was on board one of the
Athenian
Ships, there arose a
very violent Tempest; upon which the Mariners told him, that it was a
just Judgment upon them for having taken so impious a Man on board.
Diagoras
begged them to look upon the rest of the Ships that were in
the same Distress, and ask'd them whether or no
Diagoras
was on board
every Vessel in the Fleet. We are all involved in the same Calamities,
and subject to the same Accidents: and when we see any one of the
Species under any particular Oppression, we should look upon it as
arising from the common Lot of human Nature, rather than from the Guilt
of the Person who suffers.
Another Consideration, that may check our Presumption in putting such a
Construction upon a Misfortune, is this, That it is impossible for us to
know what are Calamities, and what are Blessings. How many Accidents
have pass'd for Misfortunes, which have turned to the Welfare and
Prosperity of the Persons in whose Lot they have fallen? How many
Disappointments have, in their Consequences, saved a man from Ruin? If
we could look into the Effects of every thing, we might be allowed to
pronounce boldly upon Blessings and Judgments; but for a Man to give his
Opinion of what he sees but in part, and in its Beginnings, is an
unjustifiable Piece of Rashness and Folly. The Story of
Biton
and
Clitobus
, which was in great Reputation among the Heathens, (for we
see it quoted by all the ancient Authors, both
Greek
and
Latin
, who
have written upon the Immortality of the Soul,) may teach us a Caution
in this Matter. These two Brothers, being the Sons of a Lady who was
Priestess to
Juno
, drew their Mother's Chariot to the Temple at the
time of a great Solemnity, the Persons being absent who by their Office
were to have drawn her Chariot on that Occasion. The Mother was so
transported with this Instance of filial Duty, that she petition'd her
Goddess to bestow upon them the greatest Gift that could be given to
Men; upon which they were both cast into a deep Sleep, and the next
Morning found dead in the Temple. This was such an Event, as would have
been construed into a Judgment, had it happen'd to the two Brothers
after an Act of Disobedience, and would doubtless have been represented
as such by any Ancient Historian who had given us an Account of it.
O.
Successes
Diagoras the Melian, having attacked the popular religion
and the Eleusinian mysteries, had a price set on his head, and left
Athens B.C. 411. The Athenians called him Atheist, and destroyed his
writings. The story in the text is from the third book of Cicero
de
Natura Deorum.
Contents
|
Monday, September 15, 1712 |
Steele |
Neque cuiquam tam statim clarum ingenium est, ut possit emergere;
nisi illi materia, occasio, fautor etiam, commendatorque contingat.
Plin.
Epist.translation
Mr. SPECTATOR,
Of all the young Fellows who are in their Progress thro' any
Profession, none seem to have so good a Title to the Protection of the
Men of Eminence in it as the modest Man; not so much because his
Modesty is a certain Indication of his Merit, as because 'tis a
certain Obstacle to the producing of it. Now, as of all Professions
this Virtue is thought to be more particularly unnecessary in that of
the Law than in any other, I shall only apply my self to the Relief of
such who follow this Profession with this Disadvantage. What
aggravates the matter is, that those Persons who, the better to
prepare themselves for this Study, have made some Progress in others,
have, by addicting themselves to Letters, encreased their natural
Modesty, and consequently heighten'd the Obstruction to this sort of
Preferment; so that every one of these may emphatically be said to be
such a one as
laboureth and taketh pains, and is still the more
behind. It may be a Matter worth discussing then, Why that which made
a Youth so amiable to the Ancients, should make him appear so
ridiculous to the Moderns? and, Why in our days there should be
Neglect, and even Oppression of young Beginners, instead of that
Protection which was the Pride of theirs? In the Profession spoken of,
'tis obvious to every one whose Attendance is required at
Westminster-Hall, with what Difficulty a Youth of any Modesty has
been permitted to make an Observation, that could in no wise detract
from the Merit of his Elders, and is absolutely necessary for the
advancing his own. I have often seen one of these not only molested in
his Utterance of something very pertinent, but even plunder'd of his
Question, and by a strong Serjeant shoulder'd out of his Rank, which
he has recover'd with much Difficulty and Confusion. Now as great part
of the Business of this Profession might be dispatched by one that
perhaps
—Abest virtute diserti
Messalæ, nec scit quantum Causellius Aulus—
Hor.
so I can't conceive the Injustice done to the Publick, if the Men of
Reputation in this Calling would introduce such of the young ones into
Business, whose Application to this Study will let them into the
Secrets of it, as much as their Modesty will hinder them from the
Practice: I say, it would be laying an everlasting Obligation upon a
young Man, to be introduc'd at first only as a Mute, till by this
Countenance, and a Resolution to support the good Opinion conceiv'd of
him in his Betters, his Complexion shall be so well settled, that the
Litigious of this Island may be secure of his obstreperous Aid. If I
might be indulged to speak in the Style of a Lawyer, I would say, That
any one about thirty years of Age, might make a common Motion to the
Court with as much Elegance and Propriety as the most aged Advocates
in the Hall.
I can't advance the Merit of Modesty by any Argument of my own so
powerfully, as by enquiring into the Sentiments the greatest among the
Ancients of different Ages entertain'd upon this Virtue. If we go back
to the Days of
Solomon, we shall find Favour a necessary Consequence
to a shame-fac'd Man.
Pliny, the greatest Lawyer and most Elegant
Writer of the Age he lived in, in several of his Epistles is very
sollicitous in recommending to the Publick some young Men of his own
Profession, and very often undertakes to become an Advocate, upon
condition that some one of these his Favourites might be joined with
him, in order to produce the Merit of such, whose Modesty otherwise
would have suppressed it. It may
seem very marvellous to a saucy
Modern, that
Multum sanguinis, multum verecundiæ, multum
sollicitudinis in ore; to have the Face first full of Blood, then the
Countenance dashed with Modesty, and then the whole Aspect as of one
dying with Fear, when a Man begins to speak; should be esteem'd by
Pliny the necessary Qualifications of a fine Speaker
1.
Shakespear has also express'd himself in the same favourable Strain
of Modesty, when he says,
—In the Modesty of fearful Duty
I read as much as from the rattling Tongue
Of saucy and audacious Eloquence—2
Now since these Authors have profess'd themselves for the Modest Man,
even in the utmost Confusions of Speech and Countenance, why should an
intrepid Utterance and a resolute Vociferation thunder so successfully
in our Courts of Justice? And why should that Confidence of Speech and
Behaviour, which seems to acknowledge no Superior, and to defy all
Contradiction, prevail over that Deference and Resignation with which
the Modest Man implores that favourable Opinion which the other seems
to command?
As the Case at present stands, the best Consolation that I can
administer to those who cannot get into that Stroke of Business (as
the Phrase is) which they deserve, is to reckon every particular
Acquisition of Knowledge in this Study as a real Increase of their
Fortune; and fully to believe, that one day this imaginary Gain will
certainly be made out by one more substantial. I wish you would talk
to us a little on this Head, you would oblige,
Sir ,
Your most humble Servant.
The Author of this Letter is certainly a Man of good Sense; but I am
perhaps particular in my Opinion on this Occasion; for I have observed,
that under the Notion of Modesty, Men have indulged themselves in a
Spiritless Sheepishness, and been for ever lost to themselves, their
Families, their Friends, and their Country. When a Man has taken care to
pretend to nothing but what he may justly aim at, and can execute as
well as any other, without Injustice to any other; it is ever want of
Breeding or Courage to be brow-beaten or elbow'd out of his honest
Ambition. I have said often, Modesty must be an Act of the Will, and yet
it always implies Self-Denial: For if a Man has an ardent De
Sir
e to do
what is laudable for him to perform, and, from an unmanly Bashfulness,
shrinks away, and lets his Merit languish in Silence, he ought not to be
angry at the World that a more unskilful Actor succeeds in his Part,
because he has not Confidence to come upon the Stage himself. The
Generosity my Correspondent mentions of
Pliny
, cannot be enough
applauded. To cherish the Dawn of Merit, and hasten its Maturity, was a
Work worthy a noble
Roman
and a liberal Scholar. That Concern which is
described in the Letter, is to all the World the greatest Charm
imaginable: but then the modest Man must proceed, and shew a latent
Resolution in himself; for the Admiration of his Modesty arises from the
Manifestation of his Merit. I must confess we live in an Age wherein a
few empty Blusterers carry away the Praise of Speaking, while a Crowd of
Fellows over-stock'd with Knowledge are run down by them. I say
Over-stock'd, because they certainly are so as to their Service of
Mankind, if from their very Store they raise to themselves Ideas of
Respect, and Greatness of the Occasion, and I know not what, to disable
themselves from explaining their Thoughts. I must confess, when I have
seen
Charles Frankair
rise up with a commanding Mien, and Torrent of
handsome Words, talk a Mile off the Purpose, and drive down twenty
bashful Boobies of ten times his Sense, who at the same time were
envying his Impudence and despising his Understanding, it has been
matter of great Mirth to me; but it soon ended in a secret Lamentation,
that the Fountains of every thing praiseworthy in these Realms, the
Universities, should be so muddied with a false Sense of this Virtue, as
to produce Men capable of being so abused. I will be bold to say, that
it is a ridiculous Education which does not qualify a Man to make his
best Appearance before the greatest Man and the finest Woman to whom he
can address himself. Were this judiciously corrected in the Nurseries of
Learning, pert Coxcombs would know their Distance: But we must bear with
this false Modesty in our young Nobility and Gentry, till they cease at
Oxford
and
Cambridge
to grow dumb in the Study of Eloquence.
T.
The citation is from a charming letter in which Pliny (Bk. v. letter 17)
tells Spurinna the pleasure he had just received from a recitation by a noble
youth in the house of Calpurnius Piso, and how, when it was over, he gave
the youth many kisses and praises, congratulated his mother and his brother,
in whom, as the reciter tried his powers, first fear for him and then delight
in him was manifest. To the sentences quoted above the next is
'Etenim, nescio quo pacto, magis in studiis homines timor quam fiducia
decet.'
'I don't know how it is, but in brain-work mistrust better becomes men
than self-confidence.'
Midsummer Night's Dream
, Act v. sc. 1.
Contents
|
Tuesday, September 16, 1712 |
Steele |
Nihil tam firmum est, cui periculum non sit, etiam ab Invalido.
Quint. Curt.
translation
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'My
Lord Clarendon has observed,
That few Men have done more harm
than those who have been thought to be able to do least; and there
cannot be a greater Error, than to believe a Man whom we see qualified
with too mean Parts to do good, to be therefore incapable of doing
hurt. There is a Supply of Malice, of Pride, of Industry, and even of
Folly, in the Weakest, when he sets his heart upon it, that makes a
strange progress in Mischief1. What may seem to the Reader the
greatest Paradox in the Reflection of the Historian, is, I suppose,
that Folly, which is generally thought incapable of contriving or
executing any Design, should be so formidable to those whom it exerts
it self to molest. But this will appear very plain, if we remember
that
Solomon says,
It is as Sport to a Fool to do mischief; and
that he might the more emphatically express the calamitous
Circumstances of him who falls under the displeasure of this wanton
Person, the same Author adds further,
That a Stone is heavy, and the
Sand weighty, but a Fool's Wrath is heavier than them both. It is
impossible to suppress my own Illustration upon this Matter, which is,
That as the Man of Sagacity bestirs himself to distress his Enemy by
Methods probable and reducible to Reason, so the same Reason will
fortify his Enemy to elude these his regular Efforts; but your Fool
projects, acts, and concludes with such notable Inconsistence, that no
regular Course of Thought can evade or counterplot his prodigious
Machinations. My Frontispiece, I believe, may be extended to imply,
That several of our Misfortunes arise from Things, as well as Persons,
that seem of very little consequence. Into what tragical
Extravagancies does
Shakespear hurry
Othello upon the loss of an
Handkerchief only? and what Barbarities does
Desdemona suffer from a
slight Inadvertency in regard to this fatal Trifle? If the Schemes of
all enterprizing Spirits were to be carefully examined, some
intervening Accident, not considerable enough to occasion any Debate
upon, or give 'em any apprehension of ill Consequence from it, will be
found to be the occasion of their ill Success, rather than any Error
in Points of Moment and Difficulty, which naturally engag'd their
maturest Deliberations. If you go to the Levée of any great Man, you
will observe him exceeding gracious to several very insignificant
Fellows; and this upon this Maxim, That the Neglect of any Person must
arise from the mean Opinion you have of his Capacity to do you any
Service or Prejudice; and that this calling his Sufficiency in
question, must give him Inclination, and where this is, there never
wants Strength or Opportunity to annoy you. There is no body so weak
of Invention, that can't aggravate or make some little Stories to
vilify his Enemy; and there are very few but have good Inclinations to
hear 'em, and 'tis infinite Pleasure to the Majority of Mankind to
level a Person superior to his Neighbours. Besides, in all matter of
Controversy, that Party which has the greatest Abilities labours under
this Prejudice, that he will certainly be supposed, upon Account of
his Abilities, to have done an Injury, when perhaps he has received
one. It would be tedious to enumerate the Strokes that Nations and
particular Friends have suffer'd from Persons very contemptible.
I Think
Henry IV. of
France, so formidable to his Neighbours,
could no more be secur'd against the resolute Villany of
Ravillac,
than
Villiers, Duke of
Buckingham, could be against that of
Felton. And there is no incens'd Person so destitute, but can
provide himself with a Knife or a Pistol, if he finds stomach to apply
them. That Things and Persons of no moment should give such powerful
Revolutions to the progress of those of the greatest, seems a
providential Disposition to baffle and abate the Pride of human
Sufficiency; as also to engage the Humanity and Benevolence of
Superiors to all below 'em, by letting them into this Secret, that the
Stronger depends upon the Weaker.
I am, Sir ,
Your very humble Servant.
Temple, Paper-Buildings.
Dear Sir ,
'I received a Letter from you some time ago, which I should have
answered sooner, had you informed me in yours to what part of this
Island I might have directed my Impertinence; but having been let into
the Knowledge of that Matter, this handsome Excuse is no longer
serviceable. My Neighbour
Prettyman shall be the Subject of this
Letter; who falling in with the
Spectator's Doctrine concerning the
Month of
May, began from that Season to dedicate himself to the
Service of the Fair in the following Manner. I observed at the
Beginning of the Month he bought him a new Night-gown, either side to
be worn outwards, both equally gorgeous and attractive; but till the
End of the Month I did not enter so fully into the knowledge of his
Contrivance, as the Use of that Garment has since suggested to me. Now
you must know that all new Clothes raise and warm the Bearer's
Imagination into a Conceit of his being a much finer Gentleman than he
was before, banishing all Sobriety and Reflection, and giving him up
to Gallantry and Amour. Inflam'd therefore with this way of thinking,
and full of the Spirit of the Month of
May, did this merciless Youth
resolve upon the Business of Captivating. At first he confin'd himself
to his Room only, now and then appearing at his Window in his
Night-gown, and practising that easy Posture which expresses the very
Top and Dignity of Languishment. It was pleasant to see him diversify
his Loveliness, sometimes obliging the Passengers only with a
Side-Face, with a Book in his Hand; sometimes being so generous as to
expose the whole in the fulness of its Beauty; at the other times, by
a judicious throwing back of his Perriwig, he would throw in his Ears.
You know he is that Sort of Person which the Mob call a handsome jolly
Man; which Appearance can't miss of Captives in this part of the Town.
Being emboldened by daily Success, he leaves his Room with a
Resolution to extend his Conquests; and I have apprehended him in his
Night-gown smiting in all Parts of this Neighbourhood.
This I, being of an amorous Complection, saw with Indignation, and had
Thoughts of purchasing a Wig in these Parts; into which, being at a
greater Distance from the Earth, I might have thrown a very liberal
Mixture of white Horse-hair, which would make a fairer, and
consequently a handsomer Appearance, while my Situation would secure
me against any Discoveries. But the Passion to the handsome Gentleman
seems to be so fixed to that part of the Building, that it will be
extremely difficult to divert it to mine; so that I am resolved to
stand boldly to the Complection of my own Eye-brow, and prepare me an
immense Black Wig of the same sort of Structure with that of my Rival.
Now, tho' by this I shall not, perhaps, lessen the number of the
Admirers of his Complection, I shall have a fair Chance to divide the
Passengers by the irresistible Force of mine.
I expect sudden Dispatches from you, with Advice of the Family you are
in now, how to deport my self upon this so delicate a Conjuncture;
with some comfortable Resolutions in favour of the handsome black Man
against the handsome fair one.
I am, Sir ,
Your most humble Servant,
C.
N. B. He who writ this, is a black Man two Pair of Stairs; the
Gentleman of whom he writes, is fair, and one Pair of Stairs.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'I only say, that it is impossible for me to say how much I am
Yours,
Robin Shorter.
P. S. 'I shall think it a little hard, if you do not take as much
notice of this Epistle, as you have of the ingenious Mr.
Short's. I
am not afraid to let the World see which is the Deeper Man of the two.
T.
When this was quoted Clarendon had been dead only 38 years,
and his
History of the Rebellion
, first published in Queen Anne's reign,
was almost a new Book. It was published at Oxford in three folio
volumes, which appeared in the successive years 1702, 3,4, and in this
year, 1712, there had appeared a new edition of it (the sixth).
Contents
Advertisement
London, September 15.
Whereas a young Woman on horseback,
in an Equestrian Habit on the 13th Instant in the Evening,
met the Spectator within a Mile and an half of this Town,
and flying in the Face of Justice,
pull'd off her Hat, in which there was a Feather,
with the Mein and Air of a young Officer,
saying at the same time,
Your Servant Mr. SPEC. or Words to that Purpose;
This is to give Notice,
that if any Person can discover the Name,
and Place of Abode of the said Offender,
so as she can be brought to Justice,
the Informant shall have all fitting Encouragement.
|
Wednesday, September 17, 1712 |
Steele |
—Audire est operæ pretium procedere recte
Qui mechis non vultis—
Hor.
translation
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'There are very many of my Acquaintance Followers of
Socrates, with
more particular regard to that part of his Philosophy which we, among,
our selves, call his
Domesticks; under which Denomination, or Title,
we include all the Conjugal Joys and Sufferings. We have indeed, with
very great Pleasure, observed the Honour you do the whole Fraternity
of the Hen-peck'd, in placing that illustrious Man at our Head, and it
does in a very great measure baffle the Raillery of pert Rogues, who
have no advantage above us, but in that they are single. But when you
look about into the Crowd of Mankind, you will find the Fair Sex
reigns with greater Tyranny over Lovers than Husbands. You shall
hardly meet one in a thousand who is wholly exempt from their
Dominion, and those that are so, are capable of no Taste of Life, and
breathe and walk about the Earth as Insignificants. But I am going to
de
Sir e your further Favour in behalf of our harmless Brotherhood, and
hope you will shew in a true light the un-married Hen-peck'd, as well
as you have done Justice to us, who submit to the Conduct of our
Wives. I am very particularly acquainted with one who is under entire
Submission to a kind Girl, as he calls her; and tho' he knows I have
been Witness both to the ill Usage he has received from her, and his
Inability to resist her Tyranny, he still pretends to make a Jest of
me for a little more than ordinary Obsequiousness to my Spouse. No
longer than
Tuesday last he took me with him to visit his Mistress;
and he having, it seems, been a little in Disgrace before, thought by
bringing me with him she would constrain herself, and insensibly fall
into general Discourse with him; and so he might break the Ice, and
save himself all the ordinary Compunctions and Mortifications she used
to make him suffer before she would be reconciled after any Act of
Rebellion on his Part. When we came into the Room, we were received
with the utmost Coldness; and when he presented me as Mr. Such-a-one,
his very good Friend, she just had Patience to suffer my Salutation;
but when he himself, with a very gay Air, offered to follow me, she
gave him a thundering Box on the Ear, called him pitiful poor-spirited
Wretch, how durst he see her Face? His Wig and Hat fell on different
Parts of the Floor. She seized the Wig too soon for him to recover it,
and kicking it down Stairs, threw herself into an opposite Room,
pulling the Door after her with a Force, that you would have thought
the Hinges would have given Way. We went down, you must think, with no
very good Countenances; and as we sneaked off, and were driving home
together, he confessed to me, that her Anger was thus highly raised,
because he did not think fit to fight a Gentleman who had said she was
what she was; but, says he, a kind Letter or two, or fifty pieces,
will put her in Humour again. I asked him why he did not part with
her; he answered, he loved her with all the Tenderness imaginable, and
she had too many Charms to be abandoned for a little Quickness of
Spirit. Thus does this illegitimate Hen-pecked over-look the Hussy's
having no Regard to his very Life and Fame, in putting him upon an
infamous Dispute about her Reputation; yet has he the Confidence to
laugh at me, because I obey my poor Dear in keeping out of Harm's Way,
and not staying too late from my own Family, to pass through the
Hazards of a Town full of Ranters and Debauchees. You that are a
Philosopher should urge in our behalf, that when we bear with a
froward Woman, our Patience is preserved, in consideration that a
breach with her might be a Dishonour to Children who are descended
from us, and whose Concern makes us tolerate a thousand Frailties, for
fear they should redound Dishonour upon the Innocent. This and the
like Circumstances, which carry with them the most valuable Regards of
human Life, may be mentioned for our long Suffering; but in the case
of Gallants, they swallow ill Usage from one to whom they have no
Obligation, but from a base Passion, which it is mean to indulge, and
which it would be glorious to overcome.
'These Sort of Fellows are very numerous, and some have been
conspicuously such, without Shame; nay they have carried on the Jest
in the very Article of Death, and, to the Diminution of the Wealth and
Happiness of their Families, in bar of those honourably near to them,
have left immense Wealth to their Paramours. What is this but being a
Cully in the Grave! Sure this is being Hen-peck'd with a Vengeance!
But without dwelling upon these less frequent Instances of eminent
Cullyism, what is there so common as to hear a Fellow curse his Fate
that he cannot get rid of a Passion to a Jilt, and quote an Half-Line
out of a Miscellany Poem to prove his Weakness is natural? If they
will go on thus, I have nothing to say to it: But then let them not
pretend to be free all this while, and laugh at us poor married
Patients.
'I have known one Wench in this Town carry an haughty Dominion over
her Lovers so well, that she has at the same time been kept by a
Sea-Captain in the
Straits, a Merchant in the City, a Country
Gentleman in
Hampshire, and had all her Correspondences managed by
one she kept for her own Uses. This happy Man (as the Phrase is) used
to write very punctually every Post, Letters for the Mistress to
transcribe. He would sit in his Night-Gown and Slippers, and be as
grave giving an Account, only changing Names, that there was nothing
in those idle Reports they had heard of such a Scoundrel as one of the
other Lovers was; and how could he think she could condescend so low,
after such a fine Gentleman as each of them? For the same Epistle said
the same thing to and of every one of them. And so Mr. Secretary and
his Lady went to Bed with great Order.
'To be short,
Mr. SPECTATOR, we Husbands shall never make the Figure
we ought in the Imaginations of young Men growing up in the World,
except you can bring it about that a Man of the Town shall be as
infamous a Character as a Woman of the Town. But of all that I have
met in my time, commend me to
Betty Duall: She is the Wife of a
Sailor, and the kept Mistress of a Man of Quality; she dwells with the
latter during the Sea-faring of the former. The Husband asks no
Questions, sees his Apartments furnished with Riches not his, when he
comes into Port, and the Lover is as joyful as a Man arrived at his
Haven when the other puts to Sea.
Betty is the most eminently
victorious of any of her Sex, and ought to stand recorded the only
Woman of the Age in which she lives, who has possessed at the same
time two Abused, and two Contented...
T.
Contents
|
Thursday, September 18, 1712 |
Addison |
—Cum prostrata sopore
Urget membra quies, et mem sine pondere ludit—
Petr.
translation
Tho' there are many Authors, who have written on Dreams, they have
generally considered them only as Revelations of what has already
happened in distant parts of the World, or as Presages of what is to
happen in future Periods of time.
I shall consider this Subject in another Light, as Dreams may give us
some Idea of the great Excellency of an Human Soul, and some Intimation
of its Independency on Matter. In the first Place, our Dreams are great
Instances of that Activity which is natural to the human Soul, and which
it is not in the power of Sleep to deaden or abate. When the Man appears
tired and worn out with the Labours of the Day, this active part in his
Composition is still busied and unwearied. When the Organs of Sense want
their due Repose and necessary Reparations, and the Body is no longer
able to keep pace with that spiritual Substance to which it is united,
the Soul exerts her self in her several Faculties, and continues in
Action till her Partner is again qualified to bear her Company. In this
case Dreams look like the Relaxations and Amusements of the Soul, when
she is disincumbred of her Machine, her Sports and Recreations, when she
has laid her Charge asleep.
In the Second Place, Dreams are an Instance of that Agility and
Perfection which is natural to the Faculties of the Mind, when they are
disengaged from the Body. The Soul is clogged and retarded in her
Operations, when she acts in Conjunction with a Companion that is so
heavy and unwieldy in its Motions. But in Dreams it is wonderful to
observe with what a Sprightliness and Alacrity she exerts her self. The
slow of Speech make unpremeditated Harangues, or converse readily in
Languages that they are but little acquainted with. The Grave abound in
Pleasantries, the Dull in Repartees and Points of Wit. There is not a
more painful Action of the Mind, than Invention; yet in Dreams it works
with that Ease and Activity, that we are not sensible when the Faculty
is employed. For instance, I believe every one, some time or other,
dreams that he is reading Papers, Books, or Letters; in which case the
Invention prompts so readily, that the Mind is imposed upon, and
mistakes its own Suggestions for the Compositions of another.
I
, under this Head, quote a Passage out of the
Religio Medici
, in which the ingenious Author gives an account of himself in his
dreaming and his waking Thoughts.
We are somewhat more than our selves in our Sleeps, and the Slumber
of the Body seems to be but the Waking of the Soul. It is the
Litigation of Sense, but the Liberty of Reason; and our waking
Conceptions do not match the Fancies of our Sleeps. At my Nativity my
Ascendant was the watery Sign of Scorpius: I was born in the
Planetary Hour of Saturn, and I think I have a piece of that leaden
Planet in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the Mirth and
Galliardize of Company; yet in one Dream I can compose a whole Comedy,
behold the Action, apprehend the Jests, and laugh my self awake at the
Conceits thereof. Were my Memory as faithful as my Reason is then
fruitful, I would never study but in my Dreams; and this time also
would I chuse for my Devotions: but our grosser Memories have then so
little hold of our abstracted Understandings, that they forget the
Story, and can only relate to our awaked Souls a confused and broken
Tale of that that has passed—Thus it is observed that Men sometimes,
upon the Hour of their Departure, do speak and reason above
themselves; for then the Soul beginning to be freed from the Ligaments
of the Body, begins to reason like her self, and to discourse in a
strain above Mortality.
We may likewise observe in the third Place, that the Passions affect the
Mind with greater Strength when we are asleep, than when we are awake.
Joy and Sorrow give us more vigorous Sensations of Pain or Pleasure at
this time, than at any other. Devotion likewise, as the excellent Author
above-mentioned has hinted, is in a very particular manner heightned and
inflamed, when it rises in the Soul at a time that the Body is thus laid
at Rest. Every Man's Experience will inform him in this matter, though
it is very probable, that this may happen differently, in different
Constitutions. I shall conclude this Head with the two following
Problems, which I shall leave to the Solution of my Reader. Supposing a
Man always happy in his Dreams, and miserable in his waking Thoughts,
and that his Life was equally divided between them, whether would he be
more happy or miserable? Were a Man a King in his Dreams, and a Beggar
awake, and dreamt as consequentially, and in as continued unbroken
Schemes as he thinks when awake, whether he would be in reality a King
or Beggar, or rather whether he would not be both?
There is another Circumstance, which methinks gives us a very high Idea
of the Nature of the Soul, in regard to what passes in Dreams, I mean
that innumerable Multitude and Variety of Ideas which then arise in her.
Were that active watchful Being only conscious of her own Existence at
such a time, what a painful Solitude would her Hours of Sleep be? Were
the Soul sensible of her being alone in her sleeping Moments, after the
same manner that she is sensible of it while awake, the time would hang
very heavy on her, as it often actually does when she Dreams that she is
in such a Solitude?
—Semperque relinqui
Sola sili, semper longam incomitata videtur
Ire viam—
Virg.
But this Observation I only make by the way. What I would here remark,
is that wonderful Power in the Soul, of producing her own Company on
these Occasions. She converses with numberless Beings of her own
Creation, and is transported into ten thousand Scenes of her own
raising. She is herself the Theatre, the Actors, and the Beholder. This
puts me in