Chapter X: Footnote 1: the same time

[Footnote 2: [dreadful]]

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No. 302. Friday, February 15, 1712. Steele.

Lachrymæque decoræ,
Gratior et pulchro veniens in corpore Virtus.

Vir. Æn. 5.

I read what I give for the Entertainment of this Day with a great deal of Pleasure, and publish it just as it came to my Hands. I shall be very glad to find there are many guessed at for Emilia.

Mr. SPECTATOR, [1]

If this Paper has the good Fortune to be honoured with a Place in your
Writings, I shall be the more pleased, because the Character of Emilia
is not an imaginary but a real one. I have industriously obscured the
whole by the Addition of one or two Circumstances of no Consequence,
that the Person it is drawn from might still be concealed; and that
the Writer of it might not be in the least suspected, and for [other
[2]] Reasons, I chuse not to give it the Form of a Letter: But if,
besides the Faults of the Composition, there be any thing in it more
proper for a Correspondent than the SPECTATOR himself to write, I
submit it to your better Judgment, to receive any other Model you
think fit.
I am, SIR,
Your very humble Servant.

There is nothing which gives one so pleasing a Prospect of human
Nature, as the Contemplation of Wisdom and Beauty: The latter is the
peculiar Portion of that Sex which is therefore called Fair; but the
happy Concurrence of both these Excellencies in the same Person, is
a Character too celestial to be frequently met with. Beauty is an
over-weaning self-sufficient thing, careless of providing it self
any more substantial Ornaments; nay so little does it consult its
own Interests, that it too often defeats it self by betraying that
Innocence which renders it lovely and desirable. As therefore Virtue
makes a beautiful Woman appear more beautiful, so Beauty makes a
virtuous Woman really more virtuous. Whilst I am considering these
two Perfections gloriously united in one Person, I cannot help
representing to my Mind the Image of Emilia.

Who ever beheld the charming Emilia, without feeling in his Breast
at once the Glow of Love and the Tenderness of virtuous Friendship?
The unstudied Graces of her Behaviour, and the pleasing Accents of
her Tongue, insensibly draw you on to wish for a nearer Enjoyment of
them; but even her Smiles carry in them a silent Reproof to the
Impulses of licentious Love. Thus, tho the Attractives of her
Beauty play almost irresistibly upon you and create Desire, you
immediately stand corrected not by the Severity but the Decency of
her Virtue. That Sweetness and Good-humour which is so visible in
her Face, naturally diffuses it self into every Word and Action: A
Man must be a Savage, who at the Sight of Emilia, is not more
inclined to do her Good than gratifie himself. Her Person, as it is
thus studiously embellished by Nature, thus adorned with
unpremeditated Graces, is a fit Lodging for a Mind so fair and
lovely; there dwell rational Piety, modest Hope, and chearful
Resignation.

Many of the prevailing Passions of Mankind do undeservedly pass
under the Name of Religion; which is thus made to express itself in
Action, according to the Nature of the Constitution in which it
resides: So that were we to make a Judgment from Appearances, one
would imagine Religion in some is little better than Sullenness and
Reserve, in many Fear, in others the Despondings of a melancholly
Complexion, in others the Formality of insignificant unaffecting
Observances, in others Severity, in others Ostentation. In Emilia it
is a Principle founded in Reason and enlivened with Hope; it does
not break forth into irregular Fits and Sallies of Devotion, but is
an uniform and consistent Tenour of Action; It is strict without
Severity, compassionate without Weakness; it is the Perfection of
that good Humour which proceeds from the Understanding, not the
Effect of an easy Constitution.

By a generous Sympathy in Nature, we feel our selves disposed to
mourn when any of our Fellow-Creatures are afflicted; but injured
Innocence and Beauty in Distresses an Object that carries in it
something inexpressibly moving: It softens the most manly Heart with
the tenderest Sensations of Love and Compassion, till at length it
confesses its Humanity, and flows out into Tears.

Were I to relate that part of Emilia's Life which has given her an
Opportunity of exerting the Heroism of Christianity, it would make
too sad, too tender a Story: But when I consider her alone in the
midst of her Distresses, looking beyond this gloomy Vale of
Affliction and Sorrow into the Joys of Heaven and Immortality, and
when I see her in Conversation thoughtless and easie as if she were
the most happy Creature in the World, I am transported with
Admiration. Surely never did such a Philosophic Soul inhabit such a
beauteous Form! For Beauty is often made a Privilege against Thought
and Reflection; it laughs at Wisdom, and will not abide the Gravity
of its Instructions.

Were I able to represent Emilia's Virtues in their proper Colours
and their due Proportions, Love or Flattery might perhaps be thought
to have drawn the Picture larger than Life; but as this is but an
imperfect Draught of so excellent a Character, and as I cannot, will
not hope to have any Interest in her Person, all that I can say of
her is but impartial Praise extorted from me by the prevailing
Brightness of her Virtues. So rare a Pattern of Female Excellence
ought not to be concealed, but should be set out to the View and
Imitation of the World; for how amiable does Virtue appear thus as
it were made visible to us in so fair an Example!

Honoria's Disposition is of a very different Turn: Her Thoughts are
wholly bent upon Conquest and arbitrary Power. That she has some Wit
and Beauty no Body denies, and therefore has the Esteem of all her
Acquaintance as a Woman of an agreeable Person and Conversation; but
(whatever her Husband may think of it) that is not sufficient for
Honoria: She waves that Title to Respect as a mean Acquisition, and
demands Veneration in the Right of an Idol; for this Reason her
natural Desire of Life is continually checked with an inconsistent
Fear of Wrinkles and old Age.

Emilia cannot be supposed ignorant of her personal Charms, tho she
seems to be so; but she will not hold her Happiness upon so
precarious a Tenure, whilst her Mind is adorned with Beauties of a
more exalted and lasting Nature. When in the full Bloom of Youth and
Beauty we saw her surrounded with a Crowd of Adorers, she took no
Pleasure in Slaughter and Destruction, gave no false deluding Hopes
which might encrease the Torments of her disappointed Lovers; but
having for some Time given to the Decency of a Virgin Coyness, and
examined the Merit of their several Pretensions, she at length
gratified her own, by resigning herself to the ardent Passion of
Bromius. Bromius was then Master of many good Qualities and a
moderate Fortune, which was soon after unexpectedly encreased to a
plentiful Estate. This for a good while proved his Misfortune, as it
furnished his unexperienced Age with the Opportunities of Evil
Company and a sensual Life. He might have longer wandered in the
Labyrinths of Vice and Folly, had not Emilia's prudent Conduct won
him over to the Government of his Reason. Her Ingenuity has been
constantly employed in humanizing his Passions and refining his
Pleasures. She shewed him by her own Example, that Virtue is
consistent with decent Freedoms and good Humour, or rather, that it
cannot subsist without em. Her good Sense readily instructed her,
that a silent Example and an easie unrepining Behaviour, will always
be more perswasive than the Severity of Lectures and Admonitions;
and that there is so much Pride interwoven into the Make of human
Nature, that an obstinate Man must only take the Hint from another,
and then be left to advise and correct himself. Thus by an artful
Train of Management and unseen Perswasions, having at first brought
him not to dislike, and at length to be pleased with that which
otherwise he would not have bore to hear of, she then knew how to
press and secure this Advantage, by approving it as his Thoughts,
and seconding it as his Proposal. By this Means she has gained an
Interest in some of his leading Passions, and made them accessary to
his Reformation.

There is another Particular of Emilia's Conduct which I cant
forbear mentioning: To some perhaps it may at first Sight appear but
a trifling inconsiderable Circumstance but for my Part, I think it
highly worthy of Observation, and to be recommended to the
Consideration of the fair Sex. I have often thought wrapping Gowns
and dirty Linnen, with all that huddled Oeconomy of Dress which
passes under the general Name of a Mob, the Bane of conjugal Love,
and one of the readiest Means imaginable to alienate the Affection
of an Husband, especially a fond one. I have heard some Ladies, who
have been surprized by Company in such a Deshabille, apologize for
it after this Manner; Truly I am ashamed to be caught in this
Pickle; but my Husband and I were sitting all alone by our selves,
and I did not expect to see such good Company--This by the way is a
fine Compliment to the good Man, which tis ten to one but he
returns in dogged Answers and a churlish Behaviour, without knowing
what it is that puts him out of Humour.

Emilia's Observation teaches her, that as little Inadvertencies and
Neglects cast a Blemish upon a great Character; so the Neglect of
Apparel, even among the most intimate Friends, does insensibly
lessen their Regards to each other, by creating a Familiarity too
low and contemptible. She understands the Importance of those Things
which the Generality account Trifles; and considers every thing as a
Matter of Consequence, that has the least Tendency towards keeping
up or abating the Affection of her Husband; him she esteems as a fit
Object to employ her Ingenuity in pleasing, because he is to be
pleased for Life.

By the Help of these, and a thousand other nameless Arts, which tis
easier for her to practise than for another to express, by the
Obstinacy of her Goodness and unprovoked Submission, in spight of
all her Afflictions and ill Usage, Bromius is become a Man of Sense
and a kind Husband, and Emilia a happy Wife.

Ye guardian Angels to whose Care Heaven has entrusted its dear
Emilia, guide her still forward in the Paths of Virtue, defend her
from the Insolence and Wrongs of this undiscerning World; at length
when we must no more converse with such Purity on Earth, lead her
gently hence innocent and unreprovable to a better Place, where by
an easie Transition from what she now is, she may shine forth an
Angel of Light.

T.

[Footnote 1: The character of Emilia in this paper was by Dr. Bromer, a clergyman. The lady is said to have been the mother of Mr. Ascham, of Conington, in Cambridgeshire, and grandmother of Lady Hatton. The letter has been claimed also for John Hughes (Letters of John Hughes, &c., vol. iii. p. 8), and Emilia identified with Anne, Countess of Coventry.]

[Footnote 2: [some other]]

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No. 303. Saturday, February 16, 1712. Addison.

--volet hæc sub luce videri,
Judicis argulum quæ non formidat acumen.

Hor.

I have seen in the Works of a Modern Philosopher, a Map of the Spots in the Sun. My last Paper of the Faults and Blemishes in Milton's Paradise Lost, may be considered as a Piece of the same Nature. To pursue the Allusion: As it is observed, that among the bright Parts of the Luminous Body above mentioned, there are some which glow more intensely, and dart a stronger Light than others; so, notwithstanding I have already shewn Milton's Poem to be very beautiful in general, I shall now proceed to take Notice of such Beauties as appear to me more exquisite than the rest. Milton has proposed the Subject of his Poem in the following Verses.

Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought Death into the World and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blisful Seat,
Sing Heavenly Muse--

These Lines are perhaps as plain, simple and unadorned as any of the whole Poem, in which Particular the Author has conformed himself to the Example of Homer and the Precept of Horace.

His Invocation to a Work which turns in a great measure upon the Creation of the World, is very properly made to the Muse who inspired Moses in those Books from whence our Author drew his Subject, and to the Holy Spirit who is therein represented as operating after a particular manner in the first Production of Nature. This whole Exordium rises very happily into noble Language and Sentiment, as I think the Transition to the Fable is exquisitely beautiful and natural.

The Nine Days Astonishment, in which the Angels lay entranced after their dreadful Overthrow and Fall from Heaven, before they could recover either the use of Thought or Speech, is a noble Circumstance, and very finely imagined. The Division of Hell into Seas of Fire, and into firm Ground impregnated with the same furious Element, with that particular Circumstance of the Exclusion of Hope from those Infernal Regions, are Instances of the same great and fruitful Invention.

The Thoughts in the first Speech and Description of Satan, who is one of the Principal Actors in this Poem, are wonderfully proper to give us a full Idea of him. His Pride, Envy and Revenge, Obstinacy, Despair and Impenitence, are all of them very artfully interwoven. In short, his first Speech is a Complication of all those Passions which discover themselves separately in several other of his Speeches in the Poem. The whole part of this great Enemy of Mankind is filled with such Incidents as are very apt to raise and terrifie the Readers Imagination. Of this nature, in the Book now before us, is his being the first that awakens out of the general Trance, with his Posture on the burning Lake, his rising from it, and the Description of his Shield and Spear.

Thus Satan talking to his nearest Mate,
With head up-lift above the wave, and eyes
That sparkling blazed, his other parts beside
Prone on the Flood, extended long and large,
Lay floating many a rood--

Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool
His mighty Stature; on each hand the flames
Drivn backward slope their pointing Spires, and roared
In Billows, leave i'th midst a horrid vale.
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky Air
That felt unusual weight--

--His pondrous Shield
Ethereal temper, massie, large and round,
Behind him cast; the broad circumference
Hung on his Shoulders like the Moon, whose orb
Thro Optick Glass the Tuscan Artist views
At Evning, from the top of Fesole,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new Lands,
Rivers, or Mountains, on her spotted Globe.
His Spear (to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian Hills to be the Mast
Of some great Admiral, were but a wand)
He walk'd with, to support uneasie Steps
Over the burning Marl--

To which we may add his Call to the fallen Angels that lay plunged and stupified in the Sea of Fire.

He call'd so loud, that all the hollow deep
Of Hell resounded--

But there is no single Passage in the whole Poem worked up to a greater Sublimity, than that wherein his Person is described in those celebrated Lines:

--He, above the rest
In shape and gesture proudly eminent
Stood like a Tower, &c.

His Sentiments are every way answerable to his Character, and suitable to a created Being of the most exalted and most depraved Nature. Such is that in which he takes Possession of his Place of Torments.

--Hail Horrors! hail
Infernal World! and thou profoundest Hell
Receive thy new Possessor, one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.

And Afterwards,

--Here at least
We shall be free; th'Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reign secure; and in my choice
To reign is worth Ambition, tho in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heavn.

Amidst those Impieties which this Enraged Spirit utters in other places of the Poem, the Author has taken care to introduce none that is not big with absurdity, and incapable of shocking a Religious Reader; his Words, as the Poet himself describes them, bearing only a Semblance of Worth, not Substance. He is likewise with great Art described as owning his Adversary to be Almighty. Whatever perverse Interpretation he puts on the Justice, Mercy, and other Attributes of the Supreme Being, he frequently confesses his Omnipotence, that being the Perfection he was forced to allow him, and the only Consideration which could support his Pride under the Shame of his Defeat.

Nor must I here omit that beautiful Circumstance of his bursting out in Tears, upon his Survey of those innumerable Spirits whom he had involved in the same Guilt and Ruin with himself.

--He now prepared
To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend
From wing to wing, and half enclose him round
With all his Peers: Attention held them mute.
Thrice he assayed, and thrice in spite of Scorn
Tears such as Angels weep, burst forth--

The Catalogue of Evil Spirits has abundance of Learning in it, and a very agreeable turn of Poetry, which rises in a great measure from [its [1]] describing the Places where they were worshipped, by those beautiful Marks of Rivers so frequent among the Ancient Poets. The Author had doubtless in this place Homers Catalogue of Ships, and Virgil's List of Warriors, in his View. The Characters of Moloch and Belial prepare the Readers Mind for their respective Speeches and Behaviour in the second and sixth Book. The Account of Thammuz is finely Romantick, and suitable to what we read among the Ancients of the Worship which was paid to that Idol.

--Thammuz came next behind.
Whose annual Wound in Lebanon allured
The Syrian Damsels to lament his fate,
In amorous Ditties all a Summers day,
While smooth Adonis from his native Rock
Ran purple to the Sea, supposed with Blood
Of Thammuz yearly wounded: the Love tale
Infected Zion's Daughters with like Heat,
Whose wanton Passions in the sacred Porch
Ezekiel saw, when by the Vision led
His Eye survey'd the dark Idolatries
Of alienated Judah.--

The Reader will pardon me if I insert as a Note on this beautiful Passage, the Account given us by the late ingenious Mr. Maundrell [2] of this Ancient Piece of Worship, and probably the first Occasion of such a Superstition.

We came to a fair large River--doubtless the Ancient River Adonis, so
famous for the Idolatrous Rites performed here in Lamentation of
Adonis. We had the Fortune to see what may be supposed to be the
Occasion of that Opinion which Lucian relates, concerning this River,
viz. That this Stream, at certain Seasons of the Year, especially
about the Feast of Adonis, is of a bloody Colour; which the Heathens
looked upon as proceeding from a kind of Sympathy in the River for the
Death of Adonis, who was killed by a wild Boar in the Mountains, out
of which this Stream rises. Something like this we saw actually come
to pass; for the Water was stain'd to a surprizing Redness; and, as we
observ'd in Travelling, had discolour'd the Sea a great way into a
reddish Hue, occasion'd doubtless by a sort of Minium, or red Earth,
washed into the River by the Violence of the Rain, and not by any
Stain from Adonis's Blood.

The Passage in the Catalogue, explaining the manner how Spirits transform themselves by Contractions or Enlargement of their Dimensions, is introduced with great Judgment, to make way for several surprizing Accidents in the Sequel of the Poem. There follows one, at the very End of the first Book, which is what the French Criticks call Marvellous, but at the same time probable by reason of the Passage last mentioned. As soon as the Infernal Palace is finished, we are told the Multitude and Rabble of Spirits immediately shrunk themselves into a small Compass, that there might be Room for such a numberless Assembly in this capacious Hall. But it is the Poets Refinement upon this Thought which I most admire, and which is indeed very noble in its self. For he tells us, that notwithstanding the vulgar, among the fallen Spirits, contracted their Forms, those of the first Rank and Dignity still preserved their natural Dimensions.

Thus incorporeal Spirits to smallest Forms
Reduced their Shapes immense, and were at large,
Though without Number, still amidst the Hall
Of that Infernal Court. But far within,
And in their own Dimensions like themselves,
The great Seraphick Lords and Cherubim,
In close recess and secret conclave sate,
A thousand Demy-Gods on Golden Seats,
Frequent and full--

The Character of Mammon and the Description of the Pandæmonium, are full of Beauties.

There are several other Strokes in the first Book wonderfully poetical, and Instances of that Sublime Genius so peculiar to the Author. Such is the Description of Azazel's Stature, and of the Infernal Standard, which he unfurls; as also of that ghastly Light, by which the Fiends appear to one another in their Place of Torments.

The Seat of Desolation, void of Light,
Save what the glimmring of those livid Flames
Casts pale and dreadful--

The Shout of the whole Host of fallen Angels when drawn up in Battel Array:

--The universal Host up sent
A Shout that tore Hells Concave, and beyond
Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.

The Review, which the Leader makes of his Infernal Army:

--He thro the armed files
Darts his experienc'd eye, and soon traverse
The whole Battalion mews, their Order due,
Their Visages and Stature as of Gods.
Their Number last he sums; and now his Heart
Distends with Pride, and hardning in his strength
Glories--

The Flash of Light which appear'd upon the drawing of their Swords:

He spake: and to confirm his words outflew
Millions of flaming Swords, drawn from the thighs
Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden Blaze
Far round illumin'd Hell--

The sudden Production of the Pandæmonium;

Anon out of the Earth a Fabrick huge
Rose like an Exhalation, with the Sound
Of dulcet Symphonies and Voices sweet.

The Artificial Illuminations made in it:

--From the arched Roof
Pendent by subtle Magick, many a Row
Of Starry Lamps and blazing Crescets, fed
With Naphtha and Asphaltus, yielded Light
As from a Sky--

There are also several noble Similes and Allusions in the First Book of Paradise Lost. And here I must observe, that when Milton alludes either to Things or Persons, he never quits his Simile till it rises to some very great Idea, which is often foreign to the Occasion that gave Birth to it. The Resemblance does not, perhaps, last above a Line or two, but the Poet runs on with the Hint till he has raised out of it some glorious Image or Sentiment, proper to inflame the Mind of the Reader, and to give it that sublime kind of Entertainment, which is suitable to the Nature of an Heroick Poem. Those who are acquainted with Homers and Virgil's way of Writing, cannot but be pleased with this kind of Structure in Milton's Similitudes. I am the more particular on this Head, because ignorant Readers, who have formed their Taste upon the quaint Similes, and little Turns of Wit, which are so much in Vogue among Modern Poets, cannot relish these Beauties which are of a much higher Nature, and are therefore apt to censure Milton's Comparisons in which they do not see any surprizing Points of Likeness. Monsieur Perrault was a Man of this viciated Relish, and for that very Reason has endeavoured to turn into Ridicule several of Homers Similitudes, which he calls Comparisons a longue queue, Long-tail's Comparisons. [3] I shall conclude this Paper on the First Book of Milton with the Answer which Monsieur Boileau makes to Perrault on this Occasion;

Comparisons, says he, in Odes and Epic Poems, are not introduced only
to illustrate and embellish the Discourse, but to amuse and relax the
Mind of the Reader, by frequently disengaging him from too painful an
Attention to the Principal Subject, and by leading him into other
agreeable Images. Homer, says he, excelled in this Particular, whose
Comparisons abound with such Images of Nature as are proper to relieve
and diversifie his Subjects. He continually instructs the Reader, and
makes him take notice, even in Objects which are every Day before our
Eyes, of such Circumstances as we should not otherwise have observed.

To this he adds, as a Maxim universally acknowledged,

That it is not necessary in Poetry for the Points of the Comparison
to correspond with one another exactly, but that a general Resemblance
is sufficient, and that too much Nicety in this Particular favours of
the Rhetorician and Epigrammatist.

In short, if we look into the Conduct of Homer, Virgil and Milton, as the great Fable is the Soul of each Poem, so to give their Works an agreeable Variety, their Episodes are so many short Fables, and their Similes so many short Episodes; to which you may add, if you please, that their Metaphors are so many short Similes. If the Reader considers the Comparisons in the first Book of Milton, of the Sun in an Eclipse, of the Sleeping Leviathan, of the Bees swarming about their Hive, of the Fairy Dance, in the view wherein I have here placed them, he will easily discover the great Beauties that are in each of those Passages.