Chapter XCIX: Letter I: found that Will was fallen off from his former Gayety, having (8)

First of all, A Man should always consider how much he has more than he wants. I am wonderfully pleased with the Reply which _Aristippus_ made to one who condoled him upon the Loss of a Farm, _Why_, said he, _I have three Farms still, and you have but one; so that I ought rather to be afflicted for you, than you for me_. On the contrary, foolish Men are more apt to consider what they have lost than what they possess; and to fix their Eyes upon those who are richer than themselves, rather than on those who are under greater Difficulties. All the real Pleasures and Conveniences of Life lie in a narrow Compass; but it is the Humour of Mankind to be always looking forward, and straining after one who has got the Start of them in Wealth and Honour. For this Reason, as there are none can be properly called rich, who have not more than they want; there are few rich Men in any of the politer Nations but among the middle Sort of People, who keep their Wishes within their Fortunes, and have more Wealth than they know how to enjoy. Persons of a higher Rank live in a kind of splendid Poverty, and are perpetually wanting, because instead of acquiescing in the solid Pleasures of Life, they endeavour to outvy one another in Shadows and Appearances. Men of Sense have at all times beheld with a great deal of Mirth this silly Game that is playing over their Heads, and by contracting their Desires, enjoy all that secret Satisfaction which others are always in quest of. The Truth is, this ridiculous Chace after imaginary Pleasures cannot be sufficiently exposed, as it is the great Source of those Evils which generally undo a Nation. Let a Man's Estate be what it will, he is a poor Man if he does not live within it, and naturally sets himself to Sale to any one that can give him his Price. When _Pittacus_, after the Death of his Brother, who had left him a good Estate, was offered a great Sum of Money by the King of _Lydia_, he thanked him for his Kindness, but told him he had already more by Half than he knew what to do with. In short, Content is equivalent to Wealth, and Luxury to Poverty; or, to give the Thought a more agreeable Turn, _Content is natural Wealth_, says _Socrates_; to which I shall add, _Luxury is artificial Poverty_. I shall therefore recommend to the Consideration of those who are always aiming after superfluous and imaginary Enjoyments, and will not be at the Trouble of contracting their Desires, an excellent Saying of _Bion_ the Philosopher; namely, _That no Man has so much Care, as he who endeavours after the most Happiness_.

In the second Place, every one ought to reflect how much more unhappy he might be than he really is. The former Consideration took in all those who are sufficiently provided with the Means to make themselves easie; this regards such as actually lie under some Pressure or Misfortune. These may receive great Alleviation from such a Comparison as the unhappy Person may make between himself and others, or between the Misfortune which he suffers, and greater Misfortunes which might have befallen him.

I like the Story of the honest _Dutchman_, who, upon breaking his _Leg_ by a Fall from the Mainmast, told the Standers-by, It was a great Mercy that 'twas not his _Neck_. To which, since I am got into Quotations, give me leave to add the Saying of an old Philosopher, who, after having invited some of his Friends to dine with him, was ruffled by his Wife that came into the Room in a Passion, and threw down the Table that stood before them; _Every one_, says he, _has his Calamity, and he is a happy Man that has no greater than this_. We find an Instance to the same Purpose in the Life of Doctor _Hammond_, written by Bishop _Fell_. As this good Man was troubled with a Complication of Distempers, when he had the Gout upon him, he used to thank God that it was not the Stone; and when he had the Stone, that he had not both these Distempers on him at the same time.

I cannot conclude this Essay without observing that there was never any System besides that of Christianity, which could effectually produce in the Mind of Man the Virtue I have been hitherto speaking of. In order to make us content with our present Condition, many of the ancient Philosophers tell us that our Discontent only hurts our selves, without being able to make any Alteration in our Circumstances; others, that whatever Evil befalls us is derived to us by a fatal Necessity, to which the Gods themselves are subject; whilst others very gravely tell the Man who is miserable, that it is necessary he should be so to keep up the Harmony of the Universe, and that the _Scheme_ of Providence would be troubled and perverted were he otherwise. These, and the like Considerations, rather silence than satisfy a Man. They may shew him that his Discontent is unreasonable, but are by no means sufficient to relieve it. They rather give Despair than Consolation. In a Word, a Man might reply to one of these Comforters, as _Augustus_ did to his Friend who advised him not to grieve for the Death of a Person whom he loved, because his Grief could not fetch him again: _It is for that very Reason_, said the Emperor, _that I grieve_.

On the contrary, Religion bears a more tender Regard to humane Nature. It prescribes to every miserable Man the Means of bettering his Condition; nay, it shews him, that the bearing of his Afflictions as he ought to do will naturally end in the Removal of them: It makes him easie here, because it can make him happy hereafter.

Upon the whole, a contented Mind is the greatest Blessing a Man can enjoy in this World; and if in the present Life his Happiness arises from the subduing of his Desires, it will arise in the next from the Gratification of them.

* * * * *

No. 575. Monday, August 2, 1714. Addison.

'--Nec merti esse locum--'

Virg.

A lewd young Fellow seeing an aged Hermit go by him barefoot, _Father_, says he, _you are in a very miserable Condition if there is not another World. True, Son_, said the Hermit; _but what is thy Condition if there is_? Man is a Creature designed for two different States of Being, or rather, for two different Lives. His first Life is short and transient; his second permanent and lasting. The Question we are all concerned in is this, In which of these two Lives it is our chief Interest to make our selves happy? Or, in other Words, Whether we should endeavour to secure to our selves the Pleasures and Gratifications of a Life which is uncertain and precarious, and at its utmost Length of a very inconsiderable Duration; or to secure to our selves the Pleasures of a Life which is fixed and settled, and will never end? Every Man, upon the first hearing of this Question, knows very well which Side of it he ought to close with. But however right we are in Theory, it is plain that in Practice we adhere to the wrong Side of the Question. We make Provisions for this Life as tho' it were never to have an End, and for the other Life as tho' it were never to have a Beginning.

Should a Spirit of superior Rank who is a Stranger to human Nature, accidentally alight upon the Earth, and take a Survey of its Inhabitants; what would his Notions of us be? Would not he think that we are a Species of Beings made for quite different Ends and Purposes than what we really are? Must not he imagine that we were placed in this World to get Riches and Honours? Would not he think that it was our Duty to toil after Wealth, and Station, and Title? Nay, would not he believe we were forbidden Poverty by Threats of eternal Punishment, and enjoined to pursue our Pleasures under Pain of Damnation? He would certainly imagine that we were influenced by a Scheme of Duties quite opposite to those which are indeed prescribed to us. And truly, according to such an Imagination, he must conclude that we are a Species of the most obedient Creatures in the Universe; that we are constant to our Duty; and that we keep a steddy Eye on the End for which we were sent hither.

But how great would be his Astonishment, when he learnt that we were Beings not designed to exist in this World above threescore and ten Years? and that the greatest Part of this busy Species fall short even of that Age? How would he be lost in Horrour and Admiration, when he should know that this Sett of Creatures, who lay out all their Endeavours for this Life, which scarce deserves the Name of Existence, when, I say, he should know that this Sett of Creatures are to exist to all Eternity in another Life, for which they make no Preparations? Nothing can be a greater Disgrace to Reason, than that Men, who are perswaded of these two different States of Being, should be perpetually employed in providing for a Life of three-score and ten Years, and neglecting to make Provision for that, which after many Myriads of Years will be still new, and still beginning; especially when we consider that our endeavours for making ourselves great, or rich, or honourable, or whatever else we place our Happiness in, may after all prove unsuccessful; whereas if we constantly and sincerely endeavour to make our selves happy in the other Life, we are sure that our Endeavours will succeed, and that we shall not be disappointed of our Hope.

The following Question is started by one of the Schoolmen. Supposing the whole Body of the Earth were a great Ball or Mass of the finest Sand, and that a single Grain or Particle of this Sand should be annihilated every thousand Years. Supposing then that you had it in your Choice to be happy all the while this prodigious Mass of Sand was consuming by this slow Method till there was not a Grain of it left, on Condition you were to be miserable for ever after; or, supposing that you might be happy for ever after, on Condition you would be miserable till the whole Mass of Sand were thus annihilated at the Rate of one Sand in a thousand Years: Which of these two Cases would you make your Choice?

It must be confessed in this Case, so many Thousands of Years are to the Imagination as a kind of eternity, tho' in reality they do not bear so great a Proportion to that Duration which is to follow them, as a Unite does to the greatest Number which you can put together in Figures, or as one of those Sands to the supposed Heap. Reason therefore tells us, without any Manner of Hesitation, which would be the better Part in this Choice. However, as I have before intimated, our Reason might in such a Case be so overset by the Imagination, as to dispose some Persons to sink under the Consideration of the great Length of the first Part of this Duration, and of the great Distance of that second Duration which is to succeed it. The Mind, I say, might give it self up to that Happiness which is at Hand, considering that it is so very near, and that it would last so very long. But when the Choice we actually have before us is this, Whether we will chuse to be happy for the space of only three-score and ten, nay perhaps of only twenty or ten Years, I might say of only a Day or an Hour, and miserable to all Eternity; or, on the contrary, miserable for this short Term of Years, and happy for a whole Eternity: What Words are sufficient to express that Folly and want of Consideration which in such a Case makes a wrong Choice?

I here put the Case even at the worst, by supposing (what seldom happens) that a Course of Virtue makes us miserable in this Life: But if we suppose (as it generally happens) that Virtue would make us more happy even in this Life than a contrary Course of Vice; how can we sufficiently admire the Stupidity or Madness of those Persons who are capable of making so absurd a Choice?

Every wise Man therefore will consider this Life only as it may conduce to the Happiness of the other, and chearfully sacrifice the Pleasures of a few Years to those of an Eternity.

* * * * *

No. 576. Wednesday, August 4, 1714. Addison.

'Nitor in adversum; nec me, qui coetera, vincit
Impetus; et rapido contrarius euchor Orbi.'

Ovid.

I remember a young Man of very lively Parts, and of a sprightly Turn in Conversation, who had only one Fault, which was an inordinate Desire of appearing fashionable. This ran him into many Amours, and consequently into many Distempers. He never went to Bed till two a-Clock in the Morning, because he would not be a queer Fellow; and was every now and then knocked down by a Constable, to signalize his Vivacity. He was initiated into Half a Dozen Clubs before he was One and twenty, and so improved in them his natural Gayety of Temper, that you might frequently trace him to his Lodgings by a range of broken Windows, and other the like Monuments of Wit and Gallantry. To be short, after having fully established his Reputation of being a very agreeable Rake, he died of old Age at Five and twenty.

There is indeed nothing which betrays a Man into so many Errors and Inconveniences, as the Desire of not appearing singular; for which Reason it is very necessary to form a right Idea of Singularity, that we may know when it is laudable, and when it is vicious. In the first Place, every Man of Sense will agree with me, that Singularity is laudable, when, in Contradiction to a Multitude, it adheres to the Dictates of Conscience, Morality, and Honour. In these Cases we ought to consider, that it is not Custom, but Duty, which is the Rule of Action; and that we should be only so far _sociable_, as we are reasonable Creatures. Truth is never the less so, for not being attended to; and it is the Nature of Actions, not the Number of Actors, by which we ought to regulate our Behaviour. Singularity in Concerns of this Kind is to be looked upon as heroick Bravery, in which a Man leaves the Species only as he soars above it. What greater Instance can there be of a weak and pusillanimous Temper, than for a Man to pass his whole Life in Opposition to his own Sentiments? or not to dare to be what he thinks he ought to be?

Singularity therefore is only vicious when it makes Men act contrary to Reason, or when it puts them upon distinguishing themselves by Trifles. As for the first of these, who are singular in any thing that is irreligious, immoral, or dishonourable, I believe every one will easily give them up. I shall therefore speak of those only who are remarkable for their Singularity in things of no Importance, as in Dress, Behaviour, Conversation, and all the little Intercourses of Life. In these Cases there is a certain Deference due to Custom; and notwithstanding there may be a Colour of Reason to deviate from the Multitude in some Particulars, a Man ought to sacrifice his private Inclinations and Opinions to the Practice of the Publick. It must be confessed that good Sense often makes a Humourist; but then it unqualifies him for being of any Moment in the World, and renders him ridiculous to Persons of a much inferiour Understanding.

I have heard of a Gentleman in the North of _England_, who was a remarkable Instance of this foolish Singularity. He had laid it down as a Rule within himself, to act in the most indifferent Parts of Life according to the most abstracted Notions of Reason and Good Sense, without any Regard to Fashion or Example. This Humour broke out at first in many little Oddnesses: He had never any stated Hours for his Dinner, Supper or Sleep; because, said he, we ought to attend the Calls of Nature, and not set our Appetites to our Meals, but bring our Meals to our Appetites. In his Conversation with Country Gentlemen, he would not make use of a Phrase that was not strictly true: He never told any of them, that he was his humble Servant, but that he was his Well-wisher; and would rather be thought a Malecontent, than drink the King's Health when he was not a-dry. He would thrust his Head out of his Chamber-Window every Morning, and after having gaped for fresh Air about half an Hour, repeat fifty Verses as loud as he could bawl them for the Benefit of his Lungs; to which End he generally took them out of _Homer_; the _Greek_ Tongue, especially in that Author, being more deep and sonorous, and more conducive to Expectoration, than any other. He had many other Particularities, for which he gave sound and philosophical Reasons. As this Humour still grew upon him, he chose to wear a Turban instead of a Perriwig; concluding very justly, that a Bandage of clean Linnen about his Head was much more wholsome, as well as cleanly, than the Caul of a Wig, which is soiled with frequent Perspirations. He afterwards judiciously observed, that the many Ligatures in our _English_ Dress must naturally check the Circulation of the Blood; for which Reason, he made his Breeches and his Doublet of one continued Piece of Cloth, after the Manner of the _Hussars_. In short, by following the pure Dictates of Reason, he at length departed so much from the rest of his Countrymen, and indeed from his whole Species, that his Friends would have clapped him into _Bedlam_, and have begged his Estate; but the Judge being informed that he did no Harm, contented himself with issuing out a Commission of Lunacy against him, and putting his Estate into the Hands of proper Guardians.

The Fate of this Philosopher puts me in Mind of a Remark in Monsieur _Fontinell's_ Dialogues of the Dead. _The Ambitious and the Covetous_ (says he) _are Madmen to all Intents and Purposes, as much as those who are shut up in dark Rooms; but they have the good Luck to have Numbers on their Side; whereas the Frenzy of one who is given up for a Lunatick, is a Frenzy_ hors d'oeuvre; that is, in other Words, something which is singular in its Kind, and does not fall in with the Madness of a Multitude.

The Subject of this Essay was occasioned by a Letter which I received not long since, and which, for want of Room at present, I shall insert in my next Paper.

* * * * *

No. 577. Friday, August 6, 1714.

'--Hoc tolerabile, si non
Et furere incipias--'

Juv.

The Letter mentioned in my last Paper is as follows.

_SIR_,

'You have so lately decryed that Custom, too much in use among most
People, of making themselves the Subjects of their Writings and
Conversation, that I had some difficulty to perswade my self to give
you this Trouble, till I had considered that tho' I should speak in
the First Person, yet I could not be justly charged with Vanity, since
I shall not add my Name; as also, because what I shall write will not,
to say the best, redound to my Praise; but is only designed to remove
a Prejudice conceived against me, as I hope, with very little
Foundation. My short History is this.

I have lived for some Years last past altogether in _London_, till
about a Month ago an Acquaintance of mine, for whom I have done some
small Services in Town, invited me to pass part of the Summer with him
at his House in the Country. I accepted his Invitation, and found a
very hearty Welcome. My Friend, an honest plain Man, not being
qualified to pass away his Time without the Reliefs of Business, has
grafted the Farmer upon the Gentleman, and brought himself to submit
even to the servile Parts of that Employment, such as inspecting his
Plough, and the like. This necessarily takes up some of his Hours
every Day; and as I have no Relish for such Diversions, I used at
these Times to retire either to my Chamber, or a shady Walk near the
House, and entertain my self with some agreeable Author. Now you must
know, Mr. SPECTATOR, that when I read, especially if it be Poetry, it
is very usual with me, when I meet with any Passage or Expression
which strikes me much, to pronounce it aloud, with that Tone of the
Voice which I think agreeable to the Sentiments there expressed; and
to this I generally add some Motion or Action of the Body. It was not
long before I was observed by some of the Family in one of these
heroick Fits, who thereupon received Impressions very much to my
Disadvantage. This however I did not soon discover, nor should have
done probably, had it not been for the following Accident. I had one
Day shut my self up in my Chamber, and was very deeply engaged in the
Second Book of _Milton's Paradise Lost._ I walked to and fro with the
Book in my Hand, and, to speak the Truth, I fear I made no little
Noise; when presently coming to the following Lines,

'--On a sudden open fly,
With impetuous Recoil and jarring Sound,
Th' infernal Doors, and on their Hinges grate
Harsh Thunder, &c.'

'I in great Transport threw open the Door of my Chamber, and found the
greatest Part of the Family standing on the Out-side in a very great
Consternation. I was in no less Confusion, and begged Pardon for
having disturbed them; addressing my self particularly to comfort one
of the Children, who received an unlucky fall in this Action, whilst
he was too intently surveying my Meditations through the Key-hole. To
be short, after this Adventure I easily observed that great Part of
the Family, especially the Women and Children, looked upon me with
some Apprehensions of Fear; and my Friend himself, tho' he still
continued his Civilities to me, did not seem altogether easie: I took
Notice, that the Butler was never after this Accident ordered to leave
the Bottle upon the Table after Dinner. Add to this, that I frequently
overheard the Servants mention me by the Name of the crazed Gentleman,
the Gentleman a little touched, the mad _Londoner,_ and the like. This
made me think it high Time for me to shift my Quarters, which I
resolved to do the first handsome Opportunity; and was confirmed in
this Resolution by a young Lady in the Neighbourhood who frequently
visited us, and who one Day, after having heard all the fine Things I
was able to say, was pleased with a scornful Smile to bid me go to
sleep.

'The first Minute I got to my Lodgings in Town I set Pen to Paper to
desire your Opinion, whether, upon the Evidence before you, I am mad
or not. I can bring Certificates that I behave my self soberly before
Company, and I hope there is at least some Merit in withdrawing to be
mad. Look you, Sir, I am contented to be esteemed a little touched, as
they phrase it, but should be sorry to be madder than my Neighbours;
therefore, pray let me be as much in my Senses as you can afford. I
know I could bring your self as an Instance of a Man who has confessed
talking to himself; but yours is a particular Case, and cannot justify
me, who have not kept Silence any Part of my Life. What if I should
own my self in Love? You know Lovers are always allowed the Comfort of
Soliloquy.--But I will say no more upon this Subject, because I have
long since observed, the ready Way to be thought Mad is to contend
that you are not so; as we generally conclude that Man drunk, who
takes Pains to be thought sober. I will therefore leave my self to
your Determination; but am the more desirous to be thought in my
Senses, that it may be no Discredit to you when I assure you that I
have always been very much

_Your Admirer._

P.S. _If I must be mad, I desire the young Lady may believe it is for
her.

The humble Petition of_ John a Nokes _and_ John a Stiles, _Sheweth,_

'That your Petitioners have had Causes depending in _Westminster-Hall_
above five hundred Years, and that we despair of ever seeing them
brought to an Issue: That your Petitioners have not been involved in
these Law Suits, out of any litigious Temper of their own, but by the
Instigation of contentious Persons; that the young Lawyers in our Inns
of Court are continually setting us together by the Ears, and think
they do us no Hurt, because they plead for us without a Fee; That many
of the Gentlemen of the Robe have no other Clients in the World
besides us two; That when they have nothing else to do, they make us
Plaintiffs and Defendants, tho' they were never retained by either of
us; That they traduce, condemn, or acquit us, without any manner of
Regard to our Reputations and good Names in the World. Your
Petitioners therefore (being thereunto encouraged by the favourable
Reception which you lately gave to our Kinsman _Blank_) do humbly
pray, that you will put an End to the Controversies which have been so
long depending between us your said Petitioners, and that our Enmity
may not endure from Generation to Generation; it being our Resolution
to live hereafter as it becometh Men of peaceable Dispositions.

_And your Petitioners (as in Duty bound) shall ever Pray, &c._

* * * * *

No. 578. Monday, August 9, 1714.

'--Eque feris humana in corpora transit,
Inque feras Noster--'

Ovid.

There has been very great Reason, on several Accounts, for the learned World to endeavour at settling what it was that might be said to compose _personal Identity_.

Mr. _Lock_, after having premised that the Word _Person_ properly signifies a thinking intelligent Being that has Reason and Reflection, and can consider it self as it self; concludes That it is Consciousness alone, and not an Identity of Substance, which makes this personal Identity of Sameness. Had I the same Consciousness (says that Author) that I saw the Ark and _Noah's_ Flood, as that I saw an Overflowing of the _Thames_ last Winter; or as that I now write; I could no more doubt that I who write this now, that saw the _Thames_ overflow last Winter, and that viewed the Flood at the general Deluge, was the same _Self_, place that _Self_ in what Substance you please, than that I who write this am the same _My self_ now whilst I write, (whether I consist of all the same Substance material or immaterial or no) that I was Yesterday; For as to this Point of being the same _Self_, it matters not whether this present _Self_ be made up of the same or other Substances.

I was mightily pleased with a Story in some Measure applicable to this Piece of Philosophy, which I read the other Day in the _Persian Tales_, as they are lately very well translated by Mr. _Philips_; and with an Abridgement whereof I shall here present my Readers.

I shall only premise that these Stories are writ after the Eastern Manner, but somewhat more correct.

'_Fadlallah_, a Prince of great Virtues, succeeded his Father _Bin-Ortoc_, in the Kingdom of _Mousel_. He reigned over his faithful Subjects for some time, and lived in great Happiness with his beauteous Consort Queen _Zemroude_; when there appeared at his Court a young _Dervis_ of so lively and entertaining a Turn of Wit, as won upon the Affections of every one he conversed with. His Reputation grew so fast every Day, that it at last raised a Curiosity in the Prince himself to see and talk with him. He did so, and far from finding that common Fame had flatter'd him, he was soon convinced that every thing he had heard of him fell short of the Truth.

'_Fadlallah_ immediately lost all Manner of Relish for the Conversation of other Men; and as he was every Day more and more satisfied of the Abilities of this Stranger, offered him the first Posts in his Kingdom. The young _Dervis_, after having thanked him with a very singular Modesty, desired to be excused, as having made a Vow never to accept of any Employment, and preferring a free and independent State of Life to all other Conditions.

'The King was infinitely charmed with so great an Example of Moderation; and tho' he could not get him to engage in a Life of Business, made him however his chief Companion and first Favourite.

'As they were one Day hunting together, and happened to be separated from the rest of the Company, the _Dervis_ entertained _Fadlallah_ with an Account of his Travels and Adventures. After having related to him several Curiosities which he had seen in the _Indies_, _It was in this Place_, says he, _that I contracted an Acquaintance with an old_ Brachman, _who was skilled in the most hidden Powers of Nature: He died within my Arms, and with his parting Breath communicated to me one of the most valuable of his Secrets, on Condition I should never reveal it to any Man_. The King immediately reflecting on his young Favourite's having refused the late Offers of Greatness he had made him, told him he presumed it was the Power of making Gold. _No Sir_, says the _Dervis_, _it is somewhat more wonderful than that; it is the Power of re-animating a dead Body, by flinging my own Soul into it_.

'While he was yet speaking a Doe came bounding by them; and the King, who had his Bow ready, shot her through the Heart; telling the _Dervis_, that a fair Opportunity now offered for him to show his Art. The young Man immediately left his own Body breathless on the Ground, while at the same Instant that of the Doe was re-animated, she came to the King, fawned upon him, and after having play'd several wanton Tricks, fell again upon the Grass; at the same Instant the Body of the _Dervis_ recovered its Life. The King was infinitely pleased at so uncommon an Operation, and conjured his Friend by every thing that was sacred to communicate it to him. The _Dervis_ at first made some Scruple of violating his Promise to the dying _Brachman_; but told him at last that he found he could conceal nothing from so excellent a Prince; after having obliged him therefore by an Oath to Secrecy, he taught him to repeat two Cabalistick Words, in pronouncing of which the whole Secret consisted. The King, impatient to try the Experiment, immediately repeated them as he had been taught, and in an Instant found himself in the Body of the Doe. He had but little Time to contemplate himself in this new Being; for the treacherous _Dervis_ shooting his own Soul into the Royal Corps, and bending the Prince's own Bow against him, had laid him dead on the Spot, had not the King, who perceiv'd his Intent, fled swiftly to the Woods.

'The _Dervis_, now triumphant in his Villany, returned to _Mousel_, and filled the Throne and Bed of the unhappy _Fadlallah_.

'The first thing he took Care of, in order to secure himself in the Possession of his new-acquired Kingdom, was to issue out a Proclamation, ordering his Subjects to destroy all the Deer in the Realm. The King had perished among the rest, had he not avoided his Pursuers by re-animating the Body of a Nightingale which he saw lie dead at the Foot of a Tree. In this new Shape he winged his Way in Safety to the Palace, where perching on a Tree which stood near his Queen's Apartment, he filled the whole Place with so many melodious and Melancholy Notes as drew her to the Window. He had the Mortification to see that instead of being pitied, he only moved the Mirth of his Princess, and of a young Female Slave who was with her. He continued however to serenade her every Morning, 'till at last the Queen, charmed with his Harmony, sent for the Bird-catchers, and ordered them to employ their utmost Skill to put that little Creature into her Possession. The King, pleased with an Opportunity of being once more near his beloved Consort, easily suffered himself to be taken; and when he was presented to her, tho' he shewed a Fearfulness to be touched by any of the other Ladies, flew of his own Accord, and hid himself in the Queen's Bosom. _Zemroude_ was highly pleased at the unexpected Fondness of her new Favourite, and ordered him to be kept in an open Cage in her own Apartment. He had there an Opportunity of making his Court to her every Morning, by a thousand little Actions which his Shape allowed him. The Queen passed away whole Hours every Day in hearing and playing with him. _Fadlallah_ could even have thought himself happy in this State of Life, had he not frequently endured the inexpressible Torment of seeing the _Dervis_ enter the Apartment and caress his Queen even in his Presence.

The Usurper, amidst his toying with the Princess, would often endeavour to ingratiate himself with her Nightingale; and while the enraged _Fadlallah_ peck'd at him with his Bill, beat his Wings, and shewed all the Marks of an impotent Rage, it only afforded his Rival and the Queen new Matter for their Diversion.

_Zemroude_ was likewise fond of a little Lap-Dog which she kept in her Apartment, and which one Night happened to die.

The King immediately found himself inclined to quit the shape of the Nightingale, and enliven this new Body. He did so, and the next Morning _Zemroude_ saw her favourite Bird lie dead in the Cage. It is impossible to express her Grief on this Occasion, and when she called to mind all its little Actions, which even appeared to have somewhat in them like Reason, she was inconsolable for her Loss.

Her Women immediately sent for the _Dervis_, to come and comfort her, who after having in vain represented to her the Weakness of being grieved at such an Accident, touched at last by her repeated Complaints; _Well Madam_, says he, _I will exert the utmost of my Art to please you. Your Nightingale shall again revive every Morning and serenade you as before_. The Queen beheld him with a Look which easily shewed she did not believe him; when laying himself down on a Sofa, he shot his Soul into the Nightingale, and _Zemroude_ was amazed to see her Bird revive.

'The King, who was a Spectator of all that passed, lying under the Shape of a Lap-Dog, in one Corner of the Room, immediately recovered his own Body, and running to the Cage with the utmost Indignation, twisted off the Neck of the false Nightingale.

'_Zemroude_ was more than ever amazed and concerned at this second Accident, 'till the King entreating her to hear him, related to her his whole Adventure.

'The Body of the _Dervis_, which was found dead in the Wood, and his Edict for killing all the Deer, left her no Room to doubt of the Truth of it: But the Story adds, That out of an extream Delicacy (peculiar to the Oriental Ladies) she was so highly afflicted at the innocent Adultery in which she had for some time lived with the _Dervis_, that no Arguments even from _Fadlallah_ himself could compose her Mind. She shortly after died with Grief, begging his Pardon with her last Breath for what the most rigid Justice could not have interpreted as a Crime.

'The King was so afflicted with her Death, that he left his Kingdom to one of his nearest Relations, and passed the rest of his Days in Solitude and Retirement.

* * * * *

No. 579. Wednesday, August 11, 1714. Addison.

'--Odora canum vis--'

Virg.

In the Reign of King _Charles_ I., the Company of Stationers, into whose Hands the Printing of the Bible is committed by Patent, made a very remarkable _Erratum_ or Blunder in one of their Editions: For instead of _Thou shalt not commit Adultery_, they printed off several thousands of Copies with _Thou shalt commit Adultery_. Archbishop _Laud_, to punish this their Negligence, laid a considerable Fine upon that Company in the _Star-Chamber_.

By the Practice of the World, which prevails in this degenerate Age, I am afraid that very many young Profligates, of both Sexes, are possessed of this spurious Edition of the Bible, and observe the Commandment according to that faulty Reading.

Adulterers, in the first Ages of the Church, were excommunicated for ever, and unqualified all their Lives from bearing a Part in Christian Assemblies, notwithstanding they might seek it with Tears, and all the Appearances of the most unfeigned Repentance.

I might here mention some ancient Laws among the Heathens which punished this Crime with Death: and others of the same Kind, which are now in Force among several Governments that have embraced the Reformed Religion. But because a Subject of this Nature may be too serious for my ordinary Readers, who are very apt to throw by my Papers, when they are not enlivened with something that is diverting or uncommon; I shall here publish the Contents of a little Manuscript lately fallen into my Hands, and which pretends to great Antiquity, tho' by Reason of some modern Phrases and other Particulars in it, I can by no means allow it to be genuine, but rather the Production of a Modern Sophist.

It is well known by the Learned, that there was a Temple upon Mount _Ætna_ dedicated to _Vulcan_, which was guarded by Dogs of so exquisite a Smell, (say the Historians) that they could discern whether the Persons who came thither were chast or otherwise. They used to meet and faun upon such as were chast, caressing them as the Friends of their Master _Vulcan;_ but flew at those who were polluted, and never ceased barking at them till they had driven them from the Temple.

My Manuscript gives the following Account of these Dogs, and was probably designed as a Comment upon this Story.

'These Dogs were given to Vulcan by his Sister Diana, the Goddess of Hunting and of Chastity, having bred them out of some of her Hounds, in which she had observed this natural Instinct and Sagacity. It was thought she did it in Spight to _Venus,_ who, upon her Return home, always found her Husband in a good or bad Humour, according to the Reception which she met with from his Dogs. They lived in the Temple several Years, but were such snappish Curs that they frighted away most of the Votaries. The Women of _Sicily_ made a solemn Deputation to the Priest, by which they acquainted him, that they would not come up to the Temple with their annual Offerings unless he muzzled his Mastiffs; and at last comprimised the Matter with him, that the Offering should always be brought by a Chorus of young Girls, who were none of them above seven Years old. It was wonderful (says the Author) to see how different the Treatment was which the Dogs gave to these little Misses, from that which they had shown to their Mothers. It is said that the Prince of _Syracuse_, having married a young Lady, and being naturally of a jealous Temper, made such an Interest with the Priests of this Temple, that he procured a Whelp from them of this famous Breed. The young Puppy was very troublesome to the fair Lady at first, insomuch that she sollicited her Husband to send him away, but the good Man cut her short with the old _Sicilian_ Proverb, _Love me love my Dog_. From which Time she lived very peaceably with both of them. The Ladies of _Syracuse_ were very much annoyed with him, and several of very good Reputation refused to come to Court till he was discarded. There were indeed some of them that defied his Sagacity, but it was observed, though he did not actually bite them, he would growle at them most confoundedly. To return to the Dogs of the Temple: After they had lived here in great Repute for several Years, it so happened, that as one of the Priests, who had been making a charitable Visit to a Widow who lived on the Promontory of _Lilybeum_, return'd home pretty late in the Evening, the Dogs flew at him with so much Fury, that they would have worried him if his Brethren had not come in to his Assistance: Upon which, says my Author, the Dogs were all of them hanged, as having lost their original Instinct.

I cannot conclude this Paper without wishing, that we had some of this Breed of Dogs in _Great Britain_, which would certainly do _Justice_, I should say _Honour_, to the Ladies of our Country, and shew the World the difference between Pagan Women and those who are instructed in sounder Principles of Virtue and Religion.

* * * * *

No. 580. Friday, August 13, 1714. Addison.

'--Si verbo audacia detur,
Non metuam magni dixisse palatia Coeli.'

Ovid. Met.

_SIR_,

'I considered in my two last Letters [1] that awful and tremendous
Subject, the Ubiquity or Omnipresence of the Divine Being. I have
shewn that he is equally present in all Places throughout the whole
Extent of infinite Space.

'This Doctrine is so agreeable to Reason, that we meet with it in the
Writings of the enlightened Heathens, as I might show at large, were
it not already done by other Hands. But tho' the Deity be thus
essentially present through all the Immensity of Space, there is one
Part of it in which he discovers himself in a most transcendent and
visible Glory. This is that Place which is marked out in Scripture
under the different Appellations of _Paradise, the third Heaven, the
Throne of God_, and _the Habitation of his Glory_. It is here where
the glorified Body of our Saviour resides, and where all the celestial
Hierarchies, and the innumerable Hosts of Angels, are represented as
perpetually surrounding the Seat of God with _Hallelujahs_ and Hymns
of Praise. This is that Presence of God which some of the Divines call
his Glorious, and others his Majestatick Presence. He is indeed as
essentially present in all other Places as in this, but it is here
where he resides in a sensible Magnificence, and in the midst of those
Splendors which can affect the Imagination of created Beings.

'It is very remarkable that this Opinion of God Almighty's Presence in
Heaven, whether discovered by the Light of Nature, or by a general
Tradition from our first Parents, prevails among all the Nations of
the World, whatsoever different Notions they entertain of the Godhead.
If you look into _Homer_, that is, the most ancient of the _Greek_
Writers, you see the supreme Powers seated in the Heavens, and
encompassed with inferior Deities, among whom the Muses are
represented as singing incessantly about his Throne. Who does not here
see the main Strokes and Outlines of this great Truth we are speaking
of? The same Doctrine is shadowed out in many other Heathen Authors,
tho' at the same time, like several other revealed Truths, dashed and
adulterated with a mixture of Fables and human Inventions. But to pass
over the Notions of the _Greeks_ and _Romans_, those more enlightened
Parts of the Pagan World, we find there is scarce a People among the
late discovered Nations who are not trained up in an Opinion, that
Heaven is the Habitation of the Divinity whom they worship.

As in _Solomon's_ Temple there was the _Sanctum Sanctorum_, in which a visible Glory appeared among the Figures of the Cherubims, and into which none but the High Priest himself was permitted to enter, after having made an Atonement for the Sins of the People; so if we consider the whole Creation as one great Temple, there is in it this Holy of Holies, into which the High-Priest of our Salvation entered, and took his Place among Angels and Archangels, after having made a Propitiation for the Sins of Mankind.

'With how much Skill must the Throne of God be erected? With what glorious Designs is that Habitation beautified, which is contrived and built by him who inspired _Hyram_ with Wisdom? How great must be the Majesty of that Place, where the whole Art of Creation has been employed, and where God has chosen to show himself in the most magnificent manner? What must be the Architecture of Infinite Power under the Direction of Infinite Wisdom? A Spirit cannot but be transported, after an ineffable manner, with the sight of those Objects, which were made to affect him by that Being who knows the inward Frame of a Soul, and how to please and ravish it in all its most secret Powers and Faculties. It is to this Majestic Presence of God, we may apply those beautiful Expressions in holy Writ: _Behold even to the Moon, and it shineth not; yea the Stars are not pure in his sight._ The Light of the Sun, and all the Glories of the World in which we live, are but as weak and sickly Glimmerings, or rather Darkness itself, in Comparison of those Splendors which encompass the Throne of God.

'As the _Glory_ of this Place is transcendent beyond Imagination, so probably is the _Extent_ of it. There is Light behind Light, and Glory within Glory. How far that Space may reach, in which God thus appears in perfect Majesty, we cannot possibly conceive. Tho' it is not infinite, it may be indefinite; and though not immeasurable in its self, it may be so with regard to any created Eye or Imagination. If he has made these lower Regions of Matter so inconceivably wide and magnificent for the Habitation of mortal and perishable Beings, how great may we suppose the Courts of his House to be, where he makes his Residence in a more especial manner, and displays himself in the Fulness of his Glory, among an innumerable Company of Angels, and Spirits of just Men made perfect?

'This is certain, that our Imaginations cannot be raised too high, when we think on a Place where Omnipotence and Omniscience have so signally exerted themselves, because that they are able to produce a Scene infinitely more great and glorious than what we are able to imagine. It is not impossible but at the Consummation of all Things, these outward Apartments of Nature, which are now suited to those Beings who inhabit them, may be taken in and added to that glorious Place of which I am here speaking; and by that means made a proper Habitation for Beings who are exempt from Mortality, and cleared of their Imperfections: For so the Scripture seems to intimate when it speaks of new Heavens and of a new Earth, wherein dwelleth Righteousness.

'I have only considered this Glorious Place, with Regard to the Sight and Imagination, though it is highly probable that our other Senses may here likewise enjoy their highest Gratifications. There is nothing which more ravishes and transports the Soul, than Harmony; and we have great Reason to believe, from the Descriptions of this Place in Holy Scripture, that this is one of the Entertainments of it. And if the Soul of Man can be so wonderfully affected with those Strains of Musick, which Human Art is capable of producing, how much more will it be raised and elevated by those, in which is exerted the whole Power of Harmony! The Senses are Faculties of the Human Soul, though they cannot be employed, during this our vital Union, without proper Instruments in the Body. Why therefore should we exclude the Satisfaction of these Faculties, which we find by Experience are Inlets of great Pleasure to the Soul, from among those Entertainments which are to make up our Happiness hereafter? Why should we suppose that our Hearing and Seeing will not be gratify'd with those Objects which are most agreeable to them, and which they cannot meet with in these lower Regions of Nature; Objects, _which neither Eye hath seen, nor Ear heard, nor can it enter into the Heart of Man to conceive? I knew a Man in Christ_ (says St Paul, speaking of himself) _above fourteen Years ago (whether in the Body, I cannot tell, or whether out of the Body, I cannot tell: God knoweth) such a one caught up to the third Heaven. And I knew such a Man, (whether in the Body, or out of the Body, I cannot tell: God knoweth,) how that he was caught up into Paradise, and heard unspeakable Words, which it is not possible for a Man to utter._ By this is meant, that what he heard was so infinitely different from any thing which he had heard in this World, that it was impossible to express it in such Words as might convey a Notion of it to his Hearers.

'It is very natural for us to take Delight in Enquiries concerning any Foreign Country, where we are some Time or other to make our Abode; and as we all hope to be admitted into this Glorious Place, it is both a laudable and useful Curiosity, to get what Informations we can of it, whilst we make Use of Revelation for our Guide. When these everlasting Doors shall be open to us, we may be sure that the Pleasures and Beauties of this Place will infinitely transcend our present Hopes and Expectations, and that the glorious Appearance of the Throne of God, will rise infinitely beyond whatever we are able to conceive of it. We might here entertain our selves with many other Speculations on this Subject, from those several Hints which we find of it in the Holy Scriptures; as whether there may not be different Mansions and Apartments of Glory, to Beings of different Natures; whether as they excel one another in Perfection, they are not admitted nearer to the Throne of the Almighty, and enjoy greater Manifestations of his Presence; whether there are not solemn Times and Occasions, when all the Multitude of Heaven celebrate the Presence of their Maker in more extraordinary Forms of Praise and Adoration; as _Adam_, though he had continued in a State of Innocence, would, in the Opinion of our Divines, have kept Holy the Sabbath-Day, in a more particular Manner than any other of the Seven. These, and the like Speculations, we may very innocently indulge, so long as we make use of them to inspire us with a Desire of becoming Inhabitants of this delightful Place.

'I have in this, and in two foregoing Letters, treated on the most serious Subject that can employ the Mind of Man, the Omnipresence of the Deity; a Subject which, if possible, should never depart from our Meditations. We have considered the Divine Being, as he inhabits Infinitude, as he dwells among his Work, as he is present to the Mind of Man, and as he discovers himself in a more glorious Manner among the Regions of the Blest. Such a Consideration should be kept awake in us at all Times, and in all Places, and possess our Minds with a perpetual Awe and Reverence. It should be interwoven with all our Thoughts and Perceptions, and become one with the Consciousness of our own Being. It is not to be reflected on in the Coldness of Philosophy, but ought to sink us into the lowest Prostration before him, who is so astonishingly Great, Wonderful, and Holy.'

[Footnote 1: See Nos. 565, 571, 590, and 628.]

* * * * *

No. 581. Monday, August 16, 1714. Addison.

'Sunt bona, sunt quædam mediocria, sunt mala plura
Quæ legis.'

Mart.

I am at present sitting with a Heap of Letters before me, which I have received under the Character of SPECTATOR; I have Complaints from Lovers, Schemes from Projectors, Scandal from Ladies, Congratulations, Compliments, and Advice in abundance.

I have not been thus long an Author, to be insensible of the natural Fondness every Person must have for their own Productions; and I begin to think I have treated my Correspondents a little too uncivilly in Stringing them all together on a File, and letting them lye so long unregarded. I shall therefore, for the future, think my self at least obliged to take some Notice of such Letters as I receive, and may possibly do it at the end of every Month.