Chapter LVII: Introduction (57)

A certain Vice which you have lately attacked, has not yet been
considered by you as growing so deep in the Heart of Man, that the
Affectation outlives the Practice of it. You must have observed that
Men who have been bred in Arms preserve to the most extreme and feeble
old Age a certain Daring in their Aspect: In like manner, they who
have pass'd their Time in Gallantry and Adventure, keep up, as well as
they can, the Appearance of it, and carry a petulant Inclination to
their last Moments. Let this serve for a Preface to a Relation I am
going to give you of an old Beau in Town, that has not only been
amorous, and a Follower of Women in general, but also, in Spite of the
Admonition of grey Hairs, been from his sixty-third Year to his
present seventieth, in an actual Pursuit of a young Lady, the Wife of
his Friend, and a Man of Merit. The gay old Escalus has Wit, good
Health, and is perfectly well bred; but from the Fashion and Manners
of the Court when he was in his Bloom, has such a natural Tendency to
amorous Adventure, that he thought it would be an endless Reproach to
him to make no use of a Familiarity he was allowed at a Gentleman's
House, whose good Humour and Confidence exposed his Wife to the
Addresses of any who should take it in their Head to do him the good
Office. It is not impossible that Escalus might also resent that the
Husband was particularly negligent of him; and tho he gave many
Intimations of a Passion towards the Wife, the Husband either did not
see them, or put him to the Contempt of over-looking them. In the mean
time Isabella, for so we shall call our Heroine, saw his Passion, and
rejoiced in it as a Foundation for much Diversion, and an Opportunity
of indulging her self in the dear Delight of being admired, addressed
to, and flattered, with no ill Consequence to her Reputation. This
Lady is of a free and disengaged Behaviour, ever in good Humour, such
as is the Image of Innocence with those who are innocent, and an
Encouragement to Vice with those who are abandoned. From this Kind of
Carriage, and an apparent Approbation of his Gallantry, Escalus had
frequent Opportunities of laying amorous Epistles in her Way, of
fixing his Eyes attentively upon her Action, of performing a thousand
little Offices which are neglected by the Unconcerned, but are so many
Approaches towards Happiness with the Enamoured. It was now, as is
above hinted, almost the End of the seventh Year of his Passion, when
Escalus from general Terms, and the ambiguous Respect which criminal
Lovers retain in their Addresses, began to bewail that his Passion
grew too violent for him to answer any longer for his Behaviour
towards her; and that he hoped she would have Consideration for his
long and patient Respect, to excuse the Motions of a Heart now no
longer under the Direction of the unhappy Owner of it. Such for some
Months had been the Language of Escalus both in his Talk and his
Letters to Isabella; who returned all the Profusion of kind Things
which had been the Collection of fifty Years with I must not hear you;
you will make me forget that you are a Gentleman, I would not
willingly lose you as a Friend; and the like Expressions, which the
Skilful interpret to their own Advantage, as well knowing that a
feeble Denial is a modest Assent. I should have told you, that
Isabella, during the whole Progress of this Amour, communicated it to
her Husband; and that an Account of Escalus's Love was their usual
Entertainment after half a Days Absence: Isabella therefore, upon her
Lovers late more open Assaults, with a Smile told her Husband she
could hold out no longer, but that his Fate was now come to a Crisis.
After she had explained her self a little farther, with her Husbands
Approbation she proceeded in the following Manner. The next Time that
Escalus was alone with her, and repeated his Importunity, the crafty
Isabella looked on her Fan with an Air of great Attention, as
considering of what Importance such a Secret was to her; and upon the
Repetition of a warm Expression, she looked at him with an Eye of
Fondness, and told him he was past that Time of Life which could make
her fear he would boast of a Lady's Favour; then turned away her Head
with a very well-acted Confusion, which favoured the Escape of the
aged Escalus. This Adventure was Matter of great Pleasantry to
Isabella and her Spouse; and they had enjoyed it two Days before
Escalus could recollect himself enough to form the following Letter.

MADAM,

"What happened the other Day, gives me a lively Image of the
Inconsistency of human Passions and Inclinations. We pursue what we
are denied, and place our Affections on what is absent, tho we
neglected it when present. As long as you refused my Love, your
Refusal did so strongly excite my Passion, that I had not once the
Leisure to think of recalling my Reason to aid me against the Design
upon your Virtue. But when that Virtue began to comply in my Favour,
my Reason made an Effort over my Love, and let me see the Baseness
of my Behaviour in attempting a Woman of Honour. I own to you, it
was not without the most violent Struggle that I gained this Victory
over my self; nay, I will confess my Shame, and acknowledge I could
not have prevailed but by Flight. However, Madam, I beg that you
will believe a Moments Weakness has not destroyed the Esteem I had
for you, which was confirmed by so many Years of Obstinate Virtue.
You have Reason to rejoice that this did not happen within the
Observation of one of the young Fellows, who would have exposed your
Weakness, and gloried in his own Brutish Inclinations.
I am, Madam,
Your most devoted Humble Servant."

Isabella, with the Help of her Husband, returned the following Answer.

SIR,

"I cannot but account my self a very happy Woman, in having a Man
for a Lover that can write so well, and give so good a Turn to a
Disappointment. Another Excellence you have above all other
Pretenders I ever heard of; on Occasions where the most reasonable
Men lose all their Reason, you have yours most powerful. We are each
of us to thank our Genius, that the Passion of one abated in
Proportion as that of the other grew violent. Does it not yet come
into your Head, to imagine that I knew my Compliance was the
greatest Cruelty I could be guilty of towards you? In Return for
your long and faithful Passion, I must let you know that you are old
enough to become a little more Gravity; but if you will leave me and
coquet it any where else, may your Mistress yield.

ISABELLA."

T.

[Footnote 1:

Rideat et pulset Lasciva decentius Ætas.

Hor.]

* * * * *

No. 319. Thursday, March 6, 1712. Budgell.

Quo teneam vultus mutantem Protea nodo?

Hor.

I have endeavoured, in the Course of my Papers, to do Justice to the Age, and have taken care as much as possible to keep my self a Neuter between both Sexes. I have neither spared the Ladies out of Complaisance, nor the Men out of Partiality; but notwithstanding the great Integrity with which I have acted in this Particular, I find my self taxed with an Inclination to favour my own half of the Species. Whether it be that the Women afford a more fruitful Field for Speculation, or whether they run more in my Head than the Men, I cannot tell, but I shall set down the Charge as it is laid against me in the following Letter.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I always make one among a Company of young Females, who peruse your
Speculations every Morning. I am at present Commissioned, by our whole
Assembly, to let you know, that we fear you are a little enclined to
be partial towards your own Sex. We must however acknowledge, with all
due Gratitude, that in some Cases you have given us our Revenge on the
Men, and done us Justice. We could not easily have forgiven you
several Strokes in the Dissection of the Coquets Heart, if you had
not, much about the same time, made a Sacrifice to us of a Beaus
Scull.

You may, however, Sir, please to remember, that long since you
attacked our Hoods and Commodes in such manner, as, to use your own
Expression, made very many of us ashamed to shew our Heads. We must,
therefore, beg leave to represent to you, that we are in Hopes, if you
would please to make a due Enquiry, the Men in all Ages would be found
to have been little less whimsical in adorning that Part, than our
selves. The different Forms of their Wiggs, together with the various
Cocks of their Hats, all flatter us in this Opinion.

I had an humble Servant last Summer, who the first time he declared
himself, was in a Full-Bottom'd Wigg; but the Day after, to my no
small Surprize, he accosted me in a thin Natural one. I received him,
at this our second Interview, as a perfect Stranger, but was extreamly
confounded, when his Speech discovered who he was. I resolved,
therefore, to fix his Face in my Memory for the future; but as I was
walking in the Park the same Evening, he appeared to me in one of
those Wiggs that I think you call a Night-cap, which had altered him
more effectually than before. He afterwards played a Couple of Black
Riding Wiggs upon me, with the same Success; and, in short, assumed a
new Face almost every Day in the first Month of his Courtship.

I observed afterwards, that the Variety of Cocks into which he
moulded his Hat, had not a little contributed to his Impositions upon
me.

Yet, as if all these ways were not sufficient to distinguish their
Heads, you must, doubtless, Sir, have observed, that great Numbers of
young Fellows have, for several Months last past, taken upon them to
wear Feathers.

We hope, therefore, that these may, with as much Justice, be called
Indian Princes, as you have styled a Woman in a coloured Hood an
Indian Queen; and that you will, in due time, take these airy
Gentlemen into Consideration.

We the more earnestly beg that you would put a Stop to this Practice,
since it has already lost us one of the most agreeable Members of our
Society, who after having refused several good Estates, and two
Titles, was lured from us last Week by a mixed Feather.

I am ordered to present you the Respects of our whole Company, and
am, SIR,
Your very humble Servant,
DORINDA.

Note, The Person wearing the Feather, tho our Friend took him for an
Officer in the Guards, has proved to be [an arrant Linnen-Draper. [1]]

I am not now at leisure to give my Opinion upon the Hat and Feather; however to wipe off the present Imputation, and gratifie my Female Correspondent, I shall here print a Letter which I lately received from a Man of Mode, who seems to have a very extraordinary Genius in his way.

SIR,
I presume I need not inform you, that among Men of Dress it is a
common Phrase to say Mr. Such an one has struck a bold Stroke; by
which we understand, that he is the first Man who has had Courage
enough to lead up a Fashion. Accordingly, when our Taylors take
Measure of us, they always demand whether we will have a plain Suit,
or strike a bold Stroke. 1 think I may without Vanity say, that I have
struck some of the boldest and most successful Strokes of any Man in
Great Britain. I was the first that struck the Long Pocket about two
Years since: I was likewise the Author of the Frosted Button, which
when I saw the Town came readily into, being resolved to strike while
the Iron was hot, I produced much about the same time the Scallop
Flap, the knotted Cravat, and made a fair Push for the Silver-clocked
Stocking.

A few Months after I brought up the modish Jacket, or the Coat with
close Sleeves. I struck this at first in a plain Doily; but that
failing, I struck it a second time in blue Camlet; and repeated the
Stroke in several kinds of Cloth, till at last it took effect. There
are two or three young Fellows at the other End of the Town, who have
always their Eye upon me, and answer me Stroke for Stroke. I was once
so unwary as to mention my Fancy in relation to the new-fashioned
Surtout before one of these Gentlemen, who was disingenuous enough to
steal my Thought, and by that means prevented my intended Stroke.

I have a Design this Spring to make very considerable Innovations in
the Wastcoat, and have already begun with a Coup dessai upon the
Sleeves, which has succeeded very well.

I must further inform you, if you will promise to encourage or at
least to connive at me, that it is my Design to strike such a Stroke
the Beginning of the next Month, as shall surprise the whole Town.

I do not think it prudent to acquaint you with all the Particulars of
my intended Dress; but will only tell you, as a Sample of it, that I
shall very speedily appear at Whites in a Cherry-coloured Hat. I took
this Hint from the Ladies Hoods, which I look upon as the boldest
Stroke that Sex has struck for these hundred Years last past.

I am, SIR,

Your most Obedient, most Humble Servant,

Will. Sprightly.

[I have not Time at present to make any Reflections on this Letter, but must not however omit that having shewn it to WILL. HONEYCOMB, he desires to be acquainted with the Gentleman who writ it.]

X.

[Footnote 1: only an Ensign in the Train Bands.]

* * * * *

No. 320. Friday, March 7, 1712. Steele.

[--non pronuba Juno,
Non Hymenæus adest, non illi Gratia lecto,
Eumenides stravere torum.

Ovid. [1]]

Mr. SPECTATOR,

You have given many Hints in your Papers to the Disadvantage of
Persons of your own Sex, who lay Plots upon Women. Among other hard
Words you have published the Term Male-Coquets, and been very severe
upon such as give themselves the Liberty of a little Dalliance of
Heart, and playing fast and loose, between Love and Indifference, till
perhaps an easie young Girl is reduced to Sighs, Dreams and Tears; and
languishes away her Life for a careless Coxcomb, who looks astonished,
and wonders at such an Effect from what in him was all but common
Civility. Thus you have treated the Men who are irresolute in
Marriage; but if you design to be impartial, pray be so honest as to
print the Information I now give you, of a certain Set of Women who
never Coquet for the Matter, but with an high Hand marry whom they
please to whom they please. As for my Part, I should not have
concerned my self with them, but that I understand I am pitched upon
by them, to be married, against my Will, to one I never saw in my
Life. It has been my Misfortune, Sir, very innocently, to rejoice in a
plentiful Fortune, of which I am Master, to bespeak a fine Chariot, to
give Direction for two or three handsome Snuff-Boxes, and as many
Suits of fine Cloaths; but before any of these were ready, I heard
Reports of my being to be married to two or three different young
Women. Upon my taking Notice of it to a young Gentleman who is often
in my Company he told me smiling, I was in the Inquisition. You may
believe I was not a little startled at what he meant, and more so when
he asked me if I had bespoke any thing of late that was fine. I told
him several; upon which he produced a Description of my Person from
the Tradesmen whom I had employed, and told me that they had certainly
informed against me. Mr. SPECTATOR, Whatever the World may think of
me, I am more Coxcomb than Fool, and I grew very inquisitive upon this
Head, not a little pleased with the Novelty. My Friend told me there
were a certain Set of Women of Fashion whereof the Number of Six made
a Committee, who sat thrice a Week, under the Title of the Inquisition
on Maids and Batchelors. It seems, whenever there comes such an
unthinking gay Thing as my self to Town, he must want all Manner of
Necessaries, or be put into the Inquisition by the first Tradesman he
employs. They have constant Intelligence with Cane-Shops, Perfumers,
Toymen, Coach-makers, and China-houses. From these several Places,
these Undertakers for Marriages have as constant and regular
Correspondence, as the Funeral-men have with Vintners and
Apothecaries. All Batchelors are under their immediate Inspection, and
my Friend produced to me a Report given into their Board, wherein an
old Unkle of mine, who came to Town with me, and my self, were
inserted, and we stood thus; the Unkle smoaky, rotten, poor; the
Nephew raw, but no Fool, sound at present, very rich. My Information
did not end here, but my Friends Advices are so good, that he could
shew me a Copy of the Letter sent to the young Lady who is to have me
which I enclose to you.

Madam,
This is to let you know, that you are to be Married to a Beau that
comes out on Thursday Six in the Evening. Be at the Park. You cannot
but know a Virgin Fop; they have a Mind to look saucy, but are out
of Countenance. The Board has denied him to several good Families. I
wish you Joy.
Corinna.

What makes my Correspondents Case the more deplorable, is, that as I find by the Report from my Censor of Marriages, the Friend he speaks of is employed by the Inquisition to take him in, as the Phrase is. After all that is told him, he has Information only of one Woman that is laid for him, and that the wrong one; for the Lady-Commissioners have devoted him to another than the Person against whom they have employed their Agent his Friend to alarm him. The Plot is laid so well about this young Gentleman, that he has no Friend to retire to, no Place to appear in, or Part of the Kingdom to fly into, but he must fall into the Notice, and be subject to the Power of the Inquisition. They have their Emissaries and Substitutes in all Parts of this united Kingdom. The first Step they usually take, is to find from a Correspondence, by their Messengers and Whisperers with some Domestick of the Batchelor (who is to be hunted into the Toils they have laid for him) what are his Manners, his Familiarities, his good Qualities or Vices; not as the Good in him is a Recommendation, or the ill a Diminution, but as they affect or contribute to the main Enquiry, What Estate he has in him? When this Point is well reported to the Board, they can take in a wild roaring Fox-hunter, as easily as a soft, gentle young Fop of the Town. The Way is to make all Places uneasie to him, but the Scenes in which they have allotted him to act. His Brother Huntsmen, Bottle Companions, his Fraternity of Fops, shall be brought into the Conspiracy against him. Then this Matter is not laid in so bare-faced a Manner before him, as to have it intimated Mrs. Such-a-one would make him a very proper Wife; but by the Force of their Correspondence they shall make it (as Mr. Waller said of the Marriage of the Dwarfs) as impracticable to have any Woman besides her they design him, as it would have been in Adam to have refused Eve. The Man named by the Commission for Mrs. Such-a-one, shall neither be in Fashion, nor dare ever to appear in Company, should he attempt to evade their Determination.

The Female Sex wholly govern domestick Life; and by this Means, when they think fit, they can sow Dissentions between the dearest Friends, nay make Father and Son irreconcilable Enemies, in spite of all the Ties of Gratitude on one Part, and the Duty of Protection to be paid on the other. The Ladies of the Inquisition understand this perfectly well; and where Love is not a Motive to a Man's chusing one whom they allot, they can, with very much Art, insinuate Stories to the Disadvantage of his Honesty or Courage, till the Creature is too much dispirited to bear up against a general ill Reception, which he every where meets with, and in due time falls into their appointed Wedlock for Shelter. I have a long Letter bearing Date the fourth Instant, which gives me a large Account of the Policies of this Court; and find there is now before them a very refractory Person who has escaped all their Machinations for two Years last past: But they have prevented two successive Matches which were of his own Inclination, the one, by a Report that his Mistress was to be married, and the very Day appointed, Wedding-Clothes bought, and all things ready for her being given to another; the second time, by insinuating to all his Mistresss Friends and Acquaintance, that he had been false to several other Women, and the like. The poor Man is now reduced to profess he designs to lead a single Life; but the Inquisition gives out to all his Acquaintance, that nothing is intended but the Gentleman's own Welfare and Happiness. When this is urged, he talks still more humbly, and protests he aims only at a Life without Pain or Reproach; Pleasure, Honour or Riches, are things for which he has no taste. But notwithstanding all this and what else he may defend himself with, as that the Lady is too old or too young, of a suitable Humour, or the quite contrary, and that it is impossible they can ever do other than wrangle from June to January, Every Body tells him all this is Spleen, and he must have a Wife; while all the Members of the Inquisition are unanimous in a certain Woman for him, and they think they all together are better able to judge, than he or any other private Person whatsoever.

Temple, March 3, 1711.

Sir,
Your Speculation this Day on the Subject of Idleness, has employed me,
ever since I read it, in sorrowful Reflections on my having loitered
away the Term (or rather the Vacation) of ten Years in this Place, and
unhappily suffered a good Chamber and Study to lie idle as long. My
Books (except those I have taken to sleep upon) have been totally
neglected, and my Lord Coke and other venerable Authors were never so
slighted in their Lives. I spent most of the Day at a Neighbouring
Coffee-House, where we have what I may call a lazy Club. We generally
come in Night-Gowns, with our Stockings about our Heels, and sometimes
but one on. Our Salutation at Entrance is a Yawn and a Stretch, and
then without more Ceremony we take our Place at the Lolling Table;
where our Discourse is, what I fear you would not read out, therefore
shall not insert. But I assure you, Sir, I heartily lament this Loss
of Time, and am now resolved (if possible, with double Diligence) to
retrieve it, being effectually awakened by the Arguments of Mr. Slack
out of the Senseless Stupidity that has so long possessed me. And to
demonstrate that Penitence accompanies my Confession, and Constancy my
Resolutions, I have locked my Door for a Year, and desire you would
let my Companions know I am not within. I am with great Respect,

SIR, Your most obedient Servant,

N. B.

T.

[Footnote 1:

Hæ sunt qui tenui sudant in Cyclade.

Hor.]

* * * * *

No. 321.[1] Saturday, March 8, 1712. Addison.

Nec satis est pulchra esse poemata, dulcia sunto.

Hor.

Those, who know how many Volumes have been written on the Poems of Homer and Virgil, will easily pardon the Length of my Discourse upon Milton. The Paradise Lost is looked upon, by the best Judges, as the greatest Production, or at least the noblest Work of Genius in our Language, and therefore deserves to be set before an English Reader in its full Beauty. For this Reason, tho I have endeavoured to give a general Idea of its Graces and Imperfections in my Six First Papers, I thought my self obliged to bestow one upon every Book in particular. The Three first Books I have already dispatched, and am now entering upon the Fourth. I need not acquaint my Reader that there are Multitudes of Beauties in this great Author, especially in the Descriptive Parts of his Poem, which I have not touched upon, it being my Intention to point out those only, which appear to me the most exquisite, or those which are not so obvious to ordinary Readers. Every one that has read the Criticks who have written upon the Odyssey, the Iliad and the Aeneid, knows very well, that though they agree in their Opinions of the great Beauties in those Poems, they have nevertheless each of them discovered several Master-Strokes, which have escaped the Observation of the rest. In the same manner, I question not, but any Writer who shall treat of this Subject after me, may find several Beauties in Milton, which I have not taken notice of. I must likewise observe, that as the greatest Masters of Critical Learning differ among one another, as to some particular Points in an Epic Poem, I have not bound my self scrupulously to the Rules which any one of them has laid down upon that Art, but have taken the Liberty sometimes to join with one, and sometimes with another, and sometimes to differ from all of them, when I have thought that the Reason of the thing was on my side.

We may consider the Beauties of the Fourth Book under three Heads. In the first are those Pictures of Still-Life, which we meet with in the Description of Eden, Paradise, Adams Bower, &c. In the next are the Machines, which comprehend the Speeches and Behaviour of the good and bad Angels. In the last is the Conduct of Adam and Eve, who are the Principal Actors in the Poem.

In the Description of Paradise, the Poet has observed Aristotle's Rule of lavishing all the Ornaments of Diction on the weak unactive Parts of the Fable, which are not supported by the Beauty of Sentiments and Characters. [2] Accordingly the Reader may observe, that the Expressions are more florid and elaborate in these Descriptions, than in most other Parts of the Poem. I must further add, that tho the Drawings of Gardens, Rivers, Rainbows, and the like dead Pieces of Nature, are justly censured in an Heroic Poem, when they run out into an unnecessary length; the Description of Paradise would have been faulty, had not the Poet been very particular in it, not only as it is the Scene of the Principal Action, but as it is requisite to give us an Idea of that Happiness from which our first Parents fell. The Plan of it is wonderfully Beautiful, and formed upon the short Sketch which we have of it in Holy Writ. Milton's Exuberance of Imagination has poured forth such a Redundancy of Ornaments on this Seat of Happiness and Innocence, that it would be endless to point out each Particular.

I must not quit this Head, without further observing, that there is scarce a Speech of Adam or Eve in the whole Poem, wherein the Sentiments and Allusions are not taken from this their delightful Habitation. The Reader, during their whole Course of Action, always finds himself in the Walks of Paradise. In short, as the Criticks have remarked, that in those Poems, wherein Shepherds are Actors, the Thoughts ought always to take a Tincture from the Woods, Fields and Rivers, so we may observe, that our first Parents seldom lose Sight of their happy Station in any thing they speak or do; and, if the Reader will give me leave to use the Expression, that their Thoughts are always Paradisiacal.

We are in the next place to consider the Machines of the Fourth Book. Satan being now within Prospect of Eden, and looking round upon the Glories of the Creation, is filled with Sentiments different from those which he discovered whilst he was in Hell. The Place inspires him with Thoughts more adapted to it: He reflects upon the happy Condition from which he fell, and breaks forth into a Speech that is softned with several transient Touches of Remorse and Self-accusation: But at length he confirms himself in Impenitence, and in his Design of drawing Man into his own State of Guilt and Misery. This Conflict of Passions is raised with a great deal of Art, as the opening of his Speech to the Sun is very bold and noble.

O thou that with surpassing Glory crown'd,
Look'st from thy sole Dominion like the God
Of this new World; at whose Sight all the Stars
Hide their diminish'd Heads; to thee I call,
But with no friendly Voice, and add thy name,
O Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams,
That bring to my Remembrance from what State
I fell, how glorious once above thy Sphere.

This Speech is, I think, the finest that is ascribed to Satan in the whole Poem. The Evil Spirit afterwards proceeds to make his Discoveries concerning our first Parents, and to learn after what manner they may be best attacked. His bounding over the Walls of Paradise; his sitting in the Shape of a Cormorant upon the Tree of Life, which stood in the Center of it, and overtopped all the other Trees of the Garden, his alighting among the Herd of Animals, which are so beautifully represented as playing about Adam and Eve, together with his transforming himself into different Shapes, in order to hear their Conversation, are Circumstances that give an agreeable Surprize to the Reader, and are devised with great Art, to connect that Series of Adventures in which the Poet has engaged [this [3]] Artificer of Fraud.

The Thought of Satan's Transformation into a Cormorant, and placing himself on the Tree of Life, seems raised upon that Passage in the Iliad, where two Deities are described, as perching on the Top of an Oak in the shape of Vulturs.

His planting himself at the Ear of Eve under the [form [4]] of a Toad, in order to produce vain Dreams and Imaginations, is a Circumstance of the same Nature; as his starting up in his own Form is wonderfully fine, both in the Literal Description, and in the Moral which is concealed under it. His Answer upon his being discovered, and demanded to give an Account of himself, [is [5]] conformable to the Pride and Intrepidity of his Character.

Know ye not then, said Satan, fill'd with Scorn,
Know ye not Me? ye knew me once no mate
For you, there sitting where you durst not soar;
Not to know Me argues your selves unknown,
The lowest of your throng;--

Zephon's Rebuke, with the Influence it had on Satan, is exquisitely Graceful and Moral. Satan is afterwards led away to Gabriel, the chief of the Guardian Angels, who kept watch in Paradise. His disdainful Behaviour on this Occasion is so remarkable a Beauty, that the most ordinary Reader cannot but take Notice of it. Gabriel's discovering his Approach at a Distance, is drawn with great strength and liveliness of Imagination.

O Friends, I hear the tread of nimble Feet
Hasting this Way, and now by glimps discern
Ithuriel and Zephon through the shade;
And with them comes a third of Regal Port,
But faded splendor wan; who by his gait
And fierce demeanor seems the Prince of Hell;
Not likely to part hence without contest:
Stand firm, for in his look defiance lours.

The Conference between Gabriel and Satan abounds with Sentiments proper for the Occasion, and suitable to the Persons of the two Speakers. Satan cloathing himself with Terror when he prepares for the Combat is truly sublime, and at least equal to Homers Description of Discord celebrated by Longinus, or to that of Fame in Virgil, who are both represented with their Feet standing upon the Earth, and their Heads reaching above the Clouds.

While thus he spake, th' Angelic Squadron bright
Turn'd fiery red, sharpning in mooned Horns
Their Phalanx, and began to hem him round
With ported Spears, &c.

--On the other side Satan alarm'd,
Collecting all his might dilated stood
Like Teneriff, or Atlas, unremov'd.
His Stature reached the Sky, and on his Crest
Sat horror plum'd;--

I must here take [notice, [6]] that Milton is every where full of Hints and sometimes literal Translations, taken from the greatest of the Greek and Latin Poets. But this I may reserve for a Discourse by it self, because I would not break the Thread of these Speculations, that are designed for English Readers, with such Reflections as would be of no use but to the Learned.

I must however observe in this Place, that the breaking off the Combat between Gabriel and Satan, by the hanging out of the Golden Scales in Heaven, is a Refinement upon Homers Thought, who tells us, that before the Battle between Hector and Achilles, Jupiter weighed the Event of it in a pair of Scales. The Reader may see the whole Passage in the 22nd Iliad.

Virgil, before the last decisive Combat, describes Jupiter in the same manner, as weighing the Fates of Turnus and Æneas. Milton, though he fetched this beautiful Circumstance from the Iliad and Æneid, does not only insert it as a Poetical Embellishment, like the Authors above-mentioned; but makes an artful use of it for the proper carrying on of his Fable, and for the breaking off the Combat between the two Warriors, who were upon the point of engaging. [To this we may further add, that Milton is the more justified in this Passage, as we find the same noble Allegory in Holy Writ, where a wicked Prince, some few Hours before he was assaulted and slain, is said to have been weighed in the Scales, and to have been found wanting.]

I must here take Notice under the Head of the Machines, that Uriel's gliding down to the Earth upon a Sunbeam, with the Poets Device to make him descend, as well in his return to the Sun, as in his coming from it, is a Prettiness that might have been admired in a little fanciful Poet, but seems below the Genius of Milton. The Description of the Host of armed Angels walking their nightly Round in Paradise, is of another Spirit.

So saying, on he led his radiant files,
Dazling the Moon;--

as that Account of the Hymns which our first Parents used to hear them sing in these their Midnight Walks, is altogether Divine, and inexpressibly amusing to the Imagination.

We are, in the last place, to consider the Parts which Adam and Eve act in the Fourth Book. The Description of them as they first appeared to Satan, is exquisitely drawn, and sufficient to make the fallen Angel gaze upon them with all that Astonishment, and those Emotions of Envy, in which he is represented.

Two of far nobler Shape erect and tall,
God-like erect! with native honour clad
In naked Majesty, seem'd lords of all;
And worthy seem'd: for in their looks divine
The image of their glorious Maker shon,
Truth, Wisdom, Sanctitude severe and pure;
Severe, but in true filial freedom plac'd:
For contemplation he and valour form'd,
For softness she and sweet attractive grace;
He for God only, she for God in him.
His fair large front, and eye sublime, declar'd
Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung
Clustring, but not beneath his Shoulders broad.
She, as a Veil, down to her slender waste
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Dis-shevel'd, but in wanton ringlets wav'd.
So pass'd they naked on, nor shun'd the Sight
Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill:
So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair
That ever since in loves embraces met.

There is a fine Spirit of Poetry in the Lines which follow, wherein they are described as sitting on a Bed of Flowers by the side of a Fountain, amidst a mixed Assembly of Animals.

The Speeches of these two first Lovers flow equally from Passion and Sincerity. The Professions they make to one another are full of Warmth: but at the same time founded on Truth. In a Word, they are the Gallantries of Paradise:

--When Adam first of Men--
Sole partner and sole part of all these joys,
Dearer thy self than all;--
But let us ever praise him, and extol
His bounty, following our delightful Task,
To prune these growing plants, and tend these flowrs;
Which were it toilsome, yet with thee were sweet.

To whom thus Eve reply'd. O thou for whom,
And from whom I was form'd, flesh of thy flesh,
And without whom am to no end, my Guide
And Head, what thou hast said is just and right.
For we to him indeed all praises owe.
And daily thanks; I chiefly, who enjoy
So far the happier Lot, enjoying thee
Preeminent by so much odds, while thou
Like consort to thy self canst no where find, &c.

The remaining part of Eves Speech, in which she gives an Account of her self upon her first Creation, and the manner in which she was brought to Adam, is I think as beautiful a Passage as any in Milton, or perhaps in any other Poet whatsoever. These Passages are all worked off with so much Art, that they are capable of pleasing the most delicate Reader, without offending the most severe.

That Day I oft remember, when from Sleep, &c.

A Poet of less Judgment and Invention than this great Author, would have found it very difficult to have filled [these [7]] tender Parts of the Poem with Sentiments proper for a State of Innocence; to have described the Warmth of Love, and the Professions of it, without Artifice or Hyperbole: to have made the Man speak the most endearing things, without descending from his natural Dignity, and the Woman receiving them without departing from the Modesty of her Character; in a Word, to adjust the Prerogatives of Wisdom and Beauty, and make each appear to the other in its proper Force and Loveliness. This mutual Subordination of the two Sexes is wonderfully kept up in the whole Poem, as particularly in the Speech of Eve I have before mentioned, and upon the Conclusion of it in the following Lines.

So spake our general Mother, and with eyes
Of Conjugal attraction unreproved,
And meek surrender, half embracing lean'd
On our first father; half her swelling breast
Naked met his under the flowing Gold
Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight
Both of her beauty and submissive charms
Smil'd with superior Love.--

The Poet adds, that the Devil turned away with Envy at the sight of so much Happiness.

We have another View of our first Parents in their Evening Discourses, which is full of pleasing Images and Sentiments suitable to their Condition and Characters. The Speech of Eve, in particular, is dressed up in such a soft and natural Turn of Words and Sentiments, as cannot be sufficiently admired.

I shall close my Reflections upon this Book, with observing the Masterly Transition which the Poet makes to their Evening Worship in the following Lines.

Thus at their shady Lodge arriv'd, both stood,
Both turn'd, and under open Sky, ador'd
The God that made both [Sky,] Air, Earth and Heaven,
Which they beheld, the Moons resplendent Globe,
And Starry Pole: Thou also madst the Night,
Maker Omnipotent, and thou the Day, &c.

Most of the Modern Heroick Poets have imitated the Ancients, in beginning a Speech without premising, that the Person said thus or thus; but as it is easie to imitate the Ancients in the Omission of two or three Words, it requires Judgment to do it in such a manner as they shall not be missed, and that the Speech may begin naturally without them. There is a fine Instance of this Kind out of Homer, in the Twenty Third Chapter of Longinus.

L.

[Footnote 1: From this date to the end of the series the Saturday papers upon Milton exceed the usual length of a Spectator essay. That they may not occupy more than the single leaf of the original issue, they are printed in smaller type; the columns also, when necessary, encroach on the bottom margin of the paper, and there are few advertisements inserted.]

[Footnote 2: At the end of the third Book of the Poetics.

The diction should be most laboured in the idle parts of the poem;
those in which neither manners nor sentiments prevail; for the manners
and the sentiments are only obscured by too splendid a diction.]

[Footnote 3: [this great]]

[Footnote 4: [shape]]

[Footnote 5: [are]]

[Footnote 6: notice by the way]

[Footnote 7: [those]]

* * * * *

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THOMAS EARL OF WHARTON.[1]

My LORD,

The Author of the Spectator having prefixed before each of his Volumes the Name of some great Person to whom he has particular Obligations, lays his Claim to your Lordships Patronage upon the same Account. I must confess, my Lord, had not I already received great Instances of your Favour, I should have been afraid of submitting a Work of this Nature to your Perusal. You are so thoroughly acquainted with the Characters of Men, and all the Parts of human Life, that it is impossible for the least Misrepresentation of them to escape your Notice. It is Your Lordships particular Distinction that you are Master of the whole Compass of Business, and have signalized Your Self in all the different Scenes of it. We admire some for the Dignity, others for the Popularity of their Behaviour; some for their Clearness of Judgment, others for their Happiness of Expression; some for the laying of Schemes, and others for the putting of them in Execution: It is Your Lordship only who enjoys these several Talents united, and that too in as great Perfection as others possess them singly. Your Enemies acknowledge this great Extent in your Lordships Character, at the same time that they use their utmost Industry and Invention to derogate from it. But it is for Your Honour that those who are now Your Enemies were always so. You have acted in so much Consistency with Your Self, and promoted the Interests of your Country in so uniform a Manner, that even those who would misrepresent your Generous Designs for the Publick Good, cannot but approve the Steadiness and Intrepidity with which You pursue them. It is a most sensible Pleasure to me that I have this Opportunity of professing my self one of your great Admirers, and, in a very particular Manner,

My LORD, Your Lordships Most Obliged, And most Obedient, Humble Servant, THE SPECTATOR.

[Footnote 1: This is the Thomas, Earl of Wharton, who in 1708 became Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and took Addison for his Chief Secretary. He was the son of Philip, Baron Wharton, a firm Presbyterian, sometimes called the good Lord Wharton, to distinguish him from his son and grandson. Philip Wharton had been an opponent of Stuart encroachments, a friend of Algernon Sidney, and one of the first men to welcome William III. to England. He died, very old, in 1694. His son Thomas did not inherit the religious temper of his father, and even a dedication could hardly have ventured to compliment him on his private morals. But he was an active politician, was with his father in the secret of the landing of the Prince of Orange, and was made by William Comptroller of the Household. Thwarted in his desire to become a Secretary of State, he made himself formidable as a bold, sarcastic speaker and by the strength of his parliamentary interest. He is said to have returned at one time thirty members, and to have spent eighty thousand pounds upon the maintenance of his political position. He was apt, by his manners, to make friends of the young men of influence. He spent money freely also on the turf, and upon his seat of Winchenden, in Wilts. Queen Anne, on her accession, struck his name with her own hand from the list of Privy Councillors, but he won his way not only to restoration of that rank, but also in December, 1706, at the age of 67, to his title of Viscount Winchendon and Earl of Wharton. In November, 1708, he became Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, with Addison for secretary. He took over with him also Clayton the musician, and kept a gay court, easily accessible, except to Roman Catholics, whom he would not admit to his presence, and against whom he enforced the utmost rigour of the penal code. He had himself conformed to the Church of England. Swift accused him, as Lord-lieutenant, of shameless depravity of manners, of injustice, greed, and gross venality. This Lord Wharton died in 1715, and was succeeded by his son Philip, whom George I., in 1718, made Duke of Wharton for his fathers vigorous support of the Hanoverian succession. His character was much worse than that of his father, the energetic politician and the man of cultivated taste and ready wit to whom Steele and Addison here dedicated the Fifth Volume of the Spectator.]

* * * * *

No. 322. Monday, March 10, 1712. Steele.

Ad humum mærore gravi deducit et angit.

Hor.

It is often said, after a Man has heard a Story with extraordinary Circumstances, It is a very good one if it be true: But as for the following Relation, I should be glad were I sure it were false. It is told with such Simplicity, and there are so many artless Touches of Distress in it, that I fear it comes too much from the Heart.

Mr. SPECTATOR, Some Years ago it happened that I lived in the same
House with a young Gentleman of Merit; with whose good Qualities I was
so much taken, as to make it my Endeavour to shew as many as I was
able in my self. Familiar Converse improved general Civilities into an
unfeigned Passion on both Sides. He watched an Opportunity to declare
himself to me; and I, who could not expect a Man of so great an Estate
as his, received his Addresses in such Terms, as gave him no reason to
believe I was displeased by them, tho I did nothing to make him think
me more easy than was decent. His Father was a very hard worldly Man,
and proud; so that there was no reason to believe he would easily be
brought to think there was any thing in any Woman's Person or
Character that could ballance the Disadvantage of an unequal Fortune.
In the mean time the Son continued his Application to me, and omitted
no Occasion of demonstrating the most disinterested Passion imaginable
to me; and in plain direct Terms offer'd to marry me privately, and
keep it so till he should be so happy as to gain his Fathers
Approbation, or become possessed of his Estate. I passionately loved
him, and you will believe I did not deny such a one what was my
Interest also to grant. However I was not so young, as not to take the
Precaution of carrying with me a faithful Servant, who had been also
my Mothers Maid, to be present at the Ceremony. When that was over I
demanded a Certificate, signed by the Minister, my Husband, and the
Servant I just now spoke of. After our Nuptials, we conversed together
very familiarly in the same House; but the Restraints we were
generally under, and the Interviews we had, being stolen and
interrupted, made our Behaviour to each other have rather the
impatient Fondness which is visible in Lovers, than the regular and
gratified Affection which is to be observed in Man and Wife. This
Observation made the Father very anxious for his Son, and press him to
a Match he had in his Eye for him. To relieve my Husband from this
Importunity, and conceal the Secret of our Marriage, which I had
reason to know would not be long in my power in Town, it was resolved
that I should retire into a remote Place in the Country, and converse
under feigned Names by Letter. We long continued this Way of Commerce;
and I with my Needle, a few Books, and reading over and over my
Husbands Letters, passed my Time in a resigned Expectation of better
Days. Be pleased to take notice, that within four Months after I left
my Husband I was delivered of a Daughter, who died within few Hours
after her Birth. This Accident, and the retired Manner of Life I led,
gave criminal Hopes to a neighbouring Brute of a Country Gentle-man,
whose Folly was the Source of all my Affliction. This Rustick is one
of those rich Clowns, who supply the Want of all manner of Breeding by
the Neglect of it, and with noisy Mirth, half Understanding, and ample
Fortune, force themselves upon Persons and Things, without any Sense
of Time and Place. The poor ignorant People where I lay conceal'd, and
now passed for a Widow, wondered I could be so shy and strange, as
they called it, to the Squire; and were bribed by him to admit him
whenever he thought fit. I happened to be sitting in a little Parlour
which belonged to my own Part of the House, and musing over one of the
fondest of my Husbands Letters, in which I always kept the
Certificate of my Marriage, when this rude Fellow came in, and with
the nauseous Familiarity of such unbred Brutes, snatched the Papers
out of my Hand. I was immediately under so great a Concern, that I
threw my self at his Feet, and begged of him to return them. He with
the same odious Pretence to Freedom and Gaiety, swore he would read
them. I grew more importunate, he more curious, till at last, with an
Indignation arising from a Passion I then first discovered in him, he
threw the Papers into the Fire, swearing that since he was not to read
them, the Man who writ them should never be so happy as to have me
read them over again. It is insignificant to tell you my Tears and
Reproaches made the boisterous Calf leave the Room ashamed and out of
Countenance, when I had leisure to ruminate on this Accident with more
than ordinary Sorrow: However, such was then my Confidence in my
Husband, that I writ to him the Misfortune, and desired another Paper
of the same kind. He deferred writing two or three Posts, and at last
answered me in general, That he could not then send me what I asked
for, but when he could find a proper Conveyance, I should be sure to
have it. From this time his Letters were more cold every Day than the
other, and as he grew indifferent I grew jealous. This has at last
brought me to Town, where I find both the Witnesses of my Marriage
dead, and that my Husband, after three Months Cohabitation, has buried
a young Lady whom he married in Obedience to his Father. In a word, he
shuns and disowns me. Should I come to the House and confront him, the
Father would join in supporting him against me, though he believed my
Story; should I talk it to the World, what Reparation can I expect for
an Injury I cannot make out? I believe he means to bring me, through
Necessity, to resign my Pretentions to him for some Provision for my
Life; but I will die first. Pray bid him remember what he said, and
how he was charmed when he laughed at the heedless Discovery I often
made of my self; let him remember how awkward he was in my dissembled
Indifference towards him before Company; ask him how I, who could
never conceal my Love for him, at his own Request, can part with him
for ever? Oh, Mr. SPECTATOR, sensible Spirits know no Indifference in
Marriage; what then do you think is my piercing Affliction?---I leave
you to represent my Distress your own way, in which I desire you to be
speedy, if you have Compassion for Innocence exposed to Infamy.
Octavia.

T.

* * * * *

No. 323. Tuesday, March 11, 1712. Addison.

Modo Vir, modo Foemina. [1]

Virg.