Adam
is afterwards describ'd as surprized at his own Existence, and
taking a Survey of himself, and of all the Works of Nature. He likewise
is represented as discovering by the Light of Reason, that he and every
thing about him must have been the Effect of some Being infinitely good
and powerful, and that this Being had a right to his Worship and
Adoration. His first Address to the Sun, and to those Parts of the
Creation which made the most distinguished Figure, is very natural and
amusing to the Imagination.
—Thou Sun, said I, fair Light,
And thou enlighten'd Earth, so fresh and gay,
Ye Hills and Dales, ye Rivers, Woods and Plains,
And ye that live and move, fair Creatures tell,
Tell if you saw, how came I thus, how here?
His next Sentiment, when upon his first going to sleep he fancies
himself losing his Existence, and falling away into nothing, can never
be sufficiently admired. His Dream, in which he still preserves the
Consciousness of his Existence, together with his removal into the
Garden which was prepared for his Reception, are also Circumstances
finely imagined, and grounded upon what is delivered in Sacred Story.
These and the like wonderful Incidents in this Part of the Work, have in
them all the Beauties of Novelty, at the same time that they have all
the Graces of Nature. They are such as none but a great Genius could
have thought of, tho', upon the perusal of them, they seem to rise of
themselves from the Subject of which he treats. In a word, tho' they are
natural, they are not obvious, which is the true Character of all fine
Writing.
The Impression which the Interdiction of the Tree of Life left in the
Mind of our first Parent, is describ'd with great Strength and Judgment;
as the Image of the several Beasts and Birds passing in review before
him is very beautiful and lively.
—Each Bird and Beast behold
Approaching two and two, these cowring low
With Blandishment; each Bird stoop'd on his Wing:
I nam'd them as they pass'd—
Adam
, in the next place, describes a Conference which he held with his
Maker upon the Subject of Solitude. The Poet here represents the supreme
Being, as making an Essay of his own Work, and putting to the tryal that
reasoning Faculty, with which he had endued his Creature.
Adam
urges, in
this Divine Colloquy, the Impossibility of his being happy, tho' he was
the Inhabitant of Paradise, and Lord of the whole Creation, without the
Conversation and Society of some rational Creature, who should partake
those Blessings with him. This Dialogue, which is supported chiefly by
the Beauty of the Thoughts, without other poetical Ornaments, is as fine
a Part as any in the whole Poem: The more the Reader examines the
Justness and Delicacy of its Sentiments, the more he will find himself
pleased with it. The Poet has wonderfully preserved the Character of
Majesty and Condescension in the Creator, and at the same time that of
Humility and Adoration in the Creature, as particularly in the following
Lines:
Thus I presumptuous; and the Vision bright,
As with a Smile more bright-tied, thus reply'd, &c.
—I, with leave of Speech implor'd
And humble Deprecation, thus reply d:
Let not my Words offend thee, Heav'nly Power,
My Maker, be propitious while I speak, &c.
Adam
then proceeds to give an account of his second Sleep, and of the
Dream in which he beheld the Formation of
Eve
. The new Passion that was
awaken'd in him at the sight of her, is touch'd very finely.
Under his forming Hands a Creature grew,
Manlike, but different Sex: so lovely fair,
That what seem'd fair in all the World, seemed now
Mean, or in her summ'd up, in her contained,
And in her Looks; which from that time infused
Sweetness info my Heart, unfelt before:
And into all things from her Air inspired
The Spirit of Love and amorous Delight.
Adam's
Distress upon losing sight of this beautiful Phantom, with his
Exclamations of Joy and Gratitude at the discovery of a real Creature,
who resembled the Apparition which had been presented to him in his
Dream; the Approaches he makes to her, and his Manner of Courtship; are
all laid together in a most exquisite Propriety of Sentiments.
Tho' this Part of the Poem is work'd up with great Warmth and Spirit,
the Love which is described in it is every way suitable to a State of
Innocence. If the Reader compares the Description which
Adam
here gives
of his leading
Eve
to the Nuptial Bower, with that which Mr.
Dryden
has
made on the same occasion in a Scene of his Fall of Man, he will be
sensible of the great care which
Milton
took to avoid all Thoughts on so
delicate a Subject, that might be offensive to Religion or Good-Manners.
The Sentiments are chaste, but not cold; and convey to the Mind Ideas of
the most transporting Passion, and of the greatest Purity. What a noble
Mixture of Rapture and Innocence has the Author join'd together, in the
Reflection which
Adam
makes on the Pleasures of Love, compared to those
of Sense.
Thus have I told thee all my State, and brought
My Story to the sum of earthly Bliss,
Which I enjoy; and must confess to find
In all things else Delight indeed, but such
As us'd or not, works in the Mind no Change
Nor vehement Desire; these Delicacies
I mean of Taste, Sight, Smell, Herbs, Fruits, and Flowers,
Walks, and the Melody of Birds: but here
Far otherwise, transported I behold,
Transported touch; here Passion first I felt,
Commotion strange! in all Enjoyments else
Superiour and unmov'd, here only weak
Against the Charms of Beauty's powerful Glance.
Or Nature fail'd in me, and left some Part
Not Proof enough such Object to sustain;
Or from my Side subducting, took perhaps
More than enough; at least on her bestowed
Too much of Ornament in outward shew
Elaborate, of inward less exact.
—When I approach
Her Loveliness, so absolute she seems
And in herself compleat, so well to know
Her own, that what she wills to do or say
Seems wisest, vertuousest, discreetest, best:
All higher Knowledge in her Presence falls
Degraded: Wisdom in discourse with her
Loses discountenanced, and like Folly shews;
Authority and Reason on her wait,
As one intended first, not after made
Occasionally: and to consummate all,
Greatness of Mind, and Nobleness their Seat
Build in her loveliest, and create an Awe
About her, as a Guard angelick plac'd.
These Sentiments of Love, in our first Parent, gave the Angel such an
Insight into Humane Nature, that he seems apprehensive of the Evils
which might befall the Species in general, as well as
Adam
in
particular, from the Excess of this Passion. He therefore fortifies him
against it by timely Admonitions; which very artfully prepare the Mind
of the Reader for the Occurrences of the next Book, where the Weakness
of which
Adam
here gives such distant Discoveries, brings about that
fatal Event which is the Subject of the Poem. His Discourse, which
follows the gentle Rebuke he received from the Angel, shews that his
Love, however violent it might appear, was still founded in Reason, and
consequently not improper for Paradise.
Neither her outside Form so fair, nor aught
In Procreation common to all kinds,
(Tho' higher of the genial Bed by far,
And with mysterious Reverence I deem)
So much delights me, as those graceful Acts,
Those thousand Decencies that daily flow
From all her Words and Actions, mixt with Love
And sweet Compliance, which declare unfeign'd
Union of Mind, or in us both one Soul;
Harmony to behold in—wedded Pair!
Adam's
Speech, at parting with the Angel, has in it a Deference and
Gratitude agreeable to an inferior Nature, and at the same time a
certain Dignity and Greatness suitable to the Father of Mankind in his
State of Innocence.
L.
No. 346 |
Monday, April 7, 1712 |
Steele |
Consuetudinem benignitatis largitioni Munerum longe antepono. Hæc est Gravium hominum atque Magnorum; Illa quasi assentatorum populi, multitudinis levitatem voluptate quasi titillantium.
Tull.
When we consider the Offices of humane Life, there is, methinks,
something in what we ordinarily call Generosity, which when carefully
examined, seems to flow rather from a loose and unguarded Temper, than
an honest and liberal Mind. For this reason it is absolutely necessary
that all Liberality should have for its Basis and Support Frugality. By
this means the beneficent Spirit works in a Man from the Convictions of
Reason, not from the Impulses of Passion. The generous Man, in the
ordinary acceptation, without respect to the Demands of his own Family,
will soon find, upon the Foot of his Account, that he has sacrificed to
Fools, Knaves, Flatterers, or the deservedly Unhappy, all the
Opportunities of affording any future Assistance where it ought to be.
Let him therefore reflect, that if to bestow be in it self laudable,
should not a Man take care to secure Ability to do things praiseworthy
as long as he lives? Or could there be a more cruel Piece of Raillery
upon a Man who should have reduc'd his Fortune below the Capacity of
acting according to his natural Temper, than to say of him, That
Gentleman was generous? My beloved Author therefore has, in the Sentence
on the Top of my Paper, turned his Eye with a certain Satiety from
beholding the Addresses to the People by Largesses and publick
Entertainments, which he asserts to be in general vicious, and are
always to be regulated according to the Circumstances of Time and a
Man's own Fortune. A constant Benignity in Commerce with the rest of the
World, which ought to run through all a Man's Actions, has Effects more
useful to those whom you oblige, and less ostentatious in your self. He
turns his Recommendation of this Virtue in commercial Life: and
according to him a Citizen who is frank in his Kindnesses, and abhors
Severity in his Demands; he who in buying, selling, lending, doing acts
of good Neighbourhood, is just and easy; he who appears naturally averse
to Disputes, and above the Sense of little Sufferings; bears a nobler
Character, and does much more good to Mankind, than any other Man's
Fortune without Commerce can possibly support. For the Citizen above all
other Men has Opportunities of arriving at that highest Fruit of Wealth,
to be liberal without the least Expence of a Man's own Fortune. It is
not to be denied but such a Practice is liable to hazard; but this
therefore adds to the Obligation, that, among Traders, he who obliges is
as much concerned to keep the Favour a Secret, as he who receives it.
The unhappy Distinctions among us in England are so great, that to
celebrate the Intercourse of commercial Friendship, (with which I am
daily made acquainted) would be to raise the virtuous Man so many
Enemies of the contrary Party. I am obliged to conceal all I know of
Tom
the Bounteous, who lends at the ordinary Interest, to give Men of less
Fortune Opportunities of making greater Advantages. He conceals, under a
rough Air and distant Behaviour, a bleeding Compassion and womanish
Tenderness. This is governed by the most exact Circumspection, that
there is no Industry wanting in the Person whom he is to serve, and that
he is guilty of no improper Expences. This I know of
Tom
, but who dare
say it of so known a
Tory
? The same Care I was forced to use some time
ago in the Report of another's Virtue, and said fifty instead of a
hundred, because the Man I pointed at was a
Whig
. Actions of this kind
are popular without being invidious: for every Man of ordinary
Circumstances looks upon a Man who has this known Benignity in his
Nature, as a Person ready to be his Friend upon such Terms as he ought
to expect it; and the Wealthy, who may envy such a Character, can do no
Injury to its Interests but by the Imitation of it, in which the good
Citizens will rejoice to be rivalled. I know not how to form to myself a
greater Idea of Humane Life, than in what is the Practice of some
wealthy Men whom I could name, that make no step to the Improvement of
their own Fortunes, wherein they do not also advance those of other Men,
who would languish in Poverty without that Munificence. In a Nation
where there are so many publick Funds to be supported, I know not
whether he can be called a good Subject, who does not imbark some part
of his Fortune with the State, to whose Vigilance he owes the Security
of the whole. This certainly is an immediate way of laying an Obligation
upon many, and extending his Benignity the furthest a Man can possibly,
who is not engaged in Commerce. But he who trades, besides giving the
State some part of this sort of Credit he gives his Banker, may in all
the Occurrences of his Life have his Eye upon removing Want from the
Door of the Industrious, and defending the unhappy upright Man from
Bankruptcy. Without this Benignity, Pride or Vengeance will precipitate
a Man to chuse the Receipt of half his Demands from one whom he has
undone, rather than the whole from one to whom he has shewn Mercy. This
Benignity is essential to the Character of a fair Trader, and any Man
who designs to enjoy his Wealth with Honour and Self-Satisfaction: Nay,
it would not be hard to maintain, that the Practice of supporting good
and industrious Men, would carry a Man further even to his Profit, than
indulging the Propensity of serving and obliging the Fortunate. My
Author argues on this Subject, in order to incline Men's Minds to those
who want them most, after this manner; We must always consider the
Nature of things, and govern our selves accordingly. The wealthy Man,
when he has repaid you, is upon a Ballance with you; but the Person whom
you favour'd with a Loan, if he be a good Man, will think himself in
your Debt after he has paid you. The Wealthy and the Conspicuous are not
obliged by the Benefit you do them, they think they conferred a Benefit
when they receive one. Your good Offices are always suspected, and it is
with them the same thing to expect their Favour as to receive it. But
the Man below you, who knows in the Good you have done him, you
respected himself more than his Circumstances, does not act like an
obliged Man only to him from whom he has received a Benefit, but also to
all who are capable of doing him one. And whatever little Offices he can
do for you, he is so far from magnifying it, that he will labour to
extenuate it in all his Actions and Expressions. Moreover, the Regard to
what you do to a great Man, at best is taken notice of no further than
by himself or his Family; but what you do to a Man of an humble Fortune,
(provided always that he is a good and a modest Man) raises the
Affections towards you of all Men of that Character (of which there are
many) in the whole City.
There is nothing gains a Reputation to a Preacher so much as his own
Practice; I am therefore casting about what Act of Benignity is in the
Power of a
Spectator
. Alas, that lies but in a very narrow compass, and
I think the most immediate under my Patronage, are either Players, or
such whose Circumstances bear an Affinity with theirs: All therefore I
am able to do at this time of this Kind, is to tell the Town that on
Friday the 11th of this Instant April, there will be perform'd in
York-Buildings a Consort of Vocal and Instrumental Musick, for the
Benefit of Mr.
Edward Keen
, the Father of twenty Children; and that this
Day the haughty
George Powell
hopes all the good-natur'd part of the
Town will favour him, whom they Applauded in
Alexander, Timon, Lear
, and
Orestes
, with their Company this Night, when he hazards all his heroick
Glory for their Approbation in the humbler Condition of honest
Jack
Falstaffe.
T.
No. 347 |
Tuesday, April 8, 1712 |
Budgell |
Quis furor ô Cives! quæ tanta licentia ferri!
Lucan.
I do not question but my Country Readers have been very much surprized
at the several Accounts they have met with in our publick Papers of that
Species of Men among us, lately known by the Name of Mohocks. I find the
Opinions of the Learned, as to their Origin and Designs, are altogether
various, insomuch that very many begin to doubt whether indeed there
were ever any such Society of Men. The Terror which spread it self over
the whole Nation some Years since, on account of the Irish, is still
fresh in most Peoples Memories, tho' it afterwards appeared there was
not the least Ground for that general Consternation.
The late Panick Fear was, in the Opinion of many deep and penetrating
Persons, of the same nature. These will have it, that the Mohocks are
like those Spectres and Apparitions which frighten several Towns and
Villages in her Majesty's Dominions, tho' they were never seen by any of
the Inhabitants. Others are apt to think that these Mohocks are a kind
of Bull-Beggars, first invented by prudent married Men, and Masters of
Families, in order to deter their Wives and Daughters from taking the
Air at unseasonable Hours; and that when they tell them the Mohocks will
catch them, it is a Caution of the same nature with that of our
Fore-fathers, when they bid their Children have a care of Raw-head and
Bloody-bones.
For my own part, I am afraid there was too much Reason for that great
Alarm the whole City has been in upon this Occasion; tho' at the same
time I must own that I am in some doubt whether the following Pieces are
Genuine and Authentick; and the more so, because I am not fully
satisfied that the Name by which the Emperor subscribes himself, is
altogether conformable to the Indian Orthography.
I shall only further inform my Readers, that it was some time since I
receiv'd the following Letter and Manifesto, tho' for particular Reasons
I did not think fit to publish them till now.
To the Spectator.
Sir,
"Finding that our earnest Endeavours for the Good of Mankind have been basely and maliciously represented to the World, we send you enclosed our Imperial Manifesto, which it is our Will and Pleasure that you forthwith communicate to the Publick, by inserting it in your next daily Paper. We do not doubt of your ready Compliance in this Particular, and therefore bid you heartily Farewell."
Sign'd,
Taw Waw Eben Zan Kaladar,
Emperor of the Mohocks.The Manifesto of Taw Waw Eben Zan Kaladar, Emperor of the Mohocks.
"Whereas we have received Information from sundry Quarters of this great and populous City, of several Outrages committed on the Legs, Arms, Noses, and other Parts of the good People of England, by such as have styled themselves our Subjects; in order to vindicate our Imperial Dignity from those false Aspersions which have been cast on it, as if we our selves might have encouraged or abetted any such Practices; we have, by these Presents, thought fit to signify our utmost Abhorrence and Detestation of all such tumultuous and irregular Proceedings: and do hereby further give notice, that if any Person or Persons has or have suffered any Wound, Hurt, Damage or Detriment in his or their Limb or Limbs, otherwise than shall be hereafter specified, the said Person or Persons, upon applying themselves to such as we shall appoint for the Inspection and Redress of the Grievances aforesaid, shall be forthwith committed to the Care of our principal Surgeon, and be cured at our own Expence, in some one or other of those Hospitals which we are now erecting for that purpose.
"And to the end that no one may, either through Ignorance or Inadvertency, incur those Penalties which we have thought fit to inflict on Persons of loose and dissolute Lives, we do hereby notifie to the Publick, that if any Man be knocked down or assaulted while he is employed in his lawful Business, at proper Hours, that it is not done by our Order; and we do hereby permit and allow any such person so knocked down or assaulted, to rise again, and defend himself in the best manner that he is able.
"We do also command all and every our good Subjects, that they do not presume, upon any Pretext whatsoever, to issue and sally forth from their respective Quarters till between the Hours of Eleven and Twelve. That they never Tip the Lion upon Man, Woman or Child, till the Clock at St. Dunstan's shall have struck One.
"That the Sweat be never given but between the Hours of One and Two; always provided, that our Hunters may begin to Hunt a little after the Close of the Evening, any thing to the contrary herein notwithstanding. Provided also, that if ever they are reduced to the Necessity of Pinking, it shall always be in the most fleshy Parts, and such as are least exposed to view.
"It is also our Imperial Will and Pleasure, that our good Subjects the Sweaters do establish their Hummums1 in such close Places, Alleys, Nooks, and Corners, that the Patient or Patients may not be in danger of catching Cold.
"That the Tumblers, to whose Care we chiefly commit the Female Sex, confine themselves to Drury-Lane and the Purlieus of the Temple; and that every other Party and Division of our Subjects do each of them keep within the respective Quarters we have allotted to them. Provided nevertheless, that nothing herein contained shall in any wise be construed to extend to the Hunters, who have our full Licence and Permission to enter into any Part of the Town where-ever their Game shall lead them.
"And whereas we have nothing more at our Imperial Heart than the Reformation of the Cities of London and Westminster, which to our unspeakable Satisfaction we have in some measure already effected, we do hereby earnestly pray and exhort all Husbands, Fathers, Housekeepers and Masters of Families, in either of the aforesaid Cities, not only to repair themselves to their respective Habitations at early and seasonable Hours; but also to keep their Wives and Daughters, Sons, Servants, and Apprentices, from appearing in the Streets at those Times and Seasons which may expose them to a military Discipline, as it is practised by our good Subjects the Mohocks: and we do further promise, on our Imperial Word, that as soon as the Reformation aforesaid shall be brought about, we will forthwith cause all Hostilities to cease.
"Given from our Court at the Devil-Tavern,
March 15, 1712."
X.
Turkish Sweating Baths. The
Hummums
"in Covent Garden was
one of the first of these baths (
bagnios
) set up in England."
No. 348 |
Wednesday, April 9, 1712 |
Steele |
Invidiam placare paras virtute relicta?
Hor.
Mr. Spectator,
'I have not seen you lately at any of the Places where I visit, so that I am afraid you are wholly unacquainted with what passes among my part of the World, who are, tho' I say it, without Controversy, the most accomplished and best bred of the Town. Give me leave to tell you, that I am extremely discomposed when I hear Scandal, and am an utter Enemy to all manner of Detraction, and think it the greatest Meanness that People of Distinction can be guilty of: However, it is hardly possible to come into Company, where you do not find them pulling one another to pieces, and that from no other Provocation but that of hearing any one commended. Merit, both as to Wit and Beauty, is become no other than the Possession of a few trifling People's Favour, which you cannot possibly arrive at, if you have really any thing in you that is deserving. What they would bring to pass, is, to make all Good and Evil consist in Report, and with Whispers, Calumnies and Impertinencies, to have the Conduct of those Reports. By this means Innocents are blasted upon their first Appearance in Town; and there is nothing more required to make a young Woman the object of Envy and Hatred, than to deserve Love and Admiration. This abominable Endeavour to suppress or lessen every thing that is praise-worthy, is as frequent among the Men as the Women. If I can remember what passed at a Visit last Night, it will serve as an Instance that the Sexes are equally inclined to Defamation, with equal Malice, with equal Impotence. Jack Triplett came into my Lady Airy's about Eight of the Clock. You know the manner we sit at a Visit, and I need not describe the Circle; but Mr. Triplett came in, introduced by two Tapers supported by a spruce Servant, whose Hair is under a Cap till my Lady's Candles are all lighted up, and the Hour of Ceremony begins: I say, Jack Triplett came in, and singing (for he is really good Company) 'Every Feature, Charming Creature,—he went on, It is a most unreasonable thing that People cannot go peaceably to see their Friends, but these Murderers are let loose. Such a Shape! such an Air! what a Glance was that as her Chariot pass'd by mine—My Lady herself interrupted him; Pray who is this fine Thing—I warrant, says another, 'tis the Creature I was telling your Ladyship of just now. You were telling of? says Jack; I wish I had been so happy as to have come in and heard you, for I have not Words to say what she is: But if an agreeable Height, a modest Air, a Virgin Shame, and Impatience of being beheld, amidst a Blaze of ten thousand Charms—The whole Room flew out—Oh Mr. Triplett!—When Mrs. Lofty, a known Prude, said she believed she knew whom the Gentleman meant; but she was indeed, as he civilly represented her, impatient of being beheld —- Then turning to the Lady next to her—The most unbred Creature you ever saw. Another pursued the Discourse: As unbred, Madam, as you may think her, she is extremely bely'd if she is the Novice she appears; she was last Week at a Ball till two in the Morning; Mr. Triplett knows whether he was the happy Man that took Care of her home; but—This was followed by some particular Exception that each Woman in the Room made to some peculiar Grace or Advantage so that Mr. Triplett was beaten from one Limb and Feature to another, till he was forced to resign the whole Woman. In the end I took notice Triplett recorded all this Malice in his Heart; and saw in his Countenance, and a certain waggish Shrug, that he design'd to repeat the Conversation: I therefore let the Discourse die, and soon after took an Occasion to commend a certain Gentleman of my Acquaintance for a Person of singular Modesty, Courage, Integrity, and withal as a Man of an entertaining Conversation, to which Advantages he had a Shape and Manner peculiarly graceful. Mr. Triplett, who is a Woman's Man, seem'd to hear me with Patience enough commend the Qualities of his Mind: He never heard indeed but that he was a very honest Man, and no Fool; but for a fine Gentleman, he must ask Pardon. Upon no other Foundation than this, Mr. Triplett took occasion to give the Gentleman's Pedigree, by what Methods some part of the Estate was acquired, how much it was beholden to a Marriage for the present Circumstances of it: After all, he could see nothing but a common Man in his Person, his Breeding or Understanding.
Thus, Mr. Spectator, this impertinent Humour of diminishing every one who is produced in Conversation to their Advantage, runs thro the World; and I am, I confess, so fearful of the Force of ill Tongues, that I have begged of all those who are my Well-wishers never to commend me, for it will but bring my Frailties into Examination, and I had rather be unobserved, than conspicuous for disputed Perfections. I am confident a thousand young People, who would have been Ornaments to Society, have, from Fear of Scandal, never dared to exert themselves in the polite Arts of Life. Their Lives have passed away in an odious Rusticity, in spite of great Advantages of Person, Genius and Fortune. There is a vicious Terror of being blamed in some well-inclin'd People, and a wicked Pleasure in suppressing them in others; both which I recommend to your Spectatorial Wisdom to animadvert upon; and if you can be successful in it, I need not say how much you will deserve of the Town; but new Toasts will owe to you their Beauty, and new Wits their Fame. I am,
Sir,
Your most Obedient
Humble Servant,
Mary."
T.
No. 349 |
Thursday, April 10, 1712 |
Addison |
Quos ille timorum
Maximus haud urget lethi metus: inde ruendi
In ferrum mens prona viris, animæque capaces
Mortis.
Lucan.
I am very much pleased with a Consolatory Letter of
Phalaris
, to one who
had lost a Son that was a young Man of great Merit. The Thought with
which he comforts the afflicted Father, is, to the best of my Memory, as
follows; That he should consider Death had set a kind of Seal upon his
Son's Character, and placed him out of the Reach of Vice and Infamy:
That while he liv'd he was still within the Possibility of falling away
from Virtue, and losing the Fame of which he was possessed. Death only
closes a Man's Reputation, and determines it as good or bad.
This, among other Motives, may be one Reason why we are naturally averse
to the launching out into a Man's Praise till his Head is laid in the
Dust. Whilst he is capable of changing, we may be forced to retract our
Opinions. He may forfeit the Esteem we have conceived of him, and some
time or other appear to us under a different Light from what he does at
present. In short, as the Life of any Man cannot be call'd happy or
unhappy, so neither can it be pronounced vicious or virtuous, before the
Conclusion of it.
It was
this consideration that
Epaminondas
, being asked whether
Chabrias
,
Iphicrates
, or he himself, deserved most to be esteemed? You
must first see us die, said he, before that Question can be answered
.
As there is not a more melancholy Consideration to a good Man than his
being obnoxious to such a Change, so there is nothing more glorious than
to keep up an Uniformity in his Actions, and preserve the Beauty of his
Character to the last.
The End of a Man's Life is often compared to the winding up of a
well-written Play, where the principal Persons still act in Character,
whatever the Fate is which they undergo. There is scarce a great Person
in the
Grecian
or
Roman
History, whose Death has not been remarked upon
by some Writer or other, and censured or applauded according to the
Genius or Principles of the Person who has descanted on it.
Monsieur de
St. Evremont
is very particular in setting forth the Constancy and
Courage of
Petronius Arbiter
during his last Moments, and thinks he
discovers in them a greater Firmness of Mind and Resolution than in the
Death of
Seneca, Cato
, or
Socrates
. There is no question but this polite
Author's Affectation of appearing singular in his Remarks, and making
Discoveries which had escaped the Observation of others, threw him into
this course of Reflection. It was
Petronius's
Merit, that he died in the
same Gaiety of Temper in which he lived; but as his Life was altogether
loose and dissolute, the Indifference which he showed at the Close of it
is to be looked upon as a piece of natural Carelessness and Levity,
rather than Fortitude. The Resolution of
Socrates
proceeded from very
different Motives, the Consciousness of a well-spent Life, and the
prospect of a happy Eternity. If the ingenious Author above mentioned
was so pleased with Gaiety of Humour in a dying Man, he might have found
a much nobler Instance of it in our Countryman
Sir Thomas More.
This great and learned Man was famous for enlivening his ordinary
Discourses with Wit and Pleasantry; and, as
Erasmus
tells him in an
Epistle Dedicatory
, acted in all parts of Life like a second
Democritus
.
He died upon a Point of Religion, and is respected as a Martyr by that
Side for which he suffer'd. The innocent Mirth which had been so
conspicuous in his Life, did not forsake him to the last: He maintain'd
the same Chearfulness of Heart upon the Scaffold, which he used to shew
at his Table; and upon laying his Head on the Block, gave Instances of
that Good-Humour with which he had always entertained his Friends in the
most ordinary Occurrences. His Death was of a piece with his Life. There
was nothing in it new, forced, or affected. He did not look upon the
severing of his Head from his Body as a Circumstance that ought to
produce any Change in the Disposition of his Mind; and as he died under
a fixed and settled Hope of Immortality, he thought any unusual degree
of Sorrow and Concern improper on such an Occasion, as had nothing in it
which could deject or terrify him.