Laudibus arguitur Vini vinosus—
Hor.
translation
Temple, Apr. 24.
Mr.
Spectator,
Several of my Friends were this Morning got together over a Dish of
Tea in very good Health, though we had celebrated Yesterday with more
Glasses than we could have dispensed with, had we not been beholden to
Brooke and
Hillier. In Gratitude therefore to those good Citizens, I
am, in the Name of the Company, to accuse you of great Negligence in
overlooking their Merit, who have imported true and generous Wine, and
taken care that it should not be adulterated by the Retailers before
it comes to the Tables of private Families, or the Clubs of honest
Fellows. I cannot imagine how a
Spectator can be supposed to do his
Duty, without frequent Resumption of such Subjects as concern our
Health, the first thing to be regarded, if we have a mind to relish
anything else. It would therefore very well become your Spectatorial
Vigilance, to give it in Orders to your Officer for inspecting Signs,
that in his March he would look into the Itinerants who deal in
Provisions, and enquire where they buy their several Wares.
Ever since
the Decease of
Cully1-Mully-Puff
2 of agreeable and noisy
Memory, I cannot say I have observed any thing sold in Carts, or
carried by Horse or Ass, or in fine, in any moving Market, which is
not perished or putrified; witness the Wheel-barrows of rotten
Raisins, Almonds, Figs, and Currants, which you see vended by a
Merchant dressed in a second-hand Suit of a Foot Soldier.
You should
consider that a Child may be poisoned for the Worth of a Farthing; but
except his poor Parents send to one certain Doctor in Town
3, they
can have no advice for him under a Guinea. When Poisons are thus
cheap, and Medicines thus dear, how can you be negligent in inspecting
what we eat and drink, or take no Notice of such as the
above-mentioned Citizens, who have been so serviceable to us of late
in that particular? It was a Custom among the old Romans, to do him
particular Honours who had saved the Life of a Citizen, how much more
does the World owe to those who prevent the Death of Multitudes? As
these Men deserve well of your Office, so such as act to the Detriment
of our Health, you ought to represent to themselves and their
Fellow-Subjects in the Colours which they deserve to wear. I think it
would be for the publick Good, that all who vend Wines should be under
oaths in that behalf. The Chairman at a Quarter Sessions should inform
the Country, that the Vintner who mixes Wine to his Customers, shall
(upon proof that the Drinker thereof died within a Year and a Day
after taking it) be deemed guilty of Wilful Murder: and the Jury shall
be instructed to enquire and present such Delinquents accordingly. It
is no Mitigation of the Crime, nor will it be conceived that it can be
brought in Chance-Medley or Man-Slaughter, upon Proof that it shall
appear Wine joined to Wine, or right Herefordshire poured into Port O
Port; but his selling it for one thing, knowing it to be another, must
justly bear the foresaid Guilt of wilful Murder: For that he, the said
Vintner, did an unlawful Act willingly in the false Mixture; and is
therefore with Equity liable to all the Pains to which a Man would be,
if it were proved he designed only to run a Man through the Arm, whom
he whipped through the Lungs. This is my third Year at the Temple, and
this is or should be Law. An
ill Intention well proved should meet
with no Alleviation, because it
out-ran4 it self. There cannot be
too great Severity used against the Injustice as well as Cruelty of
those who play with Mens Lives, by preparing Liquors, whose Nature,
for ought they know, may be noxious when mixed, tho innocent when
apart:
And Brooke and
Hillier5, who have ensured our Safety at our
Meals, and driven Jealousy from our Cups in Conversation, deserve the
Custom and Thanks of the whole Town; and it is your Duty to remind
them of the Obligation. I am,
Sir,
Your Humble Servant,
Tom. Pottle.
Mr.
Spectator,
I am a Person who was long immured in a College, read much, saw
little; so that I knew no more of the World than what a Lecture or a
View of the Map taught me. By this means I improved in my Study, but
became unpleasant in Conversation. By conversing generally with the
Dead, I grew almost unfit for the Society of the Living; so by a long
Confinement I contracted an ungainly Aversion to Conversation, and
ever discoursed with Pain to my self, and little Entertainment to
others. At last I was in some measure made sensible of my failing, and
the Mortification of never being spoke to, or speaking, unless the
Discourse ran upon Books, put me upon forcing my self amongst Men. I
immediately affected the politest Company, by the frequent use of
which I hoped to wear off the Rust I had contracted; but by an uncouth
Imitation of Men used to act in publick, I got no further than to
discover I had a Mind to appear a finer thing than I really was.
Such I was, and such was my Condition, when I became an ardent Lover,
and passionate Admirer of the beauteous
Belinda: Then it was that I
really began to improve. This Passion changed all my Fears and
Diffidences in my general Behaviour, to the sole Concern of pleasing
her. I had not now to study the Action of a Gentleman, but Love
possessing all my Thoughts, made me truly be the thing I had a Mind to
appear. My Thoughts grew free and generous, and the Ambition to be
agreeable to her I admired, produced in my Carriage a faint Similitude
of that disengaged Manner of my Belinda. The way we are in at present
is, that she sees my Passion, and sees I at present forbear speaking
of it through prudential Regards. This Respect to her she returns with
much Civility, and makes my Value for her as little a Misfortune to
me, as is consistent with Discretion. She sings very charmingly, and
is readier to do so at my Request, because she knows I love her: She
will dance with me rather than another, for the same Reason. My
Fortune must alter from what it is, before I can speak my Heart to
her; and her Circumstances are not considerable enough to make up for
the Narrowness of mine. But I write to you now, only to give you the
Character of
Belinda, as a Woman that has Address enough to
demonstrate a Gratitude to her Lover, without giving him Hopes of
Success in his Passion.
Belinda has from a great Wit, governed by as
great Prudence, and both adorned with Innocence, the Happiness of
always being ready to discover her real Thoughts. She has many of us,
who now are her Admirers; but her Treatment of us is so just and
proportioned to our Merit towards her, and what we are in our selves,
that I protest to you I have neither Jealousy nor Hatred toward my
Rivals. Such is her Goodness, and the Acknowledgment of every Man who
admires her, that he thinks he ought to believe she will take him who
best deserves her. I will not say that this Peace among us is not
owing to Self-love, which prompts each to think himself the best
Deserver: I think there is something uncommon and worthy of Imitation
in this Lady's Character. If you will please to Print my Letter, you
will oblige the little Fraternity of happy Rivals, and in a more
particular Manner,
Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
Will. Cymon.
T.
Mully
See
. He was a little man just able to bear on his
head his basket of pastry, and who was named from his cry. There is a
half-sheet print of him in the set of London Cries in Granger's
Biographical History of England.
Who advertised that he attended patients at charges ranging
from a shilling to half-a-crown, according to their distance from his
house.
out-run
Estcourt, it may be remembered, connected the advertisement
of his Bumper tavern with the recommendation of himself as one ignorant
of the wine trade who relied on Brooke and Hellier, and so ensured his
Customers good wine. Among the advertisers in the Spectator Brooke and
Hellier often appeared. One of their advertisements is preceded by the
following, evidently a contrivance of their own, which shows that the
art of puffing was not then in its infancy:
'This is to give Notice, That Brooke and Hellier have not all the New
Port Wines this Year, nor above one half, the Vintners having bought
130 Pipes of Mr. Thomas Barlow and others, which are all natural, and
shall remain Genuine, on which all Gentlemen and others may depend.
Note.—Altho' Brooke and Hellier have asserted in several Papers that
they had 140 Pipes of New Oporto Wines coming from Bristol, it now
appears, since their landing, that they have only 133 Pipes, I Hhd. of
the said Wines, which shews plainly how little what they say is to be
credited.'
Then follows their long advertisement, which ends with a note that Their
New Ports, just landed, being the only New Ports in Merchants Hands, and
above One Half of all that is in London, will begin to be sold at the
old prices the I2th inst. (April) at all their Taverns and Cellars.
Contents
|
Saturday, April 26, 1712 |
Addison |
—Crudelis ubique
Luctus, ubique pavor, et plurima Mortis
Imago.
Virg.
translation
Milton
has shewn a wonderful Art in describing that variety of Passions
which arise in our first Parents upon the Breach of the Commandment that
had been given them. We see them gradually passing from the Triumph of
their Guilt thro Remorse, Shame, Despair, Contrition, Prayer, and Hope,
to a perfect and compleat Repentance. At the end of the tenth Book they
are represented as prostrating themselves upon the Ground, and watering
the Earth with their Tears: To which the Poet joins this beautiful
Circumstance, that they offerd up their penitential Prayers, on the very
Place where their Judge appeared to them when he pronounced their
Sentence.
—They forthwith to the place
Repairing where he judg'd them, prostrate fell
Before him Reverent, and both confess'd
Humbly their Faults, and Pardon begg'd, with Tears
Watering the Ground—
There is a Beauty of the same kind in a Tragedy of Sophocles, where
Œdipus, after having put out his own Eyes, instead of breaking his Neck
from the Palace-Battlements (which furnishes so elegant an Entertainment
for our English Audience) desires that he may be conducted to Mount
Cithoeron, in order to end his Life in that very Place where he was
exposed in his Infancy, and where he should then have died, had the Will
of his Parents been executed.
As the Author never fails to give a poetical Turn to his Sentiments, he
describes in the Beginning of this Book the Acceptance which these their
Prayers met with, in a short Allegory, formd upon that beautiful Passage
in holy Writ: And another Angel came and stood at the Altar, having a
golden Censer; and there was given unto him much Incense, that he should
offer it with the Prayers of all Saints upon the Golden Altar, which was
before the Throne: And the Smoak of the Incense which came with the
Prayers of the Saints, ascended up before God.
—To Heavn their Prayers
Flew up, nor miss'd the Way, by envious Winds
Blown vagabond or frustrate: in they pass'd
Dimensionless through heavnly Doors, then clad
With Incense, where the Golden Altar fumed,
By their great Intercessor, came in sight
Before the Father's Throne—
We have the same Thought expressed a second time in the Intercession of
the
Messiah
, which is conceived in very Emphatick Sentiments and
Expressions.
Among the Poetical Parts of Scripture, which
Milton
has so finely
wrought into this Part of his Narration, I must not omit that wherein
Ezekiel
speaking of the Angels who appeared to him in a Vision, adds,
that every one had four Faces, and that their whole Bodies, and their
Backs, and their Hands, and their Wings, were full of Eyes round about.
—The Cohort bright
Of watchful Cherubims, four Faces each
Had like a double Janus, all their Shape
Spangled with Eyes—
The Assembling of all the Angels of Heaven to hear the solemn Decree
passed upon Man, is represented in very lively Ideas. The Almighty is
here describd as remembring Mercy in the midst of Judgment, and
commanding
Michael
to deliver his Message in the mildest Terms, lest the
Spirit of Man, which was already broken with the Sense of his Guilt and
Misery, should fail before him.
—Yet lest they faint
At the sad Sentence rigorously urg'd,
For I behold them softned, and with Tears
Bewailing their Excess, all Terror hide,
The Conference of
Adam
and
Eve
is full of moving Sentiments. Upon
their going abroad after the melancholy Night which they had passed
together, they discover the Lion and the Eagle pursuing each of them
their Prey towards the Eastern Gates of Paradise. There is a double
Beauty in this Incident, not only as it presents great and just Omens,
which are always agreeable in Poetry, but as it expresses that Enmity
which was now produced in the Animal Creation. The Poet to shew the like
Changes in Nature, as well as to grace his Fable with a noble Prodigy,
represents the Sun in an Eclipse. This particular Incident has
likewise a fine Effect upon the Imagination of the Reader, in regard to
what follows; for at the same time that the Sun is under an Eclipse, a
bright Cloud descends in the Western Quarter of the Heavens, filled with
an Host of Angels, and more luminous than the Sun it self. The whole
Theatre of Nature is darkned, that this glorious Machine may appear in
all its Lustre and Magnificence.
—Why in the East
Darkness ere Days mid-course, and morning Light
More orient in that Western Cloud that draws
O'er the blue Firmament a radiant White,
And slow descends, with something Heavnly fraught?
He err'd not, for by this the heavenly Bands
Down from a Sky of Jasper lighted now
In Paradise, and on a Hill made halt;
A glorious Apparition—
I need not observe how properly this Author, who always suits his Parts
to the Actors whom he introduces, has employed
Michael
in the Expulsion
of our first Parents from Paradise. The Archangel on this Occasion
neither appears in his proper Shape, nor in that familiar Manner with
which
Raphael
the sociable Spirit entertained the Father of Mankind
before the Fall. His Person, his Port, and Behaviour, are suitable to a
Spirit of the highest Rank, and exquisitely describd in the following
Passage.
—Th' Archangel soon drew nigh,
Not in his Shape Celestial; but as Man
Clad to meet Man: over his lucid Arms
A Military Vest of Purple flow'd,
Livelier than Meliboean, or the Grain
Of Sarra, worn by Kings and Heroes old,
In time of Truce: Iris had dipt the Wooff:
His starry Helm, unbuckled, shew'd him prime
In Manhood where Youth ended; by his side,
As in a glistring Zodiack, hung the Sword,
Satan's dire dread, and in his Hand the Spear.
Adam bow'd low, he Kingly from his State
Inclined not, but his coming thus declared.
Eve's
Complaint upon hearing that she was to be removed from the Garden
of Paradise, is wonderfully beautiful: The Sentiments are not only
proper to the Subject, but have something in them particularly soft and
womanish.
Must I then leave thee, Paradise? Thus leave
Thee, native Soil, these happy Walks and Shades,
Fit haunt of Gods? Where I had hope to spend
Quiet, though sad, the respite of that Day
That must be mortal to us both. O Flowrs,
That never will in other Climate grow,
My early Visitation, and my last
At Even, which I bred up with tender Hand
From the first opening Bud, and gave you Names;
Who now shall rear you to the Sun, or rank
Your Tribes, and water from th' ambrosial Fount?
Thee, lastly, nuptial Bower, by me adorn'd
With what to Sight or Smell was sweet; from thee
How shall I part, and whither wander down
Into a lower World, to this obscure
And wild? how shall we breathe in other Air
Less pure, accustomd to immortal Fruits?
Adam's
Speech abounds with Thoughts which are equally moving, but of a
more masculine and elevated Turn. Nothing can be conceived more Sublime
and Poetical than the following Passage in it.
This most afflicts me, that departing hence
As from his Face I shall be hid, deprived
His blessed Countnance: here I could frequent,
With Worship, place by place where he vouchsaf'd
Presence Divine; and to my Sons relate,
On this Mount he appear'd, under this Tree
Stood visible, among these Pines his Voice
I heard, here with him at this Fountain talk'd;
So many grateful Altars I would rear
Of grassy Turf, and pile up every Stone
Of lustre from the Brook, in memory
Or monument to Ages, and thereon
Offer sweet-smelling Gums and Fruits and Flowers.
In yonder nether World—where shall I seek
His bright Appearances, or Footsteps trace?
For though I fled him angry, yet recalled
To Life prolonged and promised Race, I now
Gladly behold though but his utmost Skirts
Of Glory, and far off his Steps adore.
The Angel afterwards leads
Adam
to the highest Mount of Paradise, and
lays before him a whole Hemisphere, as a proper Stage for those Visions
which were to be represented on it. I have before observed how the Plan
of
Milton's
Poem is in many Particulars greater than that of the
Iliad
or
Æneid
.
Virgil's
Hero, in the last of these Poems, is entertained with a
Sight of all those who are to descend from him; but though that Episode
is justly admired as one of the noblest Designs in the whole
Æneid
,
every one-must allow that this of
Milton
is of a much higher Nature.
Adam's
Vision is not confined to any particular Tribe of Mankind, but
extends to the whole Species.
In this great Review which
Adam
takes of all his Sons and Daughters, the
first Objects he is presented with exhibit to him the Story of
Cain
and
Abel
, which is drawn together with much Closeness and Propriety of
Expression. That Curiosity and natural Horror which arises in
Adam
at
the Sight of the first dying Man, is touched with great Beauty.
But have I now seen Death? is this the way
I must return to native Dust? O Sight
Of Terror foul, and ugly to behold,
Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!
The second Vision sets before him the Image of Death in a great Variety
of Appearances. The Angel, to give him a general Idea of those Effects
which his Guilt had brought upon his Posterity, places before him a
large Hospital or Lazar-House, filled with Persons lying under all kinds
of mortal Diseases. How finely has the Poet told us that the sick
Persons languished under lingering and incurable Distempers, by an apt
and judicious use of such Imaginary Beings as those I mentioned in my
last Saturday's Paper.
Dire was the tossing, deep the Groans. Despair
Tended the Sick, busy from Couch to Couch;
And over them triumphant Death his Dart
Shook, but delayed to strike, though oft invoked
With Vows, as their chief Good and final Hope.
The Passion which likewise rises in Adam on this Occasion, is very
natural.
Sight so deform, what Heart of Rock could long
Dry-eyed behold? Adam could not, but wept,
Tho' not of Woman born; Compassion quell'd
His best of Man, and gave him up to Tears.
The Discourse between the Angel and
Adam
, which follows, abounds with
noble Morals.
As there is nothing more delightful in Poetry than a Contrast and
Opposition of Incidents, the Author, after this melancholy Prospect of
Death and Sickness, raises up a Scene of Mirth, Love, and Jollity. The
secret Pleasure that steals into
Adam's
Heart as he is intent upon this
Vision, is imagined with great Delicacy. I must not omit the Description
of the loose female Troop, who seduced the Sons of God, as they are
called in Scripture.
For that fair female Troop thou sawst, that seemed
Of Goddesses, so Blithe, so Smooth, so Gay,
Yet empty of all Good wherein consists
Woman's domestick Honour and chief Praise;
Bred only and compleated to the taste
Of lustful Appetence, to sing, to dance,
To dress, and troule the Tongue, and roll the Eye:
To these that sober Race of Men, whose Lives
Religious titled them the Sons of God,
Shall yield up all their Virtue, all their Fame
Ignobly, to the Trains and to the Smiles
Of those fair Atheists—
The next Vision is of a quite contrary Nature, and filled with the
Horrors of War.
Adam
at the Sight of it melts into Tears, and breaks out
in that passionate Speech,
—O what are these!
Death's Ministers, not Men, who thus deal Death
Inhumanly to Men, and multiply
Ten Thousandfold the Sin of him who slew
His Brother: for of whom such Massacre
Make they but of their Brethren, Men of Men?
Milton
, to keep up an agreeable Variety in his Visions, after having
raised in the Mind of his Reader the several Ideas of Terror which are
conformable to the Description of War, passes on to those softer Images
of Triumphs and Festivals, in that Vision of Lewdness and Luxury which
ushers in the Flood.
As it is visible that the Poet had his Eye upon
Ovid's
Account of the
universal Deluge, the Reader may observe with how much Judgment he has
avoided every thing that is redundant or puerile in the
Latin
Poet.
do not here see the Wolf swimming among the Sheep, nor any of those
wanton Imaginations, which
Seneca
found fault with
, as unbecoming
the
great Catastrophe of Nature. If our Poet has imitated that
Verse in which
Ovid
tells us that there was nothing but Sea, and that
this Sea had no Shore to it, he has not set the Thought in such a Light
as to incur the Censure which Criticks have passed upon it. The latter
part of that Verse in
Ovid
is idle and superfluous, but just and
beautiful in
Milton
.
Jamque mare et tellus nullum discrimen habebant,
Nil nisi pontus erat, deerant quoque littora ponto.
(Ovid)
—Sea cover'd Sea,
Sea without Shore—
(Milton.)
In
Milton
the former Part of the Description does not forestall the
latter. How much more great and solemn on this Occasion is that which
follows in our
English
Poet,
—And in their Palaces
Where Luxury late reign'd, Sea-Monsters whelp'd
And stabled—
than that in
Ovid
, where we are told that the Sea-Calfs lay in those
Places where the Goats were used to browze? The Reader may find several
other parallel Passages in the
Latin
and
English
Description of the
Deluge, wherein our Poet has visibly the Advantage. The Skys being
overcharged with Clouds, the descending of the Rains, the rising of the
Seas, and the Appearance of the Rainbow, are such Descriptions as every
one must take notice of. The Circumstance relating to Paradise is so
finely imagined, and suitable to the Opinions of many learned Authors,
that I cannot forbear giving it a Place in this Paper.
—Then shall this Mount
Of Paradise by might of Waves be mov'd
Out of his Place, pushed by the horned Flood
With all his Verdure spoil'd, and Trees adrift
Down the great River to the opning Gulf,
And there take root, an Island salt and bare,
The haunt of Seals and Orcs and Sea-Mews clang.
The Transition which the Poet makes from the Vision of the Deluge, to
the Concern it occasioned in
Adam
, is exquisitely graceful, and copied
after
Virgil
, though the first Thought it introduces is rather in the
Spirit of
Ovid
.
How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold
The End of all thy Offspring, End so sad,
Depopulation! thee another Flood
Of Tears and Sorrow, a Flood thee also drowned,
And sunk thee as thy Sons; till gently rear'd
By th' Angel, on thy Feet thou stoodst at last,
Tho' comfortless, as when a Father mourns
His Children, all in view destroyed at once.
I have been the more particular in my Quotations out of the eleventh
Book of
Paradise Lost,
because it is not generally reckoned among the
most shining Books of this Poem; for which Reason the Reader might be
apt to overlook those many Passages in it which deserve our Admiration.
The eleventh and twelfth are indeed built upon that single Circumstance
of the Removal of our first Parents from Paradise; but tho' this is not
in itself so great a Subject as that in most of the foregoing Books, it
is extended and diversified with so many surprising Incidents and
pleasing Episodes, that these two last Books can by no means be looked
upon as unequal Parts of this Divine Poem. I must further add, that had
not
Milton
represented our first Parents as driven out of Paradise, his
Fall of Man would not have been compleat, and consequently his Action
would have been imperfect.
L.
Nat. Quaest
. Bk. III. §27.
this
Contents
|
Monday, April 28, 1712 |
Steele |
—Navibus1 atque
Quadrigis petimus bene vivere.
Hor.
translation
Mr.
Spectator2,
A Lady of my Acquaintance, for whom I have too much Respect to be easy
while she is doing an indiscreet Action, has given occasion to this
Trouble: She is a Widow, to whom the Indulgence of a tender Husband
has entrusted the Management of a very great Fortune, and a Son about
sixteen, both which she is extremely fond of. The Boy has Parts of the
middle Size, neither shining nor despicable, and has passed the common
Exercises of his Years with tolerable Advantage; but is withal what
you would call a forward Youth: By the Help of this last
Qualification, which serves as a Varnish to all the rest, he is
enabled to make the best Use of his Learning, and display it at full
length upon all Occasions. Last Summer he distinguished himself two or
three times very remarkably, by puzzling the Vicar before an Assembly
of most of the Ladies in the Neighbourhood; and from such weighty
Considerations as these, as it too often unfortunately falls out, the
Mother is become invincibly persuaded that her Son is a great Scholar;
and that to chain him down to the ordinary Methods of Education with
others of his Age, would be to cramp his Faculties, and do an
irreparable Injury to his wonderful Capacity.
I happened to visit at the House last Week, and missing the young
Gentleman at the Tea-Table, where he seldom fails to officiate, could
not upon so extraordinary a Circumstance avoid inquiring after him. My
Lady told me, he was gone out with her Woman, in order to make some
Preparations for their Equipage; for that she intended very speedily
to carry him to travel. The Oddness of the Expression shock'd me a
little; however, I soon recovered my self enough to let her know, that
all I was willing to understand by it was, that she designed this
Summer to shew her Son his Estate in a distant County, in which he has
never yet been: But she soon took care to rob me of that agreeable
Mistake, and let me into the whole Affair. She enlarged upon young
Master's prodigious Improvements, and his comprehensive Knowledge of
all Book-Learning; concluding, that it was now high time he should be
made acquainted with Men and Things; that she had resolved he should
make the Tour of France and Italy, but could not bear to have him out
of her Sight, and therefore intended to go along with him.
I was going to rally her for so extravagant a Resolution, but found my
self not in fit Humour to meddle with a Subject that demanded the most
soft and delicate Touch imaginable. I was afraid of dropping something
that might seem to bear hard either upon the Son's Abilities, or the
Mother's Discretion; being sensible that in both these Cases, tho'
supported with all the Powers of Reason, I should, instead of gaining
her Ladyship over to my Opinion, only expose my self to her Disesteem:
I therefore immediately determined to refer the whole Matter to the
Spectator.
When I came to reflect at Night, as my Custom is, upon the Occurrences
of the Day, I could not but believe that this Humour of carrying a Boy
to travel in his Mother's Lap, and that upon pretence of learning Men
and Things, is a Case of an extraordinary Nature, and carries on it a
particular Stamp of Folly. I did not remember to have met with its
Parallel within the Compass of my Observation, tho' I could call to
mind some not extremely unlike it. From hence my Thoughts took
Occasion to ramble into the general Notion of Travelling, as it is now
made a Part of Education. Nothing is more frequent than to take a Lad
from Grammar and Taw, and under the Tuition of some poor Scholar, who
is willing to be banished for thirty Pounds a Year, and a little
Victuals, send him crying and snivelling into foreign Countries. Thus
he spends his time as Children do at Puppet-Shows, and with much the
same Advantage, in staring and gaping at an amazing Variety of strange
things: strange indeed to one who is not prepared to comprehend the
Reasons and Meaning of them; whilst he should be laying the solid
Foundations of Knowledge in his Mind, and furnishing it with just
Rules to direct his future Progress in Life under some skilful Master
of the Art of Instruction.
Can there be a more astonishing Thought in Nature, than to consider
how Men should fall into so palpable a Mistake? It is a large Field,
and may very well exercise a sprightly Genius; but I don't remember
you have yet taken a Turn in it. I wish, Sir, you would make People
understand, that Travel is really the last Step to be taken in the
Institution of Youth; and to set out with it, is to begin where they
should end.
Certainly the true End of visiting Foreign Parts, is to look into
their Customs and Policies, and observe in what Particulars they excel
or come short of our own; to unlearn some odd Peculiarities in our
Manners, and wear off such awkward Stiffnesses and Affectations in our
Behaviour, as may possibly have been contracted from constantly
associating with one Nation of Men, by a more free, general, and mixed
Conversation. But how can any of these Advantages be attained by one
who is a mere Stranger to the Custom sand Policies of his native
Country, and has not yet fixed in his Mind the first Principles of
Manners and Behaviour? To endeavour it, is to build a gawdy Structure
without any Foundation; or, if I may be allow'd the Expression, to
work a rich Embroidery upon a Cobweb.
Another End of travelling which deserves to be considerd, is the
Improving our Taste of the best Authors of Antiquity, by seeing the
Places where they lived, and of which they wrote; to compare the
natural Face of the Country with the Descriptions they have given us,
and observe how well the Picture agrees with the Original. This must
certainly be a most charming Exercise to the Mind that is rightly
turned for it; besides that it may in a good measure be made
subservient to Morality, if the Person is capable of drawing just
Conclusions concerning the Uncertainty of human things, from the
ruinous Alterations Time and Barbarity have brought upon so many
Palaces, Cities and whole Countries, which make the most illustrious
Figures in History. And this Hint may be not a little improved by
examining every Spot of Ground that we find celebrated as the Scene of
some famous Action, or retaining any Footsteps of a
Cato,
Cicero or
Brutus, or some such great virtuous Man. A nearer View of any such
Particular, tho really little and trifling in it self, may serve the
more powerfully to warm a generous Mind to an Emulation of their
Virtues, and a greater Ardency of Ambition to imitate their bright
Examples, if it comes duly temper'd and prepar'd for the Impression.
But this I
believe you'll hardly think those to be, who are so far
from ent'ring into the Sense and Spirit of the Ancients, that they
don't yet understand their Language with any
Exactness3.
But I have wander'd from my Purpose, which was only to desire you to
save, if possible, a fond
English Mother, and Mother's own Son, from
being shewn a ridiculous Spectacle thro' the most polite Part of
Europe, Pray tell them, that though to be Sea-sick, or jumbled in an
outlandish Stage-Coach, may perhaps be healthful for the Constitution
of the Body, yet it is apt to cause such a Dizziness in young empty
Heads, as too often lasts their Life-time.
I am,
Sir,
Your most Humble Servant,
Philip Homebred.
Birchan-Lane.
Sir,
I was marry'd on
Sunday last, and went peaceably to bed; but, to my
Surprize, was awakend the next Morning by the Thunder of a Set of
Drums. These warlike Sounds (methinks) are very improper in a
Marriage-Consort, and give great Offence; they seem to insinuate, that
the Joys of this State are short, and that Jars and Discord soon
ensue. I fear they have been ominous to many Matches, and sometimes
proved a Prelude to a Battel in the Honey-Moon. A Nod from you may
hush them; therefore pray, Sir, let them be silenced, that for the
future none but soft Airs may usher in the Morning of a Bridal Night,
which will be a Favour not only to those who come after, but to me,
who can still subscribe my self,
Your most humble
and most obedient Servant,
Robin Bridegroom.
Mr.
Spectator,
I am one of that sort of Women whom the gayer Part of our Sex are apt
to call a Prude. But to shew them that I have very little Regard to
their Raillery, I shall be glad to see them all at
The Amorous Widow,
or the Wanton Wife, which is to be acted, for the Benefit of Mrs.
Porter, on Monday the 28th Instant. I assure you I can laugh at an
Amorous Widow, or Wanton Wife, with as little Temptation to imitate
them, as I could at any other vicious Character. Mrs. Porter obliged
me so very much in the exquisite Sense she seemed to have of the
honourable Sentiments and noble Passions in the Character of Hermione,
that I shall appear in her behalf at a Comedy, tho I have not great
Relish for any Entertainments where the Mirth is not seasond with a
certain Severity, which ought to recommend it to People who pretend to
keep Reason and Authority over all their Actions.
I am,
Sir,
Your frequent Reader,
Altamira.