German
, and had a very hard Name, that sounded something like
Stupidity
.
The third Artist that I looked over was
Fantasque
, dressed like a
Venetian Scaramouch. He had an excellent Hand at a
Chimera
, and
dealt very much in Distortions and Grimaces: He would sometimes affright
himself with the Phantoms that flowed from his Pencil. In short, the
most elaborate of his Pieces was at best but a terrifying Dream; and one
could say nothing more of his finest Figures, than that they were
agreeable Monsters.
The fourth Person I examined was very remarkable for his hasty Hand,
which left his Pictures so unfinished, that the Beauty in the Picture
(which was designed to continue as a monument of it to Posterity) faded
sooner than in the Person after whom it was drawn.
made so much haste
to dispatch his Business, that he neither gave himself time to clean his
Pencils,
nor
mix his Colours. The Name of this expeditious Workman
was
Avarice
.
Not far from this Artist I saw another of a quite different Nature, who
was dressed in the Habit of a
Dutchman
, and known by the Name of
Industry
. His Figures were wonderfully laboured; If he drew the
Portraiture of a man, he did not omit a single Hair in his Face; if the
Figure of a Ship, there was not a Rope among the Tackle that escaped
him. He had likewise hung a great Part of the Wall with Night-pieces,
that seemed to shew themselves by the Candles which were lighted up in
several Parts of them; and were so inflamed by the Sun-shine which
accidentally fell upon them, that at first sight I could scarce forbear
crying out,
Fire
.
The five foregoing Artists were the most considerable on this Side the
Gallery; there were indeed several others whom I had not time to look
into. One of them, however, I could not forbear observing, who was very
busie in retouching the finest Pieces, tho' he produced no Originals of
his own. His Pencil aggravated every Feature that was before
over-charged, loaded every Defect, and poisoned every Colour it touched.
Though this workman did so much Mischief on the Side of the Living, he
never turned his Eye towards that of the Dead. His Name was
Envy
.
Having taken a cursory View of one Side of the Gallery, I turned my self
to that which was filled by the Works of those great Masters that were
dead; when immediately I fancied my self standing before a Multitude of
Spectators, and thousands of Eyes looking upon me at once; for all
before me appeared so like Men and Women, that I almost forgot they were
Pictures.
Raphael's
Figures stood in one Row,
Titian's
in another,
Guido Rheni's
in a third. One Part of the Wall was peopled by
Hannibal Carrache
, another by
Correggio
, and another by
Rubens
. To
be short, there was not a great Master among the Dead who had not
contributed to the Embellishment of this Side of the Gallery. The
Persons that owed their Being to these several Masters, appeared all of
them to be real and alive, and differed among one another only in the
Variety of their Shapes, Complexions, and Cloaths; so that they looked
like different Nations of the same Species.
Observing an old Man (who was the same Person I before mentioned, as the
only Artist that was at work on this Side of the Gallery) creeping up
and down from one Picture to another, and retouching all the fine Pieces
that stood before me, I could not but be very attentive to all his
Motions. I found his Pencil was so very light, that it worked
imperceptibly, and after a thousand Touches, scarce produced any visible
Effect in the Picture on which he was employed. However, as he busied
himself incessantly, and repeated Touch after Touch without Rest or
Intermission, he wore off insensibly every little disagreeable Gloss
that hung upon a Figure.
also added such a beautiful Brown to the
Shades, and Mellowness to the Colours, that he made every Picture appear
more perfect than when it came fresh from
the
Master's Pencil. I
could not forbear looking upon the Face of this ancient Workman, and
immediately, by the long Lock of Hair upon his Forehead, discovered him
to be
Time
.
Whether it were because the Thread of my Dream was at an End I cannot
tell, but upon my taking a Survey of this imaginary old Man, my Sleep
left me.
C.
or
its
Contents
|
Wednesday, June 6, 1711 |
Steele |
... Quis talia fando
Myrmidonum Dolopumve aut duri miles Ulyssei
Temperet a Lachrymis?
Virg.
translation
over the old Manuscript wherein the private Actions of
Pharamond
are set down by way of Table-Book. I found many things
which gave me great Delight; and as human Life turns upon the same
Principles and Passions in all Ages, I thought it very proper to take
Minutes of what passed in that Age, for the Instruction of this. The
Antiquary, who lent me these Papers, gave me a Character of
Eucrate
,
the Favourite of
Pharamond
, extracted from an Author who lived in that
Court. The Account he gives both of the Prince and this his faithful
Friend, will not be improper to insert here, because I may have Occasion
to mention many of their Conversations, into which these Memorials of
them may give Light.
'
Pharamond, when he had a Mind to retire for an Hour or two from the
Hurry of Business and Fatigue of Ceremony, made a Signal to
Eucrate,
by putting his Hand to his Face, placing his Arm negligently on a
Window, or some such Action as appeared indifferent to all the rest of
the Company. Upon such Notice, unobserved by others, (for their entire
Intimacy was always a Secret)
Eucrate repaired to his own Apartment
to receive the King. There was a secret Access to this Part of the
Court, at which
Eucrate used to admit many whose mean Appearance in
the Eyes of the ordinary Waiters and Door-keepers made them be
repulsed from other Parts of the Palace. Such as these were let in
here by Order of
Eucrate, and had Audiences of
Pharamond. This
Entrance
Pharamond called
The Gate of the Unhappy, and the Tears
of the Afflicted who came before him, he would say were Bribes
received by
Eucrate; for
Eucrate had the most compassionate Spirit
of all Men living, except his generous Master, who was always kindled
at the least Affliction which was communicated to him. In the Regard
for the Miserable,
Eucrate took particular Care, that the common
Forms of Distress, and the idle Pretenders to Sorrow, about Courts,
who wanted only Supplies to Luxury, should never obtain Favour by his
Means: But the Distresses which arise from the many inexplicable
Occurrences that happen among Men, the unaccountable Alienation of
Parents from their Children, Cruelty of Husbands to Wives, Poverty
occasioned from Shipwreck or Fire, the falling out of Friends, or such
other terrible Disasters, to which the Life of Man is exposed; In
Cases of this Nature,
Eucrate was the Patron; and enjoyed this Part
of the Royal Favour so much without being envied, that it was never
inquired into by whose Means, what no one else cared for doing, was
brought about.
'One Evening when
Pharamond came into the Apartment of
Eucrate, he
found him extremely dejected; upon which he asked (with a Smile which
was natural to him)
"What, is there any one too miserable to be
relieved by Pharamond, that Eucrate is melancholy?
I fear there
is, answered the Favourite; a Person without, of a good Air, well
Dressed, and tho' a Man in the Strength of his Life, seems to faint
under some inconsolable Calamity: All his Features seem suffused with
Agony of Mind; but I can observe in him, that it is more inclined to
break away in Tears than Rage. I asked him what he would have; he said
he would speak to Pharamond. I desired his Business; he could hardly
say to me, Eucrate, carry me to the King, my Story is not to be told
twice, I fear I shall not be able to speak it at all."
Pharamond
commanded Eucrate to let him enter; he did so, and the Gentleman
approached the King with an Air which spoke
him under the greatest
Concern in what Manner to demean himself2. The King, who had a
quick Discerning, relieved him from the Oppression he was under; and
with the most beautiful Complacency said to him,
"Sir, do not add to
that Load of Sorrow I see in your Countenance, the Awe of my Presence:
Think you are speaking to your Friend; if the Circumstances of your
Distress will admit of it, you shall find me so."
To whom the
Stranger:
"Oh excellent
Pharamond, name not a Friend to the
unfortunate
Spinamont. I had one, but he is dead by my own Hand
3;
but, oh
Pharamond, tho' it was by the Hand of
Spinamont, it was by
the Guilt of
Pharamond. I come not, oh excellent Prince, to implore
your Pardon; I come to relate my Sorrow, a Sorrow too great for human
Life to support: From henceforth shall all Occurrences appear Dreams
or short Intervals of Amusement, from this one Affliction which has
seiz'd my very Being: Pardon me, oh
Pharamond, if my Griefs give me
Leave, that I lay before you, in the Anguish of a wounded Mind, that
you, good as you are, are guilty of the generous Blood spilt this Day
by this unhappy Hand: Oh that it had perished before that Instant!"
Here the Stranger paused, and recollecting his Mind, after some little
Meditation, he went on in a calmer Tone and Gesture as follows.
"There is an Authority due to Distress; and as none of human Race is
above the Reach of Sorrow, none should be above the Hearing the Voice
of it: I am sure Pharamond is not. Know then, that I have this
Morning unfortunately killed in a Duel, the Man whom of all Men living
I most loved. I command my self too much in your royal Presence, to
say, Pharamond, give me my Friend! Pharamond has taken him from
me! I will not say, shall the merciful Pharamond destroy his own
Subjects? Will the Father of his Country murder his People? But, the
merciful Pharamond does destroy his Subjects, the Father of his
Country does murder his People. Fortune is so much the Pursuit of
Mankind, that all Glory and Honour is in the Power of a Prince,
because he has the Distribution of their Fortunes. It is therefore the
Inadvertency, Negligence, or Guilt of Princes, to let any thing grow
into Custom which is against their Laws. A Court can make Fashion and
Duty walk together; it can never, without the Guilt of a Court,
happen, that it shall not be unfashionable to do what is unlawful. But
alas! in the Dominions of Pharamond, by the Force of a Tyrant
Custom, which is mis-named a Point of Honour, the Duellist kills his
Friend whom he loves; and the Judge condemns the Duellist, while he
approves his Behaviour. Shame is the greatest of all Evils; what avail
Laws, when Death only attends the Breach of them, and Shame Obedience
to them? As for me, oh Pharamond, were it possible to describe
the nameless Kinds of Compunctions and Tendernesses I feel, when I
reflect upon the little Accidents in our former Familiarity, my Mind
swells into Sorrow which cannot be resisted enough to be silent in the
Presence of Pharamond."
With that he fell into a Flood of
Tears, and wept aloud.
"Why should not Pharamond hear the
Anguish he only can relieve others from in Time to come? Let him hear
from me, what they feel who have given Death by the false Mercy of his
Administration, and form to himself the Vengeance call'd for by those
who have perished by his Negligence.'
R.
See
Steele uses the suggestion of the Romance of
Pharamond
whose
'whole Person,' says the romancer, 'was of so
excellent a composition, and his words so Great and so Noble that it was
very difficult to deny him reverence,'
to connect with a remote king his
ideas of the duty of a Court. Pharamond's friend Eucrate, whose name
means Power well used, is an invention of the Essayist, as well as the
incident and dialogue here given, for an immediate good purpose of his
own, which he pleasantly contrives in imitation of the style of the
romance. In the original, Pharamond is said to be
'
truly and wholly
charming, as well for the vivacity and delicateness of his spirit,
accompanied with a perfect knowledge of all Sciences, as for a sweetness
which is wholly particular to him, and a complacence which &c.... All
his inclinations are in such manner fixed upon virtue, that no
consideration nor passion can disturb him; and in those extremities into
which his ill fortune hath cast him, he hath never let pass any occasion
to do good.'
That is why Steele chose Pharamond for his king in this and
a preceding paper.
the utmost sense of his Majesty without the ability to
express it.
Spinamont is Mr. Thornhill, who, on the 9th of May, 1711,
killed in a duel Sir Cholmomleley Dering, Baronet, of Kent. Mr.
Thornhill was tried and acquitted; but two months afterwards,
assassinated by two men, who, as they stabbed him, bade him remember Sir
Cholmondeley Dering. Steele wrote often and well against duelling,
condemning it in the
Tatler
several times, in the
Spectator
several
times, in the
Guardian
several times, and even in one of his plays.
Contents
|
Thursday, June 7, 1711 |
Addison |
Interdum speciosa locis, morataque recte
Fabula nullius Veneris, sine pondere et Arte,
Valdius oblectat populum, meliusque moratur,
Quàm versus inopes rerum, nugæque canoræ.
Hor.
translation
It is the Custom of the
Mahometans
, if they see any printed or
written Paper upon the Ground, to take it up and lay it aside carefully,
as not knowing but it may contain some Piece of their
Alcoran
. I
must confess I have so much of the
Mussulman
in me, That I cannot
forbear looking into every printed Paper which comes in my Way, under
whatsoever despicable Circumstances it may appear; for as no mortal
Author, in the ordinary Fate and Vicissitude of Things, knows to what
Use his Works may, some time or other, be applied, a Man may often meet
with very celebrated Names in a Paper of Tobacco. I have lighted my Pipe
more than once with the Writings of a Prelate; and know a Friend of
mine, who, for these several Years, has converted the Essays of a Man of
Quality into a kind of Fringe for his Candlesticks. I remember in
particular, after having read over a Poem of an Eminent Author on a
Victory, I met with several Fragments of it upon the next rejoicing Day,
which had been employ'd in Squibs and Crackers, and by that means
celebrated its Subject in a double Capacity. I once met with a Page of
Mr.
Baxter
under a
Christmas
Pye. Whether or no the
Pastry-Cook had made use of it through Chance or Waggery, for the
Defence of that superstitious
Viande
, I know not; but upon the
Perusal of it, I conceived so good an Idea of the Author's Piety, that I
bought the whole Book. I have often profited by these accidental
Readings, and have sometimes found very Curious Pieces, that are either
out of Print, or not to be met with in the Shops of our
London
Booksellers
. For this Reason, when my Friends take a Survey of my
Library, they are very much surprised to find, upon the Shelf of Folios,
two long Band-Boxes standing upright among my Books, till I let them see
that they are both of them lined with deep Erudition and abstruse
Literature. I might likewise mention a Paper-Kite, from which I have
received great Improvement; and a Hat-Case, which I would not exchange
for all the Beavers in
Great-Britain
. This my inquisitive Temper,
or rather impertinent Humour of prying into all Sorts of Writing, with
my natural Aversion to Loquacity, give me a good deal of Employment when
I enter any House in the Country; for I cannot for my Heart leave a
Room, before I have thoroughly studied the Walls of it, and examined the
several printed Papers which are usually pasted upon them. The last
Piece that I met with upon this Occasion gave me a most exquisite
Pleasure. My Reader will think I am not serious, when I acquaint him
that the Piece I am going to speak of was the old Ballad of the
Two
Children in the Wood
, which is one of the darling Songs of the
common People, and has been the Delight of most
Englishmen
in
some Part of their Age.
This Song is a plain simple Copy of Nature, destitute of the Helps and
Ornaments of Art. The Tale of it is a pretty Tragical Story, and pleases
for no other Reason but because it is a Copy of Nature. There is even a
despicable Simplicity in the Verse; and yet because the Sentiments
appear genuine and unaffected, they are able to move the Mind of the
most polite Reader with Inward Meltings of Humanity and Compassion.
Incidents grow out of the Subject, and are such as [are the most proper
to excite Pity; for
which Reason the whole Narration has something
in it very moving, notwithstanding the Author of it (whoever he was) has
deliver'd it in such an abject Phrase and Poorness of Expression, that
the quoting any part of it would look like a Design of turning it into
Ridicule. But though the Language is mean, the Thoughts
, as I have
before said,
from one end to the other are
natural
, and therefore
cannot fail to please those who are not Judges of Language, or those
who, notwithstanding they are Judges of Language, have a
true
and
unprejudiced Taste of Nature.
Condition, Speech, and Behaviour of
the dying Parents, with the Age, Innocence, and Distress of the
Children, are set forth in such tender Circumstances, that it is
impossible for a
Reader of common Humanity
not to be affected with
them. As for the Circumstance of the
Robin-red-breast
, it is
indeed a little Poetical Ornament; and to shew
the Genius of the Author
amidst all his Simplicity, it is just the same kind of Fiction
which one of the greatest of the
Latin
Poets has made use of upon
a parallel Occasion; I mean that Passage in
Horace
, where he
describes himself when he was a Child, fallen asleep in a desart Wood,
and covered with Leaves by the Turtles that took pity on him.
Me fabulosa Vulture in Apulo,
Altricis extra limen Apuliæ,
Ludo fatigatumque somno
Fronde novâ puerum palumbes
Texere ...
have heard that the late Lord
Dorset
, who had the greatest Wit
temper'd with the greatest
Candour,
and was one of the finest
Criticks as well as the best Poets of his Age, had a numerous collection
of old
English
Ballads, and took a particular Pleasure in the
Reading of them. I can affirm the same of Mr.
Dryden
, and know
several of the most refined Writers of our present Age who are of the
same Humour.
I might likewise refer my Reader to
Moliere's
Thoughts on this
Subject, as he has expressed them in the Character of the
Misanthrope
; but those only who are endowed with a true Greatness
of Soul and Genius can divest themselves of the little Images of
Ridicule, and admire Nature in her Simplicity and Nakedness.
for the
little conceited Wits of the Age, who can only shew their Judgment by
finding Fault, they cannot be supposed to admire these Productions
which
have nothing to recommend them but the Beauties of Nature,
when they do not know how to relish even those Compositions that, with
all the Beauties of Nature, have also the additional Advantages of Art
.
Virgil
himself would have touched upon, had the like
Story been told by that Divine Poet. For
wonderfully natural
genuine
goodnatured Reader
what a Genius the Author was Master of
Humanity
that
Addison had incurred much ridicule from the bad taste of
the time by his papers upon Chevy Chase, though he had gone some way to
meet it by endeavouring to satisfy the Dennises of 'that polite age,'
with authorities from Virgil. Among the jests was a burlesque criticism
of
Tom Thumb
. What Addison thought of the 'little images of Ridicule'
set up against him, the last paragraph of this Essay shows, but the
collation of texts shows that he did flinch a little. We now see how he
modified many expressions in the reprint of this Essay upon the
Babes
in the Wood
.
Contents
|
Friday, June 8, 1711 |
Addison |
Heu quam difficile est crimen non prodere vultu!
Ovid.
translation
are several Arts which
all Men are in
some measure
Masters
of, without having been at the Pains of learning them. Every one
that speaks or reasons is a Grammarian and a Logician, tho' he may be
wholly unacquainted with the Rules of Grammar or Logick, as they are
delivered in Books and Systems. In the same Manner, every one is in some
Degree a Master of that Art which is generally distinguished by the Name
of Physiognomy; and naturally forms to himself the Character or Fortune
of a Stranger, from the Features and Lineaments of his Face.