Chapter LXXXIV: Introduction (84)

The Author of this Letter is certainly a Man of good Sense; but I am perhaps particular in my Opinion on this Occasion; for I have observed, that under the Notion of Modesty, Men have indulged themselves in a Spiritless Sheepishness, and been for ever lost to themselves, their Families, their Friends, and their Country. When a Man has taken care to pretend to nothing but what he may justly aim at, and can execute as well as any other, without Injustice to any other; it is ever want of Breeding or Courage to be brow-beaten or elbow'd out of his honest Ambition. I have said often, Modesty must be an Act of the Will, and yet it always implies Self-Denial: For if a Man has an ardent Desire to do what is laudable for him to perform, and, from an unmanly Bashfulness, shrinks away, and lets his Merit languish in Silence, he ought not to be angry at the World that a more unskilful Actor succeeds in his Part, because he has not Confidence to come upon the Stage himself. The Generosity my Correspondent mentions of _Pliny_, cannot be enough applauded. To cherish the Dawn of Merit, and hasten its Maturity, was a Work worthy a noble _Roman_ and a liberal Scholar. That Concern which is described in the Letter, is to all the World the greatest Charm imaginable: but then the modest Man must proceed, and shew a latent Resolution in himself; for the Admiration of his Modesty arises from the Manifestation of his Merit. I must confess we live in an Age wherein a few empty Blusterers carry away the Praise of Speaking, while a Crowd of Fellows over-stock'd with Knowledge are run down by them. I say Over-stock'd, because they certainly are so as to their Service of Mankind, if from their very Store they raise to themselves Ideas of Respect, and Greatness of the Occasion, and I know not what, to disable themselves from explaining their Thoughts. I must confess, when I have seen _Charles Frankair_ rise up with a commanding Mien, and Torrent of handsome Words, talk a Mile off the Purpose, and drive down twenty bashful Boobies of ten times his Sense, who at the same time were envying his Impudence and despising his Understanding, it has been matter of great Mirth to me; but it soon ended in a secret Lamentation, that the Fountains of every thing praiseworthy in these Realms, the Universities, should be so muddied with a false Sense of this Virtue, as to produce Men capable of being so abused. I will be bold to say, that it is a ridiculous Education which does not qualify a Man to make his best Appearance before the greatest Man and the finest Woman to whom he can address himself. Were this judiciously corrected in the Nurseries of Learning, pert Coxcombs would know their Distance: But we must bear with this false Modesty in our young Nobility and Gentry, till they cease at _Oxford_ and _Cambridge_ to grow dumb in the Study of Eloquence.

T.

[Footnote 1: The citation is from a charming letter in which Pliny (Bk. v. letter 17) tells Spurinna the pleasure he had just received from a recitation by a noble youth in the house of Calpurnius Piso, and how, when it was over, he gave the youth many kisses and praises, congratulated his mother and his brother, in whom, as the reciter tried his powers, first fear for him and then delight in him was manifest. To the sentences quoted above the next is

'Etenim, nescio quo pacto, magis in studiis homines timor quam fiducia
decet.'

'I don't know how it is, but in brain-work mistrust better becomes men
than self-confidence.']

[Footnote 2: Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. sc. 1.]

* * * * *

No. 485. Tuesday, September 16, 1712. Steele.

'Nihil tam firmum est, cui periculum non sit, etiam ab Invalido.'

Quint. Curt.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'My Lord _Clarendon_ has observed, _That few Men have done more harm
than those who have been thought to be able to do least; and there
cannot be a greater Error, than to believe a Man whom we see qualified
with too mean Parts to do good, to be therefore incapable of doing
hurt. There is a Supply of Malice, of Pride, of Industry, and even of
Folly, in the Weakest, when he sets his heart upon it, that makes a
strange progress in Mischief_. [1] What may seem to the Reader the
greatest Paradox in the Reflection of the Historian, is, I suppose,
that Folly, which is generally thought incapable of contriving or
executing any Design, should be so formidable to those whom it exerts
it self to molest. But this will appear very plain, if we remember
that _Solomon_ says, _It is as Sport to a Fool to do mischief_; and
that he might the more emphatically express the calamitous
Circumstances of him who falls under the displeasure of this wanton
Person, the same Author adds further, _That a Stone is heavy, and the
Sand weighty, but a Fool's Wrath is heavier than them both_. It is
impossible to suppress my own Illustration upon this Matter, which is,
That as the Man of Sagacity bestirs himself to distress his Enemy by
Methods probable and reducible to Reason, so the same Reason will
fortify his Enemy to elude these his regular Efforts; but your Fool
projects, acts, and concludes with such notable Inconsistence, that no
regular Course of Thought can evade or counterplot his prodigious
Machinations. My Frontispiece, I believe, may be extended to imply,
That several of our Misfortunes arise from Things, as well as Persons,
that seem of very little consequence. Into what tragical
Extravagancies does _Shakespear_ hurry _Othello_ upon the loss of an
Handkerchief only? and what Barbarities does _Desdemona_ suffer from a
slight Inadvertency in regard to this fatal Trifle? If the Schemes of
all enterprizing Spirits were to be carefully examined, some
intervening Accident, not considerable enough to occasion any Debate
upon, or give 'em any apprehension of ill Consequence from it, will be
found to be the occasion of their ill Success, rather than any Error
in Points of Moment and Difficulty, which naturally engag'd their
maturest Deliberations. If you go to the Levee of any great Man, you
will observe him exceeding gracious to several very insignificant
Fellows; and this upon this Maxim, That the Neglect of any Person must
arise from the mean Opinion you have of his Capacity to do you any
Service or Prejudice; and that this calling his Sufficiency in
question, must give him Inclination, and where this is, there never
wants Strength or Opportunity to annoy you. There is no body so weak
of Invention, that can't aggravate or make some little Stories to
vilify his Enemy; and there are very few but have good Inclinations to
hear 'em, and 'tis infinite Pleasure to the Majority of Mankind to
level a Person superior to his Neighbours. Besides, in all matter of
Controversy, that Party which has the greatest Abilities labours under
this Prejudice, that he will certainly be supposed, upon Account of
his Abilities, to have done an Injury, when perhaps he has received
one. It would be tedious to enumerate the Strokes that Nations and
particular Friends have suffer'd from Persons very contemptible.

I Think _Henry_ IV. of _France_, so formidable to his Neighbours,
could no more be secur'd against the resolute Villany of _Ravillac_,
than _Villiers_, Duke of _Buckingham_, could be against that of
_Felton_. And there is no incens'd Person so destitute, but can
provide himself with a Knife or a Pistol, if he finds stomach to apply
them. That Things and Persons of no moment should give such powerful
Revolutions to the progress of those of the greatest, seems a
providential Disposition to baffle and abate the Pride of human
Sufficiency; as also to engage the Humanity and Benevolence of
Superiors to all below 'em, by letting them into this Secret, that the
Stronger depends upon the Weaker.

_I am, SIR,
Your very humble Servant._

_Temple, Paper-Buildings._

_Dear Sir_,

'I received a Letter from you some time ago, which I should have
answered sooner, had you informed me in yours to what part of this
Island I might have directed my Impertinence; but having been let into
the Knowledge of that Matter, this handsome Excuse is no longer
serviceable. My Neighbour _Prettyman_ shall be the Subject of this
Letter; who falling in with the SPECTATOR'S Doctrine concerning the
Month of _May_, began from that Season to dedicate himself to the
Service of the Fair in the following Manner. I observed at the
Beginning of the Month he bought him a new Night-gown, either side to
be worn outwards, both equally gorgeous and attractive; but till the
End of the Month I did not enter so fully into the knowledge of his
Contrivance, as the Use of that Garment has since suggested to me. Now
you must know that all new Clothes raise and warm the Bearer's
Imagination into a Conceit of his being a much finer Gentleman than he
was before, banishing all Sobriety and Reflection, and giving him up
to Gallantry and Amour. Inflam'd therefore with this way of thinking,
and full of the Spirit of the Month of _May_, did this merciless Youth
resolve upon the Business of Captivating. At first he confin'd himself
to his Room only, now and then appearing at his Window in his
Night-gown, and practising that easy Posture which expresses the very
Top and Dignity of Languishment. It was pleasant to see him diversify
his Loveliness, sometimes obliging the Passengers only with a
Side-Face, with a Book in his Hand; sometimes being so generous as to
expose the whole in the fulness of its Beauty; at the other times, by
a judicious throwing back of his Perriwig, he would throw in his Ears.
You know he is that Sort of Person which the Mob call a handsome jolly
Man; which Appearance can't miss of Captives in this part of the Town.
Being emboldened by daily Success, he leaves his Room with a
Resolution to extend his Conquests; and I have apprehended him in his
Night-gown smiting in all Parts of this Neighbourhood.

This I, being of an amorous Complection, saw with Indignation, and had
Thoughts of purchasing a Wig in these Parts; into which, being at a
greater Distance from the Earth, I might have thrown a very liberal
Mixture of white Horse-hair, which would make a fairer, and
consequently a handsomer Appearance, while my Situation would secure
me against any Discoveries. But the Passion to the handsome Gentleman
seems to be so fixed to that part of the Building, that it will be
extremely difficult to divert it to mine; so that I am resolved to
stand boldly to the Complection of my own Eye-brow, and prepare me an
immense Black Wig of the same sort of Structure with that of my Rival.
Now, tho' by this I shall not, perhaps, lessen the number of the
Admirers of his Complection, I shall have a fair Chance to divide the
Passengers by the irresistible Force of mine.

I expect sudden Dispatches from you, with Advice of the Family you are
in now, how to deport my self upon this so delicate a Conjuncture;
with some comfortable Resolutions in favour of the handsome black Man
against the handsome fair one.

_I am, SIR,

Your most humble Servant_,

C.

N. B. _He who writ this, is a black Man two Pair of Stairs; the
Gentleman of whom he writes, is fair, and one Pair of Stairs_.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'I only say, that it is impossible for me to say how much I am

_Yours_,

Robin Shorter.

_P. S._ 'I shall think it a little hard, if you do not take as much
notice of this Epistle, as you have of the ingenious Mr. _Short's_. I
am not afraid to let the World see which is the Deeper Man of the two.

T.

[Footnote 1: When this was quoted Clarendon had been dead only 38 years, and his History of the Rebellion, first published in Queen Anne's reign, was almost a new Book. It was published at Oxford in three folio volumes, which appeared in the successive years 1702, 3,4, and in this year, 1712, there had appeared a new edition of it (the sixth).]

* * * * *

ADVERTISEMENT.

London, September 15.

Whereas a young Woman on horseback,
in an Equestrian Habit on the 13th Instant in the Evening,
met the SPECTATOR within a Mile and an half of this Town,
and flying in the Face of Justice,
pull'd off her Hat, in which there was a Feather,
with the Mein and Air of a young Officer,
saying at the same time,
Your Servant Mr. SPEC. or Words to that Purpose;
This is to give Notice,
that if any Person can discover the Name,
and Place of Abode of the said Offender,
so as she can be brought to Justice,
the Informant shall have all fitting Encouragement.

* * * * *

No. 486. Wednesday, September 17, 1712. Steele.

'--Audire est operæ pretium procedere recte
Qui mechis non vultis--'

Hor.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'There are very many of my Acquaintance Followers of _Socrates_, with
more particular regard to that part of his Philosophy which we, among,
our selves, call his _Domesticks;_ under which Denomination, or Title,
we include all the Conjugal Joys and Sufferings. We have indeed, with
very great Pleasure, observed the Honour you do the whole Fraternity
of the Hen-peck'd, in placing that illustrious Man at our Head, and it
does in a very great measure baffle the Raillery of pert Rogues, who
have no advantage above us, but in that they are single. But when you
look about into the Crowd of Mankind, you will find the Fair Sex
reigns with greater Tyranny over Lovers than Husbands. You shall
hardly meet one in a thousand who is wholly exempt from their
Dominion, and those that are so, are capable of no Taste of Life, and
breathe and walk about the Earth as Insignificants. But I am going to
desire your further Favour in behalf of our harmless Brotherhood, and
hope you will shew in a true light the un-married Hen-peck'd, as well
as you have done Justice to us, who submit to the Conduct of our
Wives. I am very particularly acquainted with one who is under entire
Submission to a kind Girl, as he calls her; and tho' he knows I have
been Witness both to the ill Usage he has received from her, and his
Inability to resist her Tyranny, he still pretends to make a Jest of
me for a little more than ordinary Obsequiousness to my Spouse. No
longer than _Tuesday_ last he took me with him to visit his Mistress;
and he having, it seems, been a little in Disgrace before, thought by
bringing me with him she would constrain herself, and insensibly fall
into general Discourse with him; and so he might break the Ice, and
save himself all the ordinary Compunctions and Mortifications she used
to make him suffer before she would be reconciled after any Act of
Rebellion on his Part. When we came into the Room, we were received
with the utmost Coldness; and when he presented me as Mr. Such-a-one,
his very good Friend, she just had Patience to suffer my Salutation;
but when he himself, with a very gay Air, offered to follow me, she
gave him a thundering Box on the Ear, called him pitiful poor-spirited
Wretch, how durst he see her Face? His Wig and Hat fell on different
Parts of the Floor. She seized the Wig too soon for him to recover it,
and kicking it down Stairs, threw herself into an opposite Room,
pulling the Door after her with a Force, that you would have thought
the Hinges would have given Way. We went down, you must think, with no
very good Countenances; and as we sneaked off, and were driving home
together, he confessed to me, that her Anger was thus highly raised,
because he did not think fit to fight a Gentleman who had said she was
what she was; but, says he, a kind Letter or two, or fifty pieces,
will put her in Humour again. I asked him why he did not part with
her; he answered, he loved her with all the Tenderness imaginable, and
she had too many Charms to be abandoned for a little Quickness of
Spirit. Thus does this illegitimate Hen-pecked over-look the Hussy's
having no Regard to his very Life and Fame, in putting him upon an
infamous Dispute about her Reputation; yet has he the Confidence to
laugh at me, because I obey my poor Dear in keeping out of Harm's Way,
and not staying too late from my own Family, to pass through the
Hazards of a Town full of Ranters and Debauchees. You that are a
Philosopher should urge in our behalf, that when we bear with a
froward Woman, our Patience is preserved, in consideration that a
breach with her might be a Dishonour to Children who are descended
from us, and whose Concern makes us tolerate a thousand Frailties, for
fear they should redound Dishonour upon the Innocent. This and the
like Circumstances, which carry with them the most valuable Regards of
human Life, may be mentioned for our long Suffering; but in the case
of Gallants, they swallow ill Usage from one to whom they have no
Obligation, but from a base Passion, which it is mean to indulge, and
which it would be glorious to overcome.

'These Sort of Fellows are very numerous, and some have been
conspicuously such, without Shame; nay they have carried on the Jest
in the very Article of Death, and, to the Diminution of the Wealth and
Happiness of their Families, in bar of those honourably near to them,
have left immense Wealth to their Paramours. What is this but being a
Cully in the Grave! Sure this is being Hen-peck'd with a Vengeance!
But without dwelling upon these less frequent Instances of eminent
Cullyism, what is there so common as to hear a Fellow curse his Fate
that he cannot get rid of a Passion to a Jilt, and quote an Half-Line
out of a Miscellany Poem to prove his Weakness is natural? If they
will go on thus, I have nothing to say to it: But then let them not
pretend to be free all this while, and laugh at us poor married
Patients.

'I have known one Wench in this Town carry an haughty Dominion over
her Lovers so well, that she has at the same time been kept by a
Sea-Captain in the _Straits_, a Merchant in the City, a Country
Gentleman in _Hampshire_, and had all her Correspondences managed by
one she kept for her own Uses. This happy Man (as the Phrase is) used
to write very punctually every Post, Letters for the Mistress to
transcribe. He would sit in his Night-Gown and Slippers, and be as
grave giving an Account, only changing Names, that there was nothing
in those idle Reports they had heard of such a Scoundrel as one of the
other Lovers was; and how could he think she could condescend so low,
after such a fine Gentleman as each of them? For the same Epistle said
the same thing to and of every one of them. And so Mr. Secretary and
his Lady went to Bed with great Order.

'To be short, _Mr_. SPECTATOR, we Husbands shall never make the Figure
we ought in the Imaginations of young Men growing up in the World,
except you can bring it about that a Man of the Town shall be as
infamous a Character as a Woman of the Town. But of all that I have
met in my time, commend me to _Betty Duall_: She is the Wife of a
Sailor, and the kept Mistress of a Man of Quality; she dwells with the
latter during the Sea-faring of the former. The Husband asks no
Questions, sees his Apartments furnished with Riches not his, when he
comes into Port, and the Lover is as joyful as a Man arrived at his
Haven when the other puts to Sea. _Betty_ is the most eminently
victorious of any of her Sex, and ought to stand recorded the only
Woman of the Age in which she lives, who has possessed at the same
time two Abused, and two Contented...

T.

* * * * *

No. 487. Thursday, September 18, 1712. Addison.

'--Cum prostrata sopore
Urget membra quies, et mem sine pondere ludit--'

Petr.

Tho' there are many Authors, who have written on Dreams, they have generally considered them only as Revelations of what has already happened in distant parts of the World, or as Presages of what is to happen in future Periods of time.

I shall consider this Subject in another Light, as Dreams may give us some Idea of the great Excellency of an Human Soul, and some Intimation of its Independency on Matter. In the first Place, our Dreams are great Instances of that Activity which is natural to the human Soul, and which it is not in the power of Sleep to deaden or abate. When the Man appears tired and worn out with the Labours of the Day, this active part in his Composition is still busied and unwearied. When the Organs of Sense want their due Repose and necessary Reparations, and the Body is no longer able to keep pace with that spiritual Substance to which it is united, the Soul exerts her self in her several Faculties, and continues in Action till her Partner is again qualified to bear her Company. In this case Dreams look like the Relaxations and Amusements of the Soul, when she is disincumbred of her Machine, her Sports and Recreations, when she has laid her Charge asleep.

In the Second Place, Dreams are an Instance of that Agility and Perfection which is natural to the Faculties of the Mind, when they are disengaged from the Body. The Soul is clogged and retarded in her Operations, when she acts in Conjunction with a Companion that is so heavy and unwieldy in its Motions. But in Dreams it is wonderful to observe with what a Sprightliness and Alacrity she exerts her self. The slow of Speech make unpremeditated Harangues, or converse readily in Languages that they are but little acquainted with. The Grave abound in Pleasantries, the Dull in Repartees and Points of Wit. There is not a more painful Action of the Mind, than Invention; yet in Dreams it works with that Ease and Activity, that we are not sensible when the Faculty is employed. For instance, I believe every one, some time or other, dreams that he is reading Papers, Books, or Letters; in which case the Invention prompts so readily, that the Mind is imposed upon, and mistakes its own Suggestions for the Compositions of another.

I shall, under this Head, quote a Passage out of the _Religio Medici_, [1] in which the ingenious Author gives an account of himself in his dreaming and his waking Thoughts.

'We are somewhat more than our selves in our Sleeps, and the Slumber
of the Body seems to be but the Waking of the Soul. It is the
Litigation of Sense, but the Liberty of Reason; and our waking
Conceptions do not match the Fancies of our Sleeps. At my Nativity my
Ascendant was the watery Sign of_ Scorpius: I _was born in the
Planetary Hour of_ Saturn, _and I think I have a piece of that leaden
Planet in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the Mirth and
Galliardize of Company; yet in one Dream I can compose a whole Comedy,
behold the Action, apprehend the Jests, and laugh my self awake at the
Conceits thereof. Were my Memory as faithful as my Reason is then
fruitful, I would never study but in my Dreams; and this time also
would I chuse for my Devotions: but our grosser Memories have then so
little hold of our abstracted Understandings, that they forget the
Story, and can only relate to our awaked Souls a confused and broken
Tale of that that has passed--Thus it is observed that Men sometimes,
upon the Hour of their Departure, do speak and reason above
themselves; for then the Soul beginning to be freed from the Ligaments
of the Body, begins to reason like her self, and to discourse in a
strain above Mortality.'

We may likewise observe in the third Place, that the Passions affect the Mind with greater Strength when we are asleep, than when we are awake. Joy and Sorrow give us more vigorous Sensations of Pain or Pleasure at this time, than at any other. Devotion likewise, as the excellent Author above-mentioned has hinted, is in a very particular manner heightned and inflamed, when it rises in the Soul at a time that the Body is thus laid at Rest. Every Man's Experience will inform him in this matter, though it is very probable, that this may happen differently, in different Constitutions. I shall conclude this Head with the two following Problems, which I shall leave to the Solution of my Reader. Supposing a Man always happy in his Dreams, and miserable in his waking Thoughts, and that his Life was equally divided between them, whether would he be more happy or miserable? Were a Man a King in his Dreams, and a Beggar awake, and dreamt as consequentially, and in as continued unbroken Schemes as he thinks when awake, whether he would be in reality a King or Beggar, or rather whether he would not be both?

There is another Circumstance, which methinks gives us a very high Idea of the Nature of the Soul, in regard to what passes in Dreams, I mean that innumerable Multitude and Variety of Ideas which then arise in her. Were that active watchful Being only conscious of her own Existence at such a time, what a painful Solitude would her Hours of Sleep be? Were the Soul sensible of her being alone in her sleeping Moments, after the same manner that she is sensible of it while awake, the time would hang very heavy on her, as it often actually does when she Dreams that she is in such a Solitude?

'--Semperque relinqui
Sola sili, semper longam incomitata videtur
Ire viam--'

Virg.

But this Observation I only make by the way. What I would here remark, is that wonderful Power in the Soul, of producing her own Company on these Occasions. She converses with numberless Beings of her own Creation, and is transported into ten thousand Scenes of her own raising. She is herself the Theatre, the Actors, and the Beholder. This puts me in mind of a Saying which I am infinitely pleased with, and which _Plutarch_ ascribes to _Heraclitus, That all Men whilst they are awake are in one common World; but that each of them, when he is asleep, is in a World of his own_. [2] The waking Man is conversant in the World of Nature, when he sleeps he retires to a private World that is particular to himself. There seems something in this Consideration that intimates to us a natural Grandeur and Perfection in the Soul, which is rather to be admired than explained.

I must not omit that Argument for the Excellency of the Soul, which I have seen quoted out of _Tertullian_, [3] namely, its Power of divining in Dreams. That several such Divinations have been made, none can question, who believes the Holy Writings, or who has but the least degree of a common Historical Faith; there being innumerable Instances of this nature in several Authors, both Antient and Modern, Sacred and Profane. Whether such dark Presages, such Visions of the Night proceed from any latent Power in the Soul, during this her state of Abstraction, or from any Communication with the Supreme Being, or from any operation of Subordinate Spirits, has been a great Dispute among the Learned; the matter of Fact is, I think, incontestable, and has been looked upon as such by the greatest Writers, who have been never suspected either of Superstition or Enthusiasm.

I do not suppose, that the Soul in these Instances is entirely loose and unfettered from the Body: It is sufficient, if she is not so far sunk, and immersed in Matter, nor intangled and perplexed in her Operations, with such Motions of Blood and Spirits, as when she actuates the Machine in its waking Hours. The Corporeal Union is slackned enough to give the Mind more Play. The Soul seems gathered within herself, and recovers that Spring which is broke and weakned, when she operates more in concert with the Body.

The Speculations I have here made, if they are not Arguments, they are at least strong Intimations, not only of the Excellency of an Human Soul, but of its Independence on the Body; and if they do not prove, do at least confirm these two great Points, which are established by many other Reasons that are altogether unanswerable.

O.

[Footnote 1: Part ii. § 11.]

[Footnote 2: The reference is in the little book 'On Superstition,' where Plutarch quotes Heraclitus to add this comment of his own:

'But to the superstitious man there is no common world, for neither
does he use right reason when awake, nor is he freed, when sleeping,
from his perturbations.']

[Footnote 3: Tertullian, in his book 'On the Soul,' has seven chapters (43-49) on Sleep and Dreams, with abundant recognition of divine communications to the soul in sleep, and quotations of several authors, sacred and profane.]

* * * * *

No. 488. Friday, September 19, 1712. Addison.

'Quanti emptæ? parvi. Quanti ergo? octo assibus. Eheu!'

Hor.

I find, by several Letters which I receive daily, that many of my Readers would be better pleased to pay Three Half-Pence for my Paper, than Two-Pence. The ingenious _T. W._ tells me, that I have deprived him of the best Part of his Breakfast, for that since the rise of my Paper, he is forced every Morning to drink his Dish of Coffee by it self, without the Addition of the _Spectator_, that used to be better than Lace to it. _Eugenius_ informs me very obligingly, that he never thought he should have disliked any Passage in my Paper, but that of late there have been two Words in every one of them, which he could heartily wish left out, _viz. Price Two-Pence_. I have a Letter from a Soap-boiler, who condoles with me very affectionately, upon the necessity we both lie under of setting an higher Price on our Commodities, since the late Tax has been laid upon them, and desiring me, when I write next on that Subject, to speak a Word or two upon the present Duties on Castile-Soap. But there is none of these my Correspondents, who writes with a greater Turn of good Sense and Elegance of Expression, than the generous _Philomedes_, who advises me to value every _Spectator_ at Six Pence, and promises that he himself will engage for above a Hundred of his Acquaintance, who shall take it in at that Price.

Letters from the Female World are likewise come to me, in great quantities, upon the same Occasion; and as I naturally bear a great Deference to this Part of our Species, I am very glad to find that those who approve my Conduct in this Particular, are much more numerous than those who condemn it. A large Family of Daughters have drawn me up a very handsome Remonstrance, in which they set forth, that their Father having refused to take in the _Spectator_, since the additional Price was set upon it, they offered him unanimously to bate him the Article of Bread and Butter in the Tea-Table Account, provided the _Spectator_ might be served up to them every Morning as usual. Upon this the old Gentleman, being pleased, it seems, with their Desire of improving themselves, has granted them the continuance both of the _Spectator_ and their Bread and Butter; having given particular Orders, that the Tea-Table shall be set forth every Morning with its Customary Bill of Fare, and without any manner of Defalcation. I thought my self obliged to mention this Particular, as it does Honour to this worthy Gentleman; and if the young Lady _Lætitia_, who sent me this Account, will acquaint me with his Name, I will insert it at length in one of my Papers, if he desires it.

I should be very glad to find out any Expedient that might alleviate the Expence which this my Paper brings to any of my Readers; and, in order to it, must propose two Points to their Consideration. First, that if they retrench any the smallest Particular in their ordinary Expence, it will easily make up the Half Penny a Day, which we have now under Consideration. Let a Lady sacrifice but a single Ribband to her Morning Studies, and it will be sufficient: Let a Family burn but a Candle a Night less than the usual Number, and they may take in the _Spectator_ without Detriment to their private Affairs.

In the next Place, if my Readers will not go to the Price of buying my Papers by Retail, let them have Patience, and they may buy them in the Lump, without the Burthen of a Tax upon them. My Speculations, when they are sold single, like Cherries upon the Stick, are Delights for the Rich and Wealthy; after some time they come to Market in greater Quantities, and are every ordinary Man's Money. The Truth of it is, they have a certain Flavour at their first Appearance, from several accidental Circumstances of Time, Place and Person, which they may lose if they are not taken early; but in this case every Reader is to consider, whether it is not better for him to be half a Year behind-hand with the fashionable and polite part of the World, than to strain himself beyond his Circumstances. My Bookseller has now about Ten Thousand of the Third and Fourth Volumes, which he is ready to publish, having already disposed of as large an Edition both of the First and Second Volume. As he is a Person whose Head is very well turned to his Business, he thinks they would be a very proper Present to be made to Persons at Christenings, Marriages, Visiting-Days, and the like joyful Solemnities, as several other Books are frequently given at Funerals. He has printed them in such a little portable Volume, that many of them may be ranged together upon a single Plate; and is of Opinion, that a Salver of _Spectators_ would be as acceptable an Entertainment to the Ladies, as a Salver of Sweetmeats.

I shall conclude this Paper with an Epigram lately sent to the Writer of the _Spectator_, after having returned my Thanks to the ingenious Author of it.

_SIR,_

'Having heard the following Epigram very much commended, I wonder that
it has not yet had a place in any of your Papers: I think the Suffrage
of our Poet Laureat should not be overlooked, which shews the Opinion
he entertains of your Paper, whether the Notion he proceeds upon be
true or false. I make bold to convey it to you, not knowing if it has
yet come to your Hands.

_On the_ SPECTATOR.

By Mr. _TATE_. [1]

--Aliusque et idem
Nasceris--

Hor.

'When first the_ Tatler _to a Mute was turn'd_,
Great Britain _for her Censor's Silence mourn'd.
Robb'd of his sprightly Beams, she wept the Night,
'Till the _Spectator_ rose, and blaz'd as bright.
So the first Man the Sun's first Setting view'd,
And sigh'd, till circling Day his Joys renew'd;
Yet doubtful how that second Sun to name,
Whether a bright Successor, or the same.
So we: but now from this Suspense are freed,
Since all agree, who both with Judgment read,
'Tis the same Sun, and does himself succeed.'

O.

[Footnote 1: Nahum Tate, born and educated at Dublin, and befriended in his youth by Dryden and Dorset, was at this time 60 years old, and poet-laureate, having in 1692 succeeded in that office Thomas Shadwell, the Whig substitute for Dryden. Besides his version of the Psalms produced in concert with his friend Dr. Nicholas Brady, Tate produced his own notion of an improvement upon Shakespeare's King Lear and nine dramatic pieces, with other poetry, of which the above lines are a specimen. Tate was in his younger days the writer of the second part of Dryden's 'Absalom and Achithophel,' to which Dryden himself contributed only the characters of Julian Johnson as Ben Jochanan, of Shadwell as Og, and of Settle as Doeg. His salary as poet-laureate was £100 a year, and a butt of canary. He died three years after the date of this _Spectator_ a poor man who had made his home in the Mint to escape his creditors.]

* * * * *

No. 489. Saturday, September 20, 1712. Addison.

[Greek: Bathyrrheítao méga sthénos 'Ôkeaneio]--Hom.

SIR,

Upon reading your _Essay_ concerning the Pleasures of the Imagination,
I find, among the three Sources of those Pleasures which you have
discovered, [that] _Greatness_ is one. This has suggested to me the
reason why, of all Objects that I have ever seen, there is none which
affects my Imagination so much as the Sea or Ocean. I cannot see the
Heavings of this prodigious Bulk of Waters, even in a Calm, without a
very pleasing Astonishment; but when it is worked up in a Tempest, so
that the Horizon on every side is nothing but foaming Billows and
floating Mountains, it is impossible to describe the agreeable Horrour
that rises from such a Prospect. A troubled Ocean, to a Man who sails
upon it, is, I think, the biggest Object that he can see in motion,
and consequently gives his Imagination one of the highest kinds of
Pleasure that can arise from Greatness. I must confess, it is
impossible for me to survey this World of fluid Matter, without
thinking on the Hand that first poured it out, and made a proper
Channel for its Reception. Such an Object naturally raises in my
Thoughts the Idea of an Almighty Being, and convinces me of his
Existence as much as a metaphysical Demonstration. The Imagination
prompts the Understanding, and by the Greatness of the sensible
Object, produces in it the Idea of a Being who is neither
circumscribed by Time nor Space.

As I have made several Voyages upon the Sea, I have often been tossed
in Storms, and on that occasion have frequently reflected on the
Descriptions of them in ancient Poets. I remember _Longinus_ highly
recommends one in _Homer_, because the Poet has not amused himself
with little Fancies upon the occasion, as Authors of an inferiour
Genius, whom he mentions, had done, but because he has gathered
together those Circumstances which are the most apt to terrify the
Imagination, and which really happen in the raging of a Tempest. [1]
It is for the same reason, that I prefer the following Description of
a Ship in a Storm, which the Psalmist has made, before any other I
have ever met with.

'They that go down to the Sea in Ships, that do Business in great
Waters: These see the Works of the Lord, and his Wonders in the
Deep. For he commandeth and raiseth the stormy Wind, which lifteth
up the Waters thereof. They mount up to the Heaven, they go down
again to the Depths, their Soul is melted because of Trouble. They
reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken Man, and are at their
Wits End. Then they cry unto the Lord in their Trouble, and he
bringeth them out of their Distresses. He maketh the Storm a Calm,
so that the Waves thereof are still. Then they are glad because they
be quiet, so he bringeth them unto their desired Haven.' [2]

By the way, how much more comfortable, as well as rational, is this
System of the Psalmist, than the Pagan Scheme in _Virgil_, and other
Poets, where one Deity is represented as raising a Storm, and another
as laying it? Were we only to consider the Sublime in this Piece of
Poetry, what can be nobler than the Idea it gives us of the Supreme
Being thus raising the Tumult among the Elements, and recovering them
out of their Confusion; thus troubling and becalming Nature?

Great Painters do not only give us Landskips of Gardens, Groves, and
Meadows, but very often employ their Pencils upon Sea-Pieces: I could
wish you would follow their Example. If this small Sketch may deserve
a Place among your Works, I shall accompany it with a divine Ode, made
by a Gentleman [3] upon the Conclusion of his Travels.

I. How are thy Servants blest, O Lord!
How sure is their Defence!
Eternal Wisdom is their Guide,
Their Help Omnipotence.

II. In foreign Realms, and Lands remote,
Supported by thy Care,
Thro' burning Climes I pass'd unhurt,
And breath'd in tainted Air.

III. Thy Mercy sweeten'd ev'ry Soil,
Made ev'ry Region please;
The hoary Alpine Hills it warm'd,
And smooth'd the Tyrrhene Seas:

IV. Think, O my Soul, devoutly think,
How with affrighted Eyes
Thou saw'st the wide extended Deep
In all its Horrors rise!

V. Confusion dwelt in ev'ry Face,
And Fear in ev'ry Heart;
When Waves on Waves, and Gulphs in Gulphs,
O'ercame the Pilot's Art.

VI. Yet then from all my Griefs, O Lord,
Thy Mercy set me free,
Whilst in the Confidence of Pray'r
My Soul took hold on thee;

VII. For tho' in dreadful Whirles we hung
High on the broken Wave,
I knew thou wert not slow to Hear,
Nor impotent to Save.

VIII. The Storm was laid, the Winds retir'd,
Obedient to thy Will;
The Sea that roar'd at thy Command,
At thy Command was still.

IX. In midst of Dangers, Fears and Death,
Thy Goodness I'll adore,
And praise Thee for Thy Mercies past;
And humbly hope for more.

X. My Life, if thou preserv'st my Life,
Thy Sacrifice shall be;
And Death, if Death must be my Doom,
Shall join my Soul to thee.

O. [4]

[Footnote 1: On the Sublime, § 10, where he compares a description of the terrors of the sea in a lost poem on the Arimaspians, by Aristaeus the Procomnesian, with the passage in the 15th Book of the Iliad, which Pope thus translates:

'He bursts upon them all:
Bursts as a wave that from the cloud impends,
And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends;
White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud
Howl o'er the masts, and sing through every shroud:
Pale, trembling, tir'd, the sailors freeze with fears,
And instant death on every wave appears.']

[Footnote 2: Psalm cvii. 23-30.]

[Footnote 3: Addison.]

[Footnote 4: Appended to this number is the following

ADVERTISEMENT.

The Author of the_ SPECTATOR _having received the Pastoral Hymn in his
441st Paper, set to Musick by one of the most Eminent Composers of our
own Country and by a Foreigner, who has not put his name to his
ingenious Letter, thinks himself obliged to return his thanks to those
Gentlemen for the Honour they have done him.]

* * * * *

No. 490. Monday, September 22, 1712. Steele.

'Domus et placens Uxor.'

Hor.

I have very long entertain'd an Ambition to make the Word _Wife_ the most agreeable and delightful Name in Nature. If it be not so in it self, all the wiser Part of Mankind from the Beginning of the World to this Day has consented in an Error: But our Unhappiness in _England_ has been, that a few loose Men of Genius for Pleasure, have turn'd it all to the Gratification of ungovern'd Desires, in spite of good Sense, Form and Order; when, in truth, any Satisfaction beyond the Boundaries of Reason, is but a Step towards Madness and Folly. But is the Sense of Joy and Accomplishment of Desire no way to be indulged or attain'd? and have we Appetites given us not to be at all gratify'd? Yes certainly. Marriage is an Institution calculated for a constant Scene of as much Delight as our Being is capable of. Two Persons who have chosen each other out of all the Species, with design to be each other's mutual Comfort and Entertainment, have in that Action bound themselves to be good-humour'd, affable, discreet, forgiving, patient and joyful, with respect to each other's Frailties and Perfections, to the End of their Lives. The wiser of the two (and it always happens one of them is such) will for her or his own sake, keep things from Outrage with the utmost Sanctity. When this Union is thus preserved (as I have often said) the most indifferent Circumstance administers Delight. Their Condition is an endless Source of new Gratifications. The married Man can say, If I am unacceptable to all the World beside, there is one whom I entirely love, that will receive me with Joy and Transport, and think herself obliged to double her Kindness and Caresses of me from the Gloom with which she sees me overcast. I need not dissemble the Sorrow of my Heart to be agreeable there, that very Sorrow quickens her Affection.

This Passion towards each other, when once well fixed, enters into the very Constitution, and the Kindness flows as easily and silently as the Blood in the Veins. When this Affection is enjoy'd in the most sublime Degree, unskilful Eyes see nothing of it; but when it is subject to be chang'd, and has an Allay in it that may make it end in Distaste, it is apt to break into Rage, or overflow into Fondness, before the rest of the World.

_Uxander_ and _Viramira_ are amorous and young, and have been married these two Years; yet do they so much distinguish each other in Company, that in your Conversation with the Dear Things you are still put to a Sort of Cross-Purposes. Whenever you address your self in ordinary Discourse to _Viramira_, she turns her Head another way, and the Answer is made to the dear _Uxander_: If you tell a merry Tale, the Application is still directed to her Dear; and when she should commend you, she says to him, as if he had spoke it, That is, my Dear, so pretty--This puts me in mind of what I have somewhere read in the admired Memoirs of the famous _Cervantes_, where, while honest _Sancho Pança_ is putting some necessary humble Question concerning _Rozinante_, his Supper, or his Lodgings, the Knight of the Sorrowful Countenance is ever improving the harmless lowly Hints of his Squire to the poetical Conceit, Rapture and Flight, in Contemplation of the dear _Dulcinea_ of his Affections.

On the other side, _Dictamnus_ and _Moria_ are ever squabbling, and you may observe them all the time they are in Company in a State of Impatience. As _Uxander_ and _Viramira_ wish you all gone, that they may be at freedom for Dalliance; _Dictamnus_ and _Moria_ wait your Absence, that they may speak their harsh Interpretations on each other's Words and Actions during the time you were with them.

It is certain that the greater Part of the Evils attending this Condition of Life, arises from Fashion. Prejudice in this Case is turn'd the wrong way, and instead of expecting more Happiness than we shall meet with in it, we are laugh'd into a Prepossession, that we shall be disappointed if we hope for lasting Satisfactions.

With all Persons who have made good Sense the Rule of Action, Marriage is describ'd as the State capable of the highest human Felicity. _Tully_ has Epistles full of affectionate Pleasure, when he writes to his Wife, or speaks of his Children. But above all the Hints of this kind I have met with in Writers of ancient date, I am pleas'd with an Epigram of _Martial_ [1] in honour of the Beauty of his Wife _Cleopatra_. Commentators say it was written the day after his Wedding-Night. When his Spouse was retir'd to the Bathing-room in the Heat of the Day, he, it seems, came in upon her when she was just going into the Water. To her Beauty and Carriage on this occasion we owe the following Epigram, which I shew'd my Friend WILL. HONEYCOMB in _French_, who has translated it as follows, without understanding the Original. I expect it will please the _English_ better than the _Latin_ Reader.

'When my bright Consort, now nor Wife nor Maid,
Asham'd and wanton, of Embrace afraid,
Fled to the Streams, the Streams my Fair betray'd;
To my fond Eyes she all transparent stood,
She blush'd, I smil'd at the slight covering Flood.
Thus thro' the Glass the Lovely Lilly glows,
Thus thro' the ambient Gem shines forth the Rose.
I saw new Charms, and plung'd to seize my Store,
Kisses I snatch'd, the Waves prevented more.'

My Friend would not allow that this luscious Account could be given of a Wife, and therefore used the Word _Consort_; which, he learnedly said, would serve for a Mistress as well, and give a more Gentlemanly Turn to the Epigram. But, under favour of him and all other such fine Gentlemen, I cannot be persuaded but that the Passion a Bridegroom has for a virtuous young Woman, will, by little and little, grow into Friendship, and then it is ascended to [a [2]] higher Pleasure than it was in its first Fervour. Without this happens, he is a very unfortunate Man who has enter'd into this State, and left the Habitudes of Life he might have enjoy'd with a faithful Friend. But when the Wife proves capable of filling serious as well as joyous Hours, she brings Happiness unknown to Friendship itself. _Spencer_ speaks of each kind of Love with great Justice, and attributes the highest Praise to Friendship; and indeed there is no disputing that Point, but by making that Friendship take [Place [3]] between two married Persons.

'Hard is the Doubt, and difficult to deem,
When all three kinds of Love together meet,
And to dispart the Heart with Power extreme,
Whether shall weigh the Ballance down; to wit,
The dear Affection unto Kindred sweet,
Or raging Fire of Love to Womenkind,
Or Zeal of Friends combin'd by Virtues meet.
But, of them all, the Band of virtuous Mind
Methinks the gentle Heart should most assured bind.

For natural Affection soon doth cease,
And quenched is with_ Cupid's _greater Flame;
But faithful Friendship doth them both suppress,
And them with mastering Discipline does tame,
Through Thoughts aspiring to eternal Fame.
For as the Soul doth rule the Earthly Mass,
And all the Service of the Body frame;
So Love of Soul doth Love of Body pass,
No less than perfect Gold surmounts the meanest Brass.'

T.

[Footnote 1: Lib. iv. ep. 22.]

[Footnote 2: an]

[Footnote 3: its Place]

* * * * *

No. 491. Tuesday, September 23, 1712. Steele.

'Digna satis fortuna revisit.'

Virg.

It is common with me to run from Book to Book to exercise my Mind with many Objects, and qualify my self for my daily Labours. After an Hour spent in this loitering Way of Reading, something will remain to be Food to the Imagination. The Writings that please me most on such Occasions are Stories, for the Truth of which there is good Authority. The Mind of Man is naturally a Lover of Justice, and when we read a Story wherein a Criminal is overtaken, in whom there is no Quality which is the Object of Pity, the Soul enjoys a certain Revenge for the Offence done to its Nature, in the wicked Actions committed in the preceding Part of the History. This will be better understood by the Reader from the following Narration [1] it self, than from any thing which I can say to introduce it.