Chapter I: Footnote 1: Iliad, Bk ix

[Footnote 2: Menippus was a Cynic philosopher of Gadara, who made money in Thebes by usury, lost it, and hanged himself. He wrote satirical pieces, which are lost; some said that they were the joint work of two friends, Dionysius and Zopyrus of Colophon, in whom it was one jest the more to ascribe their jesting to Menippus. These pieces were imitated by Terentius Varro in Satiræ Menippeæ.]

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No. 392. Friday, May 30, 1712. Steele.

'Per Ambages et Ministeria Deorum
Præcipitandus est liber Spiritus.'

Pet.

To the SPECTATOR.

The Transformation of Fidelio into a Looking-Glass.

I was lately at a Tea-Table, where some young Ladies entertained the
Company with a Relation of a Coquet in the Neighbourhood, who had been
discovered practising before her Glass. To turn the Discourse, which
from being witty grew to be malicious, the Matron of the Family took
occasion, from the Subject, to wish that there were to be found
amongst Men such faithful Monitors to dress the Mind by, as we consult
to adorn the Body. She added, that if a sincere Friend were
miraculously changed into a Looking-Glass, she should not be ashamed
to ask its Advice very often. This whimsical Thought worked so much
upon my Fancy the whole Evening, that it produced [a very odd Dream.
[1]]

Methought, that as I stood before my Glass, the Image of a Youth, of
an open ingenuous Aspect, appeared in it; who with a small shrill
Voice spoke in the following manner.

The Looking-Glass, you see, was heretofore a Man, even I, the
unfortunate Fidelio. I had two Brothers, whose Deformity in Shape
was made out by the Clearness of their Understanding: It must be
owned however, that (as it generally happens) they had each a
Perverseness of Humour suitable to their Distortion of Body. The
eldest, whose Belly sunk in monstrously, was a great Coward; and
tho' his splenetick contracted Temper made him take fire
immediately, he made Objects that beset him appear greater than they
were. The second, whose Breast swelled into a bold Relievo, on the
contrary, took great pleasure in lessening every thing, and was
perfectly the Reverse of his Brother. These Oddnesses pleased
Company once or twice, but disgusted when often seen; for which
reason the young Gentlemen were sent from Court to study
Mathematicks at the University.

I need not acquaint you, that I was very well made, and reckoned a
bright polite Gentleman. I was the Confident and Darling of all the
Fair; and if the Old and Ugly spoke ill of me, all the World knew it
was because I scorned to flatter them. No Ball, no Assembly was
attended till I had been consulted. Flavia colour'd her Hair before
me, Celia shew'd me her Teeth, Panthea heaved her Bosom, Cleora
brandished her Diamonds; I have seen Cloe's Foot, and tied
artificially the Garters of Rhodope.

'Tis a general Maxim, that those who doat upon themselves, can have
no violent Affection for another: But on the contrary, I found that
the Women's Passion for me rose in proportion to the Love they bare
to themselves. This was verify'd in my Amour with Narcissa, who was
so constant to me, that it was pleasantly said, had I been little
enough, she would have hung me at her Girdle. The most dangerous
Rival I had, was a gay empty Fellow, who by the Strength of a long
Intercourse with Narcissa, joined to his natural Endowments, had
formed himself into a perfect Resemblance with her. I had been
discarded, had she not observed that he frequently asked my Opinion
about Matters of the last Consequence: This made me still more
considerable in her Eye.

Tho' I was eternally caressed by the Ladies, such was their Opinion
of my Honour, that I was never envy'd by the Men. A jealous Lover of
Narcissa one day thought he had caught her in an Amorous
Conversation; for tho' he was at such a Distance that he could hear
nothing, he imagined strange things from her Airs and Gestures.
Sometimes with a serene Look she stepped back in a listning Posture,
and brightened into an innocent Smile. Quickly after she swelled
into an Air of Majesty and Disdain, then kept her Eyes half shut
after a languishing Manner, then covered her Blushes with her Hand,
breathed a Sigh, and seemd ready to sink down. In rushed the furious
Lover; but how great was his Surprize to see no one there but the
innocent Fidelio, with his Back against the Wall betwixt two
Windows?

It were endless to recount all my Adventures. Let me hasten to that
which cost me my Life, and Narcissa her Happiness.

She had the misfortune to have the Small-Pox, upon which I was
expressly forbid her Sight, it being apprehended that it would
increase her Distemper, and that I should infallibly catch it at the
first Look. As soon as she was suffered to leave her Bed, she stole
out of her Chamber, and found me all alone in an adjoining
Apartment. She ran with Transport to her Darling, and without
Mixture of Fear, lest I should dislike her. But, oh me! what was her
Fury when she heard me say, I was afraid and shockd at so loathsome
a Spectacle. She stepped back, swollen with Rage, to see if I had
the Insolence to repeat it. I did, with this Addition, that her
ill-timed Passion had increased her Ugliness. Enraged, inflamed,
distracted, she snatched a Bodkin, and with all her Force stabbed me
to the Heart. Dying, I preserv'd my Sincerity, and expressed the
Truth, tho' in broken Words; and by reproachful Grimaces to the last
I mimick'd the Deformity of my Murderess.

Cupid, who always attends the Fair, and pity'd the Fate of so useful
a Servant as I was, obtained of the Destinies, that my Body should
be made incorruptible, and retain the Qualities my Mind had
possessed. I immediately lost the Figure of a Man, and became
smooth, polished, and bright, and to this day am the first Favourite
of the Ladies.

T.

[Footnote 1: [so odd a Dream, that no one but the SPECTATOR could believe that the Brain, clogged in Sleep, could furnish out such a regular Wildness of Imagination.]

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No. 393. Saturday, May 31, 1712. Addison.

'Nescio quâ præter solitum dulcedine læti.'

Virg.

Looking over the Letters that have been sent me, I chanced to find the following one, which I received about two years ago from an ingenious Friend, who was then in Denmark.

Copenhagen, May 1, 1710.

Dear Sir,

The Spring with you has already taken Possession of the Fields and
Woods: Now is the Season of Solitude, and of moving Complaints upon
trivial Sufferings: Now the Griefs of Lovers begin to flow, and their
Wounds to bleed afresh. I too, at this Distance from the softer
Climates, am not without my Discontents at present. You perhaps may
laugh at me for a most Romantick Wretch, when I have disclosed to you
the Occasion of my Uneasiness; and yet I cannot help thinking my
Unhappiness real, in being confined to a Region, which is the very
Reverse of Paradise. The Seasons here are all of them unpleasant, and
the Country quite Destitute of Rural Charms. I have not heard a Bird
sing, nor a Brook murmur, nor a Breeze whisper, neither have I been
blest with the Sight of a flow'ry Meadow these two years. Every Wind
here is a Tempest, and every Water a turbulent Ocean. I hope, when you
reflect a little, you will not think the Grounds of my Complaint in
the least frivolous and unbecoming a Man of serious Thought; since the
Love of Woods, of Fields and Flowers, of Rivers and Fountains, seems
to be a Passion implanted in our Natures the most early of any, even
before the Fair Sex had a Being.

I am, Sir, &c.

Could I transport my self with a Wish from one Country to another, I should chuse to pass my Winter in Spain, my Spring in Italy, my Summer in England, and my Autumn in France. Of all these Seasons there is none that can vie with the Spring for Beauty and Delightfulness. It bears the same Figure among the Seasons of the Year, that the Morning does among the Divisions of the Day, or Youth among the Stages of Life. The English Summer is pleasanter than that of any other Country in Europe on no other account but because it has a greater Mixture of Spring in it. The Mildness of our Climate, with those frequent Refreshments of Dews and Rains that fall among us, keep up a perpetual Chearfulness in our Fields, and fill the hottest Months of the Year with a lively Verdure.

In the opening of the Spring, when all Nature begins to recover her self, the same animal Pleasure which makes the Birds sing, and the whole brute Creation rejoice, rises very sensibly in the Heart of Man. I know none of the Poets who have observed so well as Milton those secret Overflowings of Gladness which diffuse themselves thro' the Mind of the Beholder, upon surveying the gay Scenes of Nature: he has touched upon it twice or thrice in his Paradise Lost, and describes it very beautifully under the Name of Vernal Delight, in that Passage where he represents the Devil himself as almost sensible of it.

Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue
Appear'd, with gay enamel'd Colours mixt:
On which the Sun more glad impress'd his Beams
Than in fair evening Cloud, or humid Bow,
When God hath shower'd the Earth; so lovely seem'd
That Landskip: And of pure now purer Air
Meets his approach, and to the Heart inspires
Vernal Delight, and Joy able to drive
All Sadness but Despair, &c. [1]

Many Authors have written on the Vanity of the Creature, and represented the Barrenness of every thing in this World, and its Incapacity of producing any solid or substantial Happiness. As Discourses of this Nature are very useful to the Sensual and Voluptuous; those Speculations which shew the bright Side of Things, and lay forth those innocent Entertainments which are to be met with among the several Objects that encompass us, are no less beneficial to Men of dark and melancholy Tempers. It was for this reason that I endeavoured to recommend a Chearfulness of Mind in my two last Saturday's Papers, and which I would still inculcate, not only from the Consideration of our selves, and of that Being on whom we depend, nor from the general Survey of that Universe in which we are placed at present, but from Reflections on the particular Season in which this Paper is written. The Creation is a perpetual Feast to the Mind of a good Man, every thing he sees chears and delights him; Providence has imprinted so many Smiles on Nature, that it is impossible for a Mind, which is not sunk in more gross and sensual Delights, to take a Survey of them without several secret Sensations of Pleasure. The Psalmist has in several of his Divine Poems celebrated those beautiful and agreeable Scenes which make the Heart glad, and produce in it that vernal Delight which I have before taken Notice of.

Natural Philosophy quickens this Taste of the Creation, and renders it not only pleasing to the Imagination, but to the Understanding. It does not rest in the Murmur of Brooks, and the Melody of Birds, in the Shade of Groves and Woods, or in the Embroidery of Fields and Meadows, but considers the several Ends of Providence which are served by them, and the Wonders of Divine Wisdom which appear in them. It heightens the Pleasures of the Eye, and raises such a rational Admiration in the Soul as is little inferior to Devotion.

It is not in the Power of every one to offer up this kind of Worship to the great Author of Nature, and to indulge these more refined Meditations of Heart, which are doubtless highly acceptable in his Sight: I shall therefore conclude this short Essay on that Pleasure which the Mind naturally conceives from the present Season of the Year, by the recommending of a Practice for which every one has sufficient Abilities.

I would have my Readers endeavour to moralize this natural Pleasure of the Soul, and to improve this vernal Delight, as Milton calls it, into a Christian Virtue. When we find our selves inspired with this pleasing Instinct, this secret Satisfaction and Complacency arising from the Beauties of the Creation, let us consider to whom we stand indebted for all these Entertainments of Sense, and who it is that thus opens his Hand and fills the World with Good. The Apostle instructs us to take advantage of our present Temper of Mind, to graft upon it such a religious Exercise as is particularly conformable to it, by that Precept which advises those who are sad to pray, and those who are merry to sing Psalms. The Chearfulness of Heart which springs up in us from the Survey of Nature's Works, is an admirable Preparation for Gratitude. The Mind has gone a great way towards Praise and Thanksgiving, that is filled with such a secret Gladness: A grateful Reflection on the supreme Cause who produces it, sanctifies it in the Soul, and gives it its proper Value. Such an habitual Disposition of Mind consecrates every Field and Wood, turns an ordinary Walk into a morning or evening Sacrifice, and will improve those transient Gleams of Joy, which naturally brighten up and refresh the Soul on such Occasions, into an inviolable and perpetual State of Bliss and Happiness.