Thoughts torment, the first are best;

'Tis mad to go, 'tis Death to stay,

Away to Orra, haste away.

April the 10th.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am one of those despicable Creatures called a Chamber-Maid, and have

lived with a Mistress for some time, whom I love as my Life, which has

made my Duty and Pleasure inseparable. My greatest Delight has been in

being imploy'd about her Person; and indeed she is very seldom out of

Humour for a Woman of her Quality: But here lies my Complaint, Sir; To

bear with me is all the Encouragement she is pleased to bestow upon

me; for she gives her cast-off Cloaths from me to others: some she is

pleased to bestow in the House to those that neither wants nor wears

them, and some to Hangers-on, that frequents the House daily, who

comes dressed out in them. This, Sir, is a very mortifying Sight to

me, who am a little necessitous for Cloaths, and loves to appear what

I am, and causes an Uneasiness, so that I can't serve with that

Chearfulness as formerly; which my Mistress takes notice of, and calls

Envy and Ill-Temper at seeing others preferred before me. My Mistress

has a younger Sister lives in the House with her, that is some

Thousands below her in Estate, who is continually heaping her Favours

on her Maid; so that she can appear every Sunday, for the first

Quarter, in a fresh Suit of Cloaths of her Mistress's giving, with all

other things suitable: All this I see without envying, but not without

wishing my Mistress would a little consider what a Discouragement it

is to me to have my Perquisites divided between Fawners and Jobbers,

which others enjoy intire to themselves. I have spoke to my Mistress,

but to little Purpose; I have desired to be discharged (for indeed I

fret my self to nothing) but that she answers with Silence. I beg,

Sir, your Direction what to do, for I am fully resolved to follow your

Counsel; who am

Your Admirer and humble Servant,

Constantia Comb-brush.

I beg that you would put it in a better Dress, and let it come abroad;

that my Mistress, who is an Admirer of your Speculations, may see it.

T.

[Footnote 1: John Scheffer, born in 1621, at Strasburg, was at the age

of 27 so well-known for his learning, that he was invited to Sweden,

where he received a liberal pension from Queen Christina as her

librarian, and was also a Professor of Law and Rhetoric in the

University of Upsala. He died in 1679. He was the author of 27 works,

among which is his Lapponia, a Latin description of Lapland, published

in 1673, of which an English version appeared at Oxford in folio, in

1674. The song is there given in the original Lapp, and in a rendering

of Scheffers Latin less conventionally polished than that published by

the Spectator, which is Ambrose Philipss translation of a translation.

In the Oxford translation there were six stanzas of this kind:

With brightest beams let the Sun shine

On Orra Moor.

Could I be sure

That from the top o' th' lofty Pine

I Orra Moor might see,

I to his highest Bough would climb,

And with industrious Labour try

Thence to descry

My Mistress if that there she be.

Could I but know amidst what Flowers

Or in what Shade she stays,

The gaudy Bowers,

With all their verdant Pride,

Their Blossoms and their Sprays,

Which make my Mistress disappear;

And her in envious Darkness hide,

I from the Roots and Beds of Earth would tear.

In the same chapter another song is given of which there is a version in

No. 406 of the Spectator.]

* * * * *

No. 367. Thursday, May 1, 1712. Addison.

'--Perituræ parcite chartæ.'

Juv.

I have often pleased my self with considering the two kinds of Benefits

which accrue to the Publick from these my Speculations, and which, were

I to speak after the manner of Logicians, I would distinguish into the

Material and the Formal. By the latter I understand those Advantages

which my Readers receive, as their Minds are either improv'd or

delighted by these my daily Labours; but having already several times

descanted on my Endeavours in this Light, I shall at present wholly

confine my self to the Consideration of the former. By the Word Material

I mean those Benefits which arise to the Publick from these my

Speculations, as they consume a considerable quantity of our Paper

Manufacture, employ our Artisans in Printing, and find Business for

great Numbers of Indigent Persons.

Our Paper-Manufacture takes into it several mean Materials which could

be put to no other use, and affords Work for several Hands in the

collecting of them, which are incapable of any other Employment. Those

poor Retailers, whom we see so busy in every Street, deliver in their

respective Gleanings to the Merchant. The Merchant carries them in Loads

to the Paper-Mill, where they pass thro' a fresh Set of Hands, and give

life to another Trade. Those who have Mills on their Estates, by this

means considerably raise their Rents, and the whole Nation is in a great

measure supply'd with a Manufacture, for which formerly she was obliged

to her Neighbours.

The Materials are no sooner wrought into Paper, but they are distributed

among the Presses, where they again set innumerable Artists at Work, and

furnish Business to another Mystery. From hence, accordingly as they are

stain'd with News or Politicks, they fly thro' the Town in Post-Men,

Post-Boys, Daily-Courants, Reviews, Medleys, and Examiners. Men, Women,

and Children contend who shall be the first Bearers of them, and get

their daily Sustenance by spreading them. In short, when I trace in my

Mind a Bundle of Rags to a Quire of Spectators, I find so many Hands

employ'd in every Step they take thro their whole Progress, that while I

am writing a Spectator, I fancy my self providing Bread for a Multitude.

If I do not take care to obviate some of my witty Readers, they will be

apt to tell me, that my Paper, after it is thus printed and published,

is still beneficial to the Publick on several Occasions. I must confess

I have lighted my Pipe with my own Works for this Twelve-month past: My

Landlady often sends up her little Daughter to desire some of my old

Spectators, and has frequently told me, that the Paper they are printed

on is the best in the World to wrap Spice in. They likewise make a good

Foundation for a Mutton pye, as I have more than once experienced, and

were very much sought for, last Christmas, by the whole Neighbourhood.

It is pleasant enough to consider the Changes that a Linnen Fragment

undergoes, by passing thro' the several Hands above mentioned. The

finest pieces of Holland, when worn to Tatters, assume a new Whiteness

more beautiful than their first, and often return in the shape of

Letters to their Native Country. A Lady's Shift may be metamorphosed

into Billet[s]-doux, and come into her Possession a second time. A Beau

may peruse his Cravat after it is worn out, with greater Pleasure and

Advantage than ever he did in a Glass. In a word, a Piece of Cloth,

after having officiated for some Years as a Towel or a Napkin, may by

this means be raised from a Dung-hill, and become the most valuable

Piece of Furniture in a Prince's Cabinet.

The politest Nations of Europe have endeavoured to vie with one another

for the Reputation of the finest Printing: Absolute Governments, as well

as Republicks, have encouraged an Art which seems to be the noblest and

most beneficial that was ever invented among the Sons of Men. The

present King of France, in his Pursuits after Glory, has particularly

distinguished himself by the promoting of this useful Art, insomuch that

several Books have been printed in the Louvre at his own Expence, upon

which he sets so great a value, that he considers them as the noblest

Presents he can make to foreign Princes and Ambassadors. If we look into

the Commonwealths of Holland and Venice, we shall find that in this

Particular they have made themselves the Envy of the greatest

Monarchies. Elziver and Aldus are more frequently mentioned than any

Pensioner of the one or Doge of the other.

The several Presses which are now in England, and the great

Encouragement which has been given to Learning for some Years last past,

has made our own Nation as glorious upon this Account, as for its late

Triumphs and Conquests. The new Edition which is given us of Cæsar's

Commentaries, has already been taken notice of in foreign Gazettes, and

is a Work that does honour to the English Press. [1] It is no wonder

that an Edition should be very correct, which has passed thro' the Hands

of one of the most accurate, learned and judicious Writers this Age has

produced. The Beauty of the Paper, of the Character, and of the several

Cuts with which this noble Work is illustrated, makes it the finest Book

that I have ever seen; and is a true Instance of the English Genius,

which, tho' it does not come the first into any Art, generally carries

it to greater Heights than any other Country in the World. I am

particularly glad that this Author comes from a British Printing-house

in so great a Magnificence, as he is the first who has given us any

tolerable Account of our Country.

My Illiterate Readers, if any such there are, will be surprized to hear

me talk of Learning as the Glory of a Nation, and of Printing as an Art

that gains a Reputation to a People among whom it flourishes. When Men's

Thoughts are taken up with Avarice and Ambition, they cannot look upon

any thing as great or valuable, which does not bring with it an

extraordinary Power or Interest to the Person who is concerned in it.

But as I shall never sink this Paper so far as to engage with Goths and

Vandals, I shall only regard such kind of Reasoners with that Pity which

is due to so Deplorable a Degree of Stupidity and Ignorance.

L.

[Footnote 1: Just published, 1712, by Dr. Samuel Clarke, then 37 years

old. He had been for 12 years chaplain to the Bishop of Norwich, and

Boyle Lecturer in 1704-5, when he took for his subject the Being and

Attributes of God and the Evidences of Natural and Revealed Religion. He

had also translated Newton's Optics, and was become chaplain to the

Queen, Rector of St. Jamess, Westminster, and D. D. of Cambridge. The

accusations of heterodoxy that followed him through his after life date

from this year, 1712, in which, besides the edition of Cæsar, he

published a book on the Scripture Doctrine of the Trinity.]

* * * * *

No. 368. Friday, May 2, 1712. Steele.

'Nos decebat

Lugere ubi esset aliquis in lucem editus

Humanæ vitæ varia reputantes mala;

At qui labores morte finisset graves

Omnes amices laude et lætitia exequi.'

Eurip. apud Tull.

As the Spectator is in a Kind a Paper of News from the natural World, as

others are from the busy and politick Part of Mankind, I shall translate

the following Letter written to an eminent French Gentleman in this Town

from Paris, which gives us the Exit of an Heroine who is a Pattern of

Patience and Generosity.

Paris, April 18, 1712.

SIR,

It is so many Years since you left your native Country, that I am to

tell you the Characters of your nearest Relations as much as if you

were an utter Stranger to them. The Occasion of this is to give you an

account of the Death of Madam de Villacerfe, whose Departure out of

this Life I know not whether a Man of your Philosophy will call

unfortunate or not, since it was attended with some Circumstances as

much to be desired as to be lamented. She was her whole Life happy in

an uninterrupted Health, and was always honoured for an Evenness of

Temper and Greatness of Mind. On the 10th instant that Lady was taken

with an Indisposition which confined her to her Chamber, but was such

as was too slight to make her take a sick Bed, and yet too grievous to

admit of any Satisfaction in being out of it. It is notoriously known,

that some Years ago Monsieur Festeau, one of the most considerable

Surgeons in Paris, was desperately in love with this Lady: Her Quality

placed her above any Application to her on the account of his Passion;

but as a Woman always has some regard to the Person whom she believes

to be her real Admirer, she now took it in her head (upon Advice of

her Physicians to lose some of her Blood) to send for Monsieur Festeau

on that occasion. I happened to be there at that time, and my near

Relation gave me the Privilege to be present. As soon as her Arm was

stripped bare, and he began to press it in order to raise the Vein,

his Colour changed, and I observed him seized with a sudden Tremor,

which made me take the liberty to speak of it to my Cousin with some

Apprehension: She smiled, and said she knew Mr. Festeau had no

Inclination to do her Injury. He seemed to recover himself, and

smiling also proceeded in his Work. Immediately after the Operation he

cried out, that he was the most unfortunate of all Men, for that he

had open'd an Artery instead of a Vein. It is as impossible to express

the Artist's Distraction as the Patient's Composure. I will not dwell

on little Circumstances, but go on to inform you, that within three

days time it was thought necessary to take off her Arm. She was so far

from using Festeau as it would be natural to one of a lower Spirit to

treat him, that she would not let him be absent from any Consultation

about her present Condition, and on every occasion asked whether he

was satisfy'd in the Measures [that] were taken about her. Before this

last Operation she ordered her Will to be drawn, and after having been

about a quarter of an hour alone, she bid the Surgeons, of whom poor

Festeau was one, go on in their Work. I know not how to give you the

Terms of Art, but there appeared such Symptoms after the Amputation of

her Arm, that it was visible she could not live four and twenty hours.

Her Behaviour was so magnanimous throughout this whole Affair, that I

was particularly curious in taking Notice of what passed as her Fate

approached nearer and nearer, and took Notes of what she said to all

about her, particularly Word for Word what she spoke to Mr. Festeau,

which was as follows.

"Sir, you give me inexpressible Sorrow for the Anguish with which I

see you overwhelmed. I am removed to all Intents and Purposes from

the Interests of human Life, therefore I am to begin to think like

one wholly unconcerned in it. I do not consider you as one by whose

Error I have lost my Life; no, you are my Benefactor, as you have

hasten'd my Entrance into a happy Immortality. This is my Sense of

this Accident; but the World in which you live may have Thoughts of

it to your Disadvantage, I have therefore taken Care to provide for

you in my Will, and have placed you above what you have to fear from

their Ill-Nature."

While this excellent Woman spoke these Words, Festeau looked as if he

received a Condemnation to die, instead of a Pension for his Life.

Madam de Villacerfe lived till Eight of [the] Clock the next Night;

and tho she must have laboured under the most exquisite Torments, she

possessed her Mind with so wonderful a Patience, that one may rather

say she ceased to breathe than she died at that hour. You who had not

the happiness to be personally known to this Lady, have nothing but to

rejoyce in the Honour you had of being related to so great Merit; but

we who have lost her Conversation, cannot so easily resign our own

Happiness by Reflection upon hers.

I am, SIR,

Your affectionate Kinsman,

and most obedient humble Servant,

Paul Regnaud.

There hardly can be a greater Instance of an Heroick Mind, than the

unprejudiced Manner in which this Lady weighed this Misfortune. The

regard of Life itself could not make her overlook the Contrition of the

unhappy Man, whose more than Ordinary Concern for her was all his Guilt.

It would certainly be of singular Use to human Society to have an exact

Account of this Lady's ordinary Conduct, which was Crowned by so

uncommon Magnanimity. Such Greatness was not to be acquired in her last

Article, nor is it to be doubted but it was a constant Practice of all

that is praise-worthy, which made her capable of beholding Death, not as

the Dissolution, but Consummation of her Life.

T.

* * * * *

No. 369. Saturday, May 3, 1712. Addison.

'Segnius irritant animos demissa per aures

Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus--'

Hor.

Milton, after having represented in Vision the History of Mankind to the

first great Period of Nature, dispatches the remaining part of it in

Narration. He has devised a very handsome Reason for the Angels

proceeding with Adam after this manner; though doubtless the true Reason

was the Difficulty which the Poet would have found to have shadowed out

so mixed and complicated a Story in visible Objects. I could wish,

however, that the Author had done it, whatever Pains it might have cost

him. To give my Opinion freely, I think that the exhibiting part of the

History of Mankind in Vision, and part in Narrative, is as if an

History-Painter should put in Colours one half of his Subject, and write

down the remaining part of it. If Milton's Poem flags any where, it is

in this Narration, where in some places the Author has been so attentive

to his Divinity, that he has neglected his Poetry. The Narration,

however, rises very happily on several Occasions, where the Subject is

capable of Poetical Ornaments, as particularly in the Confusion which he

describes among the Builders of Babel, and in his short Sketch of the

Plagues of Egypt. The Storm of Hail and Fire, with the Darkness that

overspread the Land for three Days, are described with great Strength.

The beautiful Passage which follows, is raised upon noble Hints in

Scripture:

--Thus with ten Wounds

The River-Dragon tamed at length submits

To let his Sojourners depart, and oft

Humbles his stubborn Heart; but still as Ice

More harden'd after Thaw, till in his Rage

Pursuing whom he late dismissed, the Sea

Swallows him with his Host, but them lets pass

As on dry Land between two Chrystal Walls,

Aw'd by the Rod of Moses so to stand

Divided--

The River-Dragon is an Allusion to the Crocodile, which inhabits the

Nile, from whence Egypt derives her Plenty. This Allusion is taken from

that Sublime Passage in Ezekiel, Thus saith the Lord God, behold I am

against thee, Pharaoh King of Egypt, the great Dragon that lieth in the

midst of his Rivers, which hath said, my River is mine own, and I have

made it for my self. Milton has given us another very noble and poetical

Image in the same Description, which is copied almost Word for Word out

of the History of Moses.

All Night he will pursue, but his Approach

Darkness defends between till morning Watch;

Then through the fiery Pillar and the Cloud

God looking forth, will trouble all his Host,

And craze their Chariot Wheels: when by command

Moses once more his potent Rod extends

Over the Sea: the Sea his Rod obeys:

On their embattell'd Ranks the Waves return

And overwhelm their War--

As the principal Design of this Episode was to give Adam an Idea of the

Holy Person, who was to reinstate human Nature in that Happiness and

Perfection from which it had fallen, the Poet confines himself to the

Line of Abraham, from whence the Messiah was to Descend. The Angel is

described as seeing the Patriarch actually travelling towards the Land

of Promise, which gives a particular Liveliness to this part of the

Narration.

I see him, but thou canst not, with what Faith

He leaves his Gods, his Friends, his Native Soil,

Ur of Chaldæa, passing now the Ford

To Haran, after him a cumbrous Train

Of Herds and Flocks, and numerous Servitude,

Not wand'ring poor, but trusting all his Wealth

With God, who call'd him, in a Land unknown.

Canaan he now attains, I see his Tents

Pitch'd about Sechem, and the neighbouring Plain

Of Moreh, there by Promise he receives

Gifts to his Progeny of all that Land,

From Hamath Northward to the Desart South.

(Things by their Names I call, though yet unnamed.)

As Virgil's Vision in the sixth Æneid probably gave Milton the Hint of

this whole Episode, the last Line is a Translation of that Verse, where

Anchises mentions the Names of Places, which they were to bear

hereafter.

Hæc tum nomina erunt, nunc sunt sine nomine terræ.

The Poet has very finely represented the Joy and Gladness of Heart which

rises in Adam upon his discovery of the Messiah. As he sees his Day at a

distance through Types and Shadows, he rejoices in it: but when he finds

the Redemption of Man compleated, and Paradise again renewed, he breaks

forth in Rapture and Transport;

O Goodness infinite, Goodness immense!

That all this Good of Evil shall produce, &c.

I have hinted in my sixth Paper on Milton, that an Heroick Poem,

according to the Opinion of the best Criticks, ought to end happily, and

leave the Mind of the Reader, after having conducted it through many

Doubts and Fears, Sorrows and Disquietudes, in a State of Tranquility

and Satisfaction. Milton's Fable, which had so many other Qualifications

to recommend it, was deficient in this Particular. It is here therefore,

that the Poet has shewn a most exquisite Judgment, as well as the finest

Invention, by finding out a Method to supply this natural Defect in his

Subject. Accordingly he leaves the Adversary of Mankind, in the last

View which he gives us of him, under the lowest State of Mortification

and Disappointment. We see him chewing Ashes, grovelling in the Dust,

and loaden with supernumerary Pains and Torments. On the contrary, our

two first Parents are comforted by Dreams and Visions, cheared with

Promises of Salvation, and, in a manner, raised to a greater Happiness

than that which they had forfeited: In short, Satan is represented

miserable in the height of his Triumphs, and Adam triumphant in the

height of Misery.

Milton's Poem ends very nobly. The last Speeches of Adam and the

Arch-Angel are full of Moral and Instructive Sentiments. The Sleep that

fell upon Eve, and the Effects it had in quieting the Disorders of her

Mind, produces the same kind of Consolation in the Reader, who cannot

peruse the last beautiful Speech which is ascribed to the Mother of

Mankind, without a secret Pleasure and Satisfaction.

Whence thou return'st, and whither went'st, I know;

For God is also in Sleep, and Dreams advise,

Which he hath sent propitious, some great Good

Presaging, since with Sorrow and Heart's Distress

Wearied I fell asleep: but now lead on;

In me is no delay: with thee to go,

Is to stay here; without thee here to stay,

Is to go hence unwilling: thou to me

Art all things under Heav'n, all Places thou,

Who for my wilful Crime art banish'd hence.

This farther Consolation yet secure

I carry hence; though all by me is lost,

Such Favour, I unworthy, am vouchsafed,

By me the promised Seed shall all restore.

The following Lines, which conclude the Poem, rise in a most glorious

Blaze of Poetical Images and Expressions.

Heliodorus in his Æthiopicks acquaints us, that the Motion of the Gods

differs from that of Mortals, as the former do not stir their Feet, nor

proceed Step by Step, but slide o'er the Surface of the Earth by an

uniform Swimming of the whole Body. The Reader may observe with how

Poetical a Description Milton has attributed the same kind of Motion to

the Angels who were to take Possession of Paradise.

So spake our Mother Eve, and Adam heard

Well pleas'd, but answered not; for now too nigh

Th' Archangel stood, and from the other Hill

To their fix'd Station, all in bright Array

The Cherubim descended; on the Ground

Gliding meteorous, as evening Mist

Ris'n from a River, o'er the Marish glides,

And gathers ground fast at the Lab'rer's Heel

Homeward returning. High in Front advanced,

The brandishd Sword of God before them blaz'd

Fierce as a Comet--

The Author helped his Invention in the following Passage, by reflecting

on the Behaviour of the Angel, who, in Holy Writ, has the Conduct of Lot

and his Family. The Circumstances drawn from that Relation are very

gracefully made use of on this Occasion.

In either Hand the hast'ning Angel caught

Our ling'ring Parents, and to th' Eastern Gate

Led them direct; and down the Cliff as fast

To the subjected Plain; then disappear'd.

They looking back, &c.

The Scene [1] which our first Parents are surprized with, upon their

looking back on Paradise, wonderfully strikes the Reader's Imagination,

as nothing can be more natural than the Tears they shed on that

Occasion.

They looking back, all th' Eastern side beheld

Of Paradise, so late their happy Seat,

Wav'd over by that flaming Brand, the Gate

With dreadful Faces throng'd and fiery Arms:

Some natural Tears they dropped, but wiped them soon;

The World was all before them, where to chuse

Their Place of Rest, and Providence their Guide.

If I might presume to offer at the smallest Alteration in this divine

Work, I should think the Poem would end better with the Passage here

quoted, than with the two Verses which follow:

They hand in hand, with wandering Steps and slow,

Through Eden took their solitary Way.

These two Verses, though they have their Beauty, fall very much below

the foregoing Passage, and renew in the Mind of the Reader that Anguish

which was pretty well laid by that Consideration,

The world was all before them, where to chuse

Their Place of Rest, and Providence their Guide.

The Number of Books in Paradise Lost is equal to those of the Æneid.

Our Author in his first Edition had divided his Poem into ten Books, but

afterwards broke the seventh and the eleventh each of them into two

different Books, by the help of some small Additions. This second

Division was made with great Judgment, as any one may see who will be at

the pains of examining it. It was not done for the sake of such a

Chimerical Beauty as that of resembling Virgil in this particular, but

for the more just and regular Disposition of this great Work.