Footnote 1:
No.
Contents
|
Wednesday, October 6, 1714 |
Byrom |
Ducite ab Urbe Domum, mea Carmina, ducite Daphnim.
Virg.
translation
The following Copy of Verses comes
one of my Correspondents, and
has something in it so Original, that I do not much doubt but it will
divert my Readers
.
| I |
My Time, O ye Muses, was happily spent,
When Phebe went with me wherever I went;
Ten thousand sweet Pleasures I felt in my Breast:
Sure never fond Shepherd like Colin was blest!
But now she is gone, and has left me behind,
What a marvellous Change on a sudden I find?
When things were as fine as could possibly be,
I thought 'twas the Spring; but alas! it was she. |
| II |
With such a Companion, to tend a few Sheep,
To rise up and play, or to lye down and sleep:
I was so good-humour'd, so chearful and gay,
My Heart was as light as a Feather all Day.
But now I so cross and so peevish am grown;
So strangely uneasie as ever was known.
My Fair one is gone, and my Joys are all drown'd,
And my Heart—I am sure it weighs more than a Pound. |
| III |
The Fountain that wont to run sweetly along,
And dance to soft Murmurs the Pebbles among,
Thou know'st, little Cupid, if Phebe was there,
'Twas Pleasure to look at, 'twas Musick to hear:
But now she is absent, I walk by its Side,
And still as it murmurs do nothing but chide,
Must you be so chearful, while I go in Pain?
Peace there with your Bubbling, and hear me complain. |
| IV |
When my Lambkins around me would oftentimes play,
And when Phebe and I were as joyful as they,
How pleasant their Sporting, how happy the Time,
When Spring, Love and Beauty were all in their Prime?
But now in their Frolicks when by me they pass,
I fling at their Fleeces an handful of Grass;
Be still then, I cry, for it makes me quite mad,
To see you so merry, while I am so sad. |
| V |
My Dog I was ever well pleased to see
Come wagging his Tail to my Fair one and me;
And Phebe was pleas'd too, and to my Dog said,
Come hither, poor Fellow; and patted his Head.
But now, when he's fawning, I with a sour Look
Cry, Sir rah; and give him a Blow with my Crook:
And I'll give him another; for why should not Tray
Be as dull as his Master, when Phebe's away? |
| VI |
When walking with Phebe, what Sights have I seen?
How fair was the Flower, how fresh was the Green?
What a lovely appearance the Trees and the Shade,
The Corn-fields and Hedges, and ev'ry thing made?
But now she has left me, tho' all are still there,
They none of 'em now so delightful appear:
'Twas nought but the Magick, I find, of her Eyes,
Made so many beautiful Prospects arise. |
| VII |
Sweet Musick went with us both all the Wood thro',
The Lark, Linnet, Throstle, and Nightingale too;
Winds over us whisper'd, Flocks by us did bleat,
And chirp went the Grasshopper under our Feet.
But now she is absent, tho' still they sing on,
The Woods are but lonely, the Melody's gone:
Her Voice in the Consort, as now I have found,
Gave ev'ry thing else its agreeable Sound. |
| VIII |
Rose, what is become of thy delicate Hue?
And where is the Violet's beautiful Blue?
Does ought of its Sweetness the Blossom beguile,
That Meadow, those Dasies, why do they not smile?
Ah! Rivals, I see what it was that you drest
And made your selves fine for; a Place in her Breast:
You put on your Colours to pleasure her Eye,
To be pluckt by her Hand, on her Bosom to die. |
| IX |
How slowly Time creeps, till my Phebe return!
While amidst the soft Zephyr's cold Breezes I burn;
Methinks if I knew whereabouts he would tread,
I could breathe on his Wings, and 'twould melt down the Lead.
Fly swifter, ye Minutes, bring hither my Dear,
And rest so much longer for't when she is here.
Ah Colin! old Time is full of Delay,
Nor will budge one Foot faster for all thou canst say. |
| X |
Will no pitying Power that hears me complain,
Or cure my Disquiet, or soften my Pain?
To be cur'd, thou must, Colin, thy Passion remove;
But what Swain is so silly to live without Love?
No, Deity, bid the dear Nymph to return,
For ne'er was poor Shepherd so sadly forlorn.
Ah! What shall I do? I shall die with Despair;
Take heed, all ye Swains, how ye love one so fair. |
Footnote 1:
It is said that John Byrom wrote these verses in honour of
Joanna, daughter of his friend, Dr. Richard Bentley, Master of Trinity.
Contents
Tu ne quæsieris (scire nefas) quem mihi, quem tibi,
Finem Dii dederint, Leuconoe; nec Babylonios
Tentaris numeros—
Hor.
translation
The De
Sir
e of knowing future Events is one of the strongest Inclinations
in the Mind of Man. Indeed an Ability of foreseeing probable Accidents
is what, in the Language of Men, is called Wisdom and Prudence: But, not
satisfied with the Light that Reason holds out, Mankind hath endeavoured
to penetrate more compendiously into Futurity. Magick, Oracles, Omens,
lucky Hours, and the various Arts of Superstition, owe their Rise to
this powerful Cause. As this Principle is founded in Self-Love, every
Man is sure to be sollicitous in the first Place about his own Fortune,
the Course of his Life, and the Time and Manner of his Death.
If we consider that we are free Agents, we shall discover the Absurdity
of Enquiries. One of our Actions, which we might have performed or
neglected, is the Cause of another that succeeds it, and so the whole
Chain of Life is link'd together. Pain, Poverty, or Infamy, are the
natural Product of vicious and imprudent Acts; as the contrary Blessings
are of good ones; so that we cannot suppose our Lot to be determined
without Impiety. A great Enhancement of Pleasure arises from its being
unexpected; and Pain is doubled by being foreseen. Upon all these, and
several other Accounts, we ought to rest satisfied in this Portion
bestowed on us; to adore the Hand that hath fitted every Thing to our
Nature, and hath not more display'd his Goodness in our Knowledge than
in our Ignorance.
It is not unworthy Observation, that superstitious Enquiries into future
Events prevail more or less, in proportion to the Improvement of liberal
Arts and useful Knowledge in the several Parts of the World. Accordingly
we find, that magical Incantations remain in
Lapland
, in the more
remote Parts of
Scotland
they have their second Sight, and several of
our own Countrymen see abundance of Fairies. In
Asia
this Credulity is
strong; and the greatest Part of refined Learning there consists in the
Knowledge of Amulets, Talismans, occult Numbers, and the like.
While I was at
Grand Cairo
, I fell into the Acquaintance of a
good-natured Mussulman, who promised me many good Offices, which he
designed to do me when he became the Prime Minister, which was a Fortune
bestowed on his Imagination by a Doctor very deep in the curious
Sciences. At his repeated Sollicitations I went to learn my Destiny of
this wonderful Sage. For a small Sum I had his Promise, but was requir'd
to wait in a dark Apartment till he had run thro' the preparatory
Ceremonies. Having a strong Propensity, even then, to Dreaming, I took a
Nap upon the Sofa where I was placed, and had the following Vision, the
Particulars whereof I picked up the other Day among my Papers.
I found my self in an unbounded Plain, where methought the whole World,
in several Habits and with different Tongues, was assembled. The
Multitude glided swiftly along, and I found in my self a strong
Inclination to mingle in the Train. My Eyes quickly singled out some of
the most splendid Figures. Several in rich Caftans and glittering
Turbans bustled through the Throng, and trampled over the Bodies of
those they threw down; till to my great Surprize I found that the great
Pace they went only hastened them to a Scaffold or a Bowstring. Many
beautiful Damsels on the other Side moved forward with great Gaiety;
some danced till they fell all along; and others painted their Faces
till they lost their Noses. A Tribe of Creatures with busie Looks
falling into a Fit of Laughter at the Misfortunes of the unhappy Ladies,
I turn'd my Eyes upon them. They were each of them filling his Pockets
with Gold and Jewels, and when there was no Room left for more, these
Wretches looking round with Fear and Horror, pined away before my Face
with Famine and Discontent.
This Prospect of human Misery struck me dumb for some Miles. Then it was
that, to disburthen my Mind, I took Pen and Ink, and did every Thing
that hath since happen'd under my Office of SPECTATOR. While I was
employing my self for the Good of Mankind, I was surpriz'd to meet with
very unsuitable Returns from my Fellow-Creatures. Never was poor Author
so beset with Pamphleteers, who sometimes marched directly against me,
but oftner shot at me from strong Bulwarks, or rose up suddenly in
Ambush. They were of all Characters and Capacities, some with Ensigns of
Dignity, and others in Liveries; but what most surpriz'd me, was to see
two or three in black Gowns among my Enemies. It was no small Trouble to
me, sometimes to have a Man come up to me with an angry Face, and
reproach me for having lampooned him, when I had never seen or heard of
him in my Life. With the Ladies it was otherwise: Many became my Enemies
for not being particularly pointed out; as there were others who
resented the Satyr which they imagined I had directed against them. My
great Comfort was in the Company of half a Dozen Friends, who, I found
since, were the Club which I have so often mentioned in my Papers. I
laughed often at
Sir Roger
in my Sleep, and was the more diverted with
Will Honeycomb
's Gallantries, (when we afterwards became acquainted)
because I had foreseen his Marriage with a Farmer's Daughter. The Regret
which arose in my Mind upon the Death of my Companions, my Anxieties for
the Publick, and the many Calamities still fleeting before my Eyes, made
me repent my Curiosity; when the Magician entered the Room, and awakened
me, by telling me (when it was too late) that he was just going to
begin.
N. B.
I have only deliver'd the Prophecy of that Part of my Life which
is past, it being inconvenient to divulge the second Part 'till a more
proper Opportunity.
Contents
|
Monday, October 11, 1714 |
Budgell |
Exuerint sylvestrem animum, cultuque frequenti
In quascunque voces artes, haud tarda sequentur.
Virg.
translation
Having perused the following Letter, and finding it to run upon the
Subject of Love, I referred it to the Learned
Casuist
, whom I have
retained in my Service for Speculations of that Kind. He return'd it to
me the next Morning with his Report annexed to it, with both of which I
shall here present my Reader.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'
Finding that you have Entertained an useful Person in your Service in
quality of
Love-Casuist1, I apply my self to you, under a very
great Difficulty, that hath for some Months perplexed me. I have a
Couple of humble Servants, one of which I have no Aversion to; the
other I think of very kindly. The first hath the Reputation of a Man
of good Sense, and is one of those People that your Sex are apt to
Value. My Spark is reckoned a Coxcomb among the Men, but is a
Favourite of the Ladies. If I marry the Man of Worth, as they call
him, I shall oblige my Parents and improve my Fortune; but with my
dear Beau I promise my self Happiness, altho' not a Jointure. Now I
would ask you, whether I should consent to lead my Life with a Man
that I have only no Objection to, or with him against whom all
Objections to me appear frivolous. I am determined to follow the
Casuist's Advice, and I dare say he will not put me upon so serious
a thing as Matrimony, contrary to my Inclination.'
I am, &c.
Fanny Fickle.
P.S. 'I forgot to tell you, that the pretty Gentleman is the most
complaisant Creature in the World, and is always of my Mind; but the
other, forsooth, fancies he hath as much Wit as my self, slights my
Lap-Dog, and hath the Insolence to contradict me when he thinks I am
not in the Right. About half an Hour ago, he maintained to my Face,
that a Patch always implies a Pimple.'
As I look upon it to be my Duty rather to side with the Parents than the
Daughter, I shall propose some Considerations to my Gentle Querist,
which may encline her to comply with those, under whose Direction she
is: And at the same time, convince her, that it is not impossible but
she may, in time, have a true Affection for him who is, at present,
indifferent to her: Or, to use the old Family Maxim, that
If she
marries first, Love will come after.
The only Objection, that she seems to insinuate against the Gentleman
proposed to her, is his want of Complaisance, which, I perceive, she is
very willing to return. Now, I can discover from this very Circumstance,
that she and her Lover, whatever they may think of it, are very good
Friends in their Hearts. It is difficult to determine, whether Love
delights more in giving Pleasure or Pain. Let Miss
Fickle
ask her own
Heart, if she doth not take a Secret Pride in making this Man of good
Sense look very silly. Hath she ever been better pleas'd, than when her
Behaviour hath made her Lover ready to hang himself? Or doth she ever
rejoice more, than when she thinks she hath driven him to the very Brink
of a purling Stream? Let her consider, at the same time, that it is not
impossible but her Lover may have discovered her Tricks, and hath a Mind
to give her as good as she brings. I remember a handsome young Baggage
that treated a hopeful
Greek
of my Acquaintance, just come from
Oxford
, as if he had been a
Barbarian.
The first Week, after she had
fixed him, she took a Pinch of Snuff out of his Rival's Box, and
apparently touched the Enemy's little Finger. She became a profest Enemy
to the Arts and Sciences, and scarce ever wrote a Letter to him without
wilfully mis-spelling his Name. The young Scholar, to be even with her,
railed at
Coquettes
as soon as he had got the Word; and did not want
Parts to turn into Ridicule her Men of Wit and Pleasure of the Town.
After having irritated one another for the Space of five Months, she
made an Assignation with him fourscore Miles from
London.
But as he
was very well acquainted with her Pranks, he took a Journey the quite
contrary Way. Accordingly they met, quarrell'd, and in a few Days were
Married. Their former Hostilities are now the Subject of their Mirth,
being content at present with that Part of Love only which bestows
Pleasure.
Women, who have been married some time, not having it in their Heads to
draw after them a numerous Train of Followers, find their Satisfaction
in the Possession of one Man's Heart. I know very well, that Ladies in
their Bloom de
Sir
e to be excused in this Particular. But when Time hath
worn out their natural Vanity and taught them Discretion, their Fondness
settles on its proper Object. And it is probably for this Reason, that
among Husbands, you will find more that are fond of Women beyond their
Prime, than of those who are actually in the Insolence of Beauty. My
Reader will apply the same Observation to the other Sex.
I need not insist upon the Necessity of their pursuing one common
Interest, and their united Care, for their Children; but shall only
observe, by the Way, that married Persons are both more warm in their
Love, and more hearty in their Hatred, than any others whatsoever.
Mutual Favours and Obligations, which may be supposed to be greater here
than in any other State, naturally beget an Intense Affection in
generous Minds. As, on the contrary, Persons who have bestowed such
Favours, have a particular Bitterness in their Resentments, when they
think themselves ill treated by those of whom they have deserved so
much.
Besides, Miss
Fickle
may consider, that as there are often many Faults
conceal'd before Marriage, so there are sometimes many Virtues
unobserv'd.
To this we may add the great Efficacy of Custom, and constant
Conversation, to produce a mutual Friendship and Benevolence in two
Persons. It is a nice Reflection, which I have heard a Friend of mine
make, that you may be sure a Woman loves a Man, when she uses his
Expressions, tells his Stories, or imitates his Manner. This gives a
secret Delight; for Imitation is a kind of artless Flattery, and
mightily favours the powerful Principle of Self-love. It is certain,
that married Persons, who are possest with a mutual Esteem, not only
catch the Air and way of Talk from one another, but fall into the same
Traces of thinking and liking. Nay, some have carried the Remark so far
as to assert, that the Features of Man and Wife grow, in time, to
resemble one another. Let my fair Correspondent therefore consider, that
the Gentleman recommended will have a good deal of her own Face in two
or three Years; which she must not expect from the Beau, who is too full
of his dear self to copy after another. And I dare appeal to her own
Judgment, if that Person will not be the handsomest, that is the most
like her self.
We have a remarkable Instance to our present Purpose in the History of
King
Edgar
, which I shall here relate, and leave it with my fair
Correspondent to be applied to her self.
This great Monarch, who is so famous in
British
Story, fell in Love,
as he made his Progress through his Kingdom, with a certain Duke's
Daughter who lived near
Winchester
, and was the most celebrated Beauty
of the Age. His Importunities and the Violence of his Passion were so
great, that the Mother of the young Lady promised him to bring her
Daughter to his Bed the next Night, though in her Heart she abhorr'd so
infamous an Office. It was no sooner dark than she convey'd into his
Room a young Maid of no disagreeable Figure, who was one of her
Attendants, and did not want Address to improve the Opportunity for the
Advancement of her Fortune. She made so good use of her Time, that when
she offered to rise a little before Day, the King could by no means
think of parting with her. So that finding herself under a Necessity of
discovering who she was, she did it in so handsome a Manner, that his
Majesty was exceeding gracious to her, and took her ever after under his
Protection; insomuch that our Chronicles tell us he carried her along
with him, made her his first Minister of State, and continued true to
her alone, 'till his Marriage with the beautiful
Elfrida.
Footnote 1:
See Nos.
,
,
,
,
.
Contents
|
Wednesday, October 13, 1714 |
|
—longum cantu solata laborem
Arguto Conjux percurrit pectine Telas.
Virg.
translation
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'I have a couple of Nieces under my Direction, who so often run
gadding abroad, that I don't know where to have them. Their Dress,
their Tea, and their Visits take up all their Time, and they go to Bed
as tired with doing nothing, as I am after quilting a whole
Under-Petticoat. The only time they are not idle, is while they read
your
Spectators; which being dedicated to the Interests of Virtue, I
de
Sir e you to recommend the long neglected Art of Needle-work. Those
Hours which in this Age are thrown away in Dress, Play, Visits, and
the like, were employ'd, in my time, in writing out Receipts, or
working Beds, Chairs, and Hangings for the Family. For my Part, I have
ply'd my Needle these fifty Years, and by my good Will would never
have it out of my Hand. It grieves my Heart to see a couple of proud
idle Flirts sipping their Tea, for a whole Afternoon, in a Room hung
round with the Industry of their Great Grandmother. Pray,
Sir , take
the laudable Mystery of Embroidery into your serious Consideration,
and as you have a great deal of the Virtue of the last Age in you,
continue your Endeavours to reform the present.'
I am, &c.
In Obedience to the Commands of my venerable Correspondent, I have duly
weigh'd this important Subject, and promise my self, from the Arguments
here laid down,
all the fine Ladies of
England
will be ready, as
soon as their Mourning is over
, to appear covered with the Work of
their own Hands.
What a delightful Entertainment must it be to the Fair Sex, whom their
native Modesty, and the Tenderness of Men towards them, exempts from
Publick Business, to pass their Hours in imitating Fruits and Flowers,
and transplanting all the Beauties of Nature into their own Dress, or
raising a new Creation in their Closets and Apartments. How pleasing is
the Amusement of walking among the Shades and Groves planted by
themselves, in surveying Heroes slain by their Needle, or little Cupids
which they have brought into the World without Pain!
This is, methinks, the most proper way wherein a Lady can shew a fine
Genius, and I cannot forbear wishing, that several Writers of that Sex
had chosen to apply themselves rather to Tapestry than Rhime. Your
Pastoral Poetesses may vent their Fancy in Rural Landskips, and place
despairing Shepherds under silken Willows, or drown them in a Stream of
Mohair. The Heroick Writers may work up Battles as successfully, and
inflame them with Gold or stain them with Crimson. Even those who have
only a Turn to a Song or an Epigram, may put many valuable Stitches into
a Purse, and crowd a thousand Graces into a Pair of Garters.
If I may, without breach of good Manners, imagine that any pretty
Creature is void of Genius, and would perform her Part herein but very
awkardly, I must nevertheless insist upon her working, if it be only to
keep her out of Harm's way.
Another Argument for busying good Women in Works of Fancy, is, because
it takes them off from Scandal, the usual Attendant of Tea-Tables, and
all other unactive Scenes of Life. While they are forming their Birds
and Beasts, their Neighbours will be allowed to be the Fathers of their
own Children: And
Whig
and
Tory
will be but seldom mentioned, where
the great Dispute is, whether Blue or Red is the more proper Colour. How
much greater Glory would
Sophronia
do the General, if she would chuse
rather to work the Battle of
Blenheim
in Tapestry, than signalize her
self with so much Vehemence against those who are
Frenchmen
in their
Hearts.
A Third Reason that I shall mention, is the Profit that is brought to
the Family where these pretty Arts are encouraged. It is manifest that
this way of Life not only keeps fair Ladies from running out into
Expences, but is at the same time an actual Improvement. How memorable
would that Matron be, who should have it Inscribed upon her Monument,
'that she Wrought out the whole Bible in Tapestry, and died in a good
old Age, after having covered three hundred Yards of Wall in the
Mansion-House.'
The Premises being consider'd, I humbly submit the following Proposals
to all Mothers in
Great Britain
.
-
That no young Virgin whatsoever be allow'd to receive the Addresses
of her first Lover, but in a Suit of her own Embroidering.
-
That before every fresh Servant, she be oblig'd to appear with a
new Stomacher at the least.
-
That no one be actually married, till she hath the Child-bed
Pillows, &c. ready Stitched, as likewise the Mantle for the Boy quite
finished.
These Laws, if I mistake not, would effectually restore the decay'd Art
of Needle-work, and make the Virgins of
Great Britain
exceedingly
Nimble-finger'd in their Business.
There is a memorable Custom of the
Grecian
Ladies in this particular,
preserv'd in
Homer
, which I hope will have a very good Effect with my
Country-women. A Widow in Ancient Times could not, without Indecency,
receive a second Husband, till she had Woven a Shrowd for her deceased
Lord, or the next of Kin to him. Accordingly, the Chaste
Penelope
having, as she thought, lost
Ulysses
at Sea, she employed her time in
preparing a Winding-sheet for
Laertes
, the Father of her Husband. The
Story of her Web being very Famous, and yet not sufficiently known in
its several Circumstances, I shall give it to my Reader, as
Homer
makes one of her Wooers relate it.
Sweet Hope she gave to every Youth apart,
With well-taught Looks, and a deceitful Heart:
A Web she wove of many a slender Twine,
Of curious Texture, and perplext Design;
My Youths, she cry'd, my Lord but newly dead,
Forbear a while to court my widow'd Bed,
'Till I have wov'n, as solemn Vows require,
This Web, a Shrowd for poor Ulysses' Sir e.
His Limbs, when Fate the Hero's Soul demands,
Shall claim this Labour of his Daughter's Hands:
Lest all the Dames of Greece my Name despise,
While the great King without a Covering lies.
Thus she. Nor did my Friends mistrust the Guile.
All Day she sped the long laborious Toil:
But when the burning Lamps supply'd the Sun,
Each Night unravell'd what the Day begun.
Three live-long Summers did the Fraud prevail.
The Fourth her Maidens told th' amazing Tale.
These Eyes beheld, as close I took my Stand,
The backward Labours of her faithless Hand:
'Till watch'd at length, and press'd on every Side,
Her Task she ended, and commenc'd a Bride.
Footnote 1:
Public Mourning for Q. Anne, who died Aug. 1, 1714.
Contents