Peru
, and the
Diamond Necklace out of the Bowels of
Indostan
.
If we consider our own Country in its natural Prospect, without any of
the Benefits and Advantages of Commerce, what a barren uncomfortable
Spot of Earth falls to our Share!
Historians tell us, that no
Fruit grows Originally among us, besides Hips and Haws, Acorns and
Pig-Nutts, with other Delicates of the like Nature; That our Climate of
itself, and without the Assistances of Art, can make no further Advances
towards a Plumb than to a Sloe, and carries an Apple to no greater a
Perfection than a Crab: That
our
Melons, our Peaches, our Figs,
our Apricots, and Cherries, are Strangers among us, imported in
different Ages, and naturalized in our
English
Gardens; and that they
would all degenerate and fall away into the Trash of our own Country, if
they were wholly neglected by the Planter, and left to the Mercy of our
Sun and Soil. Nor has Traffick more enriched our Vegetable World, than
it has improved the whole Face of Nature among us. Our Ships are laden
with the Harvest of every Climate: Our Tables are stored with Spices,
and Oils, and Wines: Our Rooms are filled with Pyramids of
China
, and
adorned with the Workmanship of
Japan
: Our Morning's Draught comes to
us from the remotest Corners of the Earth: We repair our Bodies by the
Drugs of
America
, and repose ourselves under
Indian
Canopies. My
Friend Sir
Andrew
calls the Vineyards of
France
our Gardens; the
Spice-Islands our Hot-beds; the
Persians
our Silk-Weavers, and the
Chinese
our Potters. Nature indeed furnishes us with the bare
Necessaries of Life, but Traffick gives us greater Variety of what is
Useful, and at the same time supplies us with every thing that is
Convenient and Ornamental.
is it the least Part of this our
Happiness, that whilst we enjoy the remotest Products of the North and
South, we are free from those Extremities of Weather
which
give
them Birth; That our Eyes are refreshed with the green Fields of
Britain
, at the same time that our Palates are feasted with Fruits
that rise between the Tropicks.
For these Reasons there are no more useful Members in a Commonwealth
than Merchants. They knit Mankind together in a mutual Intercourse of
good Offices, distribute the Gifts of Nature, find Work for the Poor,
add Wealth to the Rich, and Magnificence to the Great. Our
English
Merchant converts the Tin of his own Country into Gold, and exchanges
his Wool for Rubies. The
Mahometans
are clothed in our
British
Manufacture, and the Inhabitants of the frozen Zone warmed with the
Fleeces of our Sheep.
When I have been upon the
'Change
, I have often fancied one of our old
Kings standing in Person, where he is represented in Effigy, and looking
down upon the wealthy Concourse of People with which that Place is every
Day filled. In this Case, how would he be surprized to hear all the
Languages of
Europe
spoken in this little Spot of his former
Dominions, and to see so many private Men, who in his Time would have
been the Vassals of some powerful Baron, negotiating like Princes for
greater Sums of Mony than were formerly to be met with in the Royal
Treasury! Trade, without enlarging the
British
Territories, has given
us a kind of additional Empire: It has multiplied the Number of the
Rich, made our Landed Estates infinitely more Valuable than they were
formerly, and added to them an Accession of other Estates as Valuable as
the Lands themselves.
C.
A reference to the
Spectator's
voyage to Grand Cairo
mentioned in
"these Fruits, in their present State, as well as our"
that
Contents
|
Monday, May 21, 1711 |
Addison |
When I travelled, I took a particular Delight in hearing the Songs and
Fables that are come from Father to Son, and are most in Vogue among the
common People of the Countries through which I passed; for it is
impossible that any thing should be universally tasted and approved by a
Multitude, tho' they are only the Rabble of a Nation, which hath not in
it some peculiar Aptness to please and gratify the Mind of Man. Human
Nature is the same in all reasonable Creatures; and whatever falls in
with it, will meet with Admirers amongst Readers of all Qualities and
.
Molière
, as we are told by Monsieur
Boileau
, used to
read all his Comedies to
an
old Woman
who
was his
Housekeeper, as she sat with him at her Work by the Chimney-Corner; and
could foretel the Success of his Play in the Theatre, from the Reception
it met at his Fire-side: For he tells us the Audience always followed
the old Woman, and never failed to laugh in the same Place
.
I know nothing which more shews the essential and inherent Perfection of
Simplicity of Thought, above that which I call the Gothick Manner in
Writing, than this, that the first pleases all Kinds of Palates, and the
latter only such as have formed to themselves a wrong artificial Taste
upon little fanciful Authors and Writers of Epigram.
Homer
,
Virgil
,
or
Milton
, so far as the Language of their Poems is understood, will
please a Reader of plain common Sense, who would neither relish nor
comprehend an Epigram of
Martial
, or a Poem of
Cowley
: So, on the
contrary, an ordinary Song or Ballad that is the Delight of the common
People, cannot fail to please all such Readers as are not unqualified
for the Entertainment by their Affectation or Ignorance; and the Reason
is plain, because the same Paintings of Nature which recommend it to the
most ordinary Reader, will appear Beautiful to the most refined.
The old Song of
Chevey Chase
is the favourite Ballad of the common
People of
England
; and
Ben Johnson
used to say he had rather have
been the Author of it than of all his Works.
Philip Sidney
in his
Discourse of Poetry
speaks of it in the following Words;
I never
heard the old Song of Piercy and Douglas, that I found not my Heart
more moved than with a Trumpet; and yet it is sung by some blind Crowder
with no rougher Voice than rude Stile; which being so evil apparelled in
the Dust and Cobweb of that uncivil Age, what would it work trimmed in
the gorgeous Eloquence of Pindar?
For my own part I am so professed an
Admirer of this antiquated Song, that I shall give my Reader a Critick
upon it, without any further Apology for so doing.
The greatest Modern Criticks have laid it down as a Rule, that an
Heroick Poem should be founded upon some important Precept of Morality,
adapted to the Constitution of the Country in which the Poet writes.
Homer
and
Virgil
have formed their Plans in this View. As
Greece
was a Collection of many Governments, who suffered very much among
themselves, and gave the
Persian
Emperor, who was their common Enemy,
many Advantages over them by their mutual Jealousies and Animosities,
Homer
, in order to establish among them an Union, which was so
necessary for their Safety, grounds his Poem upon the Discords of the
several
Grecian
Princes who were engaged in a Confederacy against an
Asiatick
Prince, and the several Advantages which the Enemy gained by
such their Discords.
the Time the Poem we are now treating of was
written, the Dissentions of the Barons, who were then so many petty
Princes, ran very high, whether they quarrelled among themselves, or
with their Neighbours, and produced unspeakable Calamities to the
Country
: The Poet, to deter Men from such unnatural Contentions,
describes a bloody Battle and dreadful Scene of Death, occasioned by the
mutual Feuds which reigned in the Families of an
English
and
Scotch
Nobleman: That he designed this for the Instruction of his Poem, we may
learn from his four last Lines, in which, after the Example of the
modern Tragedians, he draws from it a Precept for the Benefit of his
Readers.
God save the King, and bless the Land
In Plenty, Joy, and Peace;
And grant henceforth that foul Debate
'Twixt Noblemen may cease.
The next Point observed by the greatest Heroic Poets, hath been to
celebrate Persons and Actions which do Honour to their Country: Thus
Virgil's
Hero was the Founder of
Rome
,
Homer's
a Prince of
Greece
; and for this Reason
Valerius Flaccus
and
Statius
, who were
both
Romans
, might be justly derided for having chosen the Expedition
of the
Golden Fleece
, and the
Wars of Thebes
for the Subjects of
their Epic Writings.
The Poet before us has not only found out an Hero in his own Country,
but raises the Reputation of it by several beautiful Incidents.
English
are the first
who
take the Field, and the last
who
quit it. The
English
bring only Fifteen hundred to the Battle, the
Scotch
Two thousand. The
English
keep the Field with Fifty three:
The
Scotch
retire with Fifty five: All the rest on each side being
slain in Battle.
the most remarkable Circumstance of this kind, is
the different Manner in which the
Scotch
and
English
Kings
receive
the News of this Fight, and of the great Men's Deaths who commanded
in it.
This News was brought to Edinburgh,
Where Scotland's King did reign,
That brave Earl Douglas suddenly
Was with an Arrow slain.
O heavy News, King James did say,
Scotland can Witness be,
I have not any Captain more
Of such Account as he.
Like Tydings to King Henry came
Within as short a Space,
That Piercy of Northumberland
Was slain in Chevy-Chase.
Now God be with him, said our King,
Sith 'twill no better be,
I trust I have within my Realm
Five hundred as good as he.
Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say
But I will Vengeance take,
And be revenged on them all
For brave Lord Piercy's Sake.
This Vow full well the King performed
After on Humble-down,
In one Day fifty Knights were slain,
With Lords of great Renown.
And of the rest of small Account
Did many Thousands dye, &c.
At the same time that our Poet shews a laudable Partiality to his
Countrymen, he represents the
Scots
after a Manner not unbecoming so
bold and brave a People.
Earl Douglas on a milk-white Steed,
Most like a Baron bold,
Rode foremost of the Company
Whose Armour shone like Gold.
His Sentiments and Actions are every Way suitable to an Hero.
of us
two, says he, must dye: I am an Earl as well as your self, so that you
can have no Pretence for refusing the Combat: However, says he, 'tis
Pity, and indeed would be a Sin, that so many innocent Men should perish
for our sakes, rather let you and I end our Quarrel
in single Fight.
Ere thus I will out-braved be,
One of us two shall dye;
I know thee well, an Earl thou art,
Lord Piercy, so am I.
But trust me, Piercy, Pity it were,
And great Offence, to kill
Any of these our harmless Men,
For they have done no Ill.
Let thou and I the Battle try,
And set our Men aside;
Accurst be he, Lord Piercy said,
By whom this is deny'd.
When these brave Men had distinguished themselves in the Battle and a
single Combat with each other, in the Midst of a generous Parly, full of
heroic Sentiments, the
Scotch
Earl falls; and with his dying Words
encourages his Men to revenge his Death, representing to them, as the
most bitter Circumstance of it, that his Rival saw him fall.
With that there came an Arrow keen
Out of an English Bow,
Which struck Earl Douglas to the Heart
A deep and deadly Blow.
Who never spoke more Words than these,
Fight on, my merry Men all,
For why, my Life is at an End,
Lord Piercy sees my Fall.
Merry Men
, in the Language of those Times, is no more than a cheerful
Word for Companions and Fellow-Soldiers. A Passage in the Eleventh Book
of
Virgil's Æneid
is very much to be admired, where
Camilla
in her
last Agonies instead of weeping over the Wound she had received, as one
might have expected from a Warrior of her Sex, considers only (like the
Hero of whom we are now speaking) how the Battle should be continued
after her Death.
Tum sic exspirans, &c.
A gathering Mist overclouds her chearful Eyes;
And from her Cheeks the rosie Colour flies.
Then turns to her, whom, of her Female Train,
She trusted most, and thus she speaks with Pain.
Acca, 'tis past! He swims before my Sight,
Inexorable Death; and claims his Right.
Bear my last Words to Turnus, fly with Speed,
And bid him timely to my Charge succeed;
Repel the Trojans, and the Town relieve:
Farewel ...
Turnus
did not die in so heroic a Manner; tho' our Poet seems to
have had his Eye upon
Turnus's
Speech in the last Verse,
Lord Piercy sees my Fall.
... Vicisti, et victum tendere palmas
Ausonii videre ...
Earl
Piercy's
Lamentation over his Enemy is generous, beautiful,
and passionate; I must only caution the Reader not to let the Simplicity
of the Stile, which one may well pardon in so old a Poet, prejudice him
against the Greatness of the Thought.
Then leaving Life, Earl Piercy took
The dead Man by the Hand,
And said, Earl Douglas, for thy Life
Would I had lost my Land.
O Christ! my very heart doth bleed
With Sorrow for thy Sake;
For sure a more renowned Knight
Mischance did never take.
That beautiful Line,
Taking the dead Man by the Hand
, will put
the Reader in mind of
Æneas's
Behaviour towards
Lausus
,
whom he himself had slain as he came to the Rescue of his aged Father.
At vero ut vultum vidit morientis, et ora,
Ora modis Anchisiades, pallentia miris;
Ingemuit, miserans graviter, dextramque tetendit, &c.
The pious Prince beheld young Lausus dead;
He grieved, he wept; then grasped his Hand, and said,
Poor hapless Youth! What Praises can be paid
To worth so great ...
I shall take another Opportunity to consider the other Part of this old
Song.
a little
that
Besides the old woman, Molière is said to have relied on
the children of the Comedians, read his pieces to them, and corrected
passages at which they did not show themselves to be amused.
Defence of Poesy.
The author of
Chevy Chase
was not contemporary with the
dissensions of the Barons, even if the ballad of the
Hunting of the
Cheviot
was a celebration of the Battle of Otterbourne, fought in 1388,
some 30 miles from Newcastle. The battle of Chevy Chase, between the
Percy and the Douglas, was fought in Teviotdale, and the ballad which
moved Philip Sidney's heart was written in the fifteenth century. It may
have referred to a Battle of Pepperden, fought near the Cheviot Hills,
between the Earl of Northumberland and Earl William Douglas of Angus, in
1436. The ballad quoted by Addison is not that of which Sidney spoke,
but a version of it, written after Sidney's death, and after the best
plays of Shakespeare had been written.
that
that
received
by a single Combat.
Contents
|
Tuesday, May 22, 1711 |
Steele |
The entire Conquest of our Passions is so difficult a Work, that they
who despair of it should think of a less difficult Task, and only
attempt to Regulate them. But there is a third thing which may
contribute not only to the Ease, but also to the Pleasure of our Life;
and that is refining our Passions to a greater Elegance, than we receive
them from Nature. When the Passion is Love, this Work is performed in
innocent, though rude and uncultivated Minds, by the mere Force and
Dignity of the Object. There are Forms which naturally create Respect in
the Beholders, and at once Inflame and Chastise the Imagination. Such an
Impression as this gives an immediate Ambition to deserve, in order to
please. This Cause and Effect are beautifully described by Mr.
Dryden
in the Fable of
Cymon
and
Iphigenia
. After
he has represented
Cymon
so stupid, that
He Whistled as he went, for want of Thought,
he makes him fall into the following Scene, and shews its Influence upon
him so excellently, that it appears as Natural as Wonderful.
It happen'd on a Summer's Holiday,
That to the Greenwood-shade he took his Way;
His Quarter-staff, which he cou'd ne'er forsake,
Hung half before, and half behind his Back.
He trudg'd along unknowing what he sought,
And whistled as he went, for want of Thought.
By Chance conducted, or by Thirst constrain'd,
The deep recesses of the Grove he gain'd;
Where in a Plain, defended by the Wood,
Crept thro' the matted Grass a Crystal Flood,
By which an Alabaster Fountain stood:
And on the Margin of the Fount was laid,
(Attended by her Slaves) a sleeping Maid,
Like Dian,
and her Nymphs, when, tir'd with Sport,
To rest by cool Eurotas
they resort:
The Dame herself the Goddess well expressed,
Not more distinguished by her Purple Vest,
Than by the charming Features of her Face,
And even in Slumber a superior Grace:
Her comely Limbs composed with decent Care,
Her Body shaded with a slight Cymarr;
Her Bosom to the View was only bare:1
...
The fanning Wind upon her Bosom blows,
To meet the fanning Wind the Bosom rose;
The fanning Wind and purling Streams continue her Repose.
The Fool of Nature stood with stupid Eyes
And gaping Mouth, that testify'd Surprize,
Fix'd on her Face, nor could remove his Sight,
New as he was to Love, and Novice in Delight:
Long mute he stood, and leaning on his Staff,
His Wonder witness'd with an Idiot Laugh;
Then would have spoke, but by his glimmering Sense
First found his want of Words, and fear'd Offence:
Doubted for what he was he should be known,
By his Clown-Accent, and his Country Tone.
lest this fine Description should be excepted against, as the
Creation of that great Master, Mr.
Dryden
, and not an Account of
what has really ever happened in the World; I shall give you,
verbatim
, the Epistle of an enamoured Footman in the Country to
his Mistress
. Their Sirnames shall not be inserted, because their
Passion demands a greater Respect than is due to their Quality.
James
is Servant in a great Family, and Elizabeth waits upon the
Daughter of one as numerous, some Miles off of her Lover.