Chapter LXI: Introduction (61)

The several Glories of the Heavns make their Appearance on the Fourth Day.

First in his East the glorious Lamp was seen,
Regent of Day; and all th' Horizon round
Invested with bright Rays, jocund to round
His Longitude through Heavns high Road: the gray
Dawn, and the Pleiades before him danced,
Shedding sweet Influence. Less bright the Moon,
But opposite in level'd West was set,
His Mirror, with full face borrowing her Light
From him, for other Lights she needed none
In that aspect, and still that distance keeps
Till Night; then in the East her turn she shines,
Revolv'd on Heavns great Axle, and her Reign
With thousand lesser Lights dividual holds,
With thousand thousand Stars! that then appear'd
Spangling the Hemisphere--

One would wonder how the Poet could be so concise in his Description of the six Days Works, as to comprehend them within the bounds of an Episode, and at the same time so particular, as to give us a lively Idea of them. This is still more remarkable in his Account of the Fifth and Sixth Days, in which he has drawn out to our View the whole Animal Creation, from the Reptil to the Behemoth. As the Lion and the Leviathan are two of the noblest Productions in [the [7]] World of living Creatures, the Reader will find a most exquisite Spirit of Poetry in the Account which our Author gives us of them. The Sixth Day concludes with the Formation of Man, upon which the Angel takes occasion, as he did after the Battel in Heaven, to remind Adam of his Obedience, which was the principal Design of this his Visit.

The Poet afterwards represents the Messiah returning into Heaven, and taking a Survey of his great Work. There is something inexpressibly Sublime in this part of the Poem, where the Author describes that great Period of Time, filled with so many Glorious Circumstances; when the Heavens and Earth were finished; when the Messiah ascended up in triumph thro the Everlasting Gates; when he looked down with pleasure upon his new Creation; when every Part of Nature seem'd to rejoice in its Existence; when the Morning-Stars sang together, and all the Sons of God shouted for joy.

So Ev'n and Morn accomplished the sixth Day:
Yet not till the Creator from his Work
Desisting, tho unwearied, up return'd,
Up to the Heavn of Heavns, his high Abode;
Thence to behold this new created World,
Th' Addition of his Empire, how it shewed
In prospect from his Throne, how good, how fair,
Answering his great Idea: Up he rode,
Follow'd with Acclamation, and the Sound
Symphonious of ten thousand Harps, that tuned
Angelick Harmonies; the Earth, the Air
Resounding (thou rememberst, for thou heardst)
The Heavens and all the Constellations rung;
The Planets in their Station listning stood,
While the bright Pomp ascended jubilant.
Open, ye everlasting Gates, they sung,
Open, ye Heavens, your living Doors; let in
The great Creator from his Work return'd
Magnificent, his six Days Work, a World!

I cannot conclude this Book upon the Creation, without mentioning a Poem which has lately appeared under that Title. [8] The Work was undertaken with so good an Intention, and is executed with so great a Mastery, that it deserves to be looked upon as one of the most useful and noble Productions in our English Verse. The Reader cannot but be pleased to find the Depths of Philosophy enlivened with all the Charms of Poetry, and to see so great a Strength of Reason, amidst so beautiful a Redundancy of the Imagination. The Author has shewn us that Design in all the Works of Nature, which necessarily leads us to the Knowledge of its first Cause. In short, he has illustrated, by numberless and incontestable Instances, that Divine Wisdom, which the Son of Sirach has so nobly ascribed to the Supreme Being in his Formation of the World, when he tells us, that He created her, and saw her, and numbered her, and poured her out upon all his Works.

L.

[Footnote 1: [Ovid.]]

[Footnote 2: On the Sublime, § 8.]

[Footnote 3: §14.]

[Footnote 4: Longinus, § 9:

"So likewise the Jewish legislator, no ordinary person, having
conceived a just idea of the power of God, has nobly expressed it in
the beginning of his law. And God said,--What? Let there be Light,
and there was Light. Let the Earth be, and the Earth was." ]

[Footnote 5: [looks like]:--]

[Footnote 6: Zechariah vi. i. ]

[Footnote 7: this]

[Footnote 8: Sir Richard Blackmore's Creation appeared in 1712. Besides this praise of it from Addison, its religious character caused Dr. Johnson to say that if Blackmore

had written nothing else it would have transmitted him to posterity
among the first favourites of the English muse.

But even with the help of all his epics it has failed to secure him any such place in the estimation of posterity. This work is not an epic, but described on its title page as a Philosophical Poem, Demonstrating the Existence and Providence of a God. It argues in blank verse, in the first two of its seven books, the existence of a Deity from evidences of design in the structure and qualities of earth and sea, in the celestial bodies and the air; in the next three books it argues against objections raised by Atheists, Atomists, and Fatalists; in the sixth book proceeds with evidences of design, taking the structure of man's body for its theme; and in the next, which is the last book, treats in the same way of the Instincts of Animals and of the Faculties and Operations of the Soul. This is the manner of the Poem:

The Sea does next demand our View; and there
No less the Marks of perfect skill appear.
When first the Atoms to the Congress came,
And by their Concourse form'd the mighty Frame,
What did the Liquid to th' Assembly call
To give their Aid to form the ponderous Ball?
First, tell us, why did any come? next, why
In such a disproportion to the Dry!
Why were the Moist in Number so outdone,
That to a Thousand Dry, they are but one,

It is hardly a mark of perfect skill that there are five or six thousand of such dry lines in Blackmore's poem, and not even one that should lead a critic to speak in the same breath of Blackmore and Milton.]

* * * * *

No. 340 Monday, March 31, 1712. Steele.

Quis novus hic nostris successit sedibus Hospes?
Quem sese Ore ferens! quam forti Pectore et Armis!

Virg.

I take it to be the highest Instance of a noble Mind, to bear great Qualities without discovering in a Man's Behaviour any Consciousness that he is superior to the rest of the World. Or, to say it otherwise, it is the Duty of a great Person so to demean himself, as that whatever Endowments he may have, he may appear to value himself upon no Qualities but such as any Man may arrive at: He ought to think no Man valuable but for his publick Spirit, Justice and Integrity; and all other Endowments to be esteemed only as they contribute to the exerting those Virtues. Such a Man, if he is Wise or Valiant, knows it is of no Consideration to other Men that he is so, but as he employs those high Talents for their Use and Service. He who affects the Applauses and Addresses of a Multitude, or assumes to himself a Pre-eminence upon any other Consideration, must soon turn Admiration into Contempt. It is certain, that there can be no Merit in any Man who is not conscious of it; but the Sense that it is valuable only according to the Application of it, makes that Superiority amiable, which would otherwise be invidious. In this Light it is considered as a Thing in which every Man bears a Share: It annexes the Ideas of Dignity, Power, and Fame, in an agreeable and familiar manner, to him who is Possessor of it; and all Men who are Strangers to him are naturally incited to indulge a Curiosity in beholding the Person, Behaviour, Feature, and Shape of him, in whose Character, perhaps, each Man had formed something in common with himself. Whether such, or any other, are the Causes, all Men have [a yearning [1]] Curiosity to behold a Man of heroick Worth; and I have had many Letters from all Parts of this Kingdom, that request I would give them an exact Account of the Stature, the Mein, the Aspect of the Prince [2] who lately visited England, and has done such Wonders for the Liberty of Europe. It would puzzle the most Curious to form to himself the sort of Man my several Correspondents expect to hear of, by the Action mentioned when they desire a Description of him: There is always something that concerns themselves, and growing out of their own Circumstances, in all their Enquiries. A Friend of mine in Wales beseeches me to be very exact in my Account of that wonderful Man, who had marched an Army and all its Baggage over the Alps; and, if possible, to learn whether the Peasant who shew'd him the Way, and is drawn in the Map, be yet living. A Gentleman from the University, who is deeply intent on the Study of Humanity, desires me to be as particular, if I had Opportunity, in observing the whole Interview between his Highness and our late General. Thus do Mens Fancies work according to their several Educations and Circumstances; but all pay a Respect, mixed with Admiration, to this illustrious Character. I have waited for his Arrival in Holland, before I would let my Correspondents know, that I have not been so uncurious a Spectator, as not to have seen Prince Eugene. It would be very difficult, as I said just now, to answer every Expectation of those who have writ to me on that Head; nor is it possible for me to find Words to let one know what an artful Glance there is in his Countenance who surprized Cremona; how daring he appears who forced the Trenches of Turin; But in general I can say, that he who beholds him, will easily expect from him any thing that is to be imagined or executed by the Wit or Force of Man. The Prince is of that Stature which makes a Man most easily become all Parts of Exercise, has Height to be graceful on Occasions of State and Ceremony, and no less adapted for Agility and Dispatch: his Aspect is erect and compos'd; his Eye lively and thoughtful, yet rather vigilant than sparkling; his Action and Address the most easy imaginable, and his Behaviour in an Assembly peculiarly graceful in a certain Art of mixing insensibly with the rest, and becoming one of the Company, instead of receiving the Courtship of it. The Shape of his Person, and Composure of his Limbs, are remarkably exact and beautiful. There is in his Look something sublime, which does not seem to arise from his Quality or Character, but the innate Disposition of his Mind. It is apparent that he suffers the Presence of much Company, instead of taking Delight in it; and he appeared in Publick while with us, rather to return Good-will, or satisfy Curiosity, than to gratify any Taste he himself had of being popular. As his Thoughts are never tumultuous in Danger, they are as little discomposed on Occasions of Pomp and Magnificence: A great Soul is affected in either Case, no further than in considering the properest Methods to extricate it self from them. If this Hero has the strong Incentives to uncommon Enterprizes that were remarkable in Alexander, he prosecutes and enjoys the Fame of them with the Justness, Propriety, and good Sense of Cæsar. It is easy to observe in him a Mind as capable of being entertained with Contemplation as Enterprize; a Mind ready for great Exploits, but not impatient for Occasions to exert itself. The Prince has Wisdom and Valour in as high Perfection as Man can enjoy it; which noble Faculties in conjunction, banish all Vain-Glory, Ostentation, Ambition, and all other Vices which might intrude upon his Mind to make it unequal. These Habits and Qualities of Soul and Body render this Personage so extraordinary, that he appears to have nothing in him but what every Man should have in him, the Exertion of his very self, abstracted from the Circumstances in which Fortune has placed him. Thus were you to see Prince Eugene, and were told he was a private Gentleman, you would say he is a Man of Modesty and Merit: Should you be told That was Prince Eugene, he would be diminished no otherwise, than that part of your distant Admiration would turn into familiar Good-will. This I thought fit to entertain my Reader with, concerning an Hero who never was equalled but by one Man; [3] over whom also he has this Advantage, that he has had an Opportunity to manifest an Esteem for him in his Adversity.

T.

[Footnote 1: [an earning]]

[Footnote 2: Prince Eugene of Savoy, grandson of a duke of Savoy, and son of Eugene Maurice, general of the Swiss, and Olympia Mancini, a niece of Mazarin, was born at Paris in 1663, and intended for the church, but had so strong a bent towards a military life, that when refused a regiment in the French army he served the Emperor as volunteer against the Turks. He stopped the march of the French into Italy when Louis XIV. declared war with Austria, and refused afterwards from Louis a Marshals staff, a pension, and the Government of Champagne. Afterwards in Italy, by the surprise of Cremona he made Marshal Villeroi his prisoner, and he was Marlborough's companion in arms at Blenheim and in other victories. It was he who saved Turin, and expelled the French from Italy. He was 49 years old in 1712, and had come in that year to England to induce the court to continue the war, but found Marlborough in disgrace and the war very unpopular. He had been feasted by the city, and received from Queen Anne a sword worth £5000, which he wore at her birthday reception. He had also stood as godfather to Steele's third son, who was named after him.]

[Footnote 3: Marlborough.]

* * * * *

No. 341. Tuesday, April 1, 1712. Budgell. [1]

--Revocate animos moestumque timorem Mittite--

Virg.

Having, to oblige my Correspondent Physibulus, printed his Letter last Friday, in relation to the new Epilogue, he cannot take it amiss, if I now publish another, which I have just received from a Gentleman who does not agree with him in his Sentiments upon that Matter.

SIR,

I am amazed to find an Epilogue attacked in your last Fridays Paper,
which has been so generally applauded by the Town, and receiv'd such
Honours as were never before given to any in an English Theatre.

The Audience would not permit Mrs. Oldfield to go off the Stage the
first Night, till she had repeated it twice; the second Night the
Noise of Ancoras was as loud as before, and she was again obliged to
speak it twice: the third Night it was still called for a second time;
and, in short, contrary to all other Epilogues, which are dropt after
the third Representation of the Play, this has already been repeated
nine times.

I must own I am the more surprized to find this Censure in Opposition
to the whole Town, in a Paper which has hitherto been famous for the
Candour of its Criticisms.

I can by no means allow your melancholy Correspondent, that the new
Epilogue is unnatural because it is gay. If I had a mind to be
learned, I could tell him that the Prologue and Epilogue were real
Parts of the ancient Tragedy; but every one knows that on the British
Stage they are distinct Performances by themselves, Pieces entirely
detached from the Play, and no way essential to it.

The moment the Play ends, Mrs. Oldfield is no more Andromache, but
Mrs. Oldfield; and tho the Poet had left Andromache stone-dead upon
the Stage, as your ingenious Correspondent phrases it, Mrs. Oldfield
might still have spoke a merry Epilogue. We have an Instance of this
in a Tragedy [2] where there is not only a Death but a Martyrdom. St.
Catherine was there personated by Nell Gwin; she lies stone dead upon
the Stage, but upon those Gentlemen's offering to remove her Body,
whose Business it is to carry off the Slain in our English Tragedies,
she breaks out into that abrupt Beginning of what was a very
ludicrous, but at the same time thought a very good Epilogue.

Hold, are you mad? you damn'd confounded Dog,
I am to rise and speak the Epilogue.

This diverting Manner was always practised by Mr. Dryden, who if he
was not the best Writer of Tragedies in his time, was allowed by every
one to have the happiest Turn for a Prologue or an Epilogue. The
Epilogues to Cleomenes, Don Sebastian, The Duke of Guise, Aurengzebe,
and Love Triumphant, are all Precedents of this Nature.

I might further justify this Practice by that excellent Epilogue which
was spoken a few Years since, after the Tragedy of Phædra and
Hippolitus; with a great many others, in which the Authors have
endeavour'd to make the Audience merry. If they have not all succeeded
so well as the Writer of this, they have however shewn that it was not
for want of Good-will.

I must further observe, that the Gaiety of it may be still the more
proper, as it is at the end of a French Play; since every one knows
that Nation, who are generally esteem'd to have as polite a Taste as
any in Europe, always close their Tragick Entertainments with what
they call a Petite Piece, which is purposely design'd to raise Mirth,
and send away the Audience well pleased. The same Person who has
supported the chief Character in the Tragedy, very often plays the
principal Part in the Petite Piece; so that I have my self seen at
Paris, Orestes and Lubin acted the same Night by the same Man.

Tragi-Comedy, indeed, you have your self in a former Speculation found
fault with very justly, because it breaks the Tide of the Passions
while they are yet flowing; but this is nothing at all to the present
Case, where they have already had their full Course.

As the new Epilogue is written conformable to the Practice of our best
Poets, so it is not such an one which, as the Duke of Buckingham says
in his Rehearsal, might serve for any other Play; but wholly rises out
of the Occurrences of the Piece it was composed for.

The only Reason your mournful Correspondent gives against this
Facetious Epilogue, as he calls it, is, that he has mind to go home
melancholy. I wish the Gentleman may not be more Grave than Wise. For
my own part, I must confess I think it very sufficient to have the
Anguish of a fictitious Piece remain upon me while it is representing,
but I love to be sent home to bed in a good humour. If Physibulus is
however resolv'd to be inconsolable, and not to have his Tears dried
up, he need only continue his old Custom, and when he has had his half
Crowns worth of Sorrow, slink out before the Epilogue begins.

It is pleasant enough to hear this Tragical Genius complaining of the
great Mischief Andromache had done him: What was that? Why, she made
him laugh. The poor Gentleman's Sufferings put me in mind of
Harlequins Case, who was tickled to Death. He tells us soon after,
thro a small Mistake of Sorrow for Rage, that during the whole Action
he was so very sorry, that he thinks he could have attack'd half a
score of the fiercest Mohocks in the Excess of his Grief. I cannot but
look upon it as an happy Accident, that a Man who is so bloody-minded
in his Affliction, was diverted from this Fit of outragious
Melancholy. The Valour of this Gentleman in his Distress, brings to
ones memory the Knight of the sorrowful Countenance, who lays about
him at such an unmerciful rate in an old Romance. I shall readily
grant him that his Soul, as he himself says, would have made a very
ridiculous Figure, had it quitted the Body, and descended to the
Poetical Shades, in such an Encounter.

As to his Conceit of tacking a Tragic Head with a Comic Tail, in order
to refresh the Audience, it is such a piece of Jargon, that I don't
know what to make of it.

The elegant Writer makes a very sudden Transition from the Play-house
to the Church, and from thence, to the Gallows.

As for what relates to the Church, he is of Opinion, that these
Epilogues have given occasion to those merry Jiggs from the Organ-Loft
which have dissipated those good Thoughts, and Dispositions he has
found in himself, and the rest of the Pew, upon the singing of two
Staves cull'd out by the judicious and diligent Clark.

He fetches his next Thought from Tyburn; and seems very apprehensive
lest there should happen any Innovations in the Tragedies of his
Friend Paul Lorrain.

In the mean time, Sir, this gloomy Writer, who is so mightily
scandaliz'd at a gay Epilogue after a serious Play, speaking of the
Fate of those unhappy Wretches who are condemned to suffer an
ignominious Death by the Justice of our Laws, endeavours to make the
Reader merry on so improper an occasion, by those poor Burlesque
Expressions of Tragical Dramas, and Monthly Performances.

I am, Sir, with great Respect,
Your most obedient, most humble Servant,

Philomeides.

X.

[Footnote 1: Budgell here defends with bad temper the Epilogue which Addison ascribed to him. Probably it was of his writing, but transformed by Addison's corrections.]

[Footnote 2: Dryden's Maximin.]

* * * * *

No. 342. Wednesday, April 2, 1712. Steele.

Justitiæ partes sunt non violare homines: Verecundiæ non offendere.

Tull.

As Regard to Decency is a great Rule of Life in general, but more especially to be consulted by the Female World, I cannot overlook the following Letter which describes an egregious Offender.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I was this Day looking over your Papers, and reading in that of
December the 6th with great delight, the amiable Grief of Asteria for
the Absence of her Husband, it threw me into a great deal of
Reflection. I cannot say but this arose very much from the
Circumstances of my own Life, who am a Soldier, and expect every Day
to receive Orders; which will oblige me to leave behind me a Wife that
is very dear to me, and that very deservedly. She is, at present, I am
sure, no way below your Asteria for Conjugal Affection: But I see the
Behaviour of some Women so little suited to the Circumstances wherein
my Wife and I shall soon be, that it is with a Reluctance I never knew
before, I am going to my Duty. What puts me to present Pain, is the
Example of a young Lady, whose Story you shall have as well as I can
give it you. Hortensius, an Officer of good Rank in her Majesty's
Service, happen'd in a certain Part of England to be brought to a
Country-Gentleman's House, where he was receiv'd with that more than
ordinary Welcome, with which Men of domestick Lives entertain such few
Soldiers whom a military Life, from the variety of Adventures, has not
render'd over-bearing, but humane, easy, and agreeable: Hortensius
stay'd here some time, and had easy Access at all hours, as well as
unavoidable Conversation at some parts of the Day with the beautiful
Sylvana, the Gentleman's Daughter. People who live in Cities are
wonderfully struck with every little Country Abode they see when they
take the Air; and tis natural to fancy they could live in every neat
Cottage (by which they pass) much happier than in their present
Circumstances. The turbulent way of Life which Hortensius was used to,
made him reflect with much Satisfaction on all the Advantages of a
sweet Retreat one day; and among the rest, you'll think it not
improbable, it might enter into his Thought, that such a Woman as
Sylvana would consummate the Happiness. The World is so debauched with
mean Considerations, that Hortensius knew it would be receiv'd as an
Act of Generosity, if he asked for a Woman of the Highest Merit,
without further Questions, of a Parent who had nothing to add to her
personal Qualifications. The Wedding was celebrated at her Fathers
House: When that was over, the generous Husband did not proportion his
Provision for her to the Circumstances of her Fortune, but considered
his Wife as his Darling, his Pride, and his Vanity, or rather that it
was in the Woman he had chosen that a Man of Sense could shew Pride or
Vanity with an Excuse, and therefore adorned her with rich Habits and
valuable Jewels. He did not however omit to admonish her that he did
his very utmost in this; that it was an Ostentation he could not but
be guilty of to a Woman he had so much Pleasure in, desiring her to
consider it as such; and begged of her also to take these Matters
rightly, and believe the Gems, the Gowns, the Laces would still become
her better, if her Air and Behaviour was such, that it might appear
she dressed thus rather in Compliance to his Humour that Way, than out
of any Value she her self had for the Trifles. To this Lesson, too
hard for Woman, Hortensius added, that she must be sure to stay with
her Friends in the Country till his Return. As soon as Hortensius
departed, Sylvana saw in her Looking-glass that the Love he conceiv'd
for her was wholly owing to the Accident of seeing her: and she is
convinced it was only her Misfortune the rest of Mankind had not
beheld her, or Men of much greater Quality and Merit had contended for
one so genteel, tho bred in Obscurity; so very witty, tho never
acquainted with Court or Town. She therefore resolved not to hide so
much Excellence from the World, but without any Regard to the Absence
of the most generous Man alive, she is now the gayest Lady about this
Town, and has shut out the Thoughts of her Husband by a constant
Retinue of the vainest young Fellows this Age has produced: to
entertain whom, she squanders away all Hortensius is able to supply
her with, tho that Supply is purchased with no less Difficulty than
the Hazard of his Life.

Now, Mr. SPECTATOR, would it not be a Work becoming your Office to
treat this Criminal as she deserve[s]? You should give it the severest
Reflections you can: You should tell Women, that they are more
accountable for Behaviour in Absence than after Death. The Dead are
not dishonour'd by their Levities; the Living may return, and be
laugh'd at by empty Fops, who will not fail to turn into Ridicule the
good Man who is so unseasonable as to be still alive, and come and
spoil good Company.

I am, SIR,
your most Obedient Humble Servant.

All Strictness of Behaviour is so unmercifully laugh'd at in our Age, that the other much worse Extreme is the more common Folly. But let any Woman consider which of the two Offences an Husband would the more easily forgive, that of being less entertaining than she could to please Company, or raising the Desires of the whole Room to his disadvantage; and she will easily be able to form her Conduct. We have indeed carry'd Womens Characters too much into publick Life, and you shall see them now-a-days affect a sort of Fame: but I cannot help venturing to disoblige them for their Service, by telling them, that the utmost of a Woman's Character is contained in Domestick Life; she is blameable or praiseworthy according as her Carriage affects the House of her Father or her Husband. All she has to do in this World, is contain'd within the Duties of a Daughter, a Sister, a Wife, and a Mother: All these may be well performed, tho a Lady should not be the very finest Woman at an Opera or an Assembly. They are likewise consistent with a moderate share of Wit, a plain Dress, and a modest Air. But when the very Brains of the Sex are turned, and they place their Ambition on Circumstances, wherein to excel is no addition to what is truly commendable, where can this end, but, as it frequently does, in their placing all their Industry, Pleasure and Ambition on things, which will naturally make the Gratifications of Life last, at best, no longer than Youth and good Fortune? And when we consider the least ill Consequence, it can be no less than looking on their own Condition as Years advance, with a disrelish of Life, and falling into Contempt of their own Persons, or being the Derision of others. But when they consider themselves as they ought, no other than an additional Part of the Species, (for their own Happiness and Comfort, as well as that of those for whom they were born) their Ambition to excel will be directed accordingly; and they will in no part of their Lives want Opportunities of being shining Ornaments to their Fathers, Husbands, Brothers, or Children.

T

* * * * *

No. 343. Thursday, April 3, 1712. Addison.

--Errat et illinc
Huc venit, hinc illuc, et quoslibet occupat artus
Spiritus: éque feris humana in corpora transit,
Inque feras noster--

Pythag. ap. Ov.

Will. Honeycomb, who loves to shew upon occasion all the little Learning he has picked up, told us yesterday at the Club, that he thought there might be a great deal said for the Transmigration of Souls, and that the Eastern Parts of the World believed in that Doctrine to this day. Sir Paul Rycaut, [1] says he, gives us an Account of several well-disposed Mahometans that purchase the Freedom of any little Bird they see confined to a Cage, and think they merit as much by it, as we should do here by ransoming any of our Countrymen from their Captivity at Algiers. You must know, says WILL., the Reason is, because they consider every Animal as a Brother or Sister in disguise, and therefore think themselves obliged to extend their Charity to them, tho under such mean Circumstances. They'll tell you, says WILL., that the Soul of a Man, when he dies, immediately passes into the Body of another Man, or of some Brute, which he resembled in his Humour, or his Fortune, when he was one of us.

As I was wondring what this profusion of Learning would end in, WILL. told us that Jack Freelove, who was a Fellow of Whim, made Love to one of those Ladies who throw away all their Fondness [on [2]] Parrots, Monkeys, and Lap-dogs. Upon going to pay her a Visit one Morning, he writ a very pretty Epistle upon this Hint. Jack, says he, was conducted into the Parlour, where he diverted himself for some time with her favourite Monkey, which was chained in one of the Windows; till at length observing a Pen and Ink lie by him, he writ the following Letter to his Mistress, in the Person of the Monkey; and upon her not coming down so soon as he expected, left it in the Window, and went about his Business.

The Lady soon after coming into the Parlour, and seeing her Monkey look upon a Paper with great Earnestness, took it up, and to this day is in some doubt, says WILL., whether it was written by Jack or the Monkey.

Madam,
Not having the Gift of Speech, I have a long time waited in vain for
an Opportunity of making myself known to you; and having at present
the Conveniences of Pen, Ink, and Paper by me, I gladly take the
occasion of giving you my History in Writing, which I could not do by
word of Mouth. You must know, Madam, that about a thousand Years ago I
was an Indian Brachman, and versed in all those mysterious Secrets
which your European Philosopher, called Pythagoras, is said to have
learned from our Fraternity. I had so ingratiated my self by my great
Skill in the occult Sciences with a Daemon whom I used to converse
with, that he promised to grant me whatever I should ask of him. I
desired that my Soul might never pass into the Body of a brute
Creature; but this he told me was not in his Power to grant me. I then
begg'd that into whatever Creature I should chance to Transmigrate, I
might still retain my Memory, and be conscious that I was the same
Person who lived in different Animals. This he told me was within his
Power, and accordingly promised on the word of a Daemon that he would
grant me what I desired. From that time forth I lived so very
unblameably, that I was made President of a College of Brachmans, an
Office which I discharged with great Integrity till the day of my
Death. I was then shuffled into another Human Body, and acted my Part
so very well in it, that I became first Minister to a Prince who
reigned upon the Banks of the Ganges. I here lived in great Honour for
several Years, but by degrees lost all the Innocence of the Brachman,
being obliged to rifle and oppress the People to enrich my Sovereign;
till at length I became so odious that my Master, to recover his
Credit with his Subjects, shot me thro the Heart with an Arrow, as I
was one day addressing my self to him at the Head of his Army.

Upon my next remove I found my self in the Woods, under the shape of a
Jack-call, and soon listed my self in the Service of a Lion. I used to
yelp near his Den about midnight, which was his time of rouzing and
seeking after his Prey. He always followed me in the Rear, and when I
had run down a fat Buck, a wild Goat, or an Hare, after he had feasted
very plentifully upon it himself, would now and then throw me a Bone
that was but half picked for my Encouragement; but upon my Being
unsuccessful in two or three Chaces, he gave me such a confounded
Gripe in his Anger, that I died of it.

In my next Transmigration I was again set upon two Legs, and became an
Indian Tax-gatherer; but having been guilty of great Extravagances,
and being marry'd to an expensive Jade of a Wife, I ran so cursedly in
debt, that I durst not shew my Head. I could no sooner step out of my
House, but I was arrested by some body or other that lay in wait for
me. As I ventur'd abroad one Night in the Dusk of the Evening, I was
taken up and hurry'd into a Dungeon, where I died a few Months after.

My Soul then enter'd into a Flying-Fish, and in that State led a most
melancholy Life for the space of six Years. Several Fishes of Prey
pursued me when I was in the Water, and if I betook my self to my
Wings, it was ten to one but I had a flock of Birds aiming at me. As I
was one day flying amidst a fleet of English Ships, I observed a huge
Sea-Gull whetting his Bill and hovering just over my Head: Upon my
dipping into the Water to avoid him, I fell into the Mouth of a
monstrous Shark that swallow'd me down in an instant.

I was some Years afterwards, to my great surprize, an eminent Banker
in Lombard-street; and remembring how I had formerly suffered for want
of Money, became so very sordid and avaritious, that the whole Town
cried shame of me. I was a miserable little old Fellow to look upon,
for I had in a manner starved my self, and was nothing but Skin and
Bone when I died.

I was afterwards very much troubled and amazed to find my self
dwindled into an Emmet. I was heartily concerned to make so
insignificant a Figure, and did not know but some time or other I
might be reduced to a Mite if I did not mend my Manners. I therefore
applied my self with great diligence to the Offices that were allotted
me, and was generally look'd upon as the notablest Ant in the whole
Molehill. I was at last picked up, as I was groaning under a Burden,
by an unlucky Cock-Sparrow that lived in the Neighbourhood, and had
before made great depredations upon our Commonwealth.

I then better'd my Condition a little, and lived a whole Summer in the
Shape of a Bee; but being tired with the painful and penurious Life I
had undergone in my two last Transmigrations, I fell into the other
Extream, and turned Drone. As I one day headed a Party to plunder an
Hive, we were received so warmly by the Swarm which defended it, that
we were most of us left dead upon the Spot.

I might tell you of many other Transmigrations which I went thro: how
I was a Town-Rake, and afterwards did Penance in a Bay Gelding for ten
Years; as also how I was a Taylor, a Shrimp, and a Tom-tit. In the
last of these my Shapes I was shot in the Christmas Holidays by a
young Jack-a-napes, who would needs try his new Gun upon me.

But I shall pass over these and other several Stages of Life, to
remind you of the young Beau who made love to you about Six Years
since. You may remember, Madam, how he masked, and danced, and sung,
and play'd a thousand Tricks to gain you; and how he was at last
carry'd off by a Cold that he got under your Window one Night in a
Serenade. I was that unfortunate young Fellow, whom you were then so
cruel to. Not long after my shifting that unlucky Body, I found myself
upon a Hill in Æthiopia, where I lived in my present Grotesque Shape,
till I was caught by a Servant of the English Factory, and sent over
into Great Britain: I need not inform you how I came into your Hands.
You see, Madam, this is not the first time that you have had me in a
Chain: I am, however, very happy in this my Captivity, as you often
bestow on me those Kisses and Caresses which I would have given the
World for, when I was a Man. I hope this Discovery of my Person will
not tend to my Disadvantage, but that you will still continue your
accustomed Favours to
Your most Devoted
Humble Servant,
Pugg.

P.S. I would advise your little Shock-dog to keep out of my way; for
as I look upon him to be the most formidable of my Rivals, I may
chance one time or other to give him such a Snap as he wont like.

L.

[Footnote 1: Sir Paul Rycaut, the son of a London merchant, after an education at Trinity College, Cambridge, went in 1661 to Constantinople as Secretary to the Embassy. He published in 1668 his Present State of the Ottoman Empire, in three Books, and in 1670 the work here quoted, A Particular Description of the Mahometan Religion, the Seraglio, the Maritime and Land Forces of Turkey, abridged in 1701 in Savages History of the Turks, and translated into French by Bespier in 1707. Consul afterwards at Smyrna, he wrote by command of Charles II. a book on The Present State of the Greek and American Churches, published 1679. After his return from the East he was made Privy Councillor and Judge of the High Court of Admiralty. He was knighted by James II., and one of the first Fellows of the Royal Society. He published between 1687 and 1700, the year of his death, Knolless History of the Turks, with a continuation of his own, and also translated Platinas Lives of the Popes and Garcilaso de la Vegas History of Peru.]

[Footnote 2: [upon]]

* * * * *

No. 344. Friday, April 4, 1712. Steele.

In solo vivendi causa palato est.

Juv.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I think it has not yet fallen into your Way to discourse on little
Ambition, or the many whimsical Ways Men fall into, to distinguish
themselves among their Acquaintance: Such Observations, well pursued,
would make a pretty History of low Life. I my self am got into a great
Reputation, which arose (as most extraordinary Occurrences in a Man's
Life seem to do) from a mere Accident. I was some Days ago
unfortunately engaged among a Set of Gentlemen, who esteem a Man
according to the Quantity of Food he throws down at a Meal. Now I, who
am ever for distinguishing my self according to the Notions of
Superiority which the rest of the Company entertain, ate so
immoderately for their Applause, as had like to have cost me my Life.
What added to my Misfortune was, that having naturally a good Stomach,
and having lived soberly for some time, my Body was as well prepared
for this Contention as if it had been by Appointment. I had quickly
vanquished every Glutton in Company but one, who was such a Prodigy in
his Way, and withal so very merry during the whole Entertainment, that
he insensibly betrayed me to continue his Competitor, which in a
little time concluded in a compleat Victory over my Rival; after
which, by Way of Insult, I ate a considerable Proportion beyond what
the Spectators thought me obliged in Honour to do. The Effect however
of this Engagement, has made me resolve never to eat more for Renown;
and I have, pursuant to this Resolution, compounded three Wagers I had
depending on the Strength of my Stomach; which happened very luckily,
because it was stipulated in our Articles either to play or pay. How a
Man of common Sense could be thus engaged, is hard to determine; but
the Occasion of this, is to desire you to inform several Gluttons of
my Acquaintance, who look on me with Envy, that they had best moderate
their Ambition in time, lest Infamy or Death attend their Success. I
forgot to tell you, Sir, with what unspeakable Pleasure I received the
Acclamations and Applause of the whole Board, when I had almost eat my
Antagonist into Convulsions: It was then that I returned his Mirth
upon him with such success as he was hardly able to swallow, though
prompted by a Desire of Fame, and a passionate Fondness for
Distinction: I had not endeavoured to excel so far, had not the
Company been so loud in their Approbation of my Victory. I don't
question but the same Thirst after Glory has often caused a Man to
drink Quarts without taking Breath, and prompted Men to many other
difficult Enterprizes; which if otherwise pursued, might turn very
much to a Man's Advantage. This Ambition of mine was indeed
extravagantly pursued; however I cant help observing, that you hardly
ever see a Man commended for a good Stomach, but he immediately falls
to eating more (tho he had before dined) as well to confirm the
Person that commended him in his good Opinion of him, as to convince
any other at the Table, who may have been unattentive enough not to
have done Justice to his Character.
I am, Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
Epicure Mammon.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I have writ to you three or four times, to desire you would take
notice of an impertinent Custom the Women, the fine Women, have lately
fallen into, of taking Snuff. [1] This silly Trick is attended with
such a Coquet Air in some Ladies, and such a sedate masculine one in
others, that I cannot tell which most to complain of; but they are to
me equally disagreeable. Mrs. Saunter is so impatient of being without
it, that she takes it as often as she does Salt at Meals; and as she
affects a wonderful Ease and Negligence in all her manner, an upper
Lip mixed with Snuff and the Sauce, is what is presented to the
Observation of all who have the honour to eat with her. The pretty
Creature her Neice does all she can to be as disagreeable as her Aunt;
and if she is not as offensive to the Eye, she is quite as much to the
Ear, and makes up all she wants in a confident Air, by a nauseous
Rattle of the Nose, when the Snuff is delivered, and the Fingers make
the Stops and Closes on the Nostrils. This, perhaps, is not a very
courtly Image in speaking of Ladies; that is very true: but where
arises the Offence? Is it in those who commit, or those who observe
it? As for my part, I have been so extremely disgusted with this
filthy Physick hanging on the Lip, that the most agreeable
Conversation, or Person, has not been able to make up for it. As to
those who take it for no other end but to give themselves Occasion for
pretty Action, or to fill up little Intervals of Discourse, I can bear
with them; but then they must not use it when another is speaking, who
ought to be heard with too much respect, to admit of offering at that
time from Hand to Hand the Snuff-Box. But Flavilla is so far taken
with her Behaviour in this kind, that she pulls out her Box (which is
indeed full of good Brazile) in the middle of the Sermon; and to shew
she has the Audacity of a well-bred Woman, she offers it the Men as
well as the Women who sit near her: But since by this Time all the
World knows she has a fine Hand, I am in hopes she may give her self
no further Trouble in this matter. On Sunday was sennight, when they
came about for the Offering, she gave her Charity with a very good
Air, but at the same Time asked the Churchwarden if he would take a
Pinch. Pray, Sir, think of these things in time, and you will oblige,

SIR,

Your most humble servant.

T.

[Footnote 1: Charles Lillie, the perfumer, from whose shop at the corner of Beaufort Buildings the original Spectators were distributed, left behind him a book of receipts and observations, The British Perfumer, Snuff Manufacturer, and Colourmans Guide, of which the MS. was sold with his business, but which remained unpublished until 1822. He opens his Part III. on Snuffs with an account of the Origin of Snuff-taking in England, the practice being one that had become fashionable in his day, and only about eight years before the appearance of the Spectator. It dates from Sir George Rooke's expedition against Cadiz in 1702. Before that time snuff-taking in England was confined to a few luxurious foreigners and English who had travelled abroad. They took their snuff with pipes of the size of quills out of small spring boxes. The pipes let out a very small quantity upon the back of the hand, and this was snuffed up the nostrils with the intention of producing a sneeze which, says Lillie, I need not say forms now no part of the design or rather fashion of snuff-taking; least of all in the ladies who took part in this method of snuffing defiance at the public enemy. When the fleet, after the failure of its enterprize against Cadiz, proceeded to cut off the French ships in Vigobay, on the way it plundered Port St. Mary and adjacent places, where, among other merchandize, seizure was made of several thousand barrels and casks, each containing four tin canisters of snuffs of the best growth and finest Spanish manufacture. At Vigo, among the merchandize taken from the shipping there destroyed, were prodigious quantities of gross snuff, from the Havannah, in bales, bags, and scrows (untanned buffalo hides, used with the hairy-side inwards, for making packages), which were designed for manufacture in different parts of Spain. Altogether fifty tons of snuff were brought home as part of the prize of the officers and sailors of the fleet. Of the coarse snuff, called Vigo snuff, the sailors, among whom it was shared, sold waggon-loads at Portsmouth, Plymouth, and Chatham, for not more than three-pence or four-pence a pound. The greater part of it was bought up by Spanish Jews, to their own very considerable profit. The fine snuffs taken at Port St. Mary, and divided among the officers, were sold by some of them at once for a small price, while others held their stocks and, as the snuff so taken became popular and gave a patriotic impulse to the introduction of a fashion which had hitherto been almost confined to foreigners, they got very high prices for it. This accounts for the fact that the ladies too had added the use of the perfumed snuff-box to their other fashionable accomplishments.]

* * * * *

No. 345. Saturday, April 5, 1712. Addison.

Sanctius his animal, mentisque capacius altæ
Deerat adhuc, et quod dominari in coetera posset,
Natus homo est.

Ov. Met.

The Accounts which Raphael gives of the Battel of Angels, and the Creation of the World, have in them those Qualifications which the Criticks judge requisite to an Episode. They are nearly related to the principal Action, and have a just Connexion with the Fable.

The eighth Book opens with a beautiful Description of the Impression which this Discourse of the Archangel made on our first Parent[s]. Adam afterwards, by a very natural Curiosity, enquires concerning the Motions of those Celestial Bodies which make the most glorious Appearance among the six days Works. The Poet here, with a great deal of Art, represents Eve as withdrawing from this part of their Conversation, to Amusements more suitable to her Sex. He well knew, that the Episode in this Book, which is filled with Adams Account of his Passion and Esteem for Eve, would have been improper for her hearing, and has therefore devised very just and beautiful Reasons for her Retiring.

So spake our Sire, and by his Countenance seem'd
Entring on studious Thoughts abstruse: which Eve
Perceiving, where she sat retired in sight,
With lowliness majestick, from her Seat,
And Grace, that won who saw to wish her Stay,
Rose; and went forth among her Fruits and Flowers
To visit how they prosper'd, Bud and Bloom,
Her Nursery: they at her coming sprung,
And touch'd by her fair Tendance gladlier grew.
Yet went she not, as not with such Discourse
Delighted, or not capable her Ear
Of what was high: Such Pleasure she reserved,
Adam relating, she sole Auditress;
Her Husband the Relater she preferr'd
Before the Angel, and of him to ask
Chose rather: he, she knew, would intermix
Grateful Digressions, and solve high Dispute
With conjugal Caresses; from his Lip
Not Words alone pleas'd her. O when meet now
Such Pairs, in Love and mutual Honour join'd!

The Angels returning a doubtful Answer to Adams Enquiries, was not only proper for the Moral Reason which the Poet assigns, but because it would have been highly absurd to have given the Sanction of an Archangel to any particular System of Philosophy. The chief Points in the Ptolemaick and Copernican Hypothesis are described with great Conciseness and Perspicuity, and at the same time dressed in very pleasing and poetical Images.

Adam, to detain the Angel, enters afterwards upon his own History, and relates to him the Circumstances in which he found himself upon his Creation; as also his Conversation with his Maker, and his first meeting with Eve. There is no part of the Poem more apt to raise the Attention of the Reader, than this Discourse of our great Ancestor; as nothing can be more surprizing and delightful to us, than to hear the Sentiments that arose in the first Man while he was yet new and fresh from the Hands of his Creator. The Poet has interwoven every thing which is delivered upon this Subject in Holy Writ with so many beautiful Imaginations of his own, that nothing can be conceived more just and natural than this whole Episode. As our Author knew this Subject could not but be agreeable to his Reader, he would not throw it into the Relation of the six days Works, but reserved it for a distinct Episode, that he might have an opportunity of expatiating upon it more at large. Before I enter on this part of the Poem, I cannot but take notice of two shining Passages in the Dialogue between Adam and the Angel. The first is that wherein our Ancestor gives an Account of the pleasure he took in conversing with him, which contains a very noble Moral.