Chapter XXXIV: Introduction (34)

It is well for him he had found out a Way to steal a Kingdom; if he
had gone on conquering as he did before, his Ruin had been long since
finished. This brings to my Mind a saying of King _Pyrrhus_, after he
had a second time beat the _Romans_ in a pitched Battle, and was
complimented by his Generals; _Yes_, says he, _such another Victory
and I am quite undone_. And since I have mentioned _Pyrrhus_, I will
end with a very good, though known Story of this ambitious mad Man.
When he had shewn the utmost Fondness for his Expedition against the
_Romans, Cyneas_ his chief Minister asked him what he proposed to
himself by this War? Why, says _Pyrrhus_, to conquer the _Romans_, and
reduce all _Italy_ to my Obedience. What then? says _Cyneas_. To pass
over into _Sicily_, says _Pyrrhus_, and then all the _Sicilians_ must
be our Subjects. And what does your Majesty intend next? Why truly,
says the King, to conquer _Carthage_, and make myself Master of all
_Africa_. And what, Sir, says the Minister is to be the End of all
your Expeditions? Why then, says the King, for the rest of our Lives
we'll sit down to good Wine. How, Sir, replied Cyneas, to better than
we have now before us? Have we not already as much as we can drink?
[3]

Riot and Excess are not the becoming Characters of Princes: but if
Pyrrhus and Lewis had debauched like Vitellius, they had been less
hurtful to their People.'

Your humble Servant,

T. PHILARITHMUS.

[Footnote 1: The letter is, with other contributions not now traceable to him, by Henry Martyn, son of Edward Martyn, Esq., of Melksham, Wilts. He was bred to the bar, but his health did not suffer him to practise. He has been identified with the Cottilus of No. 143 of the Spectator. In 1713 Henry Martyn opposed the ratification of the Treaty of Commerce made with France at the Peace of Utrecht in a Paper called 'The British Merchant, or Commerce Preserved,' which was a reply to Defoe's 'Mercator, or Commerce Retrieved.' Martyn's paper is said to have been a principal cause of the rejection of the Treaty, and to have procured him the post of Inspector-General of Imports and Exports. He died at Blackheath, March 25, 1721, leaving one son, who became Secretary to the Commissioners of Excise. As an intimate friend of Steele's, it has been thought that Henry Martyn suggested a trait or two in the Sir Andrew Freeport of the Spectator's Club.]

[Footnote 2: Sept. 20, 1696.]

[Footnote 3: These anecdotes are from Plutarch's 'Life of Pyrrhus'.]

* * * * *

No. 181. Thursday, September 27, 1711. Addison.

'His lacrymis vitam damus, et miserescimus ultrò.'

Virg.

I am more pleased with a Letter that is filled with Touches of Nature than of Wit. The following one is of this Kind.

SIR,

'Among all the Distresses which happen in Families, I do not remember
that you have touched upon the Marriage of Children without the
Consent of their Parents. I am one of [these [1]] unfortunate Persons.
I was about Fifteen when I took the Liberty to choose for my self; and
have ever since languished under the Displeasure of an inexorable
Father, who, though he sees me happy in the best of Husbands, and
blessed with very fine Children, can never be prevailed upon to
forgive me. He was so kind to me before this unhappy Accident, that
indeed it makes my Breach of Duty, in some measure, inexcusable; and
at the same Time creates in me such a Tenderness towards him, that I
love him above all things, and would die to be reconciled to him. I
have thrown myself at his Feet, and besought him with Tears to pardon
me; but he always pushes me away, and spurns me from him; I have
written several Letters to him, but he will neither open nor receive
them. About two Years ago I sent my little Boy to him, dressed in a
new Apparel; but the Child returned to me crying, because he said his
Grandfather would not see him, and had ordered him to be put out of
his House. My Mother is won over to my Side, but dares not mention me
to my Father for fear of provoking him. About a Month ago he lay sick
upon his Bed, and in great Danger of his Life: I was pierced to the
Heart at the News, and could not forbear going to inquire after his
Health. My Mother took this Opportunity of speaking in my Behalf: she
told him with abundance of Tears, that I was come to see him, that I
could not speak to her for weeping, and that I should certainly break
my Heart if he refus'd at that Time to give me his Blessing, and be
reconciled to me. He was so far from relenting towards me, that he bid
her speak no more of me, unless she had a mind to disturb him in his
last Moments; for, Sir, you must know that he has the Reputation of an
honest and religious Man, which makes my Misfortune so much the
greater. God be thanked he is since recovered: But his severe Usage
has given me such a Blow, that I shall soon sink under it, unless I
may be relieved by any Impressions which the reading of this in your
Paper may make upon him.

_I am, &c._

Of all Hardnesses of Heart there is none so inexcusable as that of Parents towards their Children. An obstinate, inflexible, unforgiving Temper is odious upon all Occasions; but here it is unnatural. The Love, Tenderness, and Compassion, which are apt to arise in us towards those [who [2]] depend upon us, is that by which the whole World of Life is upheld. The Supreme Being, by the transcendent Excellency and Goodness of his Nature, extends his Mercy towards all his Works; and because his Creatures have not such a spontaneous Benevolence and Compassion towards those who are under their Care and Protection, he has implanted in them an Instinct, that supplies the Place of this inherent Goodness. I have illustrated this kind of Instinct in former Papers, and have shewn how it runs thro' all the Species of brute Creatures, as indeed the whole Animal Creation subsists by it.

This Instinct in Man is more general and uncircumscribed than in Brutes, as being enlarged by the Dictates of Reason and Duty. For if we consider our selves attentively, we shall find that we are not only inclined to love those who descend from us, but that we bear a kind of [Greek: atorgáe], or natural Affection, to every thing which relies upon us for its Good and Preservation. Dependance is a perpetual Call upon Humanity, and a greater Incitement to Tenderness and Pity than any other Motive whatsoever.

The Man therefore who, notwithstanding any Passion or Resentment, can overcome this powerful Instinct, and extinguish natural Affection, debases his Mind even below Brutality, frustrates, as much as in him lies, the great Design of Providence, and strikes out of his Nature one of the most Divine Principles that is planted in it.

Among innumerable Arguments [which [3]] might be brought against such an unreasonable Proceeding, I shall only insist on one. We make it the Condition of our Forgiveness that we forgive others. In our very Prayers we desire no more than to be treated by this kind of Retaliation. The Case therefore before us seems to be what they call a Case in Point; the Relation between the Child and Father being what comes nearest to that between a Creature and its Creator. If the Father is inexorable to the Child who has offended, let the Offence be of never so high a Nature, how will he address himself to the Supreme Being under the tender Appellation of a Father, and desire of him such a Forgiveness as he himself refuses to grant?

To this I might add many other religious, as well as many prudential Considerations; but if the last mentioned Motive does not prevail, I despair of succeeding by any other, and shall therefore conclude my Paper with a very remarkable Story, which is recorded in an old Chronicle published by Freher, among the Writers of the German History. [4]

Eginhart, who was Secretary to Charles the Great, became exceeding popular by his Behaviour in that Post. His great Abilities gain'd him the Favour of his Master, and the Esteem of the whole Court. Imma, the Daughter of the Emperor, was so pleased with his Person and Conversation, that she fell in Love with him. As she was one of the greatest Beauties of the Age, Eginhart answer'd her with a more than equal Return of Passion. They stifled their Flames for some Time, under Apprehension of the fatal Consequences that might ensue. Eginhart at length resolving to hazard all, rather than be deprived of one whom his Heart was so much set upon, conveyed himself one Night into the Princess's Apartment, and knocking gently at the Door, was admitted as a Person [who [5]] had something to communicate to her from the Emperor. He was with her in private most Part of the Night; but upon his preparing to go away about Break of Day, he observed that there had fallen a great Snow during his Stay with the Princess. This very much perplexed him, lest the Prints of his Feet in the Snow might make Discoveries to the King, who often used to visit his Daughter in the Morning. He acquainted the Princess Imma with his Fears; who, after some Consultations upon the Matter, prevailed upon him to let her carry him through the Snow upon her own Shoulders. It happened, that the Emperor not being able to sleep, was at that time up and walking in his Chamber, when upon looking through the Window he perceived his Daughter tottering under her Burden, and carrying his first Minister across the Snow; which she had no sooner done, but she returned again with the utmost Speed to her own Apartment. The Emperor was extreamly troubled and astonished at this Accident; but resolved to speak nothing of it till a proper Opportunity. In the mean time, Eginhart knowing that what he had done could not be long a Secret, determined to retire from Court; and in order to it begged the Emperor that he would be pleased to dismiss him, pretending a kind of Discontent at his not having been rewarded for his long Services. The Emperor would not give a direct Answer to his Petition, but told him he would think of it, and [appointed [6]] a certain Day when he would let him know his Pleasure. He then called together the most faithful of his Counsellors, and acquainting them with his Secretary's Crime, asked them their Advice in so delicate an Affair. They most of them gave their Opinion, that the Person could not be too severely punished who had thus dishonoured his Master. Upon the whole Debate, the Emperor declared it was his Opinion, that Eginhart's Punishment would rather encrease than diminish the Shame of his Family, and that therefore he thought it the most adviseable to wear out the Memory of the Fact, by marrying him to his Daughter. Accordingly Eginhart was called in, and acquainted by the Emperor, that he should no longer have any Pretence of complaining his Services were not rewarded, for that the Princess Imma should be given [him [7]] in Marriage, with a Dower suitable to her Quality; which was soon after performed accordingly.

L.

[Footnote 1: those]

[Footnote 2: that]

[Footnote 3: that]

[Footnote 4: Marquard Freher, who died at Heidelberg in 1614, aged 49, was Counsellor to the Elector Palatine, and Professor of Jurisprudence at Heidelberg, until employed by the Elector (Frederick IV) as his Minister in Poland, and at other courts. The chief of many works of his were, on the Monetary System of the Ancient Romans and of the German Empire in his day, a History of France, a collection of Writers on Bohemian History, and another of Writers on German History, Rerum Germanicarum Scriptores, in three volumes. It is from a Chronicle of the monastery of Lorsch (or Laurisheim), in Hesse Darmstadt, under the year 805, in the first volume of the last-named collection, that the story about Eginhart was taken by Bayle, out of whose Dictionary Addison got it. Bayle, indeed, specially recommends it as good matter for a story. Imma, the chronicle says, had been betrothed to the Grecian Emperor.]

[Footnote 5: that]

[Footnote 6: fixed on]

[Footnote 7: to him]

* * * * *

No. 182. Friday, September 28, 1711. Steele.

'Plus aloës quàm mellis habet ...'

Juv.

As all Parts of humane Life come under my Observation, my Reader must not make uncharitable Inferences from my speaking knowingly of that Sort of Crime which is at present treated of. He will, I hope, suppose I know it only from the Letters of Correspondents, two of which you shall have as follow.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'It is wonderful to me that among the many Enormities which you have
treated of, you have not mentioned that of Wenching, and particularly
the Insnaring Part; I mean, that it is a Thing very fit for your Pen,
to expose the Villany of the Practice of deluding Women. You are to
know, Sir, that I myself am a Woman who have been one of the Unhappy
that have fallen into this Misfortune, and that by the Insinuation of
a very worthless Fellow, who served others in the same Manner both
before my Ruin and since that Time. I had, as soon as the Rascal left
me, so much Indignation and Resolution, as not to go upon the Town, as
the Phrase is, but took to Work for my Living in an obscure Place, out
of the Knowledge of all with whom I was before acquainted.

It is the ordinary Practice and Business of Life with a Set of idle
Fellows about this Town, to write Letters, send Messages, and form
Appointments with little raw unthinking Girls, and leave them after
Possession of them, without any Mercy, to Shame, Infamy, Poverty, and
Disease. Were you to read the nauseous Impertinences which are written
on these Occasions, and to see the silly Creatures sighing over them,
it could not but be Matter of Mirth as well as Pity. A little Prentice
Girl of mine has been for some time applied to by an Irish Fellow, who
dresses very fine, and struts in a laced Coat, and is the Admiration
of Seamstresses who are under Age in Town. Ever since I have had some
Knowledge of the Matter, I have debarred my Prentice from Pen, Ink and
Paper. But the other Day he bespoke some Cravats of me: I went out of
the Shop, and left his Mistress to put them up into a Band-box in
order to be sent to him when his Man called. When I came into the Shop
again, I took occasion to send her away, and found in the Bottom of
the Box written these Words, Why would you ruin a harmless Creature
that loves you? then in the Lid, There is no resisting Strephon: I
searched a little farther, and found in the Rim of the Box, At Eleven
of clock at Night come in an Hackney-Coach at the End of our Street.
This was enough to alarm me; I sent away the things, and took my
Measures accordingly. An Hour or two before the appointed Time I
examined my young Lady, and found her Trunk stuffed with impertinent
Letters, and an old Scroll of Parchment in Latin, which her Lover had
sent her as a Settlement of Fifty Pounds a Year: Among other things,
there was also the best Lace I had in my Shop to make him a Present
for Cravats. I was very glad of this last Circumstance, because I
could very conscientiously swear against him that he had enticed my
Servant away, and was her Accomplice in robbing me: I procured a
Warrant against him accordingly. Every thing was now prepared, and the
tender Hour of Love approaching, I, who had acted for myself in my
Youth the same senseless Part, knew how to manage accordingly.
Therefore after having locked up my Maid, and not being so much unlike
her in Height and Shape, as in a huddled way not to pass for her, I
delivered the Bundle designed to be carried off to her Lover's Man,
who came with the Signal to receive them. Thus I followed after to the
Coach, where when I saw his Master take them in, I cryed out, Thieves!
Thieves! and the Constable with his Attendants seized my expecting
Lover. I kept my self unobserved till I saw the Crowd sufficiently
encreased, and then appeared to declare the Goods to be mine; and had
the Satisfaction to see my Man of Mode put into the Round-House, with
the stolen Wares by him, to be produced in Evidence against him the
next Morning. This Matter is notoriously known to be Fact; and I have
been contented to save my Prentice, and take a Year's Rent of this
mortified Lover, not to appear further in the Matter. This was some
Penance; but, Sir, is this enough for a Villany of much more
pernicious Consequence than the Trifles for which he was to have been
indicted? Should not you, and all Men of any Parts or Honour, put
things upon so right a Foot, as that such a Rascal should not laugh at
the Imputation of what he was really guilty, and dread being accused
of that for which he was arrested?

In a word, Sir, it is in the Power of you, and such as I hope you are,
to make it as infamous to rob a poor Creature of her Honour as her
Cloaths. I leave this to your Consideration, only take Leave (which I
cannot do without sighing) to remark to you, that if this had been the
Sense of Mankind thirty Years ago, I should have avoided a Life spent
in Poverty and Shame.

I am, Sir, Your most humble Servant, Alice Threadneedle.

_Round-House, Sept. 9_.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I am a Man of Pleasure about Town, but by the Stupidity of a dull
Rogue of a Justice of Peace, and an insolent Constable, upon the Oath
of an old Harridan, am imprisoned here for Theft, when I designed only
Fornication. The Midnight Magistrate, as he conveyed me along, had you
in his Mouth, and said, this would make a pure Story for the
SPECTATOR. I hope, Sir, you won't pretend to Wit, and take the Part of
dull Rogues of Business. The World is so altered of late Years, that
there was not a Man who would knock down a Watchman in my Behalf, but
I was carried off with as much Triumph as if I had been a Pick-pocket.
At this rate, there is an end of all the Wit and Humour in the World.
The Time was when all the honest Whore-masters in the Neighbourhood
would have rose against the Cuckolds to my Rescue. If Fornication is
to be scandalous, half the fine things that have been writ by most of
the Wits of the last Age may be burnt by the common Hangman. Harkee,
[Mr.] SPEC, do not be queer; after having done some things pretty
well, don't begin to write at that rate that no Gentleman can read
thee. Be true to Love, and burn your _Seneca_. You do not expect me to
write my Name from hence, but I am
_Your unknown humble, &c_.'

* * * * *

No. 183. Saturday, September 29, 1711. Addison.

[Greek:

"Idmen pseúdea pollà légein etymoisin homoia,
Idmen d' eut' ethél_omen alaethéa mytháesasthai".

Hesiod.]

Fables were the first Pieces of Wit that made their Appearance in the World, and have been still highly valued, not only in Times of the greatest Simplicity, but among the most polite Ages of Mankind. _Jotham's_ Fable of the Trees [1] is the oldest that is extant, and as beautiful as any which have been made since that Time. _Nathan's_ Fable of the poor Man and his Lamb [2] is likewise more ancient than any that is extant, besides the above-mentioned, and had so good an Effect, as to convey Instruction to the Ear of a King without offending it, and to bring the Man after God's own Heart to a right Sense of his Guilt and his Duty. We find _Æsop_ in the most distant Ages of _Greece_; and if we look into the very Beginnings of the Commonwealth of _Rome_, we see a Mutiny among the Common People appeased by a Fable of the Belly and the Limbs, [3] which was indeed very proper to gain the Attention of an incensed Rabble, at a Time when perhaps they would have torn to Pieces any Man who had preached the same Doctrine to them in an open and direct Manner. As Fables took their Birth in the very Infancy of Learning, they never flourished more than when Learning was at its greatest Height. To justify this Assertion, I shall put my Reader in mind of _Horace_, the greatest Wit and Critick in the _Augustan_ Age; and of _Boileau_, the most correct Poet among the Moderns: Not to mention _La Fontaine_, who by this Way of Writing is come more into Vogue than any other Author of our Times.

The Fables I have here mentioned are raised altogether upon Brutes and Vegetables, with some of our own Species mixt among them, when the Moral hath so required. But besides this kind of Fable, there is another in which the Actors are Passions, Virtues, Vices, and other imaginary Persons of the like Nature. Some of the ancient Criticks will have it, that the Iliad and Odyssey of Homer are Fables of this Nature: and that the several Names of Gods and Heroes are nothing else but the Affections of the Mind in a visible Shape and Character. Thus they tell us, that Achilles, in the first Iliad, represents Anger, or the Irascible Part of Human Nature; That upon drawing his Sword against his Superior in a full Assembly, _Pallas_ is only another Name for Reason, which checks and advises him upon that Occasion; and at her first Appearance touches him upon the Head, that Part of the Man being looked upon as the Seat of Reason. And thus of the rest of the Poem. As for the Odyssey, I think it is plain that _Horace_ considered it as one of these Allegorical Fables, by the Moral which he has given us of several Parts of it. The greatest _Italian_ Wits have applied themselves to the Writing of this latter kind of Fables: As _Spencer's Fairy-Queen_ is one continued Series of them from the Beginning to the End of that admirable Work. If we look into the finest Prose Authors of Antiquity, such as _Cicero_, _Plato_, _Xenophon_, and many others, we shall find that this was likewise their Favourite Kind of Fable. I shall only further observe upon it, that the first of this Sort that made any considerable Figure in the World, was that of _Hercules_ meeting with Pleasure and Virtue; which was invented by _Prodicus_, who lived before _Socrates_, and in the first Dawnings of Philosophy. He used to travel through _Greece_ by vertue of this Fable, which procured him a kind Reception in all the Market-towns, where he never failed telling it as soon as he had gathered an Audience about him. [4]

After this short Preface, which I have made up of such Materials as my Memory does at present suggest to me, before I present my Reader with a Fable of this Kind, which I design as the Entertainment of the present Paper, I must in a few Words open the Occasion of it.

In the Account which _Plato_ gives us of the Conversation and Behaviour of _Socrates_, the Morning he was to die, he tells the following Circumstance.

When Socrates his Fetters were knocked off (as was usual to be done on the Day that the condemned Person was to be executed) being seated in the midst of his Disciples, and laying one of his Legs over the other, in a very unconcerned Posture, he began to rub it where it had been galled by the Iron; and whether it was to shew the Indifference with which he entertained \the Thoughts of his approaching Death, or (after his usual Manner) to take every Occasion of Philosophizing upon some useful Subject, he observed the Pleasure of that Sensation which now arose in those very Parts of his Leg, that just before had been so much pained by the Fetter. Upon this he reflected on the Nature of Pleasure and Pain in general, and how constantly they succeeded one another. To this he added, That if a Man of a good Genius for a Fable were to represent the Nature of Pleasure and Pain in that Way of Writing, he would probably join them together after such a manner, that it would be impossible for the one to come into any Place without being followed by the other. [5]

It is possible, that if Plato had thought it proper at such a Time to describe Socrates launching out into a Discourse [which [6]] was not of a piece with the Business of the Day, he would have enlarged upon this Hint, and have drawn it out into some beautiful Allegory or Fable. But since he has not done it, I shall attempt to write one myself in the Spirit of that Divine Author.

_There were two Families which from the Beginning of the World were as opposite to each other as Light and Darkness. The one of them lived in Heaven, and the other in Hell. The youngest Descendant of the first Family was Pleasure, who was the Daughter of Happiness, who was the Child of Virtue, who was the Offspring of the Gods. These, as I said before, had their Habitation in Heaven. The youngest of the opposite Family was Pain, who was the Son of Misery, who was the Child of Vice, who was the Offspring of the Furies. The Habitation of this Race of Beings was in Hell.

The middle Station of Nature between these two opposite Extremes was the Earth, which was inhabited by Creatures of a middle Kind, neither so Virtuous as the one, nor so Vicious as the other, but partaking of the good and bad Qualities of these two opposite Families._ Jupiter _considering that this Species commonly called Man, was too virtuous to be miserable, and too vicious to be happy; that he might make a Distinction between the Good and the Bad, ordered the two youngest of the above-mentioned Families, Pleasure who was the Daughter of Happiness, and Pain who was the Son of Misery, to meet one another upon this Part of Nature which lay in the half-Way between them, having promised to settle it upon them both, provided they could agree upon the Division of it, so as to share Mankind between them.

Pleasure and Pain were no sooner met in their new Habitation, but they immediately agreed upon this Point, that Pleasure should take Possession of the Virtuous, and Pain of the Vicious Part of that Species which was given up to them. But upon examining to which of them any Individual they met with belonged, they found each of them had a Right to him; for that, contrary to what they had seen in their old Places of Residence, there was no Person so Vicious who had not some Good in him, nor any Person so Virtuous who had not in him some Evil. The Truth of it is, they generally found upon Search, that in the most vicious Man Pleasure might lay a Claim to an hundredth Part, and that in the most virtuous Man Pain might come in for at least two Thirds. This they saw would occasion endless Disputes between them, unless they could come to some Accommodation. To this end there was a Marriage proposed between them, and at length concluded: By this means it is that we find Pleasure and Pain are such constant Yoke-fellows, and that they either make their Visits together, or are never far asunder. If Pain comes into an Heart, he is quickly followed by Pleasure; and if Pleasure enters, you may be sure Pain is not far off.

But notwithstanding this Marriage was very convenient for the two Parties, it did not seem to answer the Intention of_ Jupiter _in sending them among Mankind. To remedy therefore this Inconvenience, it was stipulated between them by Article, and confirmed by the Consent of each Family, that notwithstanding they here possessed the Species indifferently; upon the Death of every single Person, if he was found to have in him a certain Proportion of Evil, he should be dispatched into the infernal Regions by a Passport from Pain, there to dwell with Misery, Vice and the Furies. Or on the contrary, if he had in him a certain Proportion of Good, he should be dispatched into Heaven by a Passport from Pleasure, there to dwell with Happiness, Virtue and the Gods._

L.

[Footnote 1: 'Judges' ix. 8--15.]

[Footnote 2: '2 Sam.' xii. 1--4.]

[Footnote 3: 'Livy,' Bk. II. sec. 32.]

[Footnote 4: Xenophon's 'Memorabilia Socratis, Bk. II.]

[Footnote 5: 'Phaedon', § 10.]

[Footnote 6: that]

* * * * *

No. 184. Monday, October 1, 1711. Addison.

'... Opere in longo fas est obrepere somnum ...'

Hor.

When a Man has discovered a new Vein of Humour, it often carries him much further than he expected from it. My Correspondents take the Hint I give them, and pursue it into Speculations which I never thought of at my first starting it. This has been the Fate of my Paper on the Match of Grinning, which has already produced a second Paper on parallel Subjects, and brought me the following Letter by the last Post. I shall not premise any thing to it further than that it is built on Matter of Fact, and is as follows.

SIR,

'You have already obliged the World with a Discourse upon Grinning,
and have since proceeded to Whistling, from whence you [at length came
[1]] to Yawning; from this, I think, you may make a very natural
Transition to Sleeping. I therefore recommend to you for the Subject
of a Paper the following Advertisement, which about two Months ago was
given into every Body's Hands, and may be seen with some Additions in
the Daily Courant of August the Ninth.

'Nicholas Hart, [2] who slept last Year in St. Bartholomew's
Hospital, intends to sleep this Year at the Cock and Bottle in
Little-Britain.'

Having since inquired into the Matter of Fact, I find that the
above-mentioned Nicholas Hart was every Year seized with a periodical
Fit of Sleeping, which begins upon the Fifth of August, and ends on
the Eleventh of the same Month: That

On the First of that Month he grew dull;
On the Second, appeared drowsy;
On the Third, fell a yawning;
On the Fourth, began to nod;
On the Fifth, dropped asleep;
On the Sixth, was heard to snore;
On the Seventh, turned himself in his Bed;
On the Eighth, recovered his former Posture;
On the Ninth fell a stretching;
On the Tenth about Midnight, awaked;
On the Eleventh in the Morning called for a little Small-Beer.

This Account I have extracted out of the Journal of this sleeping
Worthy, as it has been faithfully kept by a Gentleman of
_Lincoln's-Inn_, who has undertaken to be his Historiographer. I have
sent it to you, not only as it represents the Actions of _Nicholas
Hart_, but as it seems a very natural Picture of the Life of many an
honest _English_ Gentleman, whose whole History very often consists of
Yawning, Nodding, Stretching, Turning, Sleeping, Drinking, and the
like extraordinary Particulars. I do not question, Sir, that, if you
pleased, you could put out an Advertisement not unlike [the [3]]
above-mentioned, of several Men of Figure; that Mr. _John_ such-a-one,
Gentleman, or _Thomas_ such-a-one, Esquire, who slept in the Country
last Summer, intends to sleep in Town this Winter. The worst of it is,
that the drowsy Part of our Species is chiefly made up of very honest
Gentlemen, who live quietly among their Neighbours, without ever
disturbing the publick Peace: They are Drones without Stings. I could
heartily wish, that several turbulent, restless, ambitious Spirits,
would for a while change Places with these good Men, and enter
themselves into _Nicholas Hart's_ Fraternity. Could one but lay asleep
a few busy Heads which I could name, from the First of _November_ next
to the First of _May_ ensuing, [4] I question not but it would very
much redound to the Quiet of particular Persons, as well as to the
Benefit of the Publick.

But to return to _Nicholas Hart_: I believe, Sir, you will think it a
very extraordinary Circumstance for a Man to gain his Livelihood by
Sleeping, and that Rest should procure a Man Sustenance as well as
Industry; yet so it is that Nicholas got last Year enough to support
himself for a Twelvemonth. I am likewise informed that he has this
Year had a very comfortable Nap. The Poets value themselves very much
for sleeping on Parnassus, but I never heard they got a Groat by it:
On the contrary, our Friend Nicholas gets more by Sleeping than he
could by Working, and may be more properly said, than ever Homer was,
to have had Golden Dreams. Fuvenal indeed mentions a drowsy Husband
who raised an Estate by Snoring, but then he is represented to have
slept what the common People call a Dog's Sleep; or if his Sleep was
real, his Wife was awake, and about her Business. Your Pen, [which
[5]] loves to moralize upon all Subjects, may raise something,
methinks, on this Circumstance also, and point out to us those Sets of
Men, who instead of growing rich by an honest Industry, recommend
themselves to the Favours of the Great, by making themselves agreeable
Companions in the Participations of Luxury and Pleasure.

I must further acquaint you, Sir, that one of the most eminent Pens in
Grub-street is now employed in Writing the Dream of this miraculous
Sleeper, which I hear will be of a more than ordinary Length, as it
must contain all the Particulars that are supposed to have passed in
his Imagination during so long a Sleep. He is said to have gone
already through three Days and [three] Nights of it, and to have
comprised in them the most remarkable Passages of the four first
Empires of the World. If he can keep free from Party-Strokes, his Work
may be of Use; but this I much doubt, having been informed by one of
his Friends and Confidents, that he has spoken some things of Nimrod
with too great Freedom.

I am ever, Sir, &c.

L.

[Footnote 1: are at length come]

[Footnote 2: Nicholas Hart, born at Leyden, was at this time 22 years old, one of ten children of a learned mathematician who for two years had been a tutor to King William. Nicholas was a sailor from the age of twelve, and no scholar, although he spoke French, Dutch, and English. He was a patient at St. Bartholomew's for stone and gravel some weeks before, and on the 3rd of August, 1711, set his mark to an account of himself, when he expected to fall asleep on the fifth of August, two days later. His account was also signed by 'William Hill, Sen. No. I. Lincoln's Inn,' the 'Gentleman of 'Lincoln's Inn,' presently alluded to.]

[Footnote 3: that]

[Footnote 4: That is, when Parliament is sitting.]

[Footnote 5: that]

* * * * *

No. 185. Tuesday, October 2, 1711. Addison.

'... Tantæne Animis coelestibus Iræ?'

Virg.

There is nothing in which Men more deceive themselves than in what the World calls Zeal. There are so many Passions which hide themselves under it, and so many Mischiefs arising from it, that some have gone so far as to say it would have been for the Benefit of Mankind if it had never been reckoned in the Catalogue of Virtues. It is certain, where it is once Laudable and Prudential, it is an hundred times Criminal and Erroneous; nor can it be otherwise, if we consider that it operates with equal Violence in all Religions, however opposite they may be to one another, and in all the Subdivisions of each Religion in particular.

We are told by some of the Jewish Rabbins, that the first Murder was occasioned by a religious Controversy; and if we had the whole History of Zeal from the Days of Cain to our own Times, we should see it filled with so many Scenes of Slaughter and Bloodshed, as would make a wise Man very careful how he suffers himself to be actuated by such a Principle, when it only regards Matters of Opinion and Speculation.

I would have every Zealous Man examine his Heart thoroughly, and, I believe, he will often find, that what he calls a Zeal for his Religion, is either Pride, Interest, or Ill-nature. [A Man who [1]] differs from another in Opinion, sets himself above him in his own Judgment, and in several Particulars pretends to be the wiser Person. This is a great Provocation to the proud Man, and gives a very keen Edge to what he calls his Zeal. And that this is the Case very often, we may observe from the Behaviour of some of the most zealous for Orthodoxy, who have often great Friendships and Intimacies with vicious immoral Men, provided they do but agree with them in the same Scheme of Belief. The Reason is, Because the vicious Believer gives the Precedency to the virtuous Man, and allows the good Christian to be the worthier Person, at the same time that he cannot come up to his Perfections. This we find exemplified in that trite Passage which we see quoted in almost every System of Ethicks, tho' upon another Occasion.

'... Video meliora proboque,
Deteriora sequor ...'

(Ov.)

On the contrary, it is certain, if our Zeal were true and genuine, we should be much more angry with a Sinner than a Heretick; since there are several Cases [which [2]] may excuse the latter before his great Judge, but none [which [3]] can excuse the former.

Interest is likewise a great Inflamer, and sets a Man on Persecution under the colour of Zeal. For this Reason we find none are so forward to promote the true Worship by Fire and Sword, as those who find their present Account in it. But I shall extend the Word Interest to a larger Meaning than what is generally given it, as it relates to our Spiritual Safety and Welfare, as well as to our Temporal. A Man is glad to gain Numbers on his Side, as they serve to strengthen him in his private Opinions. Every Proselyte is like a new Argument for the Establishment of his Faith. It makes him believe that his Principles carry Conviction with them, and are the more likely to be true, when he finds they are conformable to the Reason of others, as well as to his own. And that this Temper of Mind deludes a Man very often into an Opinion of his Zeal, may appear from the common Behaviour of the Atheist, who maintains and spreads his Opinions with as much Heat as those who believe they do it only out of Passion for God's Glory.

Ill-nature is another dreadful Imitator of Zeal. Many a good Man may have a natural Rancour and Malice in his Heart, [which [4]] has been in some measure quelled and subdued by Religion; but if it finds any Pretence of breaking out, which does not seem to him inconsistent with the Duties of a Christian, it throws off all Restraint, and rages in its full Fury. Zeal is therefore a great Ease to a malicious Man, by making him believe he does God Service, whilst he is gratifying the Bent of a perverse revengeful Temper. For this Reason we find, that most of the Massacres and Devastations, [which [5]] have been in the World, have taken their Rise from a furious pretended Zeal.

I love to see a Man zealous in a good Matter, and especially when his Zeal shews it self for advancing Morality, and promoting the Happiness of Mankind: But when I find the Instruments he works with are Racks and Gibbets, Gallies and Dungeons; when he imprisons Mens Persons, confiscates their Estates, ruins their Families, and burns the Body to save the Soul, I cannot stick to pronounce of such a one, that (whatever he may think of his Faith and Religion) his Faith is vain, and his Religion unprofitable.

After having treated of these false Zealots in Religion, I cannot forbear mentioning a monstrous Species of Men, who one would not think had any Existence in Nature, were they not to be met with in ordinary Conversation, I mean the Zealots in Atheism. One would fancy that these Men, tho' they fall short, in every other Respect, of those who make a Profession of Religion, would at least outshine them in this Particular, and be exempt from that single Fault which seems to grow out of the imprudent Fervours of Religion: But so it is, that Infidelity is propagated with as much Fierceness and Contention, Wrath and Indignation, as if the Safety of Mankind depended upon it. There is something so ridiculous and perverse in this kind of Zealots, that one does not know how to set them out in their proper Colours. They are a Sort of Gamesters [who [6]] are eternally upon the Fret, though they play for nothing. They are perpetually teizing their Friends to come over to them, though at the same time they allow that neither of them shall get any thing by the Bargain. In short, the Zeal of spreading Atheism is, if possible, more absurd than Atheism it self.

Since I have mentioned this unaccountable Zeal which appears in Atheists and Infidels, I must further observe that they are likewise in a most particular manner possessed with the Spirit of Bigotry. They are wedded to Opinions full of Contradiction and Impossibility, and at the same time look upon the smallest Difficulty in an Article of Faith as a sufficient Reason for rejecting it. Notions that fall in with the common Reason of Mankind, that are conformable to the Sense of all Ages and all Nations, not to mention their Tendency for promoting the Happiness of Societies, or of particular Persons, are exploded as Errors and Prejudices; and Schemes erected in their stead that are altogether monstrous and irrational, and require the most extravagant Credulity to embrace them. I would fain ask one of these bigotted Infidels, supposing all the great Points of Atheism, as the casual or eternal Formation of the World, the Materiality of a thinking Substance, the Mortality of the Soul, the fortuitous Organization of the Body, the Motions and Gravitation of Matter, with the like Particulars, were laid together and formed [into [7]] a kind of Creed, according to the Opinions of the most celebrated Atheists; I say, supposing such a Creed as this were formed, and imposed upon any one People in the World, whether it would not require an infinitely greater Measure of Faith, than any Set of Articles which they so violently oppose. Let me therefore advise this Generation of Wranglers, for their own and for the publick Good, to act at least so consistently with themselves, as not to burn with Zeal for Irreligion, and with Bigotry for Nonsense.

C.

[Footnote 1: The Man that]

[Footnote 2: that]

[Footnote 3: that]

[Footnote 4: that]

[Footnote 5: that]

[Footnote 6: that]

[Footnote 7: in]

* * * * *

No. 186. Wednesday, October 3, 1711. Addison.

'Coelum ipsum petimus stultitiâ.'

Hor.

Upon my Return to my Lodgings last Night I found a Letter from my worthy Friend the Clergyman, whom I have given some Account of in my former Papers. He tells me in it that he was particularly pleased with the latter Part of my Yesterday's Speculation; and at the same time enclosed the following Essay, which he desires me to publish as the Sequel of that Discourse. It consists partly of uncommon Reflections, and partly of such as have been already used, but now set in a stronger Light.

'A Believer may be excused by the most hardened Atheist for
endeavouring to make him a Convert, because he does it with an Eye to
both their Interests. The Atheist is inexcusable who tries to gain
over a Believer, because he does not propose the doing himself or the
Believer any Good by such a Conversion.

The Prospect of a future State is the secret Comfort and Refreshment
of my Soul; it is that which makes Nature look gay about me; it
doubles all my Pleasures, and supports me under all my Afflictions. I
can look at Disappointments and Misfortunes, Pain and Sickness, Death
itself, and, what is worse than Death, the Loss of those who are
dearest to me, with Indifference, so long as I keep in view the
Pleasures of Eternity, and the State of Being in which there will be
no Fears nor Apprehensions, Pains nor Sorrows, Sickness nor
Separation. Why will any Man be so impertinently Officious as to tell
me all this is only Fancy and Delusion? Is there any Merit in being
the Messenger of ill News? If it is a Dream, let me enjoy it, since it
makes me both the happier and better Man.

I must confess I do not know how to trust a Man [who [1]] believes
neither Heaven nor Hell, or, in other Words, a future State of Rewards
and Punishments. Not only natural Self-love, but Reason directs us to
promote our own Interest above all Things. It can never be for the
Interest of a Believer to do me a Mischief, because he is sure upon
the Balance of Accompts to find himself a Loser by it. On the
contrary, if he considers his own Welfare in his Behaviour towards me,
it will lead him to do me all the Good he can, and at the same Time
restrain him from doing me any Injury. An Unbeliever does not act like
a reasonable Creature, if he favours me contrary to his present
Interest, or does not distress me when it turns to his present
Advantage. Honour and Good-nature may indeed tie up his Hands; but as
these would be very much strengthened by Reason and Principle, so
without them they are only Instincts, or wavering unsettled Notions,
[which [2]] rest on no Foundation.

Infidelity has been attack'd with so good Success of late Years, that
it is driven out of all its Out-works. The Atheist has not found his
Post tenable, and is therefore retired into Deism, and a Disbelief of
revealed Religion only. But the Truth of it is, the greatest Number of
this Set of Men, are those who, for want of a virtuous Education, or
examining the Grounds of Religion, know so very little of the Matter
in Question, that their Infidelity is but another Term for their
Ignorance.

As Folly and Inconsiderateness are the Foundations of Infidelity, the
great Pillars and Supports of it are either a Vanity of appearing
wiser than the rest of Mankind, or an Ostentation of Courage in
despising the Terrors of another World, which have so great an
Influence on what they call weaker Minds; or an Aversion to a Belief
that must cut them off from many of those Pleasures they propose to
themselves, and fill them with Remorse for many of those they have
already tasted.

The great received Articles of the Christian Religion have been so
clearly proved, from the Authority of that Divine Revelation in which
they are delivered, that it is impossible for those who have Ears to
hear, and Eyes to see, not to be convinced of them. But were it
possible for any thing in the Christian Faith to be erroneous, I can
find no ill Consequences in adhering to it. The great Points of the
Incarnation and Sufferings of our Saviour produce naturally such
Habits of Virtue in the Mind of Man, that I say, supposing it were
possible for us to be mistaken in them, the Infidel himself must at
least allow that no other System of Religion could so effectually
contribute to the heightning of Morality. They give us great Ideas of
the Dignity of human Nature, and of the Love which the Supreme Being
bears to his Creatures, and consequently engage us in the highest Acts
of Duty towards our Creator, our Neighbour, and our selves. How many
noble Arguments has Saint Paul raised from the chief Articles of our
Religion, for the advancing of Morality in its three great Branches?
To give a single Example in each Kind: What can be a stronger Motive
to a firm Trust and Reliance on the Mercies of our Maker, than the
giving us his Son to suffer for us? What can make us love and esteem
even the most inconsiderable of Mankind more than the Thought that
Christ died for him? Or what dispose us to set a stricter Guard upon
the Purity of our own Hearts, than our being Members of Christ, and a
Part of the Society of which that immaculate Person is the Head? But
these are only a Specimen of those admirable Enforcements of Morality,
which the Apostle has drawn from the History of our blessed Saviour.

If our modern Infidels considered these Matters with that Candour and
Seriousness which they deserve, we should not see them act with such a
Spirit of Bitterness, Arrogance, and Malice: They would not be raising
such insignificant Cavils, Doubts, and Scruples, as may be started
against every thing that is not capable of mathematical Demonstration;
in order to unsettle the Minds of the Ignorant, disturb the publick
Peace, subvert Morality, and throw all things into Confusion and
Disorder. If none of these Reflections can have any Influence on them,
there is one that perhaps may, because it is adapted to their Vanity,
by which they seem to be guided much more than their Reason. I would
therefore have them consider, that the wisest and best of Men, in all
Ages of the World, have been those who lived up to the Religion of
their Country, when they saw nothing in it opposite to Morality, and
[to] the best Lights they had of the Divine Nature. Pythagoras's first
Rule directs us to worship the Gods as it is ordained by Law, for that
is the most natural Interpretation of the Precept. [3] Socrates, who
was the most renowned among the Heathens both for Wisdom and Virtue,
in his last Moments desires his Friends to offer a Cock to
Æsculapius; [4] doubtless out of a submissive Deference to the
established Worship of his Country. Xenophon tells us, that his Prince
(whom he sets forth as a Pattern of Perfection), when he found his
Death approaching, offered Sacrifices on the Mountains to the Persian
Jupiter, and the Sun, according to the Custom of the Persians; for
those are the Words of the Historian. [5] Nay, the Epicureans and
Atomical Philosophers shewed a very remarkable Modesty in this
Particular; for though the Being of a God was entirely repugnant to
their Schemes of natural Philosophy, they contented themselves with
the Denial of a Providence, asserting at the same Time the Existence
of Gods in general; because they would not shock the common Belief of
Mankind, and the Religion of their Country.'

L.

[Footnote 1: that]

[Footnote 2: that]

[Footnote 3: Which is motto to No. 112.]

[Footnote 4: Phædon.]

[Footnote 5: Cyropædia, Bk. viii.]

* * * * *

No. 187. Thursday, October 4, 1711. Steele.

'... Miseri quibus
Intentata nites ...'

Hor.

The Intelligence given by this Correspondent is so important and useful, in order to avoid the Persons he speaks of, that I shall insert his Letter at length.

Mr. SPECTATOR,