Mr. Fribble may not, perhaps, be much mistaken where he intimates, that
the supplying a Man's Wife with Pin-money, is furnishing her with Arms
against himself, and in a manner becoming accessary to his own
Dishonour. We may indeed, generally observe, that in proportion as a
Woman is more or less Beautiful, and her Husband advanced in Years, she
stands in need of a greater or less number of Pins, and upon a Treaty of
Marriage, rises or falls in her Demands accordingly. It must likewise be
owned, that high Quality in a Mistress does very much inflame this
Article in the Marriage Reckoning.
But where the Age and Circumstances of both Parties are pretty much upon
a level, I cannot but think the insisting upon Pin-money is very
extraordinary; and yet we find several Matches broken off upon this very
Head. What would a Foreigner, or one who is a Stranger to this Practice,
think of a Lover that forsakes his Mistress, because he is not willing
to keep her in Pins; but what would he think of the Mistress, should he
be informed that she asks five or six hundred Pounds a Year for this
use? Should a Man unacquainted with our Customs be told the Sums which
are allowed in Great Britain, under the Title of Pin-money, what a
prodigious Consumption of Pins would he think there was in this Island?
A Pin a Day, says our frugal Proverb, is a Groat a Year, so that
according to this Calculation, my Friend Fribble's Wife must every Year
make use of Eight Millions six hundred and forty thousand new Pins.
I am not ignorant that our British Ladies allege they comprehend under
this general Term several other Conveniencies of Life; I could therefore
wish, for the Honour of my Countrywomen, that they had rather called it
Needle-Money, which might have implied something of Good-housewifry, and
not have given the malicious World occasion to think, that Dress and
Trifles have always the uppermost Place in a Woman's Thoughts.
I know several of my fair Reasoners urge, in defence of this Practice,
that it is but a necessary Provision they make for themselves, in case
their Husband proves a Churl or a Miser; so that they consider this
Allowance as a kind of Alimony, which they may lay their Claim to,
without actually separating from their Husbands. But with Submission, I
think a Woman who will give up her self to a Man in Marriage, where
there is the least Room for such an Apprehension, and trust her Person
to one whom she will not rely on for the common Necessaries of Life, may
very properly be accused (in the Phrase of an homely Proverb) of being
Penny wise and Pound foolish.
It is observed of over-cautious Generals, that they never engage in a
Battel without securing a Retreat, in case the Event should not answer
their Expectations; on the other hand, the greatest Conquerors have
burnt their Ships, or broke down the Bridges behind them, as being
determined either to succeed or die in the Engagement. In the same
manner I should very much suspect a Woman who takes such Precautions for
her Retreat, and contrives Methods how she may live happily, without the
Affection of one to whom she joins herself for Life. Separate Purses
between Man and Wife are, in my Opinion, as unnatural as separate Beds.
A Marriage cannot be happy, where the Pleasures, Inclinations, and
Interests of both Parties are not the same. There is no greater
Incitement to Love in the Mind of Man, than the Sense of a Person's
depending upon him for her Ease and Happiness; as a Woman uses all her
Endeavours to please the Person whom she looks upon as her Honour, her
Comfort, and her Support.
For this Reason I am not very much surprized at the Behaviour of a rough
Country 'Squire, who, being not a little shocked at the Proceeding of a
young Widow that would not recede from her Demands of Pin-money, was so
enraged at her mercenary Temper, that he told her in great Wrath, 'As
much as she thought him her Slave, he would shew all the World he did
not care a Pin for her.' Upon which he flew out of the Room, and never
saw her more.
Socrates, in Plato's Altibiades, says, he was informed by one, who had
travelled through Persia, that as he passed over a great Tract of Lands,
and enquired what the Name of the Place was, they told him it was the
Queen's Girdle; to which he adds, that another wide Field which lay by
it, was called the Queen's Veil; and that in the same Manner there was a
large Portion of Ground set aside for every part of Her Majesty's'
Dress. These Lands might not be improperly called the Queen of Persia's
Pin-money.
I
my Friend Sir
Roger
, who I dare say never read this Passage
in Plato, told me some time since, that upon his courting the Perverse
Widow (of whom I have given an Account in former Papers) he had disposed
of an hundred Acres in a Diamond-Ring, which he would have presented her
with, had she thought fit to accept it; and that upon her Wedding-Day
she should have carried on her Head fifty of the tallest Oaks upon his
Estate. He further informed me that he would have given her a Cole-pit
to keep her in clean Linnen, that he would have allowed her the Profits
of a Windmill for her Fans, and have presented her once in three Years
with the Sheering of his Sheep
for her
Under-Petticoats. To which
the Knight always adds, that though he did not care for fine Cloaths
himself, there should not have been a Woman in the Country better
dressed than my Lady Coverley. Sir
Roger
perhaps, may in this, as well
as in many other of his Devices, appear something odd and singular, but
if the Humour of Pin-money prevails, I think it would be very proper for
every Gentleman of an Estate to mark out so many Acres of it under the
Title of The Pins.
L.
to keep her in
No. 296 |
Friday, February 8, 1712 |
Steele |
Nugis addere pondus.
Hor.
Dear Spec.
Having lately conversed much with the Fair Sex on the Subject of your Speculations, (which since their Appearance in Publick, have been the chief Exercise of the Female loquacious Faculty) I found the fair Ones possess'd with a Dissatisfaction at your prefixing Greek Motto's to the Frontispiece of your late Papers; and, as a Man of Gallantry, I thought it a Duty incumbent on me to impart it to you, in Hopes of a Reformation, which is only to be effected by a Restoration of the Latin to the usual Dignity in your Papers, which of late, the Greek, to the great Displeasure of your Female Readers, has usurp'd; for tho' the Latin has the Recommendation of being as unintelligible to them as the Greek, yet being written of the same Character with their Mother-Tongue, by the Assistance of a Spelling-Book it's legible; which Quality the Greek wants: And since the Introduction of Operas into this Nation, the Ladies are so charmed with Sounds abstracted from their Ideas, that they adore and honour the Sound of Latin as it is old Italian. I am a Sollicitor for the Fair Sex, and therefore think my self in that Character more likely to be prevalent in this Request, than if I should subscribe myself by my proper Name.
J.M.
I desire you may insert this in one of your Speculations, to shew my Zeal for removing the Dissatisfaction of the Fair Sex, and restoring you to their Favour.
Sir,
I was some time since in Company with a young Officer, who entertained us with the Conquest he had made over a Female Neighbour of his; when a Gentleman who stood by, as I suppose, envying the Captain's good Fortune, asked him what Reason he had to believe the Lady admired him? Why, says he, my Lodgings are opposite to hers, and she is continually at her Window either at Work, Reading, taking Snuff, or putting her self in some toying Posture on purpose to draw my Eyes that Way. The Confession of this vain Soldier made me reflect on some of my own Actions; for you must know, Sir, I am often at a Window which fronts the Apartments of several Gentlemen, who I doubt not have the same Opinion of me. I must own I love to look at them all, one for being well dressed, a second for his fine Eye, and one particular one, because he is the least Man I ever saw; but there is something so easie and pleasant in the Manner of my little Man, that I observe he is a Favourite of all his Acquaintance. I could go on to tell you of many others that I believe think I have encouraged them from my Window: But pray let me have your Opinion of the Use of the Window in a beautiful Lady: and how often she may look out at the same Man, without being supposed to have a Mind to jump out to him. Yours,
Aurelia Careless.'
Twice.
Mr. Spectator,
'I have for some Time made Love to a Lady, who received it with all the kind Returns I ought to expect. But without any Provocation, that I know of, she has of late shunned me with the utmost Abhorrence, insomuch that she went out of Church last Sunday in the midst of Divine Service, upon my coming into the same Pew. Pray, Sir, what must I do in this Business?
Your Servant,
Euphues.'
Let her alone Ten Days.
York, Jan. 20, 1711-12.
Mr. Spectator,
'We have in this Town a sort of People who pretend to Wit and write Lampoons: I have lately been the Subject of one of them. The Scribler had not Genius enough in Verse to turn my Age, as indeed I am an old Maid, into Raillery, for affecting a youthier Turn than is consistent with my Time of Day; and therefore he makes the Title to his Madrigal, The Character of Mrs. Judith Lovebane, born in the Year 16801. What I desire of you is, That you disallow that a Coxcomb who pretends to write Verse, should put the most malicious Thing he can say in Prose. This I humbly conceive will disable our Country Wits, who indeed take a great deal of Pains to say any thing in Rhyme, tho' they say it very ill.
I am, Sir,
Your Humble Servant,
Susanna Lovebane.'
Mr. Spectator,
'We are several of us, Gentlemen and Ladies, who Board in the same House, and after Dinner one of our Company (an agreeable Man enough otherwise) stands up and reads your Paper to us all. We are the civillest People in the World to one another, and therefore I am forced to this way of desiring our Reader, when he is doing this Office, not to stand afore the Fire. This will be a general Good to our Family this cold Weather. He will, I know, take it to be our common Request when he comes to these Words, Pray, Sir, sit down; which I desire you to insert, and you will particularly oblige
Your Daily Reader,
Charity Frost.'
Sir,
I am a great Lover of Dancing, but cannot perform so well as some others; however, by my Out-of-the-Way Capers, and some original Grimaces, I don't fail to divert the Company, particularly the Ladies, who laugh immoderately all the Time. Some, who pretend to be my Friends, tell me they do it in Derision, and would advise me to leave it off, withal that I make my self ridiculous. I don't know what to do in this Affair, but I am resolved not to give over upon any Account, 'till I have the Opinion of the Spectator.
Your humble Servant,
John Trott.'
If Mr. Trott is not awkward out of Time, he has a Right to
Dance let who will Laugh: But if he has no Ear he will
interrupt others; and I am of Opinion he should sit still.
Given under my Hand this Fifth of February, 1711-12.
The
Spectator
.
T.
1750
No. 297 |
Saturday, February 9, 1712 |
Addison |
—velut si
Egregio inspersos reprendas corpore nævos.
Hor.
After what I have said in my last Saturday's Paper, I shall enter on the
Subject of this without further Preface, and remark the several Defects
which appear in the Fable, the Characters, the Sentiments, and the
Language of Milton's
Paradise Lost
; not doubting but the Reader will
pardon me, if I alledge at the same time whatever may be said for the
Extenuation of such Defects. The first Imperfection which I shall
observe in the Fable is that the Event of it is unhappy.
Fable of every Poem is, according to Aristotle's Division, either
Simple or Implex
. It is called Simple when there is no change of
Fortune in it: Implex, when the Fortune of the chief Actor changes from
Bad to Good, or from Good to Bad. The Implex Fable is thought the most
perfect; I suppose, because it is more proper to stir up the Passions of
the Reader, and to surprize him with a greater Variety of Accidents.
The Implex Fable is therefore of two kinds:
the first the chief Actor
makes his Way through a long Series of Dangers and Difficulties, till he
arrives at Honour and Prosperity, as we see in the
Story of Ulysses
. In the second, the chief Actor in the Poem falls from some eminent
Pitch of Honour and Prosperity, into Misery and Disgrace. Thus we see
Adam and Eve sinking from a State of Innocence and Happiness, into the
most abject Condition of Sin and Sorrow.
The most taking Tragedies among the Ancients were built on this last
sort of Implex Fable,
the Tragedy of Œdipus, which
proceeds upon a Story, if we may believe Aristotle, the most proper for
Tragedy that could be invented by the Wit of Man
. I have taken some
Pains in a former Paper to shew, that this kind of Implex Fable, wherein
the Event is unhappy, is more apt to affect an Audience than that of the
first kind; notwithstanding many excellent Pieces among the Ancients, as
well as most of those which have been written of late Years in our own
Country, are raised upon contrary Plans. I must however own, that I
think this kind of Fable, which is the most perfect in Tragedy, is not
so proper for an Heroic Poem.
Milton seems to have been sensible of this Imperfection in his Fable,
and has therefore endeavoured to cure it by several Expedients;
particularly by the Mortification which the great Adversary of Mankind
meets with upon his Return to the Assembly of Infernal Spirits,
it is
described in
a,
beautiful Passage of the Tenth Book; and likewise
by the Vision wherein Adam at the close of the Poem sees his Off-spring
triumphing over his great Enemy, and himself restored to a happier
Paradise than that from which he fell.
There is another Objection against Milton's Fable, which is indeed
almost the same with the former, tho' placed in a different Light,
namely, That the Hero in the
Paradise Lost
is unsuccessful, and by no
means a Match for his Enemies.
gave Occasion to Mr. Dryden's
Reflection, that the Devil was in reality Milton's Hero
.
I think I have obviated this Objection in my first Paper.
The
Paradise
Lost
is an Epic
or a
Narrative Poem,
and
he that looks for an Hero
in it, searches for that which Milton never intended;
but
if he
will needs fix the Name of an Hero upon any Person in it, '
certainly
the Messiah who is the Hero, both in the Principal Action, and in the
chief Episodes
. Paganism could not furnish out a real Action for a
Fable greater than that of the Iliad or Æneid, and therefore an Heathen
could not form a higher Notion of a Poem than one of that kind, which
they call an Heroic.
Milton's is not of a
sublimer
Nature I
will not presume to determine: It is sufficient that I shew there is in
the
Paradise Lost
all the Greatness of Plan, Regularity of Design, and
masterly Beauties which we discover in Homer and Virgil.
I must in the next Place observe, that Milton has interwoven in the
Texture of his Fable some Particulars which do not seem to have
Probability enough for an Epic Poem, particularly in the Actions which
he ascribes to Sin and Death, and the Picture which he draws of the
Limbo of Vanity, with other Passages in the second Book. Such Allegories
rather savour of the Spirit of Spenser and Ariosto, than of Homer and
Virgil.
In the Structure of his Poem he has likewise admitted of too many
Digressions. It is
observed by Aristotle, that the Author of an
Heroic Poem should seldom speak himself, but throw as much of his Work
as he can into the Mouths of those who are his Principal Actors
.
Aristotle has given no reason for this Precept; but I presume it is
because the Mind of the Reader is more awed and elevated when he hears
Æneas or Achilles speak, than when Virgil or Homer talk in their own
Persons. Besides that assuming the Character of an eminent Man is apt to
fire the Imagination, and raise the Ideas of the Author.
tells us
,
mentioning his Dialogue of Old Age, in which Cato is the chief Speaker,
that upon a Review of it he was agreeably imposed upon, and fancied that
it was Cato, and not he himself, who uttered his Thoughts on that
Subject.
If the Reader would be at the Pains to see how the Story of the Iliad
and the Æneid is delivered by those Persons who act in it, he will be
surprized to find how little in either of these Poems proceeds from the
Authors. Milton has, in the general disposition of his Fable, very
finely observed this great Rule; insomuch that there is scarce a third
Part of it which comes from the Poet; the rest is spoken either by Adam
and Eve, or by some Good or Evil Spirit who is engaged either in their
Destruction or Defence.
From what has been here observed it appears, that Digressions are by no
means to be allowed of in an Epic Poem. If the Poet, even in the
ordinary course of his Narration, should speak as little as possible, he
should certainly never let his Narration sleep for the sake of any
Reflections of his own. I have often observed, with a secret Admiration,
that the longest Reflection in the Æneid is in that Passage of the
Tenth Book, where Turnus is represented as dressing himself in the
Spoils of Pallas, whom he had slain. Virgil here lets his Fable stand
still for the-sake of the following Remark. How is the Mind of Man
ignorant of Futurity, and unable to bear prosperous Fortune with
Moderation? The Time will come when Turnus shall wish that he had left
the Body of Pallas untouched, and curse the Day on which he dressed
himself in these Spoils. As the great Event of the Æneid, and the Death
of Turnus, whom Æneas slew because he saw him adorned with the Spoils of
Pallas, turns upon this Incident, Virgil went out of his way to make
this Reflection upon it, without which so small a Circumstance might
possibly have slipped out of his Reader's Memory.
, who was an
Injudicious Poet, lets drop his Story very frequently for the sake of
his unnecessary Digressions, or his Diverticula, as Scaliger calls them.
If he gives us an Account of the Prodigies which preceded the Civil
War, he declaims upon the Occasion, and shews how much happier it would
be for Man, if he did not feel his Evil Fortune before it comes to pass;
and suffer not only by its real Weight, but by the Apprehension of it.
Complaint
for
his Blindness, his Panegyrick on Marriage,
his Reflections on Adam and Eve's going naked, of the Angels eating, and
several other Passages in his Poem, are liable to the same Exception,
tho' I must confess there is so great a Beauty in these very
Digressions, that I would not wish them out of his Poem.
I have, in a former Paper, spoken of the Characters of Milton's
Paradise
Lost
, and declared my Opinion, as to the Allegorical Persons who are
introduced in it.
If we look into the Sentiments, I think they are sometimes defective
under the following Heads: First, as there are several of them too much
pointed, and some that degenerate even into Punns. Of this last kind I
am afraid is that in the First Book, where speaking of the Pigmies, he
calls them,
—The small Infantry
Warrdon by Cranes—
Blemish
that
appears in some of his Thoughts, is his
frequent Allusion to Heathen Fables, which are not certainly of a Piece
with the Divine Subject, of which he treats. I do not find fault with
these Allusions, where the Poet himself represents them as fabulous, as
he does in some Places, but where he mentions them as Truths and Matters
of Fact. The Limits of my Paper will not give me leave to be particular
in Instances of this kind; the Reader will easily remark them in his
Perusal of the Poem.
A third fault in his Sentiments, is an unnecessary Ostentation of
Learning, which likewise occurs very frequently. It is certain that both
Homer and Virgil were Masters of all the Learning of their Times, but it
shews it self in their Works after an indirect and concealed manner.
Milton seems ambitious of letting us know, by his Excursions on
Free-Will and Predestination, and his many Glances upon History,
Astronomy, Geography, and the like, as well as by the Terms and Phrases
he sometimes makes use of, that he was acquainted with the whole Circle
of Arts and Sciences.
If, in the last place, we consider the Language of this great Poet, we
must allow what I have hinted in a former Paper, that it is often too
much laboured, and sometimes obscured by old Words, Transpositions, and
Foreign Idioms. Seneca's Objection to the Style of a great Author,
Riget
ejus oratio, nihil in eâ placidum nihil lene
, is what many Criticks make
to Milton: As I cannot wholly refuse it, so I have already apologized
for it in another Paper; to which I may further add, that Milton's
Sentiments and Ideas were so wonderfully Sublime, that it would have
been impossible for him to have represented them in their full Strength
and Beauty, without having recourse to these Foreign Assistances. Our
Language sunk under him, and was unequal to that Greatness of Soul,
which furnished him with such glorious Conceptions.
A second Fault in his Language is, that he often affects a kind of
Jingle in his Words, as in the following Passages, and many others:
And brought into the World a World of Woe.
—Begirt th' Almighty throne
Beseeching or besieging—
This tempted our attempt—
At one slight bound high overleapt all bound.
I
there are Figures for this kind of Speech, that some of the
greatest Ancients have been guilty of it, and that Aristotle himself has
given it a place in his Rhetorick among the Beauties of that Art.
But as it is in its self poor and trifling, it is I think at present
universally exploded by all the Masters of Polite Writing.
The last Fault which I shall take notice of in Milton's Style, is the
frequent use of what the Learned call Technical Words , or Terms of Art.
It
one of the great Beauties of Poetry, to make hard things
intelligible, and to deliver what is abstruse
of
it self in such
easy Language as may be understood by ordinary Readers: Besides, that
the Knowledge of a Poet should rather seem born with him, or inspired,
than drawn from Books and Systems. I have often wondered how Mr. Dryden
could translate a Passage out of Virgil after the following manner.
Tack to the Larboard, and stand off to Sea.
Veer Star-board Sea and Land.
Milton makes use of Larboard in the same manner. When he is upon
Building he mentions Doric Pillars, Pilasters, Cornice, Freeze,
Architrave. When he talks of Heavenly Bodies, you meet with Eccliptic
and Eccentric, the trepidation, Stars dropping from the Zenith, Rays
culminating from the Equator. To which might be added many Instances of
the like kind in several other Arts and Sciences.
I
in my next
Papers
give an Account of the many particular
Beauties in Milton, which would have been too long to insert under those
general Heads I have already treated of, and with which I intend to
conclude this Piece of Criticism.
L.
Poetics
, cap. x. Addison got his affected word 'implex' by
reading Aristotle through the translation and notes of André Dacier.
Implex was the word used by the French, but the natural English
translation of Aristotle's
and
is
into simple and complicated.
Stories of Achilles, Ulysses, and Æneas.
Poetics