We are, in the last place, to consider the Parts which
Adam
and
Eve
act
in the Fourth Book. The Description of them as they first appeared to
Satan
, is exquisitely drawn, and sufficient to make the fallen Angel
gaze upon them with all that Astonishment, and those Emotions of Envy,
in which he is represented.
Two of far nobler Shape erect and tall,
God-like erect! with native honour clad
In naked Majesty, seem'd lords of all;
And worthy seem'd: for in their looks divine
The image of their glorious Maker shon,
Truth, Wisdom, Sanctitude severe and pure;
Severe, but in true filial freedom plac'd:
For contemplation he and valour form'd,
For softness she and sweet attractive grace;
He for God only, she for God in him.
His fair large front, and eye sublime, declar'd
Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung
Clustring, but not beneath his Shoulders broad.
She, as a Veil, down to her slender waste
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Dis-shevel'd, but in wanton ringlets wav'd.
So pass'd they naked on, nor shun'd the Sight
Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill:
So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair
That ever since in love's embraces met.
There is a fine Spirit of Poetry in the Lines which follow, wherein they
are described as sitting on a Bed of Flowers by the side of a Fountain,
amidst a mixed Assembly of Animals.
The Speeches of these two first Lovers flow equally from Passion and
Sincerity. The Professions they make to one another are full of Warmth:
but at the same time founded on Truth. In a Word, they are the
Gallantries of Paradise:
—When Adam first of Men—
Sole partner and sole part of all these joys,
Dearer thy self than all;—
But let us ever praise him, and extol
His bounty, following our delightful Task,
To prune these growing plants, and tend these flow'rs;
Which were it toilsome, yet with thee were sweet.
To whom thus Eve reply'd. O thou for whom,
And from whom I was form'd, flesh of thy flesh,
And without whom am to no end, my Guide
And Head, what thou hast said is just and right.
For we to him indeed all praises owe.
And daily thanks; I chiefly, who enjoy
So far the happier Lot, enjoying thee
Preeminent by so much odds, while thou
Like consort to thy self canst no where find, &c.
The remaining part of
Eve's
Speech, in which she gives an Account of her
self upon her first Creation, and the manner in which she was brought to
Adam
, is I think as beautiful a Passage as any in
Milton
, or perhaps in
any other Poet whatsoever. These Passages are all worked off with so
much Art, that they are capable of pleasing the most delicate Reader,
without offending the most severe.
That Day I oft remember, when from Sleep, &c.
A
of less Judgment and Invention than this great Author, would have
found it very difficult to have filled
these
tender Parts of the
Poem with Sentiments proper for a State of Innocence; to have described
the Warmth of Love, and the Professions of it, without Artifice or
Hyperbole: to have made the Man speak the most endearing things, without
descending from his natural Dignity, and the Woman receiving them
without departing from the Modesty of her Character; in a Word, to
adjust the Prerogatives of Wisdom and Beauty, and make each appear to
the other in its proper Force and Loveliness. This mutual Subordination
of the two Sexes is wonderfully kept up in the whole Poem, as
particularly in the Speech of Eve I have before mentioned, and upon the
Conclusion of it in the following Lines.
So spake our general Mother, and with eyes
Of Conjugal attraction unreproved,
And meek surrender, half embracing lean'd
On our first father; half her swelling breast
Naked met his under the flowing Gold
Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight
Both of her beauty and submissive charms
Smil'd with superior Love.—
The Poet adds, that the Devil turned away with Envy at the sight of so
much Happiness.
We have another View of our first Parents in their Evening Discourses,
which is full of pleasing Images and Sentiments suitable to their
Condition and Characters. The Speech of
Eve
, in particular, is dressed
up in such a soft and natural Turn of Words and Sentiments, as cannot be
sufficiently admired.
I shall close my Reflections upon this Book, with observing the Masterly
Transition which the Poet makes to their Evening Worship in the
following Lines.
Thus at their shady Lodge arriv'd, both stood,
Both turn'd, and under open Sky, ador'd
The God that made both Sky, Air, Earth and Heaven,
Which they beheld, the Moon's resplendent Globe,
And Starry Pole: Thou also mad'st the Night,
Maker Omnipotent, and thou the Day, &c.
Most of the Modern Heroick Poets have imitated the Ancients, in
beginning a Speech without premising, that the Person said thus or thus;
but as it is easie to imitate the Ancients in the Omission of two or
three Words, it requires Judgment to do it in such a manner as they
shall not be missed, and that the Speech may begin naturally without
them. There is a fine Instance of this Kind out of
Homer
, in the Twenty
Third Chapter of
Longinus
.
L.
From this date to the end of the series the Saturday papers
upon Milton exceed the usual length of a
Spectator
essay. That they may
not occupy more than the single leaf of the original issue, they are
printed in smaller type; the columns also, when necessary, encroach on
the bottom margin of the paper, and there are few advertisements
inserted.
At the end of the third Book of the
Poetics
.
'The diction should be most laboured in the idle parts of the poem; those in which neither manners nor sentiments prevail; for the manners and the sentiments are only obscured by too splendid a diction.'
this great
shape
are
notice by the way
those
Dedication of the Fifth Volume of The Spectator
My
Lord
,
The Author of the
Spectator
having prefixed before each of his Volumes
the Name of some great Person to whom he has particular Obligations,
lays his Claim to your Lordship's Patronage upon the same Account. I
must confess, my Lord, had not I already received great Instances of
your Favour, I should have been afraid of submitting a Work of this
Nature to your Perusal. You are so thoroughly acquainted with the
Characters of Men, and all the Parts of human Life, that it is
impossible for the least Misrepresentation of them to escape your
Notice. It is Your Lordship's particular Distinction that you are Master
of the whole Compass of Business, and have signalized Your Self in all
the different Scenes of it. We admire some for the Dignity, others for
the Popularity of their Behaviour; some for their Clearness of Judgment,
others for their Happiness of Expression; some for the laying of
Schemes, and others for the putting of them in Execution: It is Your
Lordship only who enjoys these several Talents united, and that too in
as great Perfection as others possess them singly. Your Enemies
acknowledge this great Extent in your Lordship's Character, at the same
time that they use their utmost Industry and Invention to derogate from
it. But it is for Your Honour that those who are now Your Enemies were
always so. You have acted in so much Consistency with Your Self, and
promoted the Interests of your Country in so uniform a Manner, that even
those who would misrepresent your Generous Designs for the Publick Good,
cannot but approve the Steadiness and Intrepidity with which You pursue
them. It is a most sensible Pleasure to me that I have this Opportunity
of professing my self one of your great Admirers, and, in a very
particular Manner,
My
Lord
,
Your Lordship's
Most Obliged,
And most Obedient,
Humble Servant,
THE
Spectator
.
This is the Thomas, Earl of Wharton, who in 1708 became
Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and took Addison for his Chief Secretary. He
was the son of Philip, Baron Wharton, a firm Presbyterian, sometimes
called the good Lord Wharton, to distinguish him from his son and
grandson. Philip Wharton had been an opponent of Stuart encroachments, a
friend of Algernon Sidney, and one of the first men to welcome William
III. to England. He died, very old, in 1694. His son Thomas did not
inherit the religious temper of his father, and even a dedication could
hardly have ventured to compliment him on his private morals. But he was
an active politician, was with his father in the secret of the landing
of the Prince of Orange, and was made by William Comptroller of the
Household. Thwarted in his desire to become a Secretary of State, he
made himself formidable as a bold, sarcastic speaker and by the strength
of his parliamentary interest. He is said to have returned at one time
thirty members, and to have spent eighty thousand pounds upon the
maintenance of his political position. He was apt, by his manners, to
make friends of the young men of influence. He spent money freely also
on the turf, and upon his seat of Winchenden, in Wilts. Queen Anne, on
her accession, struck his name with her own hand from the list of Privy
Councillors, but he won his way not only to restoration of that rank,
but also in December, 1706, at the age of 67, to his title of Viscount
Winchendon and Earl of Wharton. In November, 1708, he became
Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, with Addison for secretary. He took over
with him also Clayton the musician, and kept a gay court, easily
accessible, except to Roman Catholics, whom he would not admit to his
presence, and against whom he enforced the utmost rigour of the penal
code. He had himself conformed to the Church of England. Swift accused
him, as Lord-lieutenant, of shameless depravity of manners, of
injustice, greed, and gross venality. This Lord Wharton died in 1715,
and was succeeded by his son Philip, whom George I., in 1718, made Duke
of Wharton for his father's vigorous support of the Hanoverian
succession. His character was much worse than that of his father, the
energetic politician and the man of cultivated taste and ready wit to
whom Steele and Addison here dedicated the Fifth Volume of the
Spectator
.
No. 322 |
Monday, March 10, 1712 |
Steele |
Ad humum mærore gravi deducit et angit.
Hor.
It is often said, after a Man has heard a Story with extraordinary
Circumstances, It is a very good one if it be true: But as for the
following Relation, I should be glad were I sure it were false. It is
told with such Simplicity, and there are so many artless Touches of
Distress in it, that I fear it comes too much from the Heart.
Mr. Spectator,
'Some Years ago it happened that I lived in the same House with a young Gentleman of Merit; with whose good Qualities I was so much taken, as to make it my Endeavour to shew as many as I was able in my self. Familiar Converse improved general Civilities into an unfeigned Passion on both Sides. He watched an Opportunity to declare himself to me; and I, who could not expect a Man of so great an Estate as his, received his Addresses in such Terms, as gave him no reason to believe I was displeased by them, tho' I did nothing to make him think me more easy than was decent. His Father was a very hard worldly Man, and proud; so that there was no reason to believe he would easily be brought to think there was any thing in any Woman's Person or Character that could ballance the Disadvantage of an unequal Fortune. In the mean time the Son continued his Application to me, and omitted no Occasion of demonstrating the most disinterested Passion imaginable to me; and in plain direct Terms offer'd to marry me privately, and keep it so till he should be so happy as to gain his Father's Approbation, or become possessed of his Estate. I passionately loved him, and you will believe I did not deny such a one what was my Interest also to grant. However I was not so young, as not to take the Precaution of carrying with me a faithful Servant, who had been also my Mother's Maid, to be present at the Ceremony. When that was over I demanded a Certificate, signed by the Minister, my Husband, and the Servant I just now spoke of. After our Nuptials, we conversed together very familiarly in the same House; but the Restraints we were generally under, and the Interviews we had, being stolen and interrupted, made our Behaviour to each other have rather the impatient Fondness which is visible in Lovers, than the regular and gratified Affection which is to be observed in Man and Wife. This Observation made the Father very anxious for his Son, and press him to a Match he had in his Eye for him. To relieve my Husband from this Importunity, and conceal the Secret of our Marriage, which I had reason to know would not be long in my power in Town, it was resolved that I should retire into a remote Place in the Country, and converse under feigned Names by Letter. We long continued this Way of Commerce; and I with my Needle, a few Books, and reading over and over my Husband's Letters, passed my Time in a resigned Expectation of better Days. Be pleased to take notice, that within four Months after I left my Husband I was delivered of a Daughter, who died within few Hours after her Birth. This Accident, and the retired Manner of Life I led, gave criminal Hopes to a neighbouring Brute of a Country Gentle-man, whose Folly was the Source of all my Affliction. This Rustick is one of those rich Clowns, who supply the Want of all manner of Breeding by the Neglect of it, and with noisy Mirth, half Understanding, and ample Fortune, force themselves upon Persons and Things, without any Sense of Time and Place. The poor ignorant People where I lay conceal'd, and now passed for a Widow, wondered I could be so shy and strange, as they called it, to the Squire; and were bribed by him to admit him whenever he thought fit. I happened to be sitting in a little Parlour which belonged to my own Part of the House, and musing over one of the fondest of my Husband's Letters, in which I always kept the Certificate of my Marriage, when this rude Fellow came in, and with the nauseous Familiarity of such unbred Brutes, snatched the Papers out of my Hand. I was immediately under so great a Concern, that I threw my self at his Feet, and begged of him to return them. He with the same odious Pretence to Freedom and Gaiety, swore he would read them. I grew more importunate, he more curious, till at last, with an Indignation arising from a Passion I then first discovered in him, he threw the Papers into the Fire, swearing that since he was not to read them, the Man who writ them should never be so happy as to have me read them over again. It is insignificant to tell you my Tears and Reproaches made the boisterous Calf leave the Room ashamed and out of Countenance, when I had leisure to ruminate on this Accident with more than ordinary Sorrow: However, such was then my Confidence in my Husband, that I writ to him the Misfortune, and desired another Paper of the same kind. He deferred writing two or three Posts, and at last answered me in general, That he could not then send me what I asked for, but when he could find a proper Conveyance, I should be sure to have it. From this time his Letters were more cold every Day than the other, and as he grew indifferent I grew jealous. This has at last brought me to Town, where I find both the Witnesses of my Marriage dead, and that my Husband, after three Months Cohabitation, has buried a young Lady whom he married in Obedience to his Father. In a word, he shuns and disowns me. Should I come to the House and confront him, the Father would join in supporting him against me, though he believed my Story; should I talk it to the World, what Reparation can I expect for an Injury I cannot make out? I believe he means to bring me, through Necessity, to resign my Pretentions to him for some Provision for my Life; but I will die first. Pray bid him remember what he said, and how he was charmed when he laughed at the heedless Discovery I often made of my self; let him remember how awkward he was in my dissembled Indifference towards him before Company; ask him how I, who could never conceal my Love for him, at his own Request, can part with him for ever? Oh, Mr. Spectator, sensible Spirits know no Indifference in Marriage; what then do you think is my piercing Affliction?—- I leave you to represent my Distress your own way, in which I desire you to be speedy, if you have Compassion for Innocence exposed to Infamy.
Octavia.
T.
No. 323 |
Tuesday, March 11, 1712 |
Addison |
The journal with which I presented my Reader on Tuesday last, has
brought me in several Letters, with Accounts of many private Lives cast
into that Form. I have the
Rake's Journal,
the
Sot's Journal,
the
Whoremaster's Journal,
and among several others a very curious Piece,
entituled,
The Journal of a Mohock
. By these Instances I find that the
Intention of my last Tuesday's Paper has been mistaken by many of my
Readers. I did not design so much to expose Vice as Idleness, and aimed
at those Persons who pass away their Time rather in Trifle and
Impertinence, than in Crimes and Immoralities. Offences of this latter
kind are not to be dallied with, or treated in so ludicrous a manner. In
short, my Journal only holds up Folly to the Light, and shews the
Disagreeableness of such Actions as are indifferent in themselves, and
blameable only as they proceed from Creatures endow'd with Reason.
My following Correspondent, who calls her self
Clarinda
, is such a
Journalist as I require: She seems by her Letter to be placed in a
modish State of Indifference between Vice and Virtue, and to be
susceptible of either, were there proper Pains taken with her. Had her
Journal been filled with Gallantries, or such Occurrences as had shewn
her wholly divested of her natural Innocence, notwithstanding it might
have been more pleasing to the Generality of Readers, I should not have
published it; but as it is only the Picture of a Life filled with a
fashionable kind of Gaiety and Laziness, I shall set down five Days of
it, as I have received it from the Hand of my fair Correspondent.
Dear Mr. Spectator,
'You having set your Readers an Exercise in one of your last Week's Papers, I have perform'd mine according to your Orders, and herewith send it you enclosed. You must know, Mr. Spectator, that I am a Maiden Lady of a good Fortune, who have had several Matches offered me for these ten Years last past, and have at present warm Applications made to me by a very pretty Fellow. As I am at my own Disposal, I come up to Town every Winter, and pass my Time in it after the manner you will find in the following Journal, which I begun to write upon the very Day after your Spectator upon that Subject.
| Tuesday | Night. | Could not go to sleep till one in the Morning for thinking of my Journal. |
| Wednesday | From Eight 'till Ten | Drank two Dishes of Chocolate in Bed, and fell asleep after 'em. |
| From Ten to Eleven. | Eat a Slice of Bread and Butter, drank a Dish of Bohea, read the Spectator. | |
| From Eleven to One. | At my Toilet, try'd a new Head. Gave Orders for Veny to be combed and washed. Mem. I look best in Blue. | |
| From One till Half an Hour after Two. | Drove to the Change. Cheapned a Couple of Fans. | |
| Till Four. | At Dinner. Mem. Mr. Froth passed by in his new Liveries. | |
| From Four to Six. | Dressed, paid a Visit to old Lady Blithe and her Sister, having before heard they were gone out of Town that Day. | |
| From Six to Eleven. | At Basset. Mem. Never set again upon the Ace of Diamonds. | |
| Thursday | From Eleven at Night to Eight in the Morning. | Dream'd that I punted to Mr. Froth. |
| From Eight to Ten. | Chocolate. Read two Acts in Aurenzebe2 abed. | |
| From Ten to Eleven. | Tea-Table. Sent to borrow Lady Faddle's Cupid for Veny. Read the Play-Bills. Received a Letter from Mr. Froth. Mem. locked it up in my strong Box. | |
| Rest of the Morning. | Fontange, the Tire-woman, her Account of my Lady Blithe's Wash. Broke a Tooth in my little Tortoise-shell Comb. Sent Frank to know how my Lady Hectick rested after her Monky's leaping out at Window. Looked pale. Fontange tells me my Glass is not true. Dressed by Three. | |
| From Three to Four. | Dinner cold before I sat down. | |
| From Four to Eleven. | Saw Company. Mr. Froth's Opinion of Milton. His Account of the Mohocks. His Fancy for a Pin-cushion. Picture in the Lid of his Snuff-box. Old Lady Faddle promises me her Woman to cut my Hair. Lost five Guineas at Crimp. | |
| Twelve a-Clock at Night. | Went to Bed. | |
| Friday | Eight in the Morning. | Abed. Read over all Mr. Froth's Letters. Cupid and Veny. |
| Ten a-Clock. | Stay'd within all day, not at home. | |
| From Ten to Twelve. | In Conference with my Mantua-Maker. Sorted a Suit of Ribbands. Broke my Blue China Cup. | |
| From Twelve to One. | Shut my self up in my Chamber, practised Lady Betty Modely's Skuttle. | |
| One in the Afternoon. | Called for my flowered Handkerchief. Worked half a Violet-Leaf in it. Eyes aked and Head out of Order. Threw by my Work, and read over the remaining Part of Aurenzebe. | |
| From Three to Four. | Dined. | |
| From Four to Twelve. | Changed my Mind, dressed, went abroad, and play'd at Crimp till Midnight. Found Mrs. Spitely at home. Conversation: Mrs. Brilliant's Necklace false Stones. Old Lady Loveday going to be married to a young Fellow that is not worth a Groat. Miss Prue gone into the Country. Tom Townley has red Hair. Mem. Mrs. Spitely whispered in my Ear that she had something to tell me about Mr. Froth, I am sure it is not true. | |
| Between Twelve and One. | Dreamed that Mr. Froth lay at my Feet, and called me Indamora3. | |
| Saturday | Rose at Eight a-Clock in the Morning. Sate down to my Toilet. | |
| From Eight to Nine. | Shifted a Patch for Half an Hour before I could determine it. Fixed it above my left Eye-brow. | |
| From Nine to Twelve. | Drank my Tea, and dressed. | |
| From Twelve to Two. | At Chappel. A great deal of good Company. Mem. The third Air in the new Opera. Lady Blithe dressed frightfully. | |
| From Three to Four. | Dined. Miss Kitty called upon me to go to the Opera before I was risen from Table. | |
| From Dinner to Six. | Drank Tea. Turned off a Footman for being rude to Veny. | |
| Six a-Clock. | Went to the Opera. I did not see Mr. Froth till the beginning of the second Act. Mr. Froth talked to a Gentleman in a black Wig. Bowed to a Lady in the front Box. Mr. Froth and his Friend clapp'd Nicolini in the third Act. Mr. Froth cried out Ancora. Mr. Froth led me to my Chair. I think he squeezed my Hand. | |
| Eleven at Night. | Went to Bed. Melancholy Dreams. Methought Nicolini said he was Mr. Froth. | |
| Sunday | Indisposed. | |
| Monday | Eight a-Clock. | Waked by Miss Kitty. Aurenzebe lay upon the Chair by me. Kitty repeated without Book the Eight best Lines in the Play. Went in our Mobbs to the dumb Man4, according to Appointment. Told me that my Lover's Name began with a G. Mem. The Conjurer was within a Letter of Mr. Froth's Name, &c. |
Upon looking back into this my Journal, I find that I am at a loss to know whether I pass my Time well or ill; and indeed never thought of considering how I did it before I perused your Speculation upon that Subject. I scarce find a single Action in these five Days that I can thoroughly approve of, except the working upon the Violet-Leaf, which I am resolved to finish the first Day I am at leisure. As for Mr. Froth and Veny I did not think they took up so much of my Time and Thoughts, as I find they do upon my Journal. The latter of them I will turn off, if you insist upon it; and if Mr. Froth does not bring Matters to a Conclusion very suddenly, I will not let my Life run away in a Dream.
Your humble Servant,
Clarinda.
To resume one of the Morals of my first Paper, and to confirm Clarinda
in her good Inclinations, I would have her consider what a pretty Figure
she would make among Posterity, were the History of her whole Life
published like these five Days of it. I
conclude my Paper with an
Epitaph written by an uncertain Author
on Sir Philip Sidney's Sister, a
Lady who seems to have been of a Temper very much different from that of
Clarinda. The last Thought of it is so very noble, that I dare say my
Reader will pardon me the Quotation.
On the Countess Dowager of Pembroke.
Underneath this Marble Hearse
Lies the Subject of all Verse,
Sidney's Sister, Pembroke's Mother:
Death, ere thou hast kil'd another,
Fair, and learn'd, and good as she,
Time shall throw a Dart at thee.
A quotation from memory of Virgil's 'Et juvenis quondam
nunc fœmina.'
Æn
. vi. 448.
Dryden's.
The heroine of
Aurengzebe
.