Chapter LXVI: Introduction (66)

My Illiterate Readers, if any such there are, will be surprized to hear me talk of Learning as the Glory of a Nation, and of Printing as an Art that gains a Reputation to a People among whom it flourishes. When Men's Thoughts are taken up with Avarice and Ambition, they cannot look upon any thing as great or valuable, which does not bring with it an extraordinary Power or Interest to the Person who is concerned in it. But as I shall never sink this Paper so far as to engage with Goths and Vandals, I shall only regard such kind of Reasoners with that Pity which is due to so Deplorable a Degree of Stupidity and Ignorance.

L.

[Footnote 1: Just published, 1712, by Dr. Samuel Clarke, then 37 years old. He had been for 12 years chaplain to the Bishop of Norwich, and Boyle Lecturer in 1704-5, when he took for his subject the Being and Attributes of God and the Evidences of Natural and Revealed Religion. He had also translated Newton's Optics, and was become chaplain to the Queen, Rector of St. Jamess, Westminster, and D. D. of Cambridge. The accusations of heterodoxy that followed him through his after life date from this year, 1712, in which, besides the edition of Cæsar, he published a book on the Scripture Doctrine of the Trinity.]

* * * * *

No. 368. Friday, May 2, 1712. Steele.

'Nos decebat
Lugere ubi esset aliquis in lucem editus
Humanæ vitæ varia reputantes mala;
At qui labores morte finisset graves
Omnes amices laude et lætitia exequi.'

Eurip. apud Tull.

As the Spectator is in a Kind a Paper of News from the natural World, as others are from the busy and politick Part of Mankind, I shall translate the following Letter written to an eminent French Gentleman in this Town from Paris, which gives us the Exit of an Heroine who is a Pattern of Patience and Generosity.

Paris, April 18, 1712.

SIR,

It is so many Years since you left your native Country, that I am to
tell you the Characters of your nearest Relations as much as if you
were an utter Stranger to them. The Occasion of this is to give you an
account of the Death of Madam de Villacerfe, whose Departure out of
this Life I know not whether a Man of your Philosophy will call
unfortunate or not, since it was attended with some Circumstances as
much to be desired as to be lamented. She was her whole Life happy in
an uninterrupted Health, and was always honoured for an Evenness of
Temper and Greatness of Mind. On the 10th instant that Lady was taken
with an Indisposition which confined her to her Chamber, but was such
as was too slight to make her take a sick Bed, and yet too grievous to
admit of any Satisfaction in being out of it. It is notoriously known,
that some Years ago Monsieur Festeau, one of the most considerable
Surgeons in Paris, was desperately in love with this Lady: Her Quality
placed her above any Application to her on the account of his Passion;
but as a Woman always has some regard to the Person whom she believes
to be her real Admirer, she now took it in her head (upon Advice of
her Physicians to lose some of her Blood) to send for Monsieur Festeau
on that occasion. I happened to be there at that time, and my near
Relation gave me the Privilege to be present. As soon as her Arm was
stripped bare, and he began to press it in order to raise the Vein,
his Colour changed, and I observed him seized with a sudden Tremor,
which made me take the liberty to speak of it to my Cousin with some
Apprehension: She smiled, and said she knew Mr. Festeau had no
Inclination to do her Injury. He seemed to recover himself, and
smiling also proceeded in his Work. Immediately after the Operation he
cried out, that he was the most unfortunate of all Men, for that he
had open'd an Artery instead of a Vein. It is as impossible to express
the Artist's Distraction as the Patient's Composure. I will not dwell
on little Circumstances, but go on to inform you, that within three
days time it was thought necessary to take off her Arm. She was so far
from using Festeau as it would be natural to one of a lower Spirit to
treat him, that she would not let him be absent from any Consultation
about her present Condition, and on every occasion asked whether he
was satisfy'd in the Measures [that] were taken about her. Before this
last Operation she ordered her Will to be drawn, and after having been
about a quarter of an hour alone, she bid the Surgeons, of whom poor
Festeau was one, go on in their Work. I know not how to give you the
Terms of Art, but there appeared such Symptoms after the Amputation of
her Arm, that it was visible she could not live four and twenty hours.
Her Behaviour was so magnanimous throughout this whole Affair, that I
was particularly curious in taking Notice of what passed as her Fate
approached nearer and nearer, and took Notes of what she said to all
about her, particularly Word for Word what she spoke to Mr. Festeau,
which was as follows.

"Sir, you give me inexpressible Sorrow for the Anguish with which I
see you overwhelmed. I am removed to all Intents and Purposes from
the Interests of human Life, therefore I am to begin to think like
one wholly unconcerned in it. I do not consider you as one by whose
Error I have lost my Life; no, you are my Benefactor, as you have
hasten'd my Entrance into a happy Immortality. This is my Sense of
this Accident; but the World in which you live may have Thoughts of
it to your Disadvantage, I have therefore taken Care to provide for
you in my Will, and have placed you above what you have to fear from
their Ill-Nature."

While this excellent Woman spoke these Words, Festeau looked as if he
received a Condemnation to die, instead of a Pension for his Life.
Madam de Villacerfe lived till Eight of [the] Clock the next Night;
and tho she must have laboured under the most exquisite Torments, she
possessed her Mind with so wonderful a Patience, that one may rather
say she ceased to breathe than she died at that hour. You who had not
the happiness to be personally known to this Lady, have nothing but to
rejoyce in the Honour you had of being related to so great Merit; but
we who have lost her Conversation, cannot so easily resign our own
Happiness by Reflection upon hers.
I am, SIR,
Your affectionate Kinsman,
and most obedient humble Servant,
Paul Regnaud.

There hardly can be a greater Instance of an Heroick Mind, than the unprejudiced Manner in which this Lady weighed this Misfortune. The regard of Life itself could not make her overlook the Contrition of the unhappy Man, whose more than Ordinary Concern for her was all his Guilt. It would certainly be of singular Use to human Society to have an exact Account of this Lady's ordinary Conduct, which was Crowned by so uncommon Magnanimity. Such Greatness was not to be acquired in her last Article, nor is it to be doubted but it was a constant Practice of all that is praise-worthy, which made her capable of beholding Death, not as the Dissolution, but Consummation of her Life.

T.

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No. 369. Saturday, May 3, 1712. Addison.

'Segnius irritant animos demissa per aures
Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus--'

Hor.

Milton, after having represented in Vision the History of Mankind to the first great Period of Nature, dispatches the remaining part of it in Narration. He has devised a very handsome Reason for the Angels proceeding with Adam after this manner; though doubtless the true Reason was the Difficulty which the Poet would have found to have shadowed out so mixed and complicated a Story in visible Objects. I could wish, however, that the Author had done it, whatever Pains it might have cost him. To give my Opinion freely, I think that the exhibiting part of the History of Mankind in Vision, and part in Narrative, is as if an History-Painter should put in Colours one half of his Subject, and write down the remaining part of it. If Milton's Poem flags any where, it is in this Narration, where in some places the Author has been so attentive to his Divinity, that he has neglected his Poetry. The Narration, however, rises very happily on several Occasions, where the Subject is capable of Poetical Ornaments, as particularly in the Confusion which he describes among the Builders of Babel, and in his short Sketch of the Plagues of Egypt. The Storm of Hail and Fire, with the Darkness that overspread the Land for three Days, are described with great Strength. The beautiful Passage which follows, is raised upon noble Hints in Scripture:

--Thus with ten Wounds
The River-Dragon tamed at length submits
To let his Sojourners depart, and oft
Humbles his stubborn Heart; but still as Ice
More harden'd after Thaw, till in his Rage
Pursuing whom he late dismissed, the Sea
Swallows him with his Host, but them lets pass
As on dry Land between two Chrystal Walls,
Aw'd by the Rod of Moses so to stand
Divided--

The River-Dragon is an Allusion to the Crocodile, which inhabits the Nile, from whence Egypt derives her Plenty. This Allusion is taken from that Sublime Passage in Ezekiel, Thus saith the Lord God, behold I am against thee, Pharaoh King of Egypt, the great Dragon that lieth in the midst of his Rivers, which hath said, my River is mine own, and I have made it for my self. Milton has given us another very noble and poetical Image in the same Description, which is copied almost Word for Word out of the History of Moses.

All Night he will pursue, but his Approach
Darkness defends between till morning Watch;
Then through the fiery Pillar and the Cloud
God looking forth, will trouble all his Host,
And craze their Chariot Wheels: when by command
Moses once more his potent Rod extends
Over the Sea: the Sea his Rod obeys:
On their embattell'd Ranks the Waves return
And overwhelm their War--

As the principal Design of this Episode was to give Adam an Idea of the Holy Person, who was to reinstate human Nature in that Happiness and Perfection from which it had fallen, the Poet confines himself to the Line of Abraham, from whence the Messiah was to Descend. The Angel is described as seeing the Patriarch actually travelling towards the Land of Promise, which gives a particular Liveliness to this part of the Narration.

I see him, but thou canst not, with what Faith
He leaves his Gods, his Friends, his Native Soil,
Ur of Chaldæa, passing now the Ford
To Haran, after him a cumbrous Train
Of Herds and Flocks, and numerous Servitude,
Not wand'ring poor, but trusting all his Wealth
With God, who call'd him, in a Land unknown.
Canaan he now attains, I see his Tents
Pitch'd about Sechem, and the neighbouring Plain
Of Moreh, there by Promise he receives
Gifts to his Progeny of all that Land,
From Hamath Northward to the Desart South.
(Things by their Names I call, though yet unnamed.)

As Virgil's Vision in the sixth Æneid probably gave Milton the Hint of this whole Episode, the last Line is a Translation of that Verse, where Anchises mentions the Names of Places, which they were to bear hereafter.

Hæc tum nomina erunt, nunc sunt sine nomine terræ.

The Poet has very finely represented the Joy and Gladness of Heart which rises in Adam upon his discovery of the Messiah. As he sees his Day at a distance through Types and Shadows, he rejoices in it: but when he finds the Redemption of Man compleated, and Paradise again renewed, he breaks forth in Rapture and Transport;

O Goodness infinite, Goodness immense!
That all this Good of Evil shall produce, &c.

I have hinted in my sixth Paper on Milton, that an Heroick Poem, according to the Opinion of the best Criticks, ought to end happily, and leave the Mind of the Reader, after having conducted it through many Doubts and Fears, Sorrows and Disquietudes, in a State of Tranquility and Satisfaction. Milton's Fable, which had so many other Qualifications to recommend it, was deficient in this Particular. It is here therefore, that the Poet has shewn a most exquisite Judgment, as well as the finest Invention, by finding out a Method to supply this natural Defect in his Subject. Accordingly he leaves the Adversary of Mankind, in the last View which he gives us of him, under the lowest State of Mortification and Disappointment. We see him chewing Ashes, grovelling in the Dust, and loaden with supernumerary Pains and Torments. On the contrary, our two first Parents are comforted by Dreams and Visions, cheared with Promises of Salvation, and, in a manner, raised to a greater Happiness than that which they had forfeited: In short, Satan is represented miserable in the height of his Triumphs, and Adam triumphant in the height of Misery.

Milton's Poem ends very nobly. The last Speeches of Adam and the Arch-Angel are full of Moral and Instructive Sentiments. The Sleep that fell upon Eve, and the Effects it had in quieting the Disorders of her Mind, produces the same kind of Consolation in the Reader, who cannot peruse the last beautiful Speech which is ascribed to the Mother of Mankind, without a secret Pleasure and Satisfaction.

Whence thou return'st, and whither went'st, I know;
For God is also in Sleep, and Dreams advise,
Which he hath sent propitious, some great Good
Presaging, since with Sorrow and Heart's Distress
Wearied I fell asleep: but now lead on;
In me is no delay: with thee to go,
Is to stay here; without thee here to stay,
Is to go hence unwilling: thou to me
Art all things under Heav'n, all Places thou,
Who for my wilful Crime art banish'd hence.
This farther Consolation yet secure
I carry hence; though all by me is lost,
Such Favour, I unworthy, am vouchsafed,
By me the promised Seed shall all restore.

The following Lines, which conclude the Poem, rise in a most glorious Blaze of Poetical Images and Expressions.

Heliodorus in his Æthiopicks acquaints us, that the Motion of the Gods differs from that of Mortals, as the former do not stir their Feet, nor proceed Step by Step, but slide o'er the Surface of the Earth by an uniform Swimming of the whole Body. The Reader may observe with how Poetical a Description Milton has attributed the same kind of Motion to the Angels who were to take Possession of Paradise.

So spake our Mother Eve, and Adam heard
Well pleas'd, but answered not; for now too nigh
Th' Archangel stood, and from the other Hill
To their fix'd Station, all in bright Array
The Cherubim descended; on the Ground
Gliding meteorous, as evening Mist
Ris'n from a River, o'er the Marish glides,
And gathers ground fast at the Lab'rer's Heel
Homeward returning. High in Front advanced,
The brandishd Sword of God before them blaz'd
Fierce as a Comet--

The Author helped his Invention in the following Passage, by reflecting on the Behaviour of the Angel, who, in Holy Writ, has the Conduct of Lot and his Family. The Circumstances drawn from that Relation are very gracefully made use of on this Occasion.

In either Hand the hast'ning Angel caught
Our ling'ring Parents, and to th' Eastern Gate
Led them direct; and down the Cliff as fast
To the subjected Plain; then disappear'd.
They looking back, &c.

The Scene [1] which our first Parents are surprized with, upon their looking back on Paradise, wonderfully strikes the Reader's Imagination, as nothing can be more natural than the Tears they shed on that Occasion.

They looking back, all th' Eastern side beheld
Of Paradise, so late their happy Seat,
Wav'd over by that flaming Brand, the Gate
With dreadful Faces throng'd and fiery Arms:
Some natural Tears they dropped, but wiped them soon;
The World was all before them, where to chuse
Their Place of Rest, and Providence their Guide.

If I might presume to offer at the smallest Alteration in this divine Work, I should think the Poem would end better with the Passage here quoted, than with the two Verses which follow:

They hand in hand, with wandering Steps and slow,
Through Eden took their solitary Way.

These two Verses, though they have their Beauty, fall very much below the foregoing Passage, and renew in the Mind of the Reader that Anguish which was pretty well laid by that Consideration,

The world was all before them, where to chuse
Their Place of Rest, and Providence their Guide.

The Number of Books in Paradise Lost is equal to those of the Æneid. Our Author in his first Edition had divided his Poem into ten Books, but afterwards broke the seventh and the eleventh each of them into two different Books, by the help of some small Additions. This second Division was made with great Judgment, as any one may see who will be at the pains of examining it. It was not done for the sake of such a Chimerical Beauty as that of resembling Virgil in this particular, but for the more just and regular Disposition of this great Work.

Those who have read Bossu, and many of the Criticks who have written since his Time, will not pardon me if I do not find out the particular Moral which is inculcated in Paradise Lost. Though I can by no means think, with the last mentioned French Author, that an Epick Writer first of all pitches upon a certain Moral, as the Ground-Work and Foundation of his Poem, and afterwards finds out a Story to it: I am, however, of opinion, that no just Heroick Poem ever was or can be made, from whence one great Moral may not be deduced. That which reigns in Milton, is the most universal and most useful that can be imagined; it is in short this, That Obedience to the Will of God makes Men happy, and that Disobedience makes them miserable. This is visibly the Moral of the principal Fable, which turns upon Adam and Eve, who continued in Paradise, while they kept the command that was given them, and were driven out of it as soon as they had transgressed. This is likewise the Moral of the principal Episode, which shews us how an innumerable Multitude of Angels fell from their State of Bliss, and were cast into Hell upon their Disobedience. Besides this great Moral, which may be looked upon as the Soul of the Fable, there are an Infinity of Under-Morals which are to be drawn from the several parts of the Poem, and which makes this Work more useful and Instructive than any other Poem in any Language.

Those who have criticized on the Odyssey, the Iliad, and Æneid, have taken a great deal of Pains to fix the Number of Months and Days contained in the Action of each of those Poems. If any one thinks it worth his while to examine this Particular in Milton, he will find that from Adam's first Appearance in the fourth Book, to his Expulsion from Paradise in the twelfth, the Author reckons ten Days. As for that part of the Action which is described in the three first Books, as it does not pass within the Regions of Nature, I have before observed that it is not subject to any Calculations of Time.

I have now finished my Observations on a Work which does an Honour to the English Nation. I have taken a general View of it under these four Heads, the Fable, the Characters, the Sentiments, and the Language, and made each of them the Subject of a particular Paper. I have in the next Place spoken of the Censures which our Author may incur under each of these Heads, which I have confined to two Papers, though I might have enlarged the Number, if I had been disposed to dwell on so ungrateful a Subject. I believe, however, that the severest Reader will not find any little Fault in Heroick Poetry, which this Author has fallen into, that does not come under one of those Heads among which I have distributed his several Blemishes. After having thus treated at large of Paradise Lost, I could not think it sufficient to have celebrated this Poem in the whole, without descending to Particulars. I have therefore bestowed a Paper upon each Book, and endeavoured not only to [prove [2]] that the Poem is beautiful in general, but to point out its Particular Beauties, and to determine wherein they consist. I have endeavoured to shew how some Passages are beautiful by being Sublime, others by being Soft, others by being Natural; which of them are recommended by the Passion, which by the Moral, which by the Sentiment, and which by the Expression. I have likewise endeavoured to shew how the Genius of the Poet shines by a happy Invention, a distant Allusion, or a judicious Imitation; how he has copied or improved Homer or Virgil, and raised his own Imaginations by the Use which he has made of several Poetical Passages in Scripture. I might have inserted also several Passages of Tasso, which our Author [has [3]] imitated; but as I do not look upon Tasso to be a sufficient Voucher, I would not perplex my Reader with such Quotations, as might do more Honour to the Italian than the English Poet. In short, I have endeavoured to particularize those innumerable kinds of Beauty, which it would be tedious to recapitulate, but which are essential to Poetry, and which may be met with in the Works of this great Author. Had I thought, at my first engaging in this design, that it would have led me to so great a length, I believe I should never have entered upon it; but the kind Reception which it has met with among those whose Judgments I have a value for, as well as the uncommon Demands which my Bookseller tells me have been made for these particular Discourses, give me no reason to repent of the Pains I have been at in composing them.

L.

[Footnote 1: Prospect]

[Footnote 2: shew]

[Footnote 3: has likewise]

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No. 370. Monday, May 5, 1712. Steele.

'Totus Mundus agit Histrionem.'

Many of my fair Readers, as well as very gay and well-received Persons of the other Sex, are extremely perplexed at the Latin Sentences at the Head of my Speculations; I do not know whether I ought not to indulge them with Translations of each of them: However, I have to-day taken down from the Top of the Stage in Drury-Lane a bit of Latin which often stands in their View, and signifies that the whole World acts the Player. It is certain that if we look all round us, and behold the different Employments of Mankind, you hardly see one who is not, as the Player is, in an assumed Character. The Lawyer, who is vehement and loud in a Cause wherein he knows he has not the Truth of the Question on his Side, is a Player as to the personated Part, but incomparably meaner than he as to the Prostitution of himself for Hire; because the Pleader's Falshood introduces Injustice, the Player feigns for no other end but to divert or instruct you. The Divine, whose Passions transport him to say any thing with any View but promoting the Interests of true Piety and Religion, is a Player with a still greater Imputation of Guilt, in proportion to his depreciating a Character more sacred. Consider all the different Pursuits and Employments of Men, and you will find half their Actions tend to nothing else but Disguise and Imposture; and all that is done which proceeds not from a Man's very self, is the Action of a Player. For this Reason it is that I make so frequent mention of the Stage: It is, with me, a Matter of the highest Consideration what Parts are well or ill performed, what Passions or Sentiments are indulged or cultivated, and consequently what Manners and Customs are transfused from the Stage to the World, which reciprocally imitate each other. As the Writers of Epick Poems introduce shadowy Persons, and represent Vices and Virtues under the Characters of Men and Women; so I, who am a SPECTATOR in the World, may perhaps sometimes make use of the Names of the Actors on the Stage, to represent or admonish those who transact Affairs in the World. When I am commending Wilks for representing the Tenderness of a Husband and a Father in Mackbeth, the Contrition of a reformed Prodigal in Harry the Fourth, the winning Emptiness of a young Man of Good-nature and Wealth in the Trip to the Jubilee, [1]--the Officiousness of an artful Servant in the Fox: [2] when thus I celebrate Wilks, I talk to all the World who are engaged in any of those Circumstances. If I were to speak of Merit neglected, mis-applied, or misunderstood, might not I say Estcourt has a great Capacity? But it is not the Interest of others who bear a Figure on the Stage that his Talents were understood; it is their Business to impose upon him what cannot become him, or keep out of his hands any thing in which he would Shine. Were one to raise a Suspicion of himself in a Man who passes upon the World for a fine Thing, in order to alarm him, one might say, if Lord Foppington [3] were not on the Stage, (Cibber acts the false Pretensions to a genteel Behaviour so very justly), he would have in the generality of Mankind more that would admire than deride him. When we come to Characters directly Comical, it is not to be imagin'd what Effect a well-regulated Stage would have upon Men's Manners. The Craft of an Usurer, the Absurdity of a rich Fool, the awkward Roughness of a Fellow of half Courage, the ungraceful Mirth of a Creature of half Wit, might be for ever put out of Countenance by proper Parts for Dogget. Johnson by acting Corbacchio [4] the other Night, must have given all who saw him a thorough Detestation of aged Avarice. The Petulancy of a peevish old Fellow, who loves and hates he knows not why, is very excellently performed by the Ingenious Mr. William Penkethman in the Fop's Fortune;[5] where, in the Character of Don Cholerick Snap Shorto de Testy, he answers no Questions but to those whom he likes, and wants no account of any thing from those he approves. Mr. Penkethman is also Master of as many Faces in the Dumb-Scene as can be expected from a Man in the Circumstances of being ready to perish out of Fear and Hunger: He wonders throughout the whole Scene very masterly, without neglecting his Victuals. If it be, as I have heard it sometimes mentioned, a great Qualification for the World to follow Business and Pleasure too, what is it in the Ingenious Mr. Penkethman to represent a Sense of Pleasure and Pain at the same time; as you may see him do this Evening? [6]

As it is certain that a Stage ought to be wholly suppressed, or judiciously encouraged, while there is one in the Nation, Men turned for regular Pleasure cannot employ their Thoughts more usefully, for the Diversion of Mankind, than by convincing them that it is in themselves to raise this Entertainment to the greatest Height. It would be a great Improvement, as well as Embellishment to the Theatre, if Dancing were more regarded, and taught to all the Actors. One who has the Advantage of such an agreeable girlish Person as Mrs. Bicknell, joined with her Capacity of Imitation, could in proper Gesture and Motion represent all the decent Characters of Female Life. An amiable Modesty in one Aspect of a Dancer, an assumed Confidence in another, a sudden Joy in another, a falling off with an Impatience of being beheld, a Return towards the Audience with an unsteady Resolution to approach them, and a well-acted Sollicitude to please, would revive in the Company all the fine Touches of Mind raised in observing all the Objects of Affection or Passion they had before beheld. Such elegant Entertainments as these, would polish the Town into Judgment in their Gratifications; and Delicacy in Pleasure is the first step People of Condition take in Reformation from Vice. Mrs. Bicknell has the only Capacity for this sort of Dancing of any on the Stage; and I dare say all who see her Performance tomorrow Night, when sure the Romp will do her best for her own Benefit, will be of my Mind.

T.

[Footnote 1: Farquhar's Constant Couple, or A Trip to the Jubilee.]

[Footnote 2: Ben Jonson's Volpone.]

[Footnote 3: In Colley Cibber's Careless Husband.]

[Footnote 4: In Ben Jonson's Volpone.]

[Footnote 5: Cibber's Love makes a Man, or The Fop's Fortune.]

[Footnote 6:

For the Benefit of Mr. Penkethman. At the Desire of Several Ladies of
Quality. By Her Majesty's Company of Comedians. At the Theatre Royal
in Drury Lane, this present Monday, being the 5th of May, will be
presented a Comedy called Love makes a Man, or The Fop's Fortune. The
Part of Don Lewis, alias Don Choleric Snap Shorto de Testy, by Mr.
Penkethman; Carlos, Mr. Wilks; Clodio, alias Don Dismallo Thick-Scullo
de Half Witto, Mr. Cibber; and all the other Parts to the best
Advantage. With a new Epilogue, spoken by Mr. Penkethman, riding on an
Ass. By her Majesty's Command no Persons are to be admitted behind the
Scenes. And To-Morrow, being Tuesday, will be presented, A Comedy
call'd The Constant Couple, or A Trip to the Jubilee. For the Benefit
of Mrs. Bicknell.

To do as kind a service to Mrs. Bicknell as to Mr. Penkethman on the occasion of their benefits is the purpose of the next paragraph of Steele's Essay.]

* * * * *

No. 371. Tuesday, May 6, 1712. Addison.

'Jamne igitur laudas quod se sapientibus unus
Ridebat?'

Juv.

I shall communicate to my Reader the following Letter for the Entertainment of this Day.

Sir,

You know very well that our Nation is more famous for that sort of Men
who are called Whims and Humourists, than any other Country in the
World; for which reason it is observed that our English Comedy excells
that of all other Nations in the Novelty and Variety of its
Characters.

Among those innumerable Setts of Whims which our Country produces,
there are none whom I have regarded with more Curiosity than those who
have invented any particular kind of Diversion for the Entertainment
of themselves or their Friends. My Letter shall single out those who
take delight in sorting a Company that has something of Burlesque and
Ridicule in its Appearance. I shall make my self understood by the
following Example. One of the Wits of the last Age, who was a Man of a
good Estate [1], thought he never laid out his Money better than in a
Jest. As he was one Year at the Bath, observing that in the great
Confluence of fine People, there were several among them with long
Chins, a part of the Visage by which he himself was very much
distinguished, he invited to dinner half a Score of these remarkable
Persons who had their Mouths in the Middle of their Faces. They had no
sooner placed themselves about the Table, but they began to stare upon
one another, not being able to imagine what had brought them together.
Our English Proverb says,

Tis merry in the Hall,
When Beards wag all.

It proved so in the Assembly I am now speaking of, who seeing so many
Peaks of Faces agitated with Eating, Drinking, and Discourse, and
observing all the Chins that were present meeting together very often
over the Center of the Table, every one grew sensible of the Jest, and
came into it with so much Good-Humour, that they lived in strict
Friendship and Alliance from that Day forward.

The same Gentleman some time after packed together a Set of Oglers, as
he called them, consisting of such as had an unlucky Cast in their
Eyes. His Diversion on this Occasion was to see the cross Bows,
mistaken Signs, and wrong Connivances that passed amidst so many
broken and refracted Rays of Sight.

The third Feast which this merry Gentleman exhibited was to the
Stammerers, whom he got together in a sufficient Body to fill his
Table. He had ordered one of his Servants, who was placed behind a
Skreen, to write down their Table-Talk, which was very easie to be
done without the help of Short-hand. It appears by the Notes which
were taken, that tho' their Conversation never fell, there were not
above twenty Words spoken during the first Course; that upon serving
up the second, one of the Company was a quarter of an Hour in telling
them, that the Ducklins and [Asparagus [2]] were very good; and that
another took up the same time in declaring himself of the same
Opinion. This Jest did not, however, go off so well as the former; for
one of the Guests being a brave Man, and fuller of Resentment than he
knew how to express, went out of the Room, and sent the facetious
Inviter a Challenge in Writing, which though it was afterwards dropp'd
by the Interposition of Friends, put a Stop to these ludicrous
Entertainments.

Now, Sir, I dare say you will agree with me, that as there is no Moral
in these Jests, they ought to be discouraged, and looked upon rather
as pieces of Unluckiness than Wit. However, as it is natural for one
Man to refine upon the Thought of another, and impossible for any
single Person, how great soever his Parts may be, to invent an Art,
and bring it to its utmost Perfection; I shall here give you an
account of an honest Gentleman of my Acquaintance who upon hearing the
Character of the Wit above mentioned, has himself assumed it, and
endeavoured to convert it to the Benefit of Mankind. He invited half a
dozen of his Friends one day to Dinner, who were each of them famous
for inserting several redundant Phrases in their Discourse, as d'y
hear me, d'ye see, that is, and so Sir. Each of the Guests making
frequent use of his particular Elegance, appeared so ridiculous to his
Neighbour, that he could not but reflect upon himself as appearing
equally ridiculous to the rest of the Company: By this means, before
they had sat long together, every one talking with the greatest
Circumspection, and carefully avoiding his favourite Expletive, the
Conversation was cleared of its Redundancies, and had a greater
Quantity of Sense, tho' less of Sound in it.

The same well-meaning Gentleman took occasion, at another time, to
bring together such of his Friends as were addicted to a foolish
habitual Custom of Swearing. In order to shew the Absurdity of the
Practice, he had recourse to the Invention above mentioned, having
placed an Amanuensis in a private part of the Room. After the second
Bottle, when Men open their Minds without Reserve, my honest Friend
began to take notice of the many sonorous but unnecessary Words that
had passed in his House since their sitting down at Table, and how
much good Conversation they had lost by giving way to such superfluous
Phrases. What a Tax, says he, would they have raised for the Poor, had
we put the Laws in Execution upon one another? Every one of them took
this gentle Reproof in good part: Upon which he told them, that
knowing their Conversation would have no Secrets in it, he had ordered
it to be taken down in Writing, and for the humour sake would read it
to them, if they pleased. There were ten Sheets of it, which might
have been reduced to two, had there not been those abominable
Interpolations I have before mentioned. Upon the reading of it in cold
Blood, it looked rather like a Conference of Fiends than of Men. In
short, every one trembled at himself upon hearing calmly what he had
pronounced amidst the Heat and Inadvertency of Discourse.

I shall only mention another Occasion wherein he made use of the same
Invention to cure a different kind of Men, who are the Pests of all
polite Conversation, and murder Time as much as either of the two
former, though they do it more innocently; I mean that dull Generation
of Story-tellers. My Friend got together about half a dozen of his
Acquaintance, who were infected with this strange Malady. The first
Day one of them sitting down, entered upon the Siege of Namur, which
lasted till four a-clock, their time of parting. The second Day a
North-Britain took possession of the Discourse, which it was
impossible to get out of his Hands so long as the Company staid
together. The third Day was engrossed after the same manner by a Story
of the same length. They at last began to reflect upon this barbarous
way of treating one another, and by this means awakened out of that
Lethargy with which each of them had been seized for several Years.

As you have somewhere declared, that extraordinary and uncommon
Characters of Mankind are the Game which you delight in, and as I look
upon you to be the greatest Sportsman, or, if you please, the Nimrod
among this Species of Writers, I thought this Discovery would not be
unacceptable to you.

I am,

SIR, &c.

I.

[Footnote 1: George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, Drydens Zimri, and the author of the Rehearsal.]

[Footnote 2: [Sparrow-grass] and in first Reprint.]

* * * * *

372. Wednesday, May 7, 1712. Steele.

'Pudet hæc opprobria nobis
[Et dici potuisse et non potuisse refelli.]'

Ovid.

May 6, 1712.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am Sexton of the Parish of Covent-Garden, and complained to you some
time ago, that as I was tolling in to Prayers at Eleven in the
Morning, Crowds of People of Quality hastened to assemble at a
Puppet-Show on the other Side of the Garden. I had at the same time a
very great Disesteem for Mr. Powell and his little thoughtless
Commonwealth, as if they had enticed the Gentry into those Wandrings:
But let that be as it will, I now am convinced of the honest
Intentions of the said Mr. Powell and Company; and send this to
acquaint you, that he has given all the Profits which shall arise
to-morrow Night by his Play to the use of the poor Charity-Children of
this Parish. I have been informed, Sir, that in Holland all Persons
who set up any Show, or act any Stage-Play, be the Actors either of
Wood and Wire, or Flesh and Blood, are obliged to pay out of their
Gain such a Proportion to the honest and industrious Poor in the
Neighbourhood: By this means they make Diversion and Pleasure pay a
Tax to Labour and Industry. I have been told also, that all the time
of Lent, in Roman Catholick Countries, the Persons of Condition
administred to the Necessities of the Poor, and attended the Beds of
Lazars and diseased Persons. Our Protestant Ladies and Gentlemen are
so much to seek for proper ways of passing Time, that they are obliged
to Punchinello for knowing what to do with themselves. Since the Case
is so, I desire only you would intreat our People of Quality, who are
not to be interrupted in their Pleasure to think of the Practice of
any moral Duty, that they would at least fine for their Sins, and give
something to these poor Children; a little out of their Luxury and
Superfluity, would attone, in some measure, for the wanton Use of the
rest of their Fortunes. It would not, methinks, be amiss, if the
Ladies who haunt the Cloysters and Passages of the Play-house, were
upon every Offence obliged to pay to this excellent Institution of
Schools of Charity: This Method would make Offenders themselves do
Service to the Publick. But in the mean time I desire you would
publish this voluntary Reparation which Mr. Powell does our Parish,
for the Noise he has made in it by the constant rattling of Coaches,
Drums, Trumpets, Triumphs, and Battels. The Destruction of Troy
adorned with Highland Dances, are to make up the Entertainment of all
who are so well disposed as not to forbear a light Entertainment, for
no other Reason but that it is to do a good Action.
I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
Ralph Bellfry.

I am credibly informed, that all the Insinuations which a certain
Writer made against Mr. Powell at the Bath, are false and groundless.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

My Employment, which is that of a Broker, leading me often into
Taverns about the Exchange, has given me occasion to observe a certain
Enormity, which I shall here submit to your Animadversion. In three or
four of these Taverns, I have, at different times, taken notice of a
precise Set of People with grave Countenances, short Wiggs, black
Cloaths, or dark Camlet trimmd with Black, and mourning Gloves and
Hatbands, who meet on certain Days at each Tavern successively, and
keep a sort of moving Club. Having often met with their Faces, and
observed a certain slinking Way in their dropping in one after
another, I had the Curiosity to enquire into their Characters, being
the rather moved to it by their agreeing in the Singularity of their
Dress; and I find upon due Examination they are a Knot of
Parish-Clarks, who have taken a fancy to one another, and perhaps
settle the Bills of Mortality over their Half-pints. I have so great a
Value and Veneration for any who have but even an assenting Amen in
the Service of Religion, that I am afraid lest these Persons should
incur some Scandal by this Practice; and would therefore have them,
without Raillery, advised to send the Florence and Pullets home to
their own Houses, and not pretend to live as well as the Overseers of
the Poor.
I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
Humphry Transfer.

May 6.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I was last Wednesday Night at a Tavern in the City, among a Set of Men
who call themselves the Lawyer's Club. You must know, Sir, this Club
consists only of Attorneys; and at this Meeting every one proposes the
Cause he has then in hand to the Board, upon which each Member gives
his Judgment according to the Experience he has met with. If it
happens that any one puts a Case of which they have had no Precedent,
it is noted down by their Clerk Will. Goosequill, (who registers all
their Proceedings) that one of them may go the next Day with it to a
Counsel. This indeed is commendable, and ought to be the principal End
of their Meeting; but had you been there to have heard them relate
their Methods of managing a Cause, their Manner of drawing out their
Bills, and, in short, their Arguments upon the several ways of abusing
their Clients, with the Applause that is given to him who has done it
most artfully, you would before now have given your Remarks on them.
They are so conscious that their Discourses ought to be kept secret,
that they are very cautious of admitting any Person who is not of
their Profession. When any who are not of the Law are let in, the
Person who introduces him, says, he is a very honest Gentleman, and he
is taken in, as their Cant is, to pay Costs. I am admitted upon the
Recommendation of one of their Principals, as a very honest
good-natured Fellow that will never be in a Plot, and only desires to
drink his Bottle and smoke his Pipe. You have formerly remarked upon
several Sorts of Clubs; and as the Tendency of this is only to
increase Fraud and Deceit, I hope you will please to take Notice of it.
I am (with Respect)
Your humble Servant,
H. R.

T.

* * * * *

No. 373. Thursday, May 8, 1712. Budgell.

'[Fallit enim Vitium specie virtutis et umbra.'

Juv. [1]]

Mr. Locke, in his Treatise of Human Understanding, has spent two Chapters upon the Abuse of Words. [2] The first and most palpable Abuse of Words, he says, is, when they are used without clear and distinct Ideas: The second, when we are so inconstant and unsteady in the Application of them, that we sometimes use them to signify one Idea, sometimes another. He adds, that the Result of our Contemplations and Reasonings, while we have no precise Ideas fixed to our Words, must needs be very confused and absurd. To avoid this Inconvenience, more especially in moral Discourses, where the same Word should constantly be used in the same Sense, he earnestly recommends the use of Definitions. A Definition, says he, is the only way whereby the precise Meaning of Moral Words can be known. He therefore accuses those of great Negligence, who Discourse of Moral things with the least Obscurity in the Terms they make use of, since upon the forementioned ground he does not scruple to say, that he thinks Morality is capable of Demonstration as well as the Mathematicks.

I know no two Words that have been more abused by the different and wrong Interpretations which are put upon them, than those two, Modesty and Assurance. To say such an one is a modest Man, sometimes indeed passes for a good Character; but at present is very often used to signify a sheepish awkard Fellow, who has neither Good-breeding, Politeness, nor any Knowledge of the World.

Again, A Man of Assurance, tho at first it only denoted a Person of a free and open Carriage, is now very usually applied to a profligate Wretch, who can break through all the Rules of Decency and Morality without a Blush.

I shall endeavour therefore in this Essay to restore these Words to their true Meaning, to prevent the Idea of Modesty from being confounded with that of Sheepishness, and to hinder Impudence from passing for Assurance.

If I was put to define Modesty, I would call it The Reflection of an Ingenuous Mind, either when a Man has committed an Action for which he censures himself, or fancies that he is exposed to the Censure of others.

For this Reason a Man truly Modest is as much so when he is alone as in Company, and as subject to a Blush in his Closet, as when the Eyes of Multitudes are upon him.

I do not remember to have met with any Instance of Modesty with which I am so well pleased, as that celebrated one of the young Prince, whose Father being a tributary King to the Romans, had several Complaints laid against him before the Senate, as a Tyrant and Oppressor of his Subjects. The Prince went to Rome to defend his Father; but coming into the Senate, and hearing a Multitude of Crimes proved upon him, was so oppressed when it came to his turn to speak, that he was unable to utter a Word. The Story tells us, that the Fathers were more moved at this Instance of Modesty and Ingenuity, than they could have been by the most Pathetick Oration; and, in short, pardoned the guilty Father for this early Promise of Virtue in the Son.

I take Assurance to be the Faculty of possessing a Man's self, or of saying and doing indifferent things without any Uneasiness or Emotion in the Mind. That which generally gives a Man Assurance is a moderate Knowledge of the World, but above all a Mind fixed and determined in it self to do nothing against the Rules of Honour and Decency. An open and assured Behaviour is the natural Consequence of such a Resolution. A Man thus armed, if his Words or Actions are at any time misinterpreted, retires within himself, and from the Consciousness of his own Integrity, assumes Force enough to despise the little Censures of Ignorance or Malice.

Every one ought to cherish and encourage in himself the Modesty and Assurance I have here mentioned.

A Man without Assurance is liable to be made uneasy by the Folly or Ill-nature of every one he converses with. A Man without Modesty is lost to all Sense of Honour and Virtue.

It is more than probable, that the Prince above-mentioned possessed both these Qualifications in a very eminent degree. Without Assurance he would never have undertaken to speak before the most august Assembly in the World; without Modesty he would have pleaded the Cause he had taken upon him, tho it had appeared ever so Scandalous.

From what has been said, it is plain, that Modesty and Assurance are both amiable, and may very well meet in the same Person. When they are thus mixed and blended together, they compose what we endeavour to express when we say a modest Assurance; by which we understand the just Mean between Bashfulness and Impudence.

I shall conclude with observing, that as the same Man may be both Modest and Assured, so it is also possible for the same Person to be both Impudent and Bashful.

We have frequent Instances of this odd kind of Mixture in People of depraved Minds and mean Education; who tho' they are not able to meet a Man's Eyes, or pronounce a Sentence without Confusion, can Voluntarily commit the greatest Villanies, or most indecent Actions.

Such a Person seems to have made a Resolution to do Ill even in spite of himself, and in defiance of all those Checks and Restraints his Temper and Complection seem to have laid in his way.

Upon the whole, I would endeavour to establish this Maxim, That the Practice of Virtue is the most proper Method to give a Man a becoming Assurance in his Words and Actions. Guilt always seeks to shelter it self in one of the Extreams, and is sometimes attended with both.

X.

[Footnote 1:

[--Strabonem
Appellat pætumm pater; et pullum, male parvus
Si cui filius est; ut abortivus fuit olim
Sisyphus: hunc varum, distortis cruribus; illum
Balbutit scaurum, pravis fullum malè talis.

Hor.]]

[Footnote 2: Book III., Chapters 10, 11. Words are the subject of this book; ch. 10 is on the Abuse of Words; ch. 11 of the Remedies of the foregoing imperfections and abuses.]

* * * * *

No. 374. Friday, May 9, 1712. Steele.

'Nil actum reputans si quid superesset agendum.'

Luc.