To the ingenious Spectator
, which the young Lady had
de
Sir
ed him to deliver into my own Hands, and to tell me that the speedy
Publication of it would not only oblige her self, but a whole Tea-Table
of my Friends. I opened it therefore, with a Resolution to publish it,
whatever it should contain, and am sure, if any of my Male Readers will
be so severely critical as not to like it, they would have been as well
pleased with it as my self, had they seen the Face of the pretty Scribe.
London, Nov. 1712.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'You are always ready to receive any useful Hint or Proposal, and
such, I believe, you will think one that may put you in a way to
employ the most idle part of the Kingdom; I mean that part of Mankind
who are known by the Name of the Womens-Men or Beaus, &c. Mr.
SPECTATOR, you are sensible these pretty Gentlemen are not made for
any Manly Imployments, and for want of Business are often as much in
the Vapours as the Ladies. Now what I propose is this, that since
Knotting is again in fashion, which has been found a very pretty
Amusement, that you would recommend it to these Gentlemen as something
that may make them useful to the Ladies they admire. And since 'tis
not inconsistent with any Game, or other Diversion, for it may be done
in the Playhouse, in their Coaches, at the Tea-Table, and, in short,
in all Places where they come for the sake of the Ladies (except at
Church, be pleased to forbid it there, to prevent Mistakes) it will be
easily complied with. 'Tis beside an Imployment that allows, as we see
by the Fair Sex, of many Graces, which will make the Beaus more
readily come into it; it shews a white Hand and Diamond Ring to great
advantage; it leaves the Eyes at full liberty to be employed as
before, as also the Thoughts, and the Tongue. In short, it seems in
every respect so proper, that 'tis needless to urge it further, by
speaking of the Satisfaction these Male-Knotters will find, when they
see their Work mixed up in a Fringe, and worn by the fair Lady for
whom and with whom it was done. Truly, Mr. SPECTATOR, I cannot but
be pleased I have hit upon something that these Gentlemen are capable
of; for 'tis sad so considerable a part of the Kingdom (I mean for
Numbers) should be of no manner of use. I shall not trouble you
farther at this time, but only to say, that I am always your Reader,
and generally your Admirer, C. B.
P. S. 'The sooner these fine Gentlemen are set to Work the better;
there being at this time several fine Fringes that stay only for more
Hands.'
I shall, in the next place, present my Reader with the Description of a
Set of Men who are common enough in the World, tho' I do not remember
that I have yet taken notice of them, as they are drawn in the following
Letter.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'Since you have lately, to so good purpose, enlarged upon Conjugal
Love, it's to be hoped you'll discourage every Practice that rather
proceeds from a regard to Interest, than to Happiness. Now you cannot
but observe, that most of our fine young Ladies readily fall in with
the Direction of the graver sort, to retain in their Service, by some
small Encouragement, as great a Number as they can of supernumerary
and insignificant Fellows, which they use like Whifflers, and commonly
call Shoeing-Horns. These are never designed to know the length of
the Foot, but only, when a good Offer comes, to whet and spur him up
to the Point. Nay, 'tis the Opinion of that grave Lady, Madam
Matchwell, that it's absolutely convenient for every prudent Family
to have several of these Implements about the House, to clap on as
Occasion serves, and that every Spark ought to produce a Certificate
of his being a Shoeing-Horn, before he be admitted as a Shoe. A
certain Lady, whom I could name, if it was necessary, has at present
more Shoeing-Horns of all Sizes, Countries, and Colours, in her
Service, than ever she had new Shoes in her Life. I have known a Woman
make use of a Shoeing-Horn for several Years, and finding him
unsuccessful in that Function, convert him at length into a Shoe. I am
mistaken if your Friend Mr. William Honeycomb, was not a cast
Shoeing-Horn before his late Marriage. As for my self, I must frankly
declare to you, that I have been an errant Shoeing-Horn for above
these twenty Years. I served my first Mistress in that Capacity above
five of the Number, before she was shod. I confess, though she had
many who made their Applications to her, I always thought my self the
best Shoe in her Shop, and it was not till a Month before her Marriage
that I discovered what I was. This had like to have broke my Heart,
and raised such Suspicions in me, that I told the next I made Love to,
upon receiving some unkind Usage from her, that I began to look upon
my self as no more than her Shoeing-Horn. Upon which, my Dear, who was
a Coquet in her Nature, told me I was Hypocondriacal, and that I might
as well look upon my self to be an Egg or a Pipkin. But in a very
short time after she gave me to know that I was not mistaken in my
self. It would be tedious to recount to you the Life of an unfortunate
Shoeing-Horn, or I might entertain you with a very long and melancholy
Relation of my Sufferings. Upon the whole, I think, Sir , it would very
well become a Man in your Post, to determine in what Cases a Woman may
be allowed, with Honour, to make use of a Shoeing-Horn, as also to
declare whether a Maid on this side Five and Twenty, or a Widow who
has not been three Years in that State, may be granted such a
Privilege, with other Difficulties which will naturally occur to you
upon that Subject.
I am, Sir ,
With the most profound Veneration,
Yours, &c.
O.
Contents
|
Saturday, November 15, 1712 |
J. Hughes |
Greek: Tou mèn gàr génos esmén—translation
To the SPECTATOR.
Sir ,
'It has been usual to remind Persons of Rank, on great Occasions in
Life, of their Race and Quality, and to what Expectations they were
born; that by considering what is worthy of them, they may be
withdrawn from mean Pursuits, and encouraged to laudable Undertakings.
This is turning Nobility into a Principle of Virtue, and making it
productive of Merit, as it is understood to have been originally a
Reward of it.
'It is for the like reason, I imagine, that you have in some of your
Speculations asserted to your Readers the
Dignity of Human Nature.
But you cannot be insensible that this is a controverted Doctrine;
there are Authors who consider Human Nature in a very different View,
and Books of Maxims have been written to shew the
Falsity of all
Human Virtues. The Reflections which are made on this Subject usually
take some Tincture from the Tempers and Characters of those that make
them. Politicians can resolve the most shining Actions among Men into
Artifice and Design; others, who are soured by Discontent, Repulses,
or ill Usage, are apt to mistake their Spleen for Philosophy; Men of
profligate Lives, and such as find themselves incapable of rising to
any Distinction among their Fellow-Creatures, are for pulling down all
Appearances of Merit, which seem to upbraid them: and Satirists
describe nothing but Deformity. From all these Hands we have such
Draughts of Mankind as are represented in those burlesque Pictures,
which the
Italians call
Caracatura's; where the Art consists in
preserving, amidst distorted Proportions and aggravated Features, some
distinguishing Likeness of the Person, but in such a manner as to
transform the most agreeable Beauty into the most odious Monster.
'It is very disingenuous to level the best of Mankind with the worst,
and for the Faults of Particulars to degrade the whole Species. Such
Methods tend not only to remove a Man's good Opinion of others, but to
destroy that Reverence for himself, which is a great Guard of
Innocence, and a Spring of Virtue.
'It is true indeed that there are surprizing Mixtures of Beauty and
Deformity, of Wisdom and Folly, Virtue and Vice, in the Human Make;
such a Disparity is found among Numbers of the same Kind, and every
Individual, in some Instances, or at some Times, is so unequal to
himself, that
Man seems to be the most wavering and inconsistent
Being in the whole Creation. So that the Question in Morality,
concerning the Dignity of our Nature, may at first sight appear like
some difficult Questions in Natural Philosophy, in which the Arguments
on both Sides seem to be of equal Strength. But as I began with
considering this Point as it relates to Action, I
shall here borrow an
admirable Reflection from Monsieur
Pascal, which I think sets it in
its proper Light.
'
It is of dangerous Consequence, says he,
to represent to Man how
near he is to the Level of Beasts, without shewing him at the same
time his Greatness.
It is likewise dangerous to let him see his
Greatness, without his Meanness.
It is more dangerous yet to leave
him ignorant of either; but very beneficial that he should be made
sensible of both.1
Whatever Imperfections we may have in our Nature, it is the Business
of Religion and Virtue to rectify them, as far as is consistent with
our present State. In the mean time, it is no small Encouragement to
generous Minds to consider that we shall put them all off with our
Mortality. That sublime Manner of Salutation with which the
Jews
approached their Kings,
O King, live for ever!
may be addressed to the lowest and most despised Mortal among us,
under all the Infirmities and Distresses with which we see him
surrounded. And whoever believes the
Immortality of the Soul, will
not need a better Argument for the Dignity of his Nature, nor a
stronger Incitement to Actions suitable to it.
'I am naturally led by this Reflection to a Subject I have already
touched upon in a former Letter, and cannot without pleasure call to
mind the Thoughts of
Cicero to this purpose, in the close of his
Book concerning
Old Age. Every one who is acquainted with his
Writings, will remember that the elder
Cato is introduced in that
Discourse as the Speaker, and
Scipio and
Lelius as his Auditors.
This venerable Person is represented looking forward as it were from
the Verge of extreme Old Age, into a future State, and rising into a
Contemplation on the unperishable Part of his Nature, and its
Existence after Death. I shall collect Part of his Discourse. And as
you have formerly offered some Arguments for the Soul's Immortality,
agreeable both to Reason and the Christian Doctrine, I believe your
Readers will not be displeased to see how the same great Truth shines
in the Pomp of
Roman Eloquence.
"This, says
Cato, my firm Persuasion, that since the human Soul
exerts it self with so great Activity, since it has such a
Remembrance of the Past, such a Concern for the Future, since it is
enriched with so many Arts, Sciences and Discoveries, it is
impossible but the Being which contains all these must be Immortal.
"The
elder Cyrus, just before his Death, is represented by
Xenophon speaking after this Manner."
'
Think not, my dearest Children, that when I depart from you I
shall be no more, but remember, that my Soul, even while I lived
among you, was invisible to you; yet by my Actions you were
sensible it existed in this Body. Believe it therefore existing
still, though it be still unseen. How quickly would the Honours of
illustrious Men perish after Death, if their Souls performed
nothing to preserve their Fame? For my own part, I never could
think that the Soul while in a mortal Body, lives, but when
departed out of it, dies; or that its Consciousness is lost when
it is discharged out of an unconscious Habitation. But when it is
freed from all corporeal Alliance, then it truly exists. Further,
since the Human Frame is broken by Death, tell us what becomes of
its Parts? It is visible whither the Materials of other Beings are
translated, namely to the Source from whence they had their Birth.
The Soul alone, neither present nor departed, is the Object of our
Eyes.'
2
"Thus
Cyrus. But to proceed. No one shall persuade me,
Scipio,
that your worthy Father, or your Grandfathers
Paulus and
Africanus, or
Africanus his Father, or Uncle, or many other
excellent Men whom I need not name, performed so many Actions to be
remembered by Posterity, without being sensible that Futurity was
their Right. And, if I may be allowed an old Man's Privilege, to
speak of my self, do you think I would have endured the Fatigue of
so many wearisome Days and Nights both at home and abroad, if I
imagined that the same Boundary which is set to my Life must
terminate my Glory? Were it not more de
Sir able to have worn out my
days in Ease and Tranquility, free from Labour, and without
Emulation? But I know not how, my Soul has always raised it self,
and looked forward on Futurity, in this View and Expectation, that
when it shall depart out of Life, it shall then live for ever; and
if this were not true, that the Mind is immortal, the Souls of the
most worthy would not, above all others, have the strongest Impulse
to Glory.
"What besides this is the Cause that the wisest Men die with the
greatest Æquanimity, the ignorant with the greatest Concern? Does it
not seem that those Minds which have the most extensive Views,
foresee they are removing to a happier Condition, which those of a
narrower Sight do not perceive? I, for my part, am transported with
the Hope of seeing your Ancestors, whom I have honoured and loved,
and am earnestly de
Sir ous of meeting not only those excellent
Persons whom I have known, but those too of whom I have heard and
read, and of whom I myself have written: nor would I be detained
from so pleasing a Journey. O happy Day, when I shall escape from
this Croud, this Heap of Pollution, and be admitted to that Divine
Assembly of exalted Spirits! When I shall go not only to those great
Persons I have named, but to my
Cato, my Son, than whom a better
Man was never born, and whose Funeral Rites I my self performed,
whereas he ought rather to have attended mine. Yet has not his Soul
deserted me, but, seeming to cast back a Look on me, is gone before
to those Habitations to which it was sensible I should follow him.
And though I might appear to have born my Loss with Courage, I was
not unaffected with it, but I comforted myself in the Assurance that
it would not be long before we should meet again, and be divorced no
more.
I am, Sir , &c."'
I question not but my Reader will be very much pleased to hear, that
the Gentleman who has obliged the World with the foregoing Letter, and
who was the Author of the [Volume 2 link: 210th] Speculation on the Immortality of the
Soul, the [Volume 2 link: 375th on Virtue in Distress, the 525th on Conjugal Love, and
two or three other very fine ones among those which are not lettered at
the end, will soon publish a noble Poem, Intitled An Ode to the Creator
of the World,
occasioned by the Fragments of
Orpheus.
Pensées
. Part I. Art. iv. 7.
Cyropædia
, Book viii.
Contents
|
Monday, November 17, 1712 |
Addison |
Surprize is so much the Life of Stories, that every one aims at it, who
endeavours to please by telling them. Smooth Delivery, an elegant Choice
of Words, and a sweet Arrangement, are all beautifying
Graces
, but not
the particulars in this Point of Conversation which either long command
the Attention, or strike with the Violence of a sudden Passion, or
occasion the burst of Laughter which accompanies Humour. I have
sometimes fancied that the Mind is in this case like a Traveller who
sees a fine Seat in Haste; he acknowledges the Delightfulness of a Walk
set with Regularity, but would be uneasy if he were obliged to pass it
over, when the first View had let him into all its Beauties from one End
to the other.
However, a knowledge of the Success which Stories will have when they
are attended with a Turn of Surprize, as it has happily made the
Characters of some, so has it also been the Ruin of the Characters of
others. There is a Set of Men who outrage Truth, instead of affecting us
with a Manner in telling it; who over-leap the Line of Probability, that
they may be seen to move out of the common Road; and endeavour only to
make their Hearers stare, by imposing upon them with a kind of Nonsense
against the Philosophy of Nature, or such a Heap of Wonders told upon
their own Knowledge, as it is not likely one Man should ever have met
with.
I have been led to this Observation by a Company into which I fell
accidentally. The Subject of
Antipathies
was a proper Field wherein
such false Surprizes might expatiate, and there were those present who
appeared very fond to shew it in its full Extent of traditional History.
Some of them, in a learned manner, offered to our Consideration the
miraculous Powers which the Effluviums of Cheese have over Bodies whose
Pores are dispos'd to receive them in a noxious manner; others gave an
account of such who could indeed bear the sight of Cheese, but not the
Taste; for which they brought a Reason from the Milk of their Nurses.
Others again discours'd, without endeavouring at Reasons, concerning an
unconquerable Aversion which some Stomachs have against a Joint of Meat
when it is whole, and the eager Inclination they have for it, when, by
its being cut up, the Shape which had affected them is altered. From
hence they passed to Eels, then to Parsnips, and so from one Aversion to
another, till we had work'd up our selves to such a pitch of
Complaisance, that when the Dinner was to come in, we enquired the name
of every Dish, and hop'd it would be no Offence to any in Company,
before it was admitted. When we had sat down, this Civility amongst us
turned the Discourse from Eatables to other sorts of Aversions; and the
eternal Cat, which plagues every Conversation of this nature, began then
to engross the Subject. One had sweated at the Sight of it, another had
smelled it out as it lay concealed in a very distant Cupboard; and he
who crowned the whole set of these Stories, reckon'd up the Number of
Times in which it had occasion'd him to swoon away. At last, says he,
that you may all be satisfy'd of my invincible Aversion to a Cat, I
shall give an unanswerable Instance: As I was going through a Street of
London
, where I had never been till then, I felt a general Damp and
Faintness all over me, which I could not tell how to account for, till I
chanced to cast my Eyes upwards, and found that I was passing under a
Sign-Post on which the Picture of a Cat was hung.
The Extravagance of this Turn in the way of Surprize, gave a stop to the
Talk we had been carrying on: Some were silent because they doubted, and
others because they were conquered in their own Way; so that the
Gentleman had Opportunity to press the Belief of it upon us, and let us
see that he was rather exposing himself than ridiculing others.
I must freely own that I did not all this while disbelieve every thing
that was said; but yet I thought some in the Company had been
endeavouring who should pitch the Bar farthest; that it had for some
time been a measuring Cast, and at last my Friend of the Cat and
Sign-post had thrown beyond them all.
I then consider'd the Manner in which this Story had been received, and
the Possibility that it might have pass'd for a Jest upon others, if he
had not labour'd against himself. From hence, thought I, there are two
Ways which the well-bred World generally takes to correct such a
Practice, when they do not think fit to contradict it flatly.
The first of these is a general Silence, which I would not advise any
one to interpret in his own behalf. It is often the Effect of Prudence
in avoiding a Quarrel, when they see another drive so fast, that there
is no stopping him without being run against; and but very seldom the
Effect of Weakness in believing suddenly. The generality of Mankind are
not so grossly ignorant, as some over-bearing Spirits would persuade
themselves; and if the Authority of a Character or a Caution against
Danger make us suppress our Opinions, yet neither of these are of force
enough to suppress our Thoughts of them. If a Man who has endeavoured to
amuse his Company with Improbabilities could but look into their Minds,
he would find that they imagine he lightly esteems of their Sense when
he thinks to impose upon them, and that he is less esteemed by them for
his Attempt in doing so. His endeavour to glory at their Expence becomes
a Ground of Quarrel, and the Scorn and Indifference with which they
entertain it begins the immediate Punishment: And indeed (if we should
even go no further) Silence, or a negligent Indifference has a deeper
way of wounding than Opposition; because Opposition proceeds from an
Anger that has a sort of generous Sentiment for the Adversary mingling
along with it, while it shews that there is some Esteem in your Mind for
him; in short, that you think him worth while to contest with: But
Silence, or a negligent Indifference, proceeds from Anger, mixed with a
Scorn that shews another he is thought by you too contemptible to be
regarded.
The other Method which the World has taken for correcting this Practice
of false Surprize, is to over-shoot such Talkers in their own Bow, or to
raise the Story with further Degrees of Impossibility, and set up for a
Voucher to them in such a manner as must let them see they stand
detected. Thus I have heard a Discourse was once managed upon the
Effects of Fear. One of the Company had given an account how it had
turn'd his Friend's Hair grey in a Night, while the Terrors of a
Shipwrack encompassed him. Another taking the Hint from hence, began,
upon his own Knowledge, to enlarge his Instances of the like nature to
such a Number, that it was not probable he could ever have met with
them; and as he still grounded these upon different Causes, for the sake
of Variety, it might seem at last, from his Share of the Conversation,
almost impossible that any one who can feel the Passion of Fear should
all his Life escape so common an Effect of it. By this time some of the
Company grew negligent, or de
Sir
ous to contradict him: But one rebuked
the rest with an appearance of Severity, and with the known old Story in
his Head, assured them they need not scruple to believe that the Fear of
any thing can make a Man's Hair grey, since he knew one whose Perriwig
had suffered so by it. Thus he stopped the Talk, and made them easy.
Thus is the same Method taken to bring us to Shame, which we fondly take
to increase our Character. It is indeed a kind of Mimickry, by which
another puts on our Air of Conversation to show us to our selves: He
seems to look ridiculous before you, that you may remember how near a
Resemblance you bear to him, or that you may know he will not lie under
the Imputation of believing you. Then it is that you are struck dumb
immediately with a conscientious Shame for what you have been saying,
Then it is that you are inwardly grieved at the Sentiments which you
cannot but perceive others entertain concerning you. In short, you are
against your self; the Laugh of the Company runs against you; the
censuring World is obliged to you for that Triumph which you have
allowed them at your own Expence; and Truth, which you have injured, has
a near way of being revenged on you,
by the bare Repetition of your
Story you become a frequent Diversion for the
Publick
.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'The other Day, walking in
Pancras Churchyard, I thought of your
Paper wherein you mention Epitaphs, and am of opinion this has a
Thought in it worth being communicated to your Readers.
Here Innocence and Beauty lies, whose Breath
Was snatch'd by early, not untimely Death.
Hence did she go, just as she did begin
Sorrow to know, before she knew to sin.
Death, that does Sin and Sorrow thus prevent,
Is the next Blessing to a Life well spent.
I am, Sir , Your Servant.
Publick. I am, Sir , your Servant.
Contents
|
Tuesday, November 18, 1712 |
Budgell |
Heteroclyta sunto.—Quæ Genus.translation
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'I am a young Widow of a good Fortune and Family, and just come to
Town; where I find I have Clusters of pretty Fellows come already to
visit me, some dying with Hopes, others with Fears, tho' they never
saw me. Now what I would beg of you, would be to know whether I may
venture to use these pert Fellows with the same Freedom as I did my
Country Acquaintance. I de
Sir e your Leave to use them as to me shall
seem meet, without Imputation of a Jilt; for since I make Declaration
that not one of them shall have me, I think I ought to be allowed the
Liberty of insulting those who have the Vanity to believe it is in
their power to make me break that Resolution. There are Schools for
learning to use Foils, frequented by those who never design to fight;
and this useless way of aiming at the Heart, without design to wound
it on either side, is the Play with which I am resolved to divert my
self: The Man who pretends to win, I shall use like him who comes into
a Fencing-School to pick a Quarrel. I hope, upon this Foundation, you
will give me the free use of the natural and artificial Force of my
Eyes, Looks, and Gestures. As for verbal Promises, I will make none,
but shall have no mercy on the conceited Interpreters of Glances and
Motions. I am particularly skill'd in the downcast Eye, and the
Recovery into a sudden full Aspect, and away again, as you may have
seen sometimes practised by us Country Beauties beyond all that you
have observed in Courts and Cities. Add to this,
Sir , that I have a
ruddy heedless Look, which covers Artifice the best of any thing. Tho'
I can dance very well, I affect a tottering untaught way of walking,
by which I appear an easy Prey and never exert my instructed Charms
till I find I have engaged a Pursuer. Be pleased,
Sir , to print this
Letter; which will certainly begin the Chace of a rich Widow: The many
Foldings, Escapes, Returns and Doublings which I make, I shall from
time to time communicate to you, for the better Instruction of all
Females who set up, like me, for reducing the present exorbitant Power
and Insolence of Man.'
I am, Sir ,
Your faithful Correspondent,
Relicta Lovely.
Dear Mr. SPECTATOR,
'I depend upon your profess'd Respect for virtuous Love, for your
immediate answering the Design of this Letter; which is no other than
to lay before the World the Severity of certain Parents who de
Sir e to
suspend the Marriage of a discreet young Woman of eighteen, three
Years longer, for no other reason but that of her being too young to
enter into that State. As to the consideration of Riches, my
Circumstances are such, that I cannot be suspected to make my
Addresses to her on such low Motives as Avarice or Ambition. If ever
Innocence, Wit and Beauty, united their utmost Charms, they have in
her. I wish you would expatiate a little on this Subject, and admonish
her Parents that it may be from the very Imperfection of Human Nature
it self, and not any personal Frailty of her or me, that our
Inclinations baffled at present may alter; and while we are arguing
with our selves to put off the Enjoyment of our present Passions, our
Affections may change their Objects in the Operation. It is a very
delicate Subject to talk upon; but if it were but hinted, I am in
hopes it would give the Parties concern'd some Reflection that might
expedite our Happiness. There is a Possibility, and I hope I may say
it without Imputation of Immodesty to her I love with the highest
Honour; I say, there is a Possibility this Delay may be as painful to
her as it is to me. If it be as much, it must be more, by reason of
the severe Rules the Sex are under in being denied even the Relief of
Complaint. If you oblige me in this, and I succeed, I promise you a
Place at my Wedding, and a Treatment suitable to your Spectatorial
Dignity.'
Your most humble Servant,
Eustace.
Sir ,
'I Yesterday heard a young Gentleman, that look'd as if he was just
come to the Town, and a Scarf, upon Evil-speaking; which Subject, you
know, Archbishop
Tillotson has so nobly handled in a Sermon in his
Folio. As soon as ever he had named his Text, and had opened a
little the Drift of his Discourse, I was in great hopes he had been
one of
Sir ROGER'S Chaplains. I have conceived so great an Idea of the
charming Discourse above, that I should have thought one part of my
Sabbath very well spent in hearing a Repetition of it. But alas! Mr.
SPECTATOR, this Reverend Divine gave us his Grace's Sermon, and yet I
don't know how; even I, that I am sure have read it at least twenty
times, could not tell what to make of it, and was at a loss sometimes
to guess what the Man aim'd at. He was so just indeed, as to give us
all the Heads and the Sub-divisions of the Sermon; and farther I think
there was not one beautiful Thought in it but what we had. But then,
Sir , this Gentleman made so many pretty Additions; and he could never
give us a Paragraph of the Sermon, but he introduced it with something
which, methought, look'd more like a Design to shew his own Ingenuity,
than to instruct the People. In short, he added and curtailed in such
a manner that he vexed me; insomuch that I could not forbear thinking
(what, I confess, I ought not to have thought of in so holy a Place)
that this young Spark was as justly blameable as
Bullock or
Penkethman when they mend a noble Play of
Shakespear or
Johnson.
Pray,
Sir , take this into your Consideration; and if we must be
entertained with the Works of any of those great Men, de
Sir e these
Gentlemen to give them us as they find them, that so, when we read
them to our Families at home, they may the better remember they have
heard them at Church.'
Sir ,
Your humble Servant.
Contents
|
Wednesday, November 19, 1712 |
Steele |
—Non Deficit Alter—
Virg.
translation
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'There is no Part of your Writings which I have in more Esteem than
your Criticism upon
Milton. It is an honourable and candid Endeavour
to set the Works of our Noble Writers in the graceful Light which they
deserve. You will lose much of my kind Inclination towards you, if you
do not attempt the Encomium of
Spencer also, or at least indulge my
Passion for that charming Author so far as to print the loose Hints I
now give you on that Subject.
'Spencer's general Plan is the Representation of six Virtues,
Holiness, Temperance, Chastity, Friendship, Justice and Courtesy, in
six Legends by six Persons. The six Personages are supposed under
proper Allegories suitable to their respective Characters, to do all
that is necessary for the full Manifestation of the respective Virtues
which they are to exert.
'These one might undertake to shew under the several Heads, are
admirably drawn; no Images improper, and most surprizingly beautiful.
The Red-cross Knight runs through the whole Steps of the Christian
Life;
Guyon does all that Temperance can possibly require;
Britomartis (a Woman) observes the true Rules of unaffected
Chastity;
Arthegal is in every Respect of Life strictly and wisely
just;
Calidore is rightly courteous.
'In short, in
Fairy-Land, where Knights Errant have a full Scope to
range, and to do even what
Ariosto's or
Orlando's could not do in
the World without breaking into Credibility,
Spencer's Knights have,
under those six Heads, given a full and a truly Poetical System of
Christian, Public, and Low Life.
'His Legend of Friendship is more diffuse, and yet even there the
Allegory is finely drawn, only the Heads various, one Knight could not
there support all the Parts.
'To do honour to his Country, Prince
Arthur is an Universal Hero; in
Holiness, Temperance, Chastity, and Justice super-excellent. For the
same Reason, and to compliment Queen
Elizabeth,
Gloriana, Queen of
Fairies, whose Court was the Asylum of the Oppressed, represents that
Glorious Queen. At her Commands all these Knights set forth, and only
at her's the Red-cross Knight destroys the Dragon.
Guyon overturns
the Bower of Bliss,
Arthegal (i. e.
Justice) beats down
Geryoneo
(i. e.
Phil. II. King of
Spain) to rescue
Belge (i. e.
Holland) and he beats the
Grantorto (the same
Philip in another
Light) to restore
Irena (i. e.
Peace to Europe.)
'Chastity being the first Female Virtue,
Britomartis is a
Britain;
her Part is fine, though it requires Explication. His stile is very
Poetical; no Puns, Affectations of Wit, forced Antitheses, or any of
that low Tribe.
'His old Words are all true
English, and numbers exquisite; and
since of Words there is the
Multa Renascentur, since they are all
proper, such a Poem should not (any more than
Milton's) subsist all
of it of common ordinary Words. See Instances of Descriptions.
'Causeless Jealousy in
Britomartis, V. 6, 14, in its Restlessness.
Like as a wayward Child whose sounder Sleep
Is broken with some fearful Dream's Affright,
With froward Will doth set himself to weep,
Ne can be stil'd for all his Nurse's Might,
But kicks, and squalls, and shrieks for fell Despight;
Now scratching her, and her loose Locks misusing,
Now seeking Darkness, and now seeking Light;
Then craving Suck, and then the Suck refusing:
Such was this Lady's Loves in her Love's fond accusing.
Curiosity occasioned by Jealousy, upon occasion of her Lover's
Absence.
Ibid, Stan. 8, 9.
Then as she looked long, at last she spy'd
One coming towards her with hasty Speed,
Well ween'd she then, e'er him she plain descry'd,
That it was one sent from her Love indeed;
Whereat her Heart was fill'd with Hope and Dread,
Ne would she stay till he in Place could come,
But ran to weet him forth to know his Tidings somme;
Even in the Door him meeting, she begun,
And where is he, thy Lord, and how far hence?
Declare at once; and hath he lost or won?
Care and his
House are described thus, IV. 6, 33, 34, 35.
|
Not far away, not meet for any Guest,
They spy'd a little Cottage, like some poor Man's Nest. |
| 34 |
There entring in, they found the Good-Man's self,
Full busily unto his Work ybent,
Who was so weel a wretched wearish Elf,
With hollow Eyes and raw-bone Cheeks forspent,
As if he had in Prison long been pent.
Full black and griesly did his Face appear,
Besmear'd with Smoke that nigh his Eye-sight blent,
With rugged Beard and Hoary shaggy Heare,
The which he never wont to comb, or comely shear. |
| 35 |
Rude was his Garment and to Rags all rent,
Ne better had he, ne for better cared;
His blistred Hands amongst the Cinders brent,
And Fingers filthy, with long Nails prepared,
Right fit to rend the Food on which he fared.
His Name was Care; a Blacksmith by his Trade,
That neither Day nor Night from working spared,
But to small purpose Iron Wedges made:
These be unquiet Thoughts that careful Minds invade. |
'Homer's Epithets were much admired by Antiquity: See what great
Justness and Variety there is in these Epithets of the Trees in the
Forest where the Red-cross Knight lost
Truth, B. I. Cant. i. St. 8,
9.
The sailing Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,
The Vine-prop Elm, the Poplar never dry,
The Builder Oak, sole King of Forests all.
The Aspine good for Staves, the Cypress Funeral.
The Laurel, Meed of mighty Conquerors,
And Poets sage; the Fir that weepeth still,
The Willow worn of forlorn Paramours,
The Yew obedient to the Bender's Will.
The Birch for Shafts, the Sallow for the Mill;
The Myrrhe sweet bleeding in the bitter Wound,
The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,
The fruitful Olive, and the Plantane round,
The Carver Helm, the Maple seldom inward sound.
'I shall trouble you no more, but de
Sir e you to let me conclude with
these Verses, though I think they have already been quoted by you;
They are Directions to young Ladies opprest with Calumny. VI. 6, 14.
The best (said he) that I can you advise,
Is to avoid the Occasion of the Ill;
For when the Cause whence Evil doth arise
Removed is, the Effect surceaseth still.
Abstain from Pleasure, and restrain your Will,
Subdue DeSir e, and bridle loose Delight,
Use scanted Diet, and forbear your Fill,
Shun Secrecy, and talk in open Sight;
So shall you soon repair your present evil Plight.