Chapter LXII: Introduction (62)

For while I sit with thee, I seem in Heavn,
And sweeter thy Discourse is to my Ear
Than Fruits of Palm-tree (pleasantest to Thirst
And Hunger both from Labour) at the hour
Of sweet Repast: they satiate, and soon fill,
Tho pleasant; but thy Words with Grace divine
Imbu'd, bring to their Sweetness no Satiety.

The other I shall mention, is that in which the Angel gives a Reason why he should be glad to hear the Story Adam was about to relate.

For I that day was absent, as befel,
Bound on a Voyage uncouth and obscure;
Far on Excursion towards the Gates of Hell,
Squar'd in full Legion [such Command we had]
To see that none thence issued forth a Spy,
Or Enemy; while God was in his Work,
Lest he, incens'd at such Eruption bold,
Destruction with Creation might have mix'd.

There is no question but our Poet drew the Image in what follows from that in Virgil's sixth Book, where Æneas and the Sibyl stand before the Adamantine Gates, which are there described as shut upon the Place of Torments, and listen to the Groans, the Clank of Chains, and the Noise of Iron Whips, that were heard in those Regions of Pain and Sorrow.

--Fast we found, fast shut
The dismal Gates, and barricado'd strong;
But long ere our Approaching heard within
Noise, other than the Sound of Dance or Song,
Torment, and loud Lament, and furious Rage.

Adam then proceeds to give an account of his Condition and Sentiments immediately after his Creation. How agreeably does he represent the Posture in which he found himself, the beautiful Landskip that surrounded him, and the Gladness of Heart which grew up in him on that occasion?

--As new waked from soundest Sleep,
Soft on the flowry Herb I found me laid
In balmy Sweat, which with his Beams the Sun
Soon dried, and on the reaking Moisture fed.
Streight towards Heavn my wondring Eyes I turn'd,
And gazed awhile the ample Sky, till rais'd
By quick instinctive Motion, up I sprung,
As thitherward endeavouring, and upright
Stood on my Feet: About me round I saw
Hill, Dale, and shady Woods, and sunny Plains,
And liquid lapse of murmuring Streams; by these
Creatures that liv'd, and mov'd, and walked, or flew,
Birds on the Branches warbling; all things smil'd:
With Fragrance, and with Joy my Heart o'erflow'd.

Adam is afterwards describ'd as surprized at his own Existence, and taking a Survey of himself, and of all the Works of Nature. He likewise is represented as discovering by the Light of Reason, that he and every thing about him must have been the Effect of some Being infinitely good and powerful, and that this Being had a right to his Worship and Adoration. His first Address to the Sun, and to those Parts of the Creation which made the most distinguished Figure, is very natural and amusing to the Imagination.

--Thou Sun, said I, fair Light,
And thou enlighten'd Earth, so fresh and gay,
Ye Hills and Dales, ye Rivers, Woods and Plains,
And ye that live and move, fair Creatures tell,
Tell if you saw, how came I thus, how here?

His next Sentiment, when upon his first going to sleep he fancies himself losing his Existence, and falling away into nothing, can never be sufficiently admired. His Dream, in which he still preserves the Consciousness of his Existence, together with his removal into the Garden which was prepared for his Reception, are also Circumstances finely imagined, and grounded upon what is delivered in Sacred Story.

These and the like wonderful Incidents in this Part of the Work, have in them all the Beauties of Novelty, at the same time that they have all the Graces of Nature. They are such as none but a great Genius could have thought of, tho, upon the perusal of them, they seem to rise of themselves from the Subject of which he treats. In a word, tho they are natural, they are not obvious, which is the true Character of all fine Writing.

The Impression which the Interdiction of the Tree of Life left in the Mind of our first Parent, is describ'd with great Strength and Judgment; as the Image of the several Beasts and Birds passing in review before him is very beautiful and lively.

--Each Bird and Beast behold
Approaching two and two, these cowring low
With Blandishment; each Bird stoop'd on his Wing:
I nam'd them as they pass'd--

Adam, in the next place, describes a Conference which he held with his Maker upon the Subject of Solitude. The Poet here represents the supreme Being, as making an Essay of his own Work, and putting to the tryal that reasoning Faculty, with which he had endued his Creature. Adam urges, in this Divine Colloquy, the Impossibility of his being happy, tho he was the Inhabitant of Paradise, and Lord of the whole Creation, without the Conversation and Society of some rational Creature, who should partake those Blessings with him. This Dialogue, which is supported chiefly by the Beauty of the Thoughts, without other poetical Ornaments, is as fine a Part as any in the whole Poem: The more the Reader examines the Justness and Delicacy of its Sentiments, the more he will find himself pleased with it. The Poet has wonderfully preserved the Character of Majesty and Condescension in the Creator, and at the same time that of Humility and Adoration in the Creature, as particularly in the following Lines:

Thus I presumptuous; and the Vision bright,
As with a Smile more bright-tied, thus reply'd, &c.

--I, with leave of Speech implor'd
And humble Deprecation, thus reply d:
Let not my Words offend thee, Heavnly Power,
My Maker, be propitious while I speak, &c.

Adam then proceeds to give an account of his second Sleep, and of the Dream in which he beheld the Formation of Eve. The new Passion that was awaken'd in him at the sight of her, is touch'd very finely.

Under his forming Hands a Creature grew,
Manlike, but different Sex: so lovely fair,
That what seem'd fair in all the World, seemed now
Mean, or in her summ'd up, in her contained,
And in her Looks; which from that time infused
Sweetness info my Heart, unfelt before:
And into all things from her Air inspired
The Spirit of Love and amorous Delight.

Adams Distress upon losing sight of this beautiful Phantom, with his Exclamations of Joy and Gratitude at the discovery of a real Creature, who resembled the Apparition which had been presented to him in his Dream; the Approaches he makes to her, and his Manner of Courtship; are all laid together in a most exquisite Propriety of Sentiments.

Tho this Part of the Poem is work'd up with great Warmth and Spirit, the Love which is described in it is every way suitable to a State of Innocence. If the Reader compares the Description which Adam here gives of his leading Eve to the Nuptial Bower, with that which Mr. Dryden has made on the same occasion in a Scene of his Fall of Man, he will be sensible of the great care which Milton took to avoid all Thoughts on so delicate a Subject, that might be offensive to Religion or Good-Manners. The Sentiments are chaste, but not cold; and convey to the Mind Ideas of the most transporting Passion, and of the greatest Purity. What a noble Mixture of Rapture and Innocence has the Author join'd together, in the Reflection which Adam makes on the Pleasures of Love, compared to those of Sense.

Thus have I told thee all my State, and brought
My Story to the sum of earthly Bliss,
Which I enjoy; and must confess to find
In all things else Delight indeed, but such
As us'd or not, works in the Mind no Change
Nor vehement Desire; these Delicacies
I mean of Taste, Sight, Smell, Herbs, Fruits, and Flowers,
Walks, and the Melody of Birds: but here
Far otherwise, transported I behold,
Transported touch; here Passion first I felt,
Commotion strange! in all Enjoyments else
Superiour and unmov'd, here only weak
Against the Charms of Beauty's powerful Glance.
Or Nature fail'd in me, and left some Part
Not Proof enough such Object to sustain;
Or from my Side subducting, took perhaps
More than enough; at least on her bestowed
Too much of Ornament in outward shew
Elaborate, of inward less exact.

--When I approach
Her Loveliness, so absolute she seems
And in herself compleat, so well to know
Her own, that what she wills to do or say
Seems wisest, vertuousest, discreetest, best:
All higher Knowledge in her Presence falls
Degraded: Wisdom in discourse with her
Loses discountenanced, and like Folly shews;
Authority and Reason on her wait,
As one intended first, not after made
Occasionally: and to consummate all,
Greatness of Mind, and Nobleness their Seat
Build in her loveliest, and create an Awe
About her, as a Guard angelick plac'd.

These Sentiments of Love, in our first Parent, gave the Angel such an Insight into Humane Nature, that he seems apprehensive of the Evils which might befall the Species in general, as well as Adam in particular, from the Excess of this Passion. He therefore fortifies him against it by timely Admonitions; which very artfully prepare the Mind of the Reader for the Occurrences of the next Book, where the Weakness of which Adam here gives such distant Discoveries, brings about that fatal Event which is the Subject of the Poem. His Discourse, which follows the gentle Rebuke he received from the Angel, shews that his Love, however violent it might appear, was still founded in Reason, and consequently not improper for Paradise.

Neither her outside Form so fair, nor aught
In Procreation common to all kinds,
(Tho higher of the genial Bed by far,
And with mysterious Reverence I deem)
So much delights me, as those graceful Acts,
Those thousand Decencies that daily flow
From all her Words and Actions, mixt with Love
And sweet Compliance, which declare unfeign'd
Union of Mind, or in us both one Soul;
Harmony to behold in--wedded Pair!

Adams Speech, at parting with the Angel, has in it a Deference and Gratitude agreeable to an inferior Nature, and at the same time a certain Dignity and Greatness suitable to the Father of Mankind in his State of Innocence.

L.

* * * * *

No. 346. Monday, April 7, 1712. Steele.

Consuetudinem benignitatis largitioni Munerum longe antepono. Hæc est
Gravium hominum atque Magnorum; Illa quasi assentatorum populi,
multitudinis levitatem voluptate quasi titillantium.

Tull.

When we consider the Offices of humane Life, there is, methinks, something in what we ordinarily call Generosity, which when carefully examined, seems to flow rather from a loose and unguarded Temper, than an honest and liberal Mind. For this reason it is absolutely necessary that all Liberality should have for its Basis and Support Frugality. By this means the beneficent Spirit works in a Man from the Convictions of Reason, not from the Impulses of Passion. The generous Man, in the ordinary acceptation, without respect to the Demands of his own Family, will soon find, upon the Foot of his Account, that he has sacrificed to Fools, Knaves, Flatterers, or the deservedly Unhappy, all the Opportunities of affording any future Assistance where it ought to be. Let him therefore reflect, that if to bestow be in it self laudable, should not a Man take care to secure Ability to do things praiseworthy as long as he lives? Or could there be a more cruel Piece of Raillery upon a Man who should have reduc'd his Fortune below the Capacity of acting according to his natural Temper, than to say of him, That Gentleman was generous? My beloved Author therefore has, in the Sentence on the Top of my Paper, turned his Eye with a certain Satiety from beholding the Addresses to the People by Largesses and publick Entertainments, which he asserts to be in general vicious, and are always to be regulated according to the Circumstances of Time and a Man's own Fortune. A constant Benignity in Commerce with the rest of the World, which ought to run through all a Man's Actions, has Effects more useful to those whom you oblige, and less ostentatious in your self. He turns his Recommendation of this Virtue in commercial Life: and according to him a Citizen who is frank in his Kindnesses, and abhors Severity in his Demands; he who in buying, selling, lending, doing acts of good Neighbourhood, is just and easy; he who appears naturally averse to Disputes, and above the Sense of little Sufferings; bears a nobler Character, and does much more good to Mankind, than any other Man's Fortune without Commerce can possibly support. For the Citizen above all other Men has Opportunities of arriving at that highest Fruit of Wealth, to be liberal without the least Expence of a Man's own Fortune. It is not to be denied but such a Practice is liable to hazard; but this therefore adds to the Obligation, that, among Traders, he who obliges is as much concerned to keep the Favour a Secret, as he who receives it. The unhappy Distinctions among us in England are so great, that to celebrate the Intercourse of commercial Friendship, (with which I am daily made acquainted) would be to raise the virtuous Man so many Enemies of the contrary Party. I am obliged to conceal all I know of Tom the Bounteous, who lends at the ordinary Interest, to give Men of less Fortune Opportunities of making greater Advantages. He conceals, under a rough Air and distant Behaviour, a bleeding Compassion and womanish Tenderness. This is governed by the most exact Circumspection, that there is no Industry wanting in the Person whom he is to serve, and that he is guilty of no improper Expences. This I know of Tom, but who dare say it of so known a Tory? The same Care I was forced to use some time ago in the Report of anothers Virtue, and said fifty instead of a hundred, because the Man I pointed at was a Whig. Actions of this kind are popular without being invidious: for every Man of ordinary Circumstances looks upon a Man who has this known Benignity in his Nature, as a Person ready to be his Friend upon such Terms as he ought to expect it; and the Wealthy, who may envy such a Character, can do no Injury to its Interests but by the Imitation of it, in which the good Citizens will rejoice to be rivalled. I know not how to form to myself a greater Idea of Humane Life, than in what is the Practice of some wealthy Men whom I could name, that make no step to the Improvement of their own Fortunes, wherein they do not also advance those of other Men, who would languish in Poverty without that Munificence. In a Nation where there are so many publick Funds to be supported, I know not whether he can be called a good Subject, who does not imbark some part of his Fortune with the State, to whose Vigilance he owes the Security of the whole. This certainly is an immediate way of laying an Obligation upon many, and extending his Benignity the furthest a Man can possibly, who is not engaged in Commerce. But he who trades, besides giving the State some part of this sort of Credit he gives his Banker, may in all the Occurrences of his Life have his Eye upon removing Want from the Door of the Industrious, and defending the unhappy upright Man from Bankruptcy. Without this Benignity, Pride or Vengeance will precipitate a Man to chuse the Receipt of half his Demands from one whom he has undone, rather than the whole from one to whom he has shewn Mercy. This Benignity is essential to the Character of a fair Trader, and any Man who designs to enjoy his Wealth with Honour and Self-Satisfaction: Nay, it would not be hard to maintain, that the Practice of supporting good and industrious Men, would carry a Man further even to his Profit, than indulging the Propensity of serving and obliging the Fortunate. My Author argues on this Subject, in order to incline Mens Minds to those who want them most, after this manner; We must always consider the Nature of things, and govern our selves accordingly. The wealthy Man, when he has repaid you, is upon a Ballance with you; but the Person whom you favour'd with a Loan, if he be a good Man, will think himself in your Debt after he has paid you. The Wealthy and the Conspicuous are not obliged by the Benefit you do them, they think they conferred a Benefit when they receive one. Your good Offices are always suspected, and it is with them the same thing to expect their Favour as to receive it. But the Man below you, who knows in the Good you have done him, you respected himself more than his Circumstances, does not act like an obliged Man only to him from whom he has received a Benefit, but also to all who are capable of doing him one. And whatever little Offices he can do for you, he is so far from magnifying it, that he will labour to extenuate it in all his Actions and Expressions. Moreover, the Regard to what you do to a great Man, at best is taken notice of no further than by himself or his Family; but what you do to a Man of an humble Fortune, (provided always that he is a good and a modest Man) raises the Affections towards you of all Men of that Character (of which there are many) in the whole City.

There is nothing gains a Reputation to a Preacher so much as his own Practice; I am therefore casting about what Act of Benignity is in the Power of a SPECTATOR. Alas, that lies but in a very narrow compass, and I think the most immediate under my Patronage, are either Players, or such whose Circumstances bear an Affinity with theirs: All therefore I am able to do at this time of this Kind, is to tell the Town that on Friday the 11th of this Instant April, there will be perform'd in York-Buildings a Consort of Vocal and Instrumental Musick, for the Benefit of Mr. Edward Keen, the Father of twenty Children; and that this Day the haughty George Powell hopes all the good-natur'd part of the Town will favour him, whom they Applauded in Alexander, Timon, Lear, and Orestes, with their Company this Night, when he hazards all his heroick Glory for their Approbation in the humbler Condition of honest Jack Falstaffe.

T.

* * * * *

No. 347. Tuesday, April 8, 1711. Budgell.

Quis furor ô Cives! quæ tanta licentia ferri!

Lucan.

I do not question but my Country Readers have been very much surprized at the several Accounts they have met with in our publick Papers of that Species of Men among us, lately known by the Name of Mohocks. I find the Opinions of the Learned, as to their Origin and Designs, are altogether various, insomuch that very many begin to doubt whether indeed there were ever any such Society of Men. The Terror which spread it self over the whole Nation some Years since, on account of the Irish, is still fresh in most Peoples Memories, tho it afterwards appeared there was not the least Ground for that general Consternation.

The late Panick Fear was, in the Opinion of many deep and penetrating Persons, of the same nature. These will have it, that the Mohocks are like those Spectres and Apparitions which frighten several Towns and Villages in her Majesty's Dominions, tho they were never seen by any of the Inhabitants. Others are apt to think that these Mohocks are a kind of Bull-Beggars, first invented by prudent married Men, and Masters of Families, in order to deter their Wives and Daughters from taking the Air at unseasonable Hours; and that when they tell them the Mohocks will catch them, it is a Caution of the same nature with that of our Fore-fathers, when they bid their Children have a care of Raw-head and Bloody-bones.

For my own part, I am afraid there was too much Reason for that great Alarm the whole City has been in upon this Occasion; tho at the same time I must own that I am in some doubt whether the following Pieces are Genuine and Authentick; and the more so, because I am not fully satisfied that the Name by which the Emperor subscribes himself, is altogether conformable to the Indian Orthography.

I shall only further inform my Readers, that it was some time since I receiv'd the following Letter and Manifesto, tho for particular Reasons I did not think fit to publish them till now.

To the SPECTATOR.

SIR,

"Finding that our earnest Endeavours for the Good of Mankind have been
basely and maliciously represented to the World, we send you enclosed
our Imperial Manifesto, which it is our Will and Pleasure that you
forthwith communicate to the Publick, by inserting it in your next
daily Paper. We do not doubt of your ready Compliance in this
Particular, and therefore bid you heartily Farewell."

Sign'd,
Taw Waw Eben Zan Kaladar,
Emperor of the Mohocks.

The Manifesto of Taw Waw Eben Zan Kaladar, Emperor of the Mohocks.

"Whereas we have received Information from sundry Quarters of this
great and populous City, of several Outrages committed on the Legs,
Arms, Noses, and other Parts of the good People of England, by such
as have styled themselves our Subjects; in order to vindicate our
Imperial Dignity from those false Aspersions which have been cast on
it, as if we our selves might have encouraged or abetted any such
Practices; we have, by these Presents, thought fit to signify our
utmost Abhorrence and Detestation of all such tumultuous and
irregular Proceedings: and do hereby further give notice, that if
any Person or Persons has or have suffered any Wound, Hurt, Damage
or Detriment in his or their Limb or Limbs, otherwise than shall be
hereafter specified, the said Person or Persons, upon applying
themselves to such as we shall appoint for the Inspection and
Redress of the Grievances aforesaid, shall be forthwith committed to
the Care of our principal Surgeon, and be cured at our own Expence,
in some one or other of those Hospitals which we are now erecting
for that purpose.

"And to the end that no one may, either through Ignorance or
Inadvertency, incur those Penalties which we have thought fit to
inflict on Persons of loose and dissolute Lives, we do hereby
notifie to the Publick, that if any Man be knocked down or assaulted
while he is employed in his lawful Business, at proper Hours, that
it is not done by our Order; and we do hereby permit and allow any
such person so knocked down or assaulted, to rise again, and defend
himself in the best manner that he is able.

"We do also command all and every our good Subjects, that they do
not presume, upon any Pretext whatsoever, to issue and sally forth
from their respective Quarters till between the Hours of Eleven and
Twelve. That they never Tip the Lion upon Man, Woman or Child, till
the Clock at St. Dunstan's shall have struck One.

"That the Sweat be never given but between the Hours of One and Two;
always provided, that our Hunters may begin to Hunt a little after
the Close of the Evening, any thing to the contrary herein
notwithstanding. Provided also, that if ever they are reduced to the
Necessity of Pinking, it shall always be in the most fleshy Parts,
and such as are least exposed to view.

"It is also our Imperial Will and Pleasure, that our good Subjects
the Sweaters do establish their Hummums[1] in such close Places,
Alleys, Nooks, and Corners, that the Patient or Patients may not be
in danger of catching Cold.

"That the Tumblers, to whose Care we chiefly commit the Female Sex,
confine themselves to Drury-Lane and the Purlieus of the Temple; and
that every other Party and Division of our Subjects do each of them
keep within the respective Quarters we have allotted to them.
Provided nevertheless, that nothing herein contained shall in any
wise be construed to extend to the Hunters, who have our full
Licence and Permission to enter into any Part of the Town where-ever
their Game shall lead them.

"And whereas we have nothing more at our Imperial Heart than the
Reformation of the Cities of London and Westminster, which to our
unspeakable Satisfaction we have in some measure already effected,
we do hereby earnestly pray and exhort all Husbands, Fathers,
Housekeepers and Masters of Families, in either of the aforesaid
Cities, not only to repair themselves to their respective
Habitations at early and seasonable Hours; but also to keep their
Wives and Daughters, Sons, Servants, and Apprentices, from appearing
in the Streets at those Times and Seasons which may expose them to a
military Discipline, as it is practised by our good Subjects the
Mohocks: and we do further promise, on our Imperial Word, that as
soon as the Reformation aforesaid shall be brought about, we will
forthwith cause all Hostilities to cease.

"Given from our Court at the Devil-Tavern,
March 15, 1712."

X.

[Footnote 1: Turkish Sweating Baths. The Hummums "in Covent Garden was one of the first of these baths (bagnios) set up in England."]

* * * * *

No. 348. Wednesday, April 9, 1712. Steele.

Invidiam placare paras virtute relicta?

Hor.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I have not seen you lately at any of the Places where I visit, so
that I am afraid you are wholly unacquainted with what passes among my
part of the World, who are, tho I say it, without Controversy, the
most accomplished and best bred of the Town. Give me leave to tell
you, that I am extremely discomposed when I hear Scandal, and am an
utter Enemy to all manner of Detraction, and think it the greatest
Meanness that People of Distinction can be guilty of: However, it is
hardly possible to come into Company, where you do not find them
pulling one another to pieces, and that from no other Provocation but
that of hearing any one commended. Merit, both as to Wit and Beauty,
is become no other than the Possession of a few trifling Peoples
Favour, which you cannot possibly arrive at, if you have really any
thing in you that is deserving. What they would bring to pass, is, to
make all Good and Evil consist in Report, and with Whispers, Calumnies
and Impertinencies, to have the Conduct of those Reports. By this
means Innocents are blasted upon their first Appearance in Town; and
there is nothing more required to make a young Woman the object of
Envy and Hatred, than to deserve Love and Admiration. This abominable
Endeavour to suppress or lessen every thing that is praise-worthy, is
as frequent among the Men as the Women. If I can remember what passed
at a Visit last Night, it will serve as an Instance that the Sexes are
equally inclined to Defamation, with equal Malice, with equal
Impotence. Jack Triplett came into my Lady Airy's about Eight of [the]
Clock. You know the manner we sit at a Visit, and I need not describe
the Circle; but Mr. Triplett came in, introduced by two Tapers
supported by a spruce Servant, whose Hair is under a Cap till my
Lady's Candles are all lighted up, and the Hour of Ceremony begins: I
say, Jack Triplett came in, and singing (for he is really good
Company) Every Feature, Charming Creature,--he went on, It is a most
unreasonable thing that People cannot go peaceably to see their
Friends, but these Murderers are let loose. Such a Shape! such an Air!
what a Glance was that as her Chariot pass'd by mine--My Lady herself
interrupted him; Pray who is this fine Thing--I warrant, says another,
tis the Creature I was telling your Ladyship of just now. You were
telling of? says Jack; I wish I had been so happy as to have come in
and heard you, for I have not Words to say what she is: But if an
agreeable Height, a modest Air, a Virgin Shame, and Impatience of
being beheld, amidst a Blaze of ten thousand Charms--The whole Room
flew out--Oh Mr. Triplett!--When Mrs. Lofty, a known Prude, said she
believed she knew whom the Gentleman meant; but she was indeed, as he
civilly represented her, impatient of being beheld--Then turning to
the Lady next to her--The most unbred Creature you ever saw. Another
pursued the Discourse: As unbred, Madam, as you may think her, she is
extremely bely'd if she is the Novice she appears; she was last Week
at a Ball till two in the Morning; Mr. Triplett knows whether he was
the happy Man that took Care of her home; but--This was followed by
some particular Exception that each Woman in the Room made to some
peculiar Grace or Advantage so that Mr. Triplett was beaten from one
Limb and Feature to another, till he was forced to resign the whole
Woman. In the end I took notice Triplett recorded all this Malice in
his Heart; and saw in his Countenance, and a certain waggish Shrug,
that he design'd to repeat the Conversation: I therefore let the
Discourse die, and soon after took an Occasion to commend a certain
Gentleman of my Acquaintance for a Person of singular Modesty,
Courage, Integrity, and withal as a Man of an entertaining
Conversation, to which Advantages he had a Shape and Manner peculiarly
graceful. Mr. Triplett, who is a Woman's Man, seem'd to hear me with
Patience enough commend the Qualities of his Mind: He never heard
indeed but that he was a very honest Man, and no Fool; but for a fine
Gentleman, he must ask Pardon. Upon no other Foundation than this, Mr.
Triplett took occasion to give the Gentleman's Pedigree, by what
Methods some part of the Estate was acquired, how much it was beholden
to a Marriage for the present Circumstances of it: After all, he could
see nothing but a common Man in his Person, his Breeding or
Understanding.

Thus, Mr. SPECTATOR, this impertinent Humour of diminishing every one
who is produced in Conversation to their Advantage, runs thro the
World; and I am, I confess, so fearful of the Force of ill Tongues,
that I have begged of all those who are my Well-wishers never to
commend me, for it will but bring my Frailties into Examination, and I
had rather be unobserved, than conspicuous for disputed Perfections. I
am confident a thousand young People, who would have been Ornaments to
Society, have, from Fear of Scandal, never dared to exert themselves
in the polite Arts of Life. Their Lives have passed away in an odious
Rusticity, in spite of great Advantages of Person, Genius and Fortune.
There is a vicious Terror of being blamed in some well-inclin'd
People, and a wicked Pleasure in suppressing them in others; both
which I recommend to your Spectatorial Wisdom to animadvert upon; and
if you can be successful in it, I need not say how much you will
deserve of the Town; but new Toasts will owe to you their Beauty, and
new Wits their Fame. I am,
SIR,
Your most Obedient
Humble Servant,
Mary."

T.

* * * * *

No. 349. Thursday, April 10, 1712. Addison.

Quos ille timorum
Maximus haud urget lethi metus: inde ruendi
In ferrum mens prona viris, animæque capaces
Mortis.

Lucan.

I am very much pleased with a Consolatory Letter of Phalaris, to one who had lost a Son that was a young Man of great Merit. The Thought with which he comforts the afflicted Father, is, to the best of my Memory, as follows; That he should consider Death had set a kind of Seal upon his Sons Character, and placed him out of the Reach of Vice and Infamy: That while he liv'd he was still within the Possibility of falling away from Virtue, and losing the Fame of which he was possessed. Death only closes a Man's Reputation, and determines it as good or bad.

This, among other Motives, may be one Reason why we are naturally averse to the launching out into a Man's Praise till his Head is laid in the Dust. Whilst he is capable of changing, we may be forced to retract our Opinions. He may forfeit the Esteem we have conceived of him, and some time or other appear to us under a different Light from what he does at present. In short, as the Life of any Man cannot be call'd happy or unhappy, so neither can it be pronounced vicious or virtuous, before the Conclusion of it.

It was upon this consideration that Epaminondas, being asked whether Chabrias, Iphicrates, or he himself, deserved most to be esteemed? You must first see us die, said he, before that Question can be answered. [1]

As there is not a more melancholy Consideration to a good Man than his being obnoxious to such a Change, so there is nothing more glorious than to keep up an Uniformity in his Actions, and preserve the Beauty of his Character to the last.

The End of a Man's Life is often compared to the winding up of a well-written Play, where the principal Persons still act in Character, whatever the Fate is which they undergo. There is scarce a great Person in the Grecian or Roman History, whose Death has not been remarked upon by some Writer or other, and censured or applauded according to the Genius or Principles of the Person who has descanted on it. Monsieur de St. Evremont is very particular in setting forth the Constancy and Courage of Petronius Arbiter during his last Moments, and thinks he discovers in them a greater Firmness of Mind and Resolution than in the Death of Seneca, Cato, or Socrates. There is no question but this polite Authors Affectation of appearing singular in his Remarks, and making Discoveries which had escaped the Observation of others, threw him into this course of Reflection. It was Petronius's Merit, that he died in the same Gaiety of Temper in which he lived; but as his Life was altogether loose and dissolute, the Indifference which he showed at the Close of it is to be looked upon as a piece of natural Carelessness and Levity, rather than Fortitude. The Resolution of Socrates proceeded from very different Motives, the Consciousness of a well-spent Life, and the prospect of a happy Eternity. If the ingenious Author above mentioned was so pleased with Gaiety of Humour in a dying Man, he might have found a much nobler Instance of it in our Countryman Sir Thomas More.

This great and learned Man was famous for enlivening his ordinary Discourses with Wit and Pleasantry; and, as Erasmus tells him in an Epistle Dedicatory, acted in all parts of Life like a second Democritus.

He died upon a Point of Religion, and is respected as a Martyr by that Side for which he suffer'd. The innocent Mirth which had been so conspicuous in his Life, did not forsake him to the last: He maintain'd the same Chearfulness of Heart upon the Scaffold, which he used to shew at his Table; and upon laying his Head on the Block, gave Instances of that Good-Humour with which he had always entertained his Friends in the most ordinary Occurrences. His Death was of a piece with his Life. There was nothing in it new, forced, or affected. He did not look upon the severing of his Head from his Body as a Circumstance that ought to produce any Change in the Disposition of his Mind; and as he died under a fixed and settled Hope of Immortality, he thought any unusual degree of Sorrow and Concern improper on such an Occasion, as had nothing in it which could deject or terrify him.

There is no great danger of Imitation from this Example. Mens natural Fears will be a sufficient Guard against it. I shall only observe, that what was Philosophy in this extraordinary Man, would be Frenzy in one who does not resemble him as well in the Chearfulness of his Temper, as in the Sanctity of his Life and Manners.

I shall conclude this Paper with the Instance of a Person who seems to me to have shewn more Intrepidity and Greatness of Soul in his dying Moments, than what we meet with among any of the most celebrated Greeks and Romans. I met with this Instance in the History of the Revolutions in Portugal, written by the Abbot de Vertot. [2]

When Don Sebastian, King of Portugal, had invaded the Territories of Muly Moluc, Emperor of Morocco, in order to dethrone him, and set his Crown upon the Head of his Nephew, Moluc was wearing away with a Distemper which he himself knew was incurable. However, he prepared for the Reception of so formidable an Enemy. He was indeed so far spent with his Sickness, that he did not expect to live out the whole Day, when the last decisive Battel was given; but knowing the fatal Consequences that would happen to his Children and People, in case he should die before he put an end to that War, he commanded his principal Officers that if he died during the Engagement, they should conceal his Death from the Army, and that they should ride up to the Litter in which his Corpse was carried, under Pretence of receiving Orders from him as usual. Before the Battel begun, he was carried through all the Ranks of his Army in an open Litter, as they stood drawn up in Array, encouraging them to fight valiantly in defence of their Religion and Country. Finding afterwards the Battel to go against him, tho he was very near his last Agonies, he threw himself out of his Litter, rallied his Army, and led them on to the Charge; which afterwards ended in a compleat Victory on the side of the Moors. He had no sooner brought his Men to the Engagement, but finding himself utterly spent, he was again replaced in his Litter, where laying his Finger on his Mouth, to enjoin Secrecy to his Officers, who stood about him, he died a few Moments after in that Posture.

L.

[Footnote 1: Plutarch's Life of Epaminondas.]

[Footnote 2: The Abbé Vertot--Renatus Aubert de Vertot d'Auboeuf--was born in 1655, and living in the Spectators time. He died in 1735, aged 80. He had exchanged out of the severe order of the Capuchins into that of the Præmonstratenses when, at the age of 34, he produced, in 1689, his first work, the History of the Revolutions of Portugal, here quoted. Continuing to write history, in 1701 he was made a member, and in 1705 a paid member, of the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres.]

* * * * *

No. 350. Friday, April 11, 1712. Steele.

Ea animi elatio quæ cernitur in periculis, si Justitia vacat
pugnatque pro suis commodis, in vitio est.

Tull.

CAPTAIN SENTREY was last Night at the Club, and produced a Letter from Ipswich, which his Correspondent desired him to communicate to his Friend the SPECTATOR. It contained an Account of an Engagement between a French Privateer, commanded by one Dominick Pottiere, and a little Vessel of that Place laden with Corn, the Master whereof, as I remember, was one Goodwin. The Englishman defended himself with incredible Bravery, and beat off the French, after having been boarded three or four times. The Enemy still came on with greater Fury, and hoped by his Number of Men to carry the Prize, till at last the Englishman finding himself sink apace, and ready to perish, struck: But the Effect which this singular Gallantry had upon the Captain of the Privateer, was no other than an unmanly Desire of Vengeance for the Loss he had sustained in his several Attacks. He told the Ipswich Man in a speaking-Trumpet, that he would not take him aboard, and that he stayed to see him sink. The Englishman at the same time observed a Disorder in the Vessel, which he rightly judged to proceed from the Disdain which the Ships Crew had of their Captains Inhumanity: With this Hope he went into his Boat, and approached the Enemy. He was taken in by the Sailors in spite of their Commander; but though they received him against his Command, they treated him when he was in the Ship in the manner he directed. Pottiere caused his Men to hold Goodwin, while he beat him with a Stick till he fainted with Loss of Blood, and Rage of Heart: after which he ordered him into Irons without allowing him any Food, but such as one or two of the Men stole to him under peril of the like Usage: After having kept him several Days overwhelmed with the Misery of Stench, Hunger, and Soreness, he brought him into Calais. The Governour of the Place was soon acquainted with all that had passed, dismissed Pottiere from his Charge with Ignominy, and gave Goodwin all the Relief which a Man of Honour would bestow upon an Enemy barbarously treated, to recover the Imputation of Cruelty upon his Prince and Country.

When Mr. SENTREY had read his Letter, full of many other circumstances which aggravate the Barbarity, he fell into a sort of Criticism upon Magnanimity and Courage, and argued that they were inseparable; and that Courage, without regard to Justice and Humanity, was no other than the Fierceness of a wild Beast. A good and truly bold Spirit, continued he, is ever actuated by Reason and a Sense of Honour and Duty: The Affectation of such a Spirit exerts it self in an Impudent Aspect, an over-bearing Confidence, and a certain Negligence of giving Offence. This is visible in all the cocking Youths you see about this Town, who are noisy in Assemblies, unawed by the Presence of wise and virtuous Men; in a word, insensible of all the Honours and Decencies of human Life. A shameless Fellow takes advantage of Merit clothed with Modesty and Magnanimity, and in the Eyes of little People appears sprightly and agreeable; while the Man of Resolution and true Gallantry is overlooked and disregarded, if not despised. There is a Propriety in all things; and I believe what you Scholars call just and sublime, in opposition to turgid and bombast Expression, may give you an Idea of what I mean, when I say Modesty is the certain Indication of a great Spirit, and Impudence the Affectation of it. He that writes with Judgment, and never rises into improper Warmths, manifests the true Force of Genius; in like manner, he who is quiet and equal in all his Behaviour, is supported in that Deportment by what we may call true Courage. Alas, it is not so easy a thing to be a brave Man as the unthinking part of Mankind imagine: To dare, is not all that there is in it. The Privateer we were just now talking of, had boldness enough to attack his Enemy, but not Greatness of Mind enough to admire the same Quality exerted by that Enemy in defending himself. Thus his base and little Mind was wholly taken up in the sordid regard to the Prize, of which he failed, and the damage done to his own Vessel; and therefore he used an honest Man, who defended his own from him, in the Manner as he would a Thief that should rob him.

He was equally disappointed, and had not Spirit enough to consider that one Case would be Laudable and the other Criminal. Malice, Rancour, Hatred, Vengeance, are what tear the Breasts of mean Men in Fight; but Fame, Glory, Conquests, Desires of Opportunities to pardon and oblige their Opposers, are what glow in the Minds of the Gallant. The Captain ended his Discourse with a Specimen of his Book-Learning; and gave us to understand that he had read a French Author on the Subject of Justness in point of Gallantry. I love, said Mr. SENTREY, a Critick who mixes the Rules of Life with Annotations upon Writers. My Author, added he, in his Discourse upon Epick Poem, takes occasion to speak of the same Quality of Courage drawn in the two different Characters of Turnus and Æneas: He makes Courage the chief and greatest Ornament of Turnus; but in Æneas there are many others which out-shine it, amongst the rest that of Piety. Turnus is therefore all along painted by the Poet full of Ostentation, his Language haughty and vain glorious, as placing his Honour in the Manifestation of his Valour; Æneas speaks little, is slow to Action; and shows only a sort of defensive Courage. If Equipage and Address make Turnus appear more couragious than Æneas, Conduct and Success prove Æneas more valiant than Turnus.

T.

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No. 351. Saturday, April 12, 1712. Addison.

In te omnis domus inclinata recumbit.

Virg.

If we look into the three great Heroick Poems which have appeared in the World, we may observe that they are built upon very slight Foundations. Homer lived near 300 Years after the Trojan War; and, as the writing of History was not then in use among the Greeks, we may very well suppose, that the Tradition of Achilles and Ulysses had brought down but very few particulars to his Knowledge; though there is no question but he has wrought into his two Poems such of their remarkable Adventures, as were still talked of among his Contemporaries.

The Story of Æneas, on which Virgil founded his Poem, was likewise very bare of Circumstances, and by that means afforded him an Opportunity of embellishing it with Fiction, and giving a full range to his own Invention. We find, however, that he has interwoven, in the course of his Fable, the principal Particulars, which were generally believed among the Romans, of Æneas his Voyage and Settlement in Italy. The Reader may find an Abridgment of the whole Story as collected out of the ancient Historians, and as it was received among the Romans, in Dionysius Halicarnasseus [1].

Since none of the Criticks have consider'd Virgil's Fable, with relation to this History of Æneas, it may not, perhaps, be amiss to examine it in this Light, so far as regards my present Purpose. Whoever looks into the Abridgment above mentioned, will find that the Character of Æneas is filled with Piety to the Gods, and a superstitious Observation of Prodigies, Oracles, and Predictions. Virgil has not only preserved this Character in the Person of Æneas, but has given a place in his Poem to those particular Prophecies which he found recorded of him in History and Tradition. The Poet took the matters of Fact as they came down to him, and circumstanced them after his own manner, to make them appear the more natural, agreeable, or surprizing. I believe very many Readers have been shocked at that ludicrous Prophecy, which one of the Harpyes pronounces to the Trojans in the third Book, namely, that before they had built their intended City, they should be reduced by Hunger to eat their very Tables. But, when they hear that this was one of the Circumstances that had been transmitted to the Romans in the History of Æneas, they will think the Poet did very well in taking notice of it. The Historian above mentioned acquaints us, a Prophetess had foretold Æneas, that he should take his Voyage Westward, till his Companions should eat their Tables; and that accordingly, upon his landing in Italy, as they were eating their Flesh upon Cakes of Bread, for want of other Conveniences, they afterwards fed on the Cakes themselves; upon which one of the Company said merrily, We are eating our Tables. They immediately took the Hint, says the Historian, and concluded the Prophecy to be fulfilled. As Virgil did not think it proper to omit so material a particular in the History of Æneas, it may be worth while to consider with how much Judgment he has qualified it, and taken off every thing that might have appeared improper for a Passage in an Heroick Poem. The Prophetess who foretells it, is an Hungry Harpy, as the Person who discovers it is young Ascanius. [2]

Heus etiam mensas consumimus, inquit Inlus!

Such an observation, which is beautiful in the Mouth of a Boy, would have been ridiculous from any other of the Company. I am apt to think that the changing of the Trojan Fleet into Water-Nymphs which is the most violent Machine in the whole Æneid, and has given offence to several Criticks, may be accounted for the same way. Virgil himself, before he begins that Relation, premises, that what he was going to tell appeared incredible, but that it was justified by Tradition. What further confirms me that this Change of the Fleet was a celebrated Circumstance in the History of Æneas, is, that Ovid has given place to the same Metamorphosis in his Account of the heathen Mythology.

None of the Criticks I have met with having considered the Fable of the Æneid in this Light, and taken notice how the Tradition, on which it was founded, authorizes those Parts in it which appear the most exceptionable; I hope the length of this Reflection will not make it unacceptable to the curious Part of my Readers.

The History, which was the Basis of Milton's Poem, is still shorter than either that of the Iliad or Æneid. The Poet has likewise taken care to insert every Circumstance of it in the Body of his Fable. The ninth Book, which we are here to consider, is raised upon that brief Account in Scripture, wherein we are told that the Serpent was more subtle than any Beast of the Field, that he tempted the Woman to eat of the forbidden Fruit, that she was overcome by this Temptation, and that Adam followed her Example. From these few Particulars, Milton has formed one of the most Entertaining Fables that Invention ever produced. He has disposed of these several Circumstances among so many beautiful and natural Fictions of his own, that his whole Story looks only like a Comment upon sacred Writ, or rather seems to be a full and compleat Relation of what the other is only an Epitome. I have insisted the longer on this Consideration, as I look upon the Disposition and Contrivance of the Fable to be the principal Beauty of the ninth Book, which has more Story in it, and is fuller of Incidents, than any other in the whole Poem. Satan's traversing the Globe, and still keeping within the Shadow of the Night, as fearing to be discovered by the Angel of the Sun, who had before detected him, is one of those beautiful Imaginations with which he introduces this his second Series of Adventures. Having examined the Nature of every Creature, and found out one which was the most proper for his Purpose, he again returns to Paradise; and, to avoid Discovery, sinks by Night with a River that ran under the Garden, and rises up again through a Fountain that [issued [3]] from it by the Tree of Life. The Poet, who, as we have before taken notice, speaks as little as possible in his own Person, and, after the Example of Homer, fills every Part of his Work with Manners and Characters, introduces a Soliloquy of this infernal Agent, who was thus restless in the Destruction of Man. He is then describ'd as gliding through the Garden, under the resemblance of a Mist, in order to find out that Creature in which he design'd to tempt our first Parents. This Description has something in it very Poetical and Surprizing.

So saying, through each Thicket Dank or Dry,
Like a black Mist, low creeping, he held on
His Midnight Search, where soonest he might find
The Serpent: him fast sleeping soon he found
In Labyrinth of many a Round self-roll'd,
His Head the midst, well stor'd with subtle Wiles.

The Author afterwards gives us a Description of the Morning, which is wonderfully suitable to a Divine Poem, and peculiar to that first Season of Nature: He represents the Earth, before it was curst, as a great Altar, breathing out its Incense from all Parts, and sending up a pleasant Savour to the Nostrils of its Creator; to which he adds a noble Idea of Adam and Eve, as offering their Morning Worship, and filling up the Universal Consort of Praise and Adoration.

Now when as sacred Light began to dawn
In Eden on the humid Flowers, that breathed
Their Morning Incense, when all things that breathe
From th' Earth's great Altar send up silent Praise
To the Creator, and his Nostrils fill
With grateful Smell; forth came the human Pair,
And join'd their vocal Worship to the Choir
Of Creatures wanting Voice--