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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Essays and Tales + + +Author: Joseph Addison + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Release Date: October 18, 2007 [eBook #2791] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS AND TALES*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1888 Cassell & Company edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">cassell’s +national library</span>.</p> +<h1>ESSAYS AND TALES</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +JOSEPH ADDISON.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">CASSELL & COMPANY, <span +class="smcap">Limited</span>:<br /> +<span class="smcap"><i>london</i></span>, <span +class="smcap"><i>paris</i></span>, <span class="smcap"><i>new +york & melbourne</i></span>.<br /> +1888.</p> +<p>Contents:</p> +<p>Introduction<br /> +Public Credit<br /> +Household Superstitions<br /> +Opera Lions<br /> +Women and Wives<br /> +The Italian Opera<br /> +Lampoons<br /> +True and False Humour<br /> +Sa Ga Yean Qua Rash Tow’s Impressions of London<br /> +The Vision of Marraton<br /> +Six Papers on Wit<br /> +Friendship<br /> +Chevy-Chase (Two Papers)<br /> +A Dream of the Painters<br /> +Spare Time (Two Papers)<br /> +Censure<br /> +The English Language<br /> +The Vision of Mirza<br /> +Genius<br /> +Theodosius and Constantia<br /> +Good Nature<br /> +A Grinning Match<br /> +Trust in God</p> +<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<p>The sixty-fourth volume of this Library contains those papers +from the <i>Tatler</i> which were especially associated with the +imagined character of <span class="smcap">Isaac +Bickerstaff</span>, who was the central figure in that series; +and in the twenty-ninth volume there is a similar collection of +papers relating to the Spectator Club and <span class="smcap">Sir +Roger de Coverley</span>, who was the central figure in Steele +and Addison’s <i>Spectator</i>. Those volumes +contained, no doubt, some of the best Essays of Addison and +Steele. But in the <i>Tatler</i> and <i>Spectator</i> are +full armouries of the wit and wisdom of these two writers, who +summoned into life the army of the Essayists, and led it on to +kindly war against the forces of Ill-temper and Ignorance. +Envy, Hatred, Malice, and all their first cousins of the family +of Uncharitableness, are captains under those two +commanders-in-chief, and we can little afford to dismiss from the +field two of the stoutest combatants against them. In this +volume it is only Addison who speaks; and in another volume, +presently to follow, there will be the voice of Steele.</p> +<p>The two friends differed in temperament and in many of the +outward signs of character; but these two little books will very +distinctly show how wholly they agreed as to essentials. +For Addison, Literature had a charm of its own; he delighted in +distinguishing the finer graces of good style, and he drew from +the truths of life the principles of taste in writing. For +Steele, Literature was the life itself; he loved a true book for +the soul he found in it. So he agreed with Addison in +judgment. But the six papers on “Wit,” the two +papers on “Chevy Chase,” contained in this volume; +the eleven papers on “Imagination,” and the papers on +“Paradise Lost,” which may be given in some future +volume; were in a form of study for which Addison was far more +apt than Steele. Thus as fellow-workers they gave a breadth +to the character of <i>Tatler</i> and <i>Spectator</i> that could +have been produced by neither of them, singly.</p> +<p>The reader of this volume will never suppose that the +artist’s pleasure in good art and in analysis of its +constituents removes him from direct enjoyment of the life about +him; that he misses a real contact with all the world gives that +is worth his touch. Good art is but nature, studied with +love trained to the most delicate perception; and the good +criticism in which the spirit of an artist speaks is, like +Addison’s, calm, simple, and benign. Pope yearned to +attack John Dennis, a rough critic of the day, who had attacked +his “Essay on Criticism.” Addison had +discouraged a very small assault of words. When Dennis +attacked Addison’s “Cato,” Pope thought himself +free to strike; but Addison took occasion to express, through +Steele, a serious regret that he had done so. True +criticism may be affected, as Addison’s was, by some bias +in the canons of taste prevalent in the writer’s time, but, +as Addison’s did in the Chevy-Chase papers, it will dissent +from prevalent misapplications of them, and it can never +associate perception of the purest truth and beauty with petty +arrogance, nor will it so speak as to give pain. When +Wordsworth was remembering with love his mother’s guidance +of his childhood, and wished to suggest that there were mothers +less wise in their ways, he was checked, he said, by the +unwillingness to join thought of her “with any thought that +looks at others’ blame.” So Addison felt +towards his mother Nature, in literature and in life. He +attacked nobody. With a light, kindly humour, that was +never personal and never could give pain, he sought to soften the +harsh lines of life, abate its follies, and inspire the temper +that alone can overcome its wrongs.</p> +<p>Politics, in which few then knew how to think calmly and +recognise the worth of various opinion, Steele and Addison +excluded from the pages of the <i>Spectator</i>. But the +first paper in this volume is upon “Public Credit,” +and it did touch on the position of the country at a time when +the shock of change caused by the Revolution of 1688-89, and also +the strain of foreign war, were being severely felt.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">H. M.</p> +<h2>PUBLIC CREDIT.</h2> +<blockquote><p>—<i>Quoi quisque ferè studio +devinctus adhæret</i><br /> +<i>Aut quibus i rebus multùm sumus antè +morati</i><br /> +<i>Atque in quô ratione fuit contenta magis mens</i>,<br /> +<i>In somnis cadem plerumque videmur obire</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Lucr.</span>, +iv. 959.</p> +<p>—What studies please, what most delight,<br /> +And fill men’s thoughts, they dream them o’er at +night.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Creech</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In one of my rambles, or rather speculations, I looked into +the great hall where the bank is kept, and was not a little +pleased to see the directors, secretaries, and clerks, with all +the other members of that wealthy corporation, ranged in their +several stations, according to the parts they act in that just +and regular economy. This revived in my memory the many +discourses which I had both read and heard concerning the decay +of public credit, with the methods of restoring it; and which, in +my opinion, have always been defective, because they have always +been made with an eye to separate interests and party +principles.</p> +<p>The thoughts of the day gave my mind employment for the whole +night; so that I fell insensibly into a kind of methodical dream, +which disposed all my contemplations into a vision, or allegory, +or what else the reader shall please to call it.</p> +<p>Methoughts I returned to the great hall, where I had been the +morning before; but to my surprise, instead of the company that I +left there, I saw, towards the upper end of the hall, a beautiful +virgin, seated on a throne of gold. Her name, as they told +me, was Public Credit. The walls, instead of being adorned +with pictures and maps, were hung with many Acts of Parliament +written in golden letters. At the upper end of the hall was +the Magna Charta, with the Act of Uniformity on the right hand, +and the Act of Toleration on the left. At the lower end of +the hall was the Act of Settlement, which was placed full in the +eye of the virgin that sat upon the throne. Both the sides +of the hall were covered with such Acts of Parliament as had been +made for the establishment of public funds. The lady seemed +to set an unspeakable value upon these several pieces of +furniture, insomuch that she often refreshed her eye with them, +and often smiled with a secret pleasure as she looked upon them; +but, at the same time, showed a very particular uneasiness if she +saw anything approaching that might hurt them. She +appeared, indeed, infinitely timorous in all her behaviour: and +whether it was from the delicacy of her constitution, or that she +was troubled with vapours, as I was afterwards told by one who I +found was none of her well-wishers, she changed colour and +startled at everything she heard. She was likewise, as I +afterwards found, a greater valetudinarian than any I had ever +met with, even in her own sex, and subject to such momentary +consumptions, that in the twinkling of an eye, she would fall +away from the most florid complexion and the most healthful state +of body, and wither into a skeleton. Her recoveries were +often as sudden as her decays, insomuch that she would revive in +a moment out of a wasting distemper, into a habit of the highest +health and vigour.</p> +<p>I had very soon an opportunity of observing these quick turns +and changes in her constitution. There sat at her feet a +couple of secretaries, who received every hour letters from all +parts of the world, which the one or the other of them was +perpetually reading to her; and according to the news she heard, +to which she was exceedingly attentive, she changed colour, and +discovered many symptoms of health or sickness.</p> +<p>Behind the throne was a prodigious heap of bags of money, +which were piled upon one another so high that they touched the +ceiling. The floor on her right hand and on her left was +covered with vast sums of gold that rose up in pyramids on either +side of her. But this I did not so much wonder at, when I +heard, upon inquiry, that she had the same virtue in her touch, +which the poets tell us a Lydian king was formerly possessed of; +and that she could convert whatever she pleased into that +precious metal.</p> +<p>After a little dizziness, and confused hurry of thought, which +a man often meets with in a dream, methoughts the hall was +alarmed, the doors flew open, and there entered half a dozen of +the most hideous phantoms that I had ever seen, even in a dream, +before that time. They came in two by two, though matched +in the most dissociable manner, and mingled together in a kind of +dance. It would be tedious to describe their habits and +persons; for which reason I shall only inform my reader, that the +first couple were Tyranny and Anarchy; the second were Bigotry +and Atheism; the third, the Genius of a commonwealth and a young +man of about twenty-two years of age, whose name I could not +learn. He had a sword in his right hand, which in the dance +he often brandished at the Act of Settlement; and a citizen, who +stood by me, whispered in my ear, that he saw a sponge in his +left hand. The dance of so many jarring natures put me in +mind of the sun, moon, and earth, in the <i>Rehearsal</i>, that +danced together for no other end but to eclipse one another.</p> +<p>The reader will easily suppose, by what has been before said, +that the lady on the throne would have been almost frighted to +distraction, had she seen but any one of the spectres: what then +must have been her condition when she saw them all in a +body? She fainted, and died away at the sight.</p> +<blockquote><p><i>Et neque jam color est misto candore +rubori</i>;<br /> +<i>Nec vigor</i>, <i>et vires</i>, <i>et quæ modò +rise placebant</i>;<br /> +<i>Nec corpus remanet</i>—.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Ovid</span>, +<i>Met. iii.</i> 491.</p> +<p> —Her spirits +faint,<br /> +Her blooming cheeks assume a pallid teint,<br /> +And scarce her form remains.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There was as great a change in the hill of money-bags and the +heaps of money, the former shrinking and falling into so many +empty bags, that I now found not above a tenth part of them had +been filled with money.</p> +<p>The rest, that took up the same space and made the same figure +as the bags that were really filled with money, had been blown up +with air, and called into my memory the bags full of wind, which +Homer tells us his hero received as a present from +Æolus. The great heaps of gold on either side the +throne now appeared to be only heaps of paper, or little piles of +notched sticks, bound up together in bundles, like Bath +faggots.</p> +<p>Whilst I was lamenting this sudden desolation that had been +made before me, the whole scene vanished. In the room of +the frightful spectres, there now entered a second dance of +apparitions, very agreeably matched together, and made up of very +amiable phantoms: the first pair was Liberty with Monarchy at her +right hand; the second was Moderation leading in Religion; and +the third, a person whom I had never seen, with the Genius of +Great Britain. At the first entrance, the lady revived; the +bags swelled to their former bulk; the piles of faggots and heaps +of paper changed into pyramids of guineas: and, for my own part, +I was so transported with joy that I awaked, though I must +confess I would fain have fallen asleep again to have closed my +vision, if I could have done it.</p> +<h2>HOUSEHOLD SUPERSTITIONS.</h2> +<blockquote><p><i>Somnia</i>, <i>terrores magicos</i>, +<i>miracula</i>, <i>sagas</i>,<br /> +<i>Nocturnos lemures</i>, <i>portentaque Thessala rides</i>?</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Hor.</span>, +<i>Ep.</i> ii. 2, 208.</p> +<p>Visions and magic spells, can you despise,<br /> +And laugh at witches, ghosts, and prodigies?</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Going yesterday to dine with an old acquaintance, I had the +misfortune to find his whole family very much dejected. +Upon asking him the occasion of it, he told me that his wife had +dreamt a very strange dream the night before, which they were +afraid portended some misfortune to themselves or to their +children. At her coming into the room, I observed a settled +melancholy in her countenance, which I should have been troubled +for, had I not heard from whence it proceeded. We were no +sooner sat down, but, after having looked upon me a little while, +“My dear,” says she, turning to her husband, +“you may now see the stranger that was in the candle last +night.” Soon after this, as they began to talk of +family affairs, a little boy at the lower end of the table told +her that he was to go into join-hand on Thursday. +“Thursday!” says she. “No, child; if it +please God, you shall not begin upon Childermas-day; tell your +writing-master that Friday will be soon enough.” I +was reflecting with myself on the oddness of her fancy, and +wondering that anybody would establish it as a rule, to lose a +day in every week. In the midst of these my musings, she +desired me to reach her a little salt upon the point of my knife, +which I did in such a trepidation and hurry of obedience that I +let it drop by the way; at which she immediately startled, and +said it fell towards her. Upon this I looked very blank; +and observing the concern of the whole table, began to consider +myself, with some confusion, as a person that had brought a +disaster upon the family. The lady, however, recovering +herself after a little space, said to her husband with a sigh, +“My dear, misfortunes never come single.” My +friend, I found, acted but an under part at his table; and, being +a man of more good-nature than understanding, thinks himself +obliged to fall in with all the passions and humours of his +yoke-fellow. “Do not you remember, child,” says +she, “that the pigeon-house fell the very afternoon that +our careless wench spilt the salt upon the +table?”—“Yes,” says he, “my dear; +and the next post brought us an account of the battle of +Almanza.” The reader may guess at the figure I made, +after having done all this mischief. I despatched my dinner +as soon as I could, with my usual taciturnity; when, to my utter +confusion, the lady seeing me quitting my knife and fork, and +laying them across one another upon my plate, desired me that I +would humour her so far as to take them out of that figure and +place them side by side. What the absurdity was which I had +committed I did not know, but I suppose there was some +traditionary superstition in it; and therefore, in obedience to +the lady of the house, I disposed of my knife and fork in two +parallel lines, which is the figure I shall always lay them in +for the future, though I do not know any reason for it.</p> +<p>It is not difficult for a man to see that a person has +conceived an aversion to him. For my own part, I quickly +found, by the lady’s looks, that she regarded me as a very +odd kind of fellow, with an unfortunate aspect: for which reason +I took my leave immediately after dinner, and withdrew to my own +lodgings. Upon my return home, I fell into a profound +contemplation on the evils that attend these superstitious +follies of mankind; how they subject us to imaginary afflictions, +and additional sorrows, that do not properly come within our +lot. As if the natural calamities of life were not +sufficient for it, we turn the most indifferent circumstances +into misfortunes, and suffer as much from trifling accidents as +from real evils. I have known the shooting of a star spoil +a night’s rest; and have seen a man in love grow pale, and +lose his appetite, upon the plucking of a merry-thought. A +screech-owl at midnight has alarmed a family more than a band of +robbers; nay, the voice of a cricket hath struck more terror than +the roaring of a lion. There is nothing so inconsiderable +which may not appear dreadful to an imagination that is filled +with omens and prognostics: a rusty nail or a crooked pin shoot +up into prodigies.</p> +<p>I remember I was once in a mixed assembly that was full of +noise and mirth, when on a sudden an old woman unluckily observed +there were thirteen of us in company. This remark struck a +panic terror into several who were present, insomuch that one or +two of the ladies were going to leave the room; but a friend of +mine taking notice that one of our female companions was big with +child, affirmed there were fourteen in the room, and that, +instead of portending one of the company should die, it plainly +foretold one of them should be born. Had not my friend +found this expedient to break the omen, I question not but half +the women in the company would have fallen sick that very +night.</p> +<p>An old maid that is troubled with the vapours produces +infinite disturbances of this kind among her friends and +neighbours. I know a maiden aunt of a great family, who is +one of these antiquated Sibyls, that forebodes and prophesies +from one end of the year to the other. She is always seeing +apparitions and hearing death-watches; and was the other day +almost frighted out of her wits by the great house-dog that +howled in the stable, at a time when she lay ill of the +toothache. Such an extravagant cast of mind engages +multitudes of people not only in impertinent terrors, but in +supernumerary duties of life, and arises from that fear and +ignorance which are natural to the soul of man. The horror +with which we entertain the thoughts of death, or indeed of any +future evil, and the uncertainty of its approach, fill a +melancholy mind with innumerable apprehensions and suspicions, +and consequently dispose it to the observation of such groundless +prodigies and predictions. For as it is the chief concern +of wise men to retrench the evils of life by the reasonings of +philosophy, it is the employment of fools to multiply them by the +sentiments of superstition.</p> +<p>For my own part, I should be very much troubled were I endowed +with this divining quality, though it should inform me truly of +everything that can befall me. I would not anticipate the +relish of any happiness, nor feel the weight of any misery, +before it actually arrives.</p> +<p>I know but one way of fortifying my soul against these gloomy +presages and terrors of mind; and that is, by securing to myself +the friendship and protection of that Being who disposes of +events and governs futurity. He sees, at one view, the +whole thread of my existence, not only that part of it which I +have already passed through, but that which runs forward into all +the depths of eternity. When I lay me down to sleep, I +recommend myself to His care; when I awake, I give myself up to +His direction. Amidst all the evils that threaten me, I +will look up to Him for help, and question not but He will either +avert them, or turn them to my advantage. Though I know +neither the time nor the manner of the death I am to die, I am +not at all solicitous about it; because I am sure that he knows +them both, and that He will not fail to comfort and support me +under them.</p> +<h2>OPERA LIONS.</h2> +<blockquote><p><i>Dic mihi</i>, <i>si fias tu leo</i>, <i>qualis +eris</i>?</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Mart.</span>, +xii. 93.</p> +<p>Were you a lion, how would you behave?</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There is nothing that of late years has afforded matter of +greater amusement to the town than Signior Nicolini’s +combat with a lion in the Haymarket, which has been very often +exhibited to the general satisfaction of most of the nobility and +gentry in the kingdom of Great Britain. Upon the first +rumour of this intended combat, it was confidently affirmed, and +is still believed, by many in both galleries, that there would be +a tame lion sent from the tower every opera night in order to be +killed by Hydaspes. This report, though altogether +groundless, so universally prevailed in the upper regions of the +playhouse, that some of the most refined politicians in those +parts of the audience gave it out in whisper that the lion was a +cousin-german of the tiger who made his appearance in King +William’s days, and that the stage would be supplied with +lions at the public expense during the whole session. Many +likewise were the conjectures of the treatment which this lion +was to meet with from the hands of Signior Nicolini: some +supposed that he was to subdue him in recitativo, as Orpheus used +to serve the wild beasts in his time, and afterwards to knock him +on the head; some fancied that the lion would not pretend to lay +his paws upon the hero, by reason of the received opinion that a +lion will not hurt a virgin: several who pretended to have seen +the opera in Italy, had informed their friends that the lion was +to act a part in High Dutch, and roar twice or thrice to a +thorough bass before he fell at the feet of Hydaspes. To +clear up a matter that was so variously reported, I have made it +my business to examine whether this pretended lion is really the +savage he appears to be, or only a counterfeit.</p> +<p>But before I communicate my discoveries, I must acquaint the +reader that upon my walking behind the scenes last winter, as I +was thinking on something else, I accidentally jostled against a +monstrous animal that extremely startled me, and, upon my nearer +survey of it, appeared to be a lion rampant. The lion, +seeing me very much surprised, told me, in a gentle voice, that I +might come by him if I pleased; “for,” says he, +“I do not intend to hurt anybody.” I thanked +him very kindly and passed by him, and in a little time after saw +him leap upon the stage and act his part with very great +applause. It has been observed by several that the lion has +changed his manner of acting twice or thrice since his first +appearance, which will not seem strange when I acquaint my reader +that the lion has been changed upon the audience three several +times. The first lion was a candle-snuffer, who, being a +fellow of a testy, choleric temper, overdid his part, and would +not suffer himself to be killed so easily as he ought to have +done: besides, it was observed of him, that he grew more surly +every time he came out of the lion, and having dropped some words +in ordinary conversation, as if he had not fought his best, and +that he suffered himself to be thrown upon his back in the +scuffle, and that he would wrestle with Mr. Nicolini for what he +pleased, out of his lion’s skin, it was thought proper to +discard him: and it is verily believed to this day, that, had he +been brought upon the stage another time, he would certainly have +done mischief. Besides, it was objected against the first +lion, that he reared himself so high upon his hinder paws, and +walked in so erect a posture, that he looked more like an old man +than a lion.</p> +<p>The second lion was a tailor by trade, who belonged to the +playhouse, and had the character of a mild and peaceable man in +his profession. If the former was too furious, this was too +sheepish for his part; inasmuch that, after a short modest walk +upon the stage, he would fall at the first touch of Hydaspes, +without grappling with him, and giving him an opportunity of +showing his variety of Italian trips. It is said, indeed, +that he once gave him a rip in his flesh-colour doublet: but this +was only to make work for himself in his private character of a +tailor. I must not omit that it was this second lion who +treated me with so much humanity behind the scenes.</p> +<p>The acting lion at present is, as I am informed, a country +gentleman, who does it for his diversion, but desires his name +may be concealed. He says very handsomely, in his own +excuse, that he does not act for gain; that he indulges an +innocent pleasure in it, and that it is better to pass away an +evening in this manner than in gaming and drinking: but at the +same time says, with a very agreeable raillery upon himself, that +if his name should be known, the ill-natured world might call him +“the ass in the lion’s skin.” This +gentleman’s temper is made out of such a happy mixture of +the mild and the choleric, that he outdoes both his predecessors, +and has drawn together greater audiences than have been known in +the memory of man.</p> +<p>I must not conclude my narrative without taking notice of a +groundless report that has been raised to a gentleman’s +disadvantage, of whom I must declare myself an admirer; namely, +that Signior Nicolini and the lion have been seen sitting +peaceably by one another, and smoking a pipe together behind the +scenes; by which their common enemies would insinuate that it is +but a sham combat which they represent upon the stage: but upon +inquiry I find, that if any such correspondence has passed +between them, it was not till the combat was over, when the lion +was to be looked upon as dead according to the received rules of +the drama. Besides, this is what is practised every day in +Westminster Hall, where nothing is more usual than to see a +couple of lawyers, who have been tearing each other to pieces in +the court, embracing one another as soon as they are out of +it.</p> +<p>I would not be thought in any part of this relation to reflect +upon Signior Nicolini, who, in acting this part, only complies +with the wretched taste of his audience: he knows very well that +the lion has many more admirers than himself; as they say of the +famous equestrian statue on the Pont-Neuf at Paris, that more +people go to see the horse than the king who sits upon it. +On the contrary, it gives me a just indignation to see a person +whose action gives new majesty to kings, resolution to heroes, +and softness to lovers, thus sinking from the greatness of his +behaviour, and degraded into the character of the London +Prentice. I have often wished that our tragedians would +copy after this great master in action. Could they make the +same use of their arms and legs, and inform their faces with as +significant looks and passions, how glorious would an English +tragedy appear with that action which is capable of giving a +dignity to the forced thoughts, cold conceits, and unnatural +expressions of an Italian opera! In the meantime, I have +related this combat of the lion to show what are at present the +reigning entertainments of the politer part of Great Britain.</p> +<p>Audiences have often been reproached by writers for the +coarseness of their taste; but our present grievance does not +seem to be the want of a good taste, but of common sense.</p> +<h2>WOMEN AND WIVES.</h2> +<blockquote><p><i>Parva leves capiunt animos</i>.—</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Ovid</span>, +<i>Ars Am.</i>, i. 159.</p> +<p>Light minds are pleased with trifles.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When I was in France, I used to gaze with great astonishment +at the splendid equipages, and party-coloured habits of that +fantastic nation. I was one day in particular contemplating +a lady that sat in a coach adorned with gilded Cupids, and finely +painted with the Loves of Venus and Adonis. The coach was +drawn by six milk-white horses, and loaden behind with the same +number of powdered footmen. Just before the lady were a +couple of beautiful pages, that were stuck among the harness, +and, by their gay dresses and smiling features, looked like the +elder brothers of the little boys that were carved and painted in +every corner of the coach.</p> +<p>The lady was the unfortunate Cleanthe, who afterwards gave an +occasion to a pretty melancholy novel. She had for several +years received the addresses of a gentleman, whom, after a long +and intimate acquaintance, she forsook upon the account of this +shining equipage, which had been offered to her by one of great +riches but a crazy constitution. The circumstances in which +I saw her were, it seems, the disguises only of a broken heart, +and a kind of pageantry to cover distress, for in two months +after, she was carried to her grave with the same pomp and +magnificence, being sent thither partly by the loss of one lover +and partly by the possession of another.</p> +<p>I have often reflected with myself on this unaccountable +humour in womankind, of being smitten with everything that is +showy and superficial; and on the numberless evils that befall +the sex from this light fantastical disposition. I myself +remember a young lady that was very warmly solicited by a couple +of importunate rivals, who, for several months together, did all +they could to recommend themselves, by complacency of behaviour +and agreeableness of conversation. At length, when the +competition was doubtful, and the lady undetermined in her +choice, one of the young lovers very luckily bethought himself of +adding a supernumerary lace to his liveries, which had so good an +effect that he married her the very week after.</p> +<p>The usual conversation of ordinary women very much cherishes +this natural weakness of being taken with outside and +appearance. Talk of a new-married couple, and you +immediately hear whether they keep their coach and six, or eat in +plate. Mention the name of an absent lady, and it is ten to +one but you learn something of her gown and petticoat. A +ball is a great help to discourse, and a birthday furnishes +conversation for a twelvemonth after. A furbelow of +precious stones, a hat buttoned with a diamond, a brocade +waistcoat or petticoat, are standing topics. In short, they +consider only the drapery of the species, and never cast away a +thought on those ornaments of the mind that make persons +illustrious in themselves and useful to others. When women +are thus perpetually dazzling one another’s imaginations, +and filling their heads with nothing but colours, it is no wonder +that they are more attentive to the superficial parts of life +than the solid and substantial blessings of it. A girl who +has been trained up in this kind of conversation is in danger of +every embroidered coat that comes in her way. A pair of +fringed gloves may be her ruin. In a word, lace and +ribands, silver and gold galloons, with the like glittering +gewgaws, are so many lures to women of weak minds or low +educations, and, when artificially displayed, are able to fetch +down the most airy coquette from the wildest of her flights and +rambles.</p> +<p>True happiness is of a retired nature, and an enemy to pomp +and noise; it arises, in the first place, from the enjoyment of +one’s self, and, in the next, from the friendship and +conversation of a few select companions; it loves shade and +solitude, and naturally haunts groves and fountains, fields and +meadows; in short, it feels everything it wants within itself, +and receives no addition from multitudes of witnesses and +spectators. On the contrary, false happiness loves to be in +a crowd, and to draw the eyes of the world upon her. She +does not receive any satisfaction from the applauses which she +gives herself, but from the admiration she raises in +others. She flourishes in courts and palaces, theatres and +assemblies, and has no existence but when she is looked upon.</p> +<p>Aurelia, though a woman of great quality, delights in the +privacy of a country life, and passes away a great part of her +time in her own walks and gardens. Her husband, who is her +bosom friend and companion in her solitudes, has been in love +with her ever since he knew her. They both abound with good +sense, consummate virtue, and a mutual esteem; and are a +perpetual entertainment to one another. Their family is +under so regular an economy, in its hours of devotion and repast, +employment and diversion, that it looks like a little +commonwealth within itself. They often go into company, +that they may return with the greater delight to one another; and +sometimes live in town, not to enjoy it so properly as to grow +weary of it, that they may renew in themselves the relish of a +country life. By this means they are happy in each other, +beloved by their children, adored by their servants, and are +become the envy, or rather the delight, of all that know +them.</p> +<p>How different to this is the life of Fulvia! She +considers her husband as her steward, and looks upon discretion +and good housewifery as little domestic virtues unbecoming a +woman of quality. She thinks life lost in her own family, +and fancies herself out of the world when she is not in the ring, +the playhouse, or the drawing-room. She lives in a +perpetual motion of body and restlessness of thought, and is +never easy in any one place when she thinks there is more company +in another. The missing of an opera the first night would +be more afflicting to her than the death of a child. She +pities all the valuable part of her own sex, and calls every +woman of a prudent, modest, retired life, a poor-spirited, +unpolished creature. What a mortification would it be to +Fulvia, if she knew that her setting herself to view is but +exposing herself, and that she grows contemptible by being +conspicuous!</p> +<p>I cannot conclude my paper without observing that Virgil has +very finely touched upon this female passion for dress and show, +in the character of Camilla, who, though she seems to have shaken +off all the other weaknesses of her sex, is still described as a +woman in this particular. The poet tells us, that after +having made a great slaughter of the enemy, she unfortunately +cast her eye on a Trojan, who wore an embroidered tunic, a +beautiful coat of mail, with a mantle of the finest purple. +“A golden bow,” says he, “hung upon his +shoulder; his garment was buckled with a golden clasp, and his +head covered with a helmet of the same shining +metal.” The Amazon immediately singled out this +well-dressed warrior, being seized with a woman’s longing +for the pretty trappings that he was adorned with:</p> +<blockquote><p>—<i>Totumque incauta per agmen</i>,<br /> +<i>Fæmineo prædæ et spoliorum ardebat +amore</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Æn.</i>, xi. 781.</p> +<p> —So greedy was she +bent<br /> +On golden spoils, and on her prey intent.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This heedless pursuit after these glittering trifles, the +poet, by a nice concealed moral, represents to have been the +destruction of his female hero.</p> +<h2>THE ITALIAN OPERA.</h2> +<blockquote><p>—<i>Equitis quoque jam migravit ab aure +voluptas</i><br /> +<i>Omnis ad incertos oculos</i>, <i>et gaudia vana</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Hor.</span>, +<i>Ep.</i> ii. 1, 187.</p> +<p>But now our nobles too are fops and vain,<br /> +Neglect the sense, but love the painted scene.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Creech</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is my design in this paper to deliver down to posterity a +faithful account of the Italian opera, and of the gradual +progress which it has made upon the English stage; for there is +no question but our great-grandchildren will be very curious to +know the reason why their forefathers used to sit together like +an audience of foreigners in their own country, and to hear whole +plays acted before them in a tongue which they did not +understand.</p> +<p><i>Arsinoë</i> was the first opera that gave us a taste +of Italian music. The great success this opera met with +produced some attempts of forming pieces upon Italian plans, +which should give a more natural and reasonable entertainment +than what can be met with in the elaborate trifles of that +nation. This alarmed the poetasters and fiddlers of the +town, who were used to deal in a more ordinary kind of ware; and +therefore laid down an established rule, which is received as +such to this day, “That nothing is capable of being well +set to music that is not nonsense.”</p> +<p>This maxim was no sooner received, but we immediately fell to +translating the Italian operas; and as there was no great danger +of hurting the sense of those extraordinary pieces, our authors +would often make words of their own which were entirely foreign +to the meaning of the passages they pretended to translate; their +chief care being to make the numbers of the English verse answer +to those of the Italian, that both of them might go to the same +tune. Thus the famous swig in Camilla:</p> +<blockquote><p>“<i>Barbara si t’ intendo</i>,” +&c.</p> +<p>“Barbarous woman, yes, I know your meaning,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>which expresses the resentments of an angry lover, was +translated into that English lamentation,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Frail are a lover’s hopes,” +&c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And it was pleasant enough to see the most refined persons of +the British nation dying away and languishing to notes that were +filled with a spirit of rage and indignation. It happened +also very frequently, where the sense was rightly translated, the +necessary transposition of words, which were drawn out of the +phrase of one tongue into that of another, made the music appear +very absurd in one tongue that was very natural in the +other. I remember an Italian verse that ran thus, word for +word:</p> +<blockquote><p>“And turned my rage into pity;”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>which the English for rhyme’s sake translated:</p> +<blockquote><p>“And into pity turned my rage.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>By this means the soft notes that were adapted to pity in the +Italian fell upon the word rage in the English; and the angry +sounds that were turned to rage in the original, were made to +express pity in the translation. It oftentimes happened, +likewise, that the finest notes in the air fell upon the most +insignificant words in the sentence. I have known the word +“and” pursued through the whole gamut; have been +entertained with many a melodious “the;” and have +heard the most beautiful graces, quavers, and divisions bestowed +upon “then,” “for,” and +“from,” to the eternal honour of our English +particles.</p> +<p>The next step to our refinement was the introducing of Italian +actors into our opera; who sang their parts in their own +language, at the same time that our countrymen performed theirs +in our native tongue. The king or hero of the play +generally spoke in Italian, and his slaves answered him in +English. The lover frequently made his court, and gained +the heart of his princess, in a language which she did not +understand. One would have thought it very difficult to +have carried on dialogues after this manner without an +interpreter between the persons that conversed together; but this +was the state of the English stage for about three years.</p> +<p>At length the audience grew tired of understanding half the +opera; and therefore, to ease themselves entirely of the fatigue +of thinking, have so ordered it at present, that the whole opera +is performed in an unknown tongue. We no longer understand +the language of our own stage; insomuch that I have often been +afraid, when I have seen our Italian performers chattering in the +vehemence of action, that they have been calling us names, and +abusing us among themselves; but I hope, since we put such an +entire confidence in them, they will not talk against us before +our faces, though they may do it with the same safety as if it +were behind our backs. In the meantime, I cannot forbear +thinking how naturally an historian who writes two or three +hundred years hence, and does not know the taste of his wise +forefathers, will make the following reflection: “In the +beginning of the eighteenth century, the Italian tongue was so +well understood in England, that operas were acted on the public +stage in that language.”</p> +<p>One scarce knows how to be serious in the confutation of an +absurdity that shows itself at the first sight. It does not +want any great measure of sense to see the ridicule of this +monstrous practice; but what makes it the more astonishing, it is +not the taste of the rabble, but of persons of the greatest +politeness, which has established it.</p> +<p>If the Italians have a genius for music above the English, the +English have a genius for other performances of a much higher +nature, and capable of giving the mind a much nobler +entertainment. Would one think it was possible, at a time +when an author lived that was able to write the <i>Phædra +and Hippolitus</i>, for a people to be so stupidly fond of the +Italian opera, as scarce to give a third day’s hearing to +that admirable tragedy? Music is certainly a very agreeable +entertainment: but if it would take the entire possession of our +ears; if it would make us incapable of hearing sense; if it would +exclude arts that have a much greater tendency to the refinement +of human nature; I must confess I would allow it no better +quarter than Plato has done, who banishes it out of his +commonwealth.</p> +<p>At present our notions of music are so very uncertain, that we +do not know what it is we like; only, in general, we are +transported with anything that is not English: so it be of a +foreign growth, let it be Italian, French, or High Dutch, it is +the same thing. In short, our English music is quite rooted +out, and nothing yet planted in its stead.</p> +<p>When a royal palace is burnt to the ground, every man is at +liberty to present his plan for a new one; and, though it be but +indifferently put together, it may furnish several hints that may +be of use to a good architect. I shall take the same +liberty in a following paper of giving my opinion upon the +subject of music; which I shall lay down only in a problematical +manner, to be considered by those who are masters in the art.</p> +<h2>LAMPOONS.</h2> +<blockquote><p><i>Sævit atrox Volscens</i>, <i>nec teli +conspicit usquam</i><br /> +<i>Auctorem</i>, <i>nec quò se ardens immittere +possit</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Virg.</span>, +<i>Æn.</i> ix. 420.</p> +<p>Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and, gazing round,<br /> +Descry’d not him who gave the fatal wound;<br /> +Nor knew to fix revenge.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There is nothing that more betrays a base, ungenerous spirit +than the giving of secret stabs to a man’s +reputation. Lampoons and satires, that are written with wit +and spirit, are like poisoned darts, which not only inflict a +wound, but make it incurable. For this reason I am very +much troubled when I see the talents’ of humour and +ridicule in the possession of an ill-natured man. There +cannot be a greater gratification to a barbarous and inhuman wit, +than to stir up sorrow in the heart of a private person, to raise +uneasiness among near relations, and to expose whole families to +derision, at the same time that he remains unseen and +undiscovered. If, besides the accomplishments of being +witty and ill-natured, a man is vicious into the bargain, he is +one of the most mischievous creatures that can enter into a civil +society. His satire will then chiefly fall upon those who +ought to be the most exempt from it. Virtue, merit, and +everything that is praiseworthy, will be made the subject of +ridicule and buffoonery. It is impossible to enumerate the +evils which arise from these arrows that fly in the dark; and I +know no other excuse that is or can be made for them, than that +the wounds they give are only imaginary, and produce nothing more +than a secret shame or sorrow in the mind of the suffering +person. It must indeed be confessed that a lampoon or a +satire do not carry in them robbery or murder; but at the same +time, how many are there that would not rather lose a +considerable sum of money, or even life itself, than be set up as +a mark of infamy and derision? And in this case a man +should consider that an injury is not to be measured by the +notions of him that gives, but of him that receives it.</p> +<p>Those who can put the best countenance upon the outrages of +this nature which are offered them, are not without their secret +anguish. I have often observed a passage in +Socrates’s behaviour at his death in a light wherein none +of the critics have considered it. That excellent man +entertaining his friends a little before he drank the bowl of +poison, with a discourse on the immortality of the soul, at his +entering upon it says that he does not believe any the most comic +genius can censure him for talking upon such a subject at such at +a time. This passage, I think, evidently glances upon +Aristophanes, who writ a comedy on purpose to ridicule the +discourses of that divine philosopher. It has been observed +by many writers that Socrates was so little moved at this piece +of buffoonery, that he was several times present at its being +acted upon the stage, and never expressed the least resentment of +it. But, with submission, I think the remark I have here +made shows us that this unworthy treatment made an impression +upon his mind, though he had been too wise to discover it.</p> +<p>When Julius Cæsar was lampooned by Catullus, he invited +him to a supper, and treated him with such a generous civility, +that he made the poet his friend ever after. Cardinal +Mazarine gave the same kind of treatment to the learned Quillet, +who had reflected upon his eminence in a famous Latin poem. +The cardinal sent for him, and, after some kind expostulations +upon what he had written, assured him of his esteem, and +dismissed him with a promise of the next good abbey that should +fall, which he accordingly conferred upon him in a few months +after. This had so good an effect upon the author, that he +dedicated the second edition of his book to the cardinal, after +having expunged the passages which had given him offence.</p> +<p>Sextus Quintus was not of so generous and forgiving a +temper. Upon his being made Pope, the statue of Pasquin was +one night dressed in a very dirty shirt, with an excuse written +under it, that he was forced to wear foul linen because his +laundress was made a princess. This was a reflection upon +the Pope’s sister, who, before the promotion of her +brother, was in those mean circumstances that Pasquin represented +her. As this pasquinade made a great noise in Rome, the +Pope offered a considerable sum of money to any person that +should discover the author of it. The author, relying upon +his holiness’s generosity, as also on some private +overtures which he had received from him, made the discovery +himself; upon which the Pope gave him the reward he had promised, +but, at the same time, to disable the satirist for the future, +ordered his tongue to be cut out, and both his hands to be +chopped off. Aretine is too trite an instance. Every +one knows that all the kings of Europe were his +tributaries. Nay, there is a letter of his extant, in which +he makes his boast that he had laid the Sophi of Persia under +contribution.</p> +<p>Though in the various examples which I have here drawn +together, these several great men behaved themselves very +differently towards the wits of the age who had reproached them, +they all of them plainly showed that they were very sensible of +their reproaches, and consequently that they received them as +very great injuries. For my own part, I would never trust a +man that I thought was capable of giving these secret wounds; and +cannot but think that he would hurt the person, whose reputation +he thus assaults, in his body or in his fortune, could he do it +with the same security. There is indeed something very +barbarous and inhuman in the ordinary scribblers of +lampoons. An innocent young lady shall be exposed for an +unhappy feature; a father of a family turned to ridicule for some +domestic calamity; a wife be made uneasy all her life for a +misinterpreted word or action; nay, a good, a temperate, and a +just man shall be put out of countenance by the representation of +those qualities that should do him honour; so pernicious a thing +is wit when it is not tempered with virtue and humanity.</p> +<p>I have indeed heard of heedless, inconsiderate writers that, +without any malice, have sacrificed the reputation of their +friends and acquaintance to a certain levity of temper, and a +silly ambition of distinguishing themselves by a spirit of +raillery and satire; as if it were not infinitely more honourable +to be a good-natured man than a wit. Where there is this +little petulant humour in an author, he is often very mischievous +without designing to be so. For which reason I always lay +it down as a rule that an indiscreet man is more hurtful than an +ill-natured one; for as the one will only attack his enemies, and +those he wishes ill to, the other injures indifferently both +friends and foes. I cannot forbear, on this occasion, +transcribing a fable out of Sir Roger L’Estrange, which +accidentally lies before me. A company of waggish boys were +watching of frogs at the side of a pond, and still as any of them +put up their heads, they would be pelting them down again with +stones. “Children,” says one of the frogs, +“you never consider that though this be play to you, +’tis death to us.”</p> +<p>As this week is in a manner set apart and dedicated to serious +thoughts, I shall indulge myself in such speculations as may not +be altogether unsuitable to the season; and in the meantime, as +the settling in ourselves a charitable frame of mind is a work +very proper for the time, I have in this paper endeavoured to +expose that particular breach of charity which has been generally +overlooked by divines, because they are but few who can be guilty +of it.</p> +<h2>TRUE AND FALSE HUMOUR.</h2> +<blockquote><p>—<i>Risu inepto res ineptior nulla +est</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Catull.</span>, +<i>Carm.</i> 39 <i>in Egnat</i>.</p> +<p>Nothing so foolish as the laugh of fools.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Among all kinds of writing, there is none in which authors are +more apt to miscarry than in works of humour, as there is none in +which they are more ambitious to excel. It is not an +imagination that teems with monsters, a head that is filled with +extravagant conceptions, which is capable of furnishing the world +with diversions of this nature; and yet, if we look into the +productions of several writers, who set up for men of humour, +what wild, irregular fancies, what unnatural distortions of +thought do we meet with? If they speak nonsense, they +believe they are talking humour; and when they have drawn +together a scheme of absurd, inconsistent ideas, they are not +able to read it over to themselves without laughing. These +poor gentlemen endeavour to gain themselves the reputation of +wits and humorists, by such monstrous conceits as almost qualify +them for Bedlam; not considering that humour should always lie +under the check of reason, and that it requires the direction of +the nicest judgment, by so much the more as it indulges itself in +the most boundless freedoms. There is a kind of nature that +is to be observed in this sort of compositions, as well as in all +other; and a certain regularity of thought which must discover +the writer to be a man of sense, at the same time that he appears +altogether given up to caprice. For my part, when I read +the delirious mirth of an unskilful author, I cannot be so +barbarous as to divert myself with it, but am rather apt to pity +the man, than to laugh at anything he writes.</p> +<p>The deceased Mr. Shadwell, who had himself a great deal of the +talent which I am treating of, represents an empty rake, in one +of his plays, as very much surprised to hear one say that +breaking of windows was not humour; and I question not but +several English readers will be as much startled to hear me +affirm, that many of those raving, incoherent pieces, which are +often spread among us, under odd chimerical titles, are rather +the offsprings of a distempered brain than works of humour.</p> +<p>It is, indeed, much easier to describe what is not humour than +what is; and very difficult to define it otherwise than as Cowley +has done wit, by negatives. Were I to give my own notions +of it, I would deliver them after Plato’s manner, in a kind +of allegory, and, by supposing Humour to be a person, deduce to +him all his qualifications, according to the following +genealogy. Truth was the founder of the family, and the +father of Good Sense. Good Sense was the father of Wit, who +married a lady of a collateral line called Mirth, by whom he had +issue Humour. Humour therefore being the youngest of this +illustrious family, and descended from parents of such different +dispositions, is very various and unequal in his temper; +sometimes you see him putting on grave looks and a solemn habit, +sometimes airy in his behaviour and fantastic in his dress; +insomuch that at different times he appears as serious as a +judge, and as jocular as a merry-andrew. But, as he has a +great deal of the mother in his constitution, whatever mood he is +in, he never fails to make his company laugh.</p> +<p>But since there is an impostor abroad, who takes upon him the +name of this young gentleman, and would willingly pass for him in +the world; to the end that well-meaning persons may not be +imposed upon by cheats, I would desire my readers, when they meet +with this pretender, to look into his parentage, and to examine +him strictly, whether or no he be remotely allied to Truth, and +lineally descended from Good Sense; if not, they may conclude him +a counterfeit. They may likewise distinguish him by a loud +and excessive laughter, in which he seldom gets his company to +join with him. For as True Humour generally looks serious +while everybody laughs about him, False Humour is always laughing +whilst everybody about him looks serious. I shall only add, +if he has not in him a mixture of both parents—that is, if +he would pass for the offspring of Wit without Mirth, or Mirth +without Wit, you may conclude him to be altogether spurious and a +cheat.</p> +<p>The impostor of whom I am speaking descends originally from +Falsehood, who was the mother of Nonsense, who was brought to bed +of a son called Phrensy, who married one of the daughters of +Folly, commonly known by the name of Laughter, on whom he begot +that monstrous infant of which I have been here speaking. I +shall set down at length the genealogical table of False Humour, +and, at the same time, place under it the genealogy of True +Humour, that the reader may at one view behold their different +pedigrees and relations:—</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Falsehood.<br /> +Nonsense.<br /> +Phrensy.—Laughter.<br /> +False Humour.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Truth.<br /> +Good Sense.<br /> +Wit.—Mirth,<br /> +Humour.</p> +<p>I might extend the allegory, by mentioning several of the +children of False Humour, who are more in number than the sands +of the sea, and might in particular enumerate the many sons and +daughters which he has begot in this island. But as this +would be a very invidious task, I shall only observe in general +that False Humour differs from the True as a monkey does from a +man.</p> +<p>First of all, he is exceedingly given to little apish tricks +and buffooneries.</p> +<p>Secondly, he so much delights in mimicry, that it is all one +to him whether he exposes by it vice and folly, luxury and +avarice; or, on the contrary, virtue and wisdom, pain and +poverty.</p> +<p>Thirdly, he is wonderfully unlucky, insomuch that he will bite +the hand that feeds him, and endeavour to ridicule both friends +and foes indifferently. For, having but small talents, he +must be merry where he can, not where he should.</p> +<p>Fourthly, Being entirely void of reason, he pursues no point +either of morality or instruction, but is ludicrous only for the +sake of being so.</p> +<p>Fifthly, Being incapable of anything but mock representations, +his ridicule is always personal, and aimed at the vicious man, or +the writer; not at the vice, or at the writing.</p> +<p>I have here only pointed at the whole species of false +humorists; but, as one of my principal designs in this paper is +to beat down that malignant spirit which discovers itself in the +writings of the present age, I shall not scruple, for the future, +to single out any of the small wits that infest the world with +such compositions as are ill-natured, immoral, and absurd. +This is the only exception which I shall make to the general rule +I have prescribed myself, of attacking multitudes; since every +honest man ought to look upon himself as in a natural state of +war with the libeller and lampooner, and to annoy them wherever +they fall in his way. This is but retaliating upon them, +and treating them as they treat others.</p> +<h2>SA GA YEAN QUA RASH TOW’S IMPRESSIONS OF LONDON.</h2> +<blockquote><p><i>Nunquam aliud natura</i>, <i>aliud sapientia +dicit</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Juv.</span>, +<i>Sat.</i> xiv. 321.</p> +<p>Good taste and nature always speak the same.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When the four Indian kings were in this country about a +twelvemonth ago, I often mixed with the rabble, and followed them +a whole day together, being wonderfully struck with the sight of +everything that is new or uncommon. I have, since their +departure, employed a friend to make many inquiries of their +landlord the upholsterer relating to their manners and +conversation, as also concerning the remarks which they made in +this country; for next to the forming a right notion of such +strangers, I should be desirous of learning what ideas they have +conceived of us.</p> +<p>The upholsterer finding my friend very inquisitive about these +his lodgers, brought him sometime since a little bundle of +papers, which he assured him were written by King Sa Ga Yean Qua +Rash Tow, and, as he supposes, left behind by some mistake. +These papers are now translated, and contain abundance of very +odd observations, which I find this little fraternity of kings +made during their stay in the Isle of Great Britain. I +shall present my reader with a short specimen of them in this +paper, and may perhaps communicate more to him hereafter. +In the article of London are the following words, which without +doubt are meant of the church of St. Paul:—</p> +<p>“On the most rising part of the town there stands a huge +house, big enough to contain the whole nation of which I am the +king. Our good brother E Tow O Koam, King of the Rivers, is +of opinion it was made by the hands of that great God to whom it +is consecrated. The Kings of Granajar and of the Six +Nations believe that it was created with the earth, and produced +on the same day with the sun and moon. But for my own part, +by the best information that I could get of this matter, I am apt +to think that this prodigious pile was fashioned into the shape +it now bears by several tools and instruments, of which they have +a wonderful variety in this country. It was probably at +first a huge misshapen rock that grew upon the top of the hill, +which the natives of the country, after having cut into a kind of +regular figure, bored and hollowed with incredible pains and +industry, till they had wrought in it all those beautiful vaults +and caverns into which it is divided at this day. As soon +as this rock was thus curiously scooped to their liking, a +prodigious number of hands must have been employed in chipping +the outside of it, which is now as smooth as the surface of a +pebble; and is in several places hewn out into pillars that stand +like the trunks of so many trees bound about the top with +garlands of leaves. It is probable that when this great +work was begun, which must have been many hundred years ago, +there was some religion among this people; for they give it the +name of a temple, and have a tradition that it was designed for +men to pay their devotion in. And indeed, there are several +reasons which make us think that the natives of this country had +formerly among them some sort of worship, for they set apart +every seventh day as sacred; but upon my going into one of these +holy houses on that day, I could not observe any circumstance of +devotion in their behaviour. There was, indeed, a man in +black, who was mounted above the rest, and seemed to utter some +thing with a great deal of vehemence; but as for those underneath +him, instead of paying their worship to the deity of the place, +they were most of them bowing and curtsying to one another, and a +considerable number of them fast asleep.</p> +<p>“The queen of the country appointed two men to attend +us, that had enough of our language to make themselves understood +in some few particulars. But we soon perceived these two +were great enemies to one another, and did not always agree in +the same story. We could make a shift to gather out of one +of them that this island was very much infested with a monstrous +kind of animals, in the shape of men, called Whigs; and he often +told us that he hoped we should meet with none of them in our +way, for that, if we did, they would be apt to knock us down for +being kings.</p> +<p>“Our other interpreter used to talk very much of a kind +of animal called a Tory, that was as great a monster as the Whig, +and would treat us as ill for being foreigners. These two +creatures, it seems, are born with a secret antipathy to one +another, and engage when they meet as naturally as the elephant +and the rhinoceros. But as we saw none of either of these +species, we are apt to think that our guides deceived us with +misrepresentations and fictions, and amused us with an account of +such monsters as are not really in their country.</p> +<p>“These particulars we made a shift to pick out from the +discourse of our interpreters, which we put together as well as +we could, being able to understand but here and there a word of +what they said, and afterwards making up the meaning of it among +ourselves. The men of the country are very cunning and +ingenious in handicraft works, but withal so very idle, that we +often saw young, lusty, raw-boned fellows carried up and down the +streets in little covered rooms by a couple of porters, who were +hired for that service. Their dress is likewise very +barbarous, for they almost strangle themselves about the neck, +and bind their bodies with many ligatures, that we are apt to +think are the occasion of several distempers among them, which +our country is entirely free from. Instead of those +beautiful feathers with which we adorn our heads, they often buy +up a monstrous bush of hair, which covers their heads, and falls +down in a large fleece below the middle of their backs, with +which they walk up and down the streets, and are as proud of it +as if it was of their own growth.</p> +<p>“We were invited to one of their public diversions, +where we hoped to have seen the great men of their country +running down a stag, or pitching a bar, that we might have +discovered who were the persons of the greatest abilities among +them; but instead of that, they conveyed us into a huge room +lighted up with abundance of candles, where this lazy people sat +still above three hours to see several feats of ingenuity +performed by others, who it seems were paid for it.</p> +<p>“As for the women of the country, not being able to talk +with them, we could only make our remarks upon them at a +distance. They let the hair of their heads grow to a great +length; but as the men make a great show with heads of hair that +are none of their own, the women, who they say have very fine +heads of hair, tie it up in a knot, and cover it from being +seen. The women look like angels, and would be more +beautiful than the sun, were it not for little black spots that +are apt to break out in their faces, and sometimes rise in very +odd figures. I have observed that those little blemishes +wear off very soon; but when they disappear in one part of the +face, they are very apt to break out in another, insomuch that I +have seen a spot upon the forehead in the afternoon which was +upon the chin in the morning.”</p> +<p>The author then proceeds to show the absurdity of breeches and +petticoats, with many other curious observations, which I shall +reserve for another occasion: I cannot, however, conclude this +paper without taking notice that amidst these wild remarks there +now and then appears something very reasonable. I cannot +likewise forbear observing, that we are all guilty in some +measure of the same narrow way of thinking which we meet with in +this abstract of the Indian journal, when we fancy the customs, +dresses, and manners of other countries are ridiculous and +extravagant if they do not resemble those of our own.</p> +<h2>THE VISION OF MARRATON.</h2> +<blockquote><p><i>Felices errore suo</i>.—</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Lucan</span> i. +454.</p> +<p>Happy in their mistake.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The Americans believe that all creatures have souls, not only +men and women, but brutes, vegetables, nay, even the most +inanimate things, as stocks and stones. They believe the +same of all works of art, as of knives, boats, looking-glasses; +and that, as any of these things perish, their souls go into +another world, which is inhabited by the ghosts of men and +women. For this reason they always place by the corpse of +their dead friend a bow and arrows, that he may make use of the +souls of them in the other world, as he did of their wooden +bodies in this. How absurd soever such an opinion as this +may appear, our European philosophers have maintained several +notions altogether as improbable. Some of Plato’s +followers, in particular, when they talk of the world of ideas, +entertain us with substances and beings no less extravagant and +chimerical. Many Aristotelians have likewise spoken as +unintelligibly of their substantial forms. I shall only +instance Albertus Magnus, who, in his dissertation upon the +loadstone, observing that fire will destroy its magnetic virtues, +tells us that he took particular notice of one as it lay glowing +amidst a heap of burning coals, and that he perceived a certain +blue vapour to arise from it, which he believed might be the +substantial form that is, in our West Indian phrase, the soul of +the loadstone.</p> +<p>There is a tradition among the Americans that one of their +countrymen descended in a vision to the great repository of +souls, or, as we call it here, to the other world; and that upon +his return he gave his friends a distinct account of everything +he saw among those regions of the dead. A friend of mine, +whom I have formerly mentioned, prevailed upon one of the +interpreters of the Indian kings to inquire of them, if possible, +what tradition they have among them of this matter: which, as +well as he could learn by those many questions which he asked +them at several times, was in substance as follows:</p> +<p>The visionary, whose name was Marraton, after having travelled +for a long space under a hollow mountain, arrived at length on +the confines of this world of spirits, but could not enter it by +reason of a thick forest, made up of bushes, brambles, and +pointed thorns, so perplexed and interwoven with one another that +it was impossible to find a passage through it. Whilst he +was looking about for some track or pathway that might be worn in +any part of it, he saw a huge lion couched under the side of it, +who kept his eye upon him in the same posture as when he watches +for his prey. The Indian immediately started back, whilst +the lion rose with a spring, and leaped towards him. Being +wholly destitute of all other weapons, he stooped down to take up +a huge stone in his hand, but, to his infinite surprise, grasped +nothing, and found the supposed stone to be only the apparition +of one. If he was disappointed on this side, he was as much +pleased on the other, when he found the lion, which had seized on +his left shoulder, had no power to hurt him, and was only the +ghost of that ravenous creature which it appeared to be. He +no sooner got rid of his impotent enemy, but he marched up to the +wood, and, after having surveyed it for some time, endeavoured to +press into one part of it that was a little thinner than the +rest, when, again to his great surprise, he found the bushes made +no resistance, but that he walked through briars and brambles +with the same ease as through the open air, and, in short, that +the whole wood was nothing else but a wood of shades. He +immediately concluded that this huge thicket of thorns and brakes +was designed as a kind of fence or quickset hedge to the ghosts +it inclosed, and that probably their soft substances might be +torn by these subtile points and prickles, which were too weak to +make any impressions in flesh and blood. With this thought +he resolved to travel through this intricate wood, when by +degrees he felt a gale of perfumes breathing upon him, that grew +stronger and sweeter in proportion as he advanced. He had +not proceeded much further, when he observed the thorns and +briers to end, and give place to a thousand beautiful green +trees, covered with blossoms of the finest scents and colours, +that formed a wilderness of sweets, and were a kind of lining to +those ragged scenes which he had before passed through. As +he was coming out of this delightful part of the wood, and +entering upon the plains it enclosed, he saw several horsemen +rushing by him, and a little while after heard the cry of a pack +of dogs. He had not listened long before he saw the +apparition of a milk-white steed, with a young man on the back of +it, advancing upon full stretch after the souls of about a +hundred beagles, that were hunting down the ghost of a hare, +which ran away before them with an unspeakable swiftness. +As the man on the milk-white steed came by him, he looked upon +him very attentively, and found him to be the young prince +Nicharagua, who died about half a year before, and, by reason of +his great virtues, was at that time lamented over all the western +parts of America.</p> +<p>He had no sooner got out of the wood but he was entertained +with such a landscape of flowery plains, green meadows, running +streams, sunny hills, and shady vales as were not to be +represented by his own expressions, nor, as he said, by the +conceptions of others. This happy region was peopled with +innumerable swarms of spirits, who applied themselves to +exercises and diversions, according as their fancies led +them. Some of them were tossing the figure of a quoit; +others were pitching the shadow of a bar; others were breaking +the apparition of a horse; and multitudes employing themselves +upon ingenious handicrafts with the souls of departed utensils, +for that is the name which in the Indian language they give their +tools when they are burnt or broken. As he travelled +through this delightful scene he was very often tempted to pluck +the flowers that rose everywhere about him in the greatest +variety and profusion, having never seen several of them in his +own country: but he quickly found, that though they were objects +of his sight, they were not liable to his touch. He at +length came to the side of a great river, and, being a good +fisherman himself, stood upon the banks of it some time to look +upon an angler that had taken a great many shapes of fishes, +which lay flouncing up and down by him.</p> +<p>I should have told my reader that this Indian had been +formerly married to one of the greatest beauties of his country, +by whom he had several children. This couple were so famous +for their love and constancy to one another that the Indians to +this day, when they give a married man joy of his wife, wish that +they may live together like Marraton and Yaratilda. +Marraton had not stood long by the fisherman when he saw the +shadow of his beloved Yaratilda, who had for some time fixed her +eye upon him before he discovered her. Her arms were +stretched out towards him; floods of tears ran down her eyes; her +looks, her hands, her voice called him over to her, and, at the +same time, seemed to tell him that the river was +unpassable. Who can describe the passion made up of joy, +sorrow, love, desire, astonishment that rose in the Indian upon +the sight of his dear Yaratilda? He could express it by +nothing but his tears, which ran like a river down his cheeks as +he looked upon her. He had not stood in this posture long +before he plunged into the stream that lay before him, and +finding it to be nothing but the phantom of a river, stalked on +the bottom of it till he arose on the other side. At his +approach Yaratilda flew into his arms, whilst Marraton wished +himself disencumbered of that body which kept her from his +embraces. After many questions and endearments on both +sides, she conducted him to a bower, which she had dressed with +her own hands with all the ornaments that could be met with in +those blooming regions. She had made it gay beyond +imagination, and was every day adding something new to it. +As Marraton stood astonished at the unspeakable beauty of her +habitation, and ravished with the fragrancy that came from every +part of it, Yaratilda told him that she was preparing this bower +for his reception, as well knowing that his piety to his God, and +his faithful dealing towards men, would certainly bring him to +that happy place whenever his life should be at an end. She +then brought two of her children to him, who died some years +before, and resided with her in the same delightful bower, +advising him to breed up those others which were still with him +in such a manner that they might hereafter all of them meet +together in this happy place.</p> +<p>The tradition tells us further that he had afterwards a sight +of those dismal habitations which are the portion of ill men +after death; and mentions several molten seas of gold, in which +were plunged the souls of barbarous Europeans, who put to the +sword so many thousands of poor Indians for the sake of that +precious metal. But having already touched upon the chief +points of this tradition, and exceeded the measure of my paper, I +shall not give any further account of it.</p> +<h2>SIX PAPERS ON WIT.</h2> +<h3>First Paper.</h3> +<blockquote><p><i>Ut pictura poësis erit</i>—</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Hor.</span>, +<i>Ars Poet.</i> 361.</p> +<p>Poems like pictures are.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Nothing is so much admired, and so little understood, as +wit. No author that I know of has written professedly upon +it. As for those who make any mention of it, they only +treat on the subject as it has accidentally fallen in their way, +and that too in little short reflections, or in general +declamatory flourishes, without entering into the bottom of the +matter. I hope, therefore, I shall perform an acceptable +work to my countrymen if I treat at large upon this subject; +which I shall endeavour to do in a manner suitable to it, that I +may not incur the censure which a famous critic bestows upon one +who had written a treatise upon “the sublime,” in a +low grovelling style. I intend to lay aside a whole week +for this undertaking, that the scheme of my thoughts may not be +broken and interrupted; and I dare promise myself, if my readers +will give me a week’s attention, that this great city will +be very much changed for the better by next Saturday night. +I shall endeavour to make what I say intelligible to ordinary +capacities; but if my readers meet with any paper that in some +parts of it may be a little out of their reach, I would not have +them discouraged, for they may assure themselves the next shall +be much clearer.</p> +<p>As the great and only end of these my speculations is to +banish vice and ignorance out of the territories of Great +Britain, I shall endeavour, as much as possible, to establish +among us a taste of polite writing. It is with this view +that I have endeavoured to set my readers right in several points +relating to operas and tragedies, and shall, from time to time, +impart my notions of comedy, as I think they may tend to its +refinement and perfection. I find by my bookseller, that +these papers of criticism, with that upon humour, have met with a +more kind reception than indeed I could have hoped for from such +subjects; for which reason I shall enter upon my present +undertaking with greater cheerfulness.</p> +<p>In this, and one or two following papers, I shall trace out +the history of false wit, and distinguish the several kinds of it +as they have prevailed in different ages of the world. This +I think the more necessary at present, because I observed there +were attempts on foot last winter to revive some of those +antiquated modes of wit that have been long exploded out of the +commonwealth of letters. There were several satires and +panegyrics handed about in an acrostic, by which means some of +the most arrant undisputed blockheads about the town began to +entertain ambitious thoughts, and to set up for polite +authors. I shall therefore describe at length those many +arts of false wit, in which a writer does not show himself a man +of a beautiful genius, but of great industry.</p> +<p>The first species of false wit which I have met with is very +venerable for its antiquity, and has produced several pieces +which have lived very near as long as the “Iliad” +itself: I mean, those short poems printed among the minor Greek +poets, which resemble the figure of an egg, a pair of wings, an +axe, a shepherd’s pipe, and an altar.</p> +<p>As for the first, it is a little oval poem, and may not +improperly be called a scholar’s egg. I would +endeavour to hatch it, or, in more intelligible language, to +translate it into English, did not I find the interpretation of +it very difficult; for the author seems to have been more intent +upon the figure of his poem than upon the sense of it.</p> +<p>The pair of wings consists of twelve verses, or rather +feathers, every verse decreasing gradually in its measure +according to its situation in the wing. The subject of it, +as in the rest of the poems which follow, bears some remote +affinity with the figure, for it describes a god of love, who is +always painted with wings.</p> +<p>The axe, methinks, would have been a good figure for a +lampoon, had the edge of it consisted of the most satirical parts +of the work; but as it is in the original, I take it to have been +nothing else but the poesy of an axe which was consecrated to +Minerva, and was thought to be the same that Epeus made use of in +the building of the Trojan horse; which is a hint I shall leave +to the consideration of the critics. I am apt to think that +the poesy was written originally upon the axe, like those which +our modern cutlers inscribe upon their knives; and that, +therefore, the poesy still remains in its ancient shape, though +the axe itself is lost.</p> +<p>The shepherd’s pipe may be said to be full of music, for +it is composed of nine different kinds of verses, which by their +several lengths resemble the nine stops of the old musical +instrument, that is likewise the subject of the poem.</p> +<p>The altar is inscribed with the epitaph of Troïlus the +son of Hecuba; which, by the way, makes me believe that these +false pieces of wit are much more ancient than the authors to +whom they are generally ascribed; at least, I will never be +persuaded that so fine a writer as Theocritus could have been the +author of any such simple works.</p> +<p>It was impossible for a man to succeed in these performances +who was not a kind of painter, or at least a designer. He +was first of all to draw the outline of the subject which he +intended to write upon, and afterwards conform the description to +the figure of his subject. The poetry was to contract or +dilate itself according to the mould in which it was cast. +In a word, the verses were to be cramped or extended to the +dimensions of the frame that was prepared for them; and to +undergo the fate of those persons whom the tyrant Procrustes used +to lodge in his iron bed: if they were too short, he stretched +them on a rack; and if they were too long, chopped off a part of +their legs, till they fitted the couch which he had prepared for +them.</p> +<p>Mr. Dryden hints at this obsolete kind of wit in one of the +following verses in his “Mac Flecknoe;” which an +English reader cannot understand, who does not know that there +are those little poems above mentioned in the shape of wings and +altars:—</p> +<blockquote><p>—Choose for thy command<br /> +Some peaceful province in acrostic land;</p> +<p>There may’st thou wings display, and altars raise,<br /> +And torture one poor word a thousand ways.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This fashion of false wit was revived by several poets of the +last age, and in particular may be met with among Mr. +Herbert’s poems; and, if I am not mistaken, in the +translation of Du Bartas. I do not remember any other kind +of work among the moderns which more resembles the performances I +have mentioned than that famous picture of King Charles the +First, which has the whole Book of Psalms written in the lines of +the face, and, the hair of the head. When I was last at +Oxford I perused one of the whiskers, and was reading the other, +but could not go so far in it as I would have done, by reason of +the impatience of my friends and fellow-travellers, who all of +them pressed to see such a piece of curiosity. I have since +heard, that there is now an eminent writing-master in town, who +has transcribed all the Old Testament in a full-bottomed periwig: +and if the fashion should introduce the thick kind of wigs which +were in vogue some few years ago, he promises to add two or three +supernumerary locks that should contain all the Apocrypha. +He designed this wig originally for King William, having disposed +of the two Books of Kings in the two forks of the foretop; but +that glorious monarch dying before the wig was finished, there is +a space left in it for the face of any one that has a mind to +purchase it.</p> +<p>But to return to our ancient poems in picture. I would +humbly propose, for the benefit of our modern smatterers in +poetry, that they would imitate their brethren among the ancients +in those ingenious devices. I have communicated this +thought to a young poetical lover of my acquaintance, who intends +to present his mistress with a copy of verses made in the shape +of her fan; and, if he tells me true, has already finished the +three first sticks of it. He has likewise promised me to +get the measure of his mistress’s marriage finger with a +design to make a posy in the fashion of a ring, which shall +exactly fit it. It is so very easy to enlarge upon a good +hint, that I do not question but my ingenious readers will apply +what I have said to many other particulars; and that we shall see +the town filled in a very little time with poetical tippets, +handkerchiefs, snuff-boxes, and the like female ornaments. +I shall therefore conclude with a word of advice to those +admirable English authors who call themselves Pindaric writers, +that they would apply themselves to this kind of wit without loss +of time, as being provided better than any other poets with +verses of all sizes and dimensions.</p> +<h3>Second Paper.</h3> +<blockquote><p><i>Operose nihil aguat</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Seneca</span>.</p> +<p>Busy about nothing.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There is nothing more certain than that every man would be a +wit if he could; and notwithstanding pedants of pretended depth +and solidity are apt to decry the writings of a polite author, as +flash and froth, they all of them show, upon occasion, that they +would spare no pains to arrive at the character of those whom +they seem to despise. For this reason we often find them +endeavouring at works of fancy, which cost them infinite pangs in +the production. The truth of it is, a man had better be a +galley-slave than a wit, were one to gain that title by those +elaborate trifles which have been the inventions of such authors +as were often masters of great learning, but no genius.</p> +<p>In my last paper I mentioned some of these false wits among +the ancients; and in this shall give the reader two or three +other species of them, that flourished in the same early ages of +the world. The first I shall produce are the +lipogrammatists or letter-droppers of antiquity, that would take +an exception, without any reason, against some particular letter +in the alphabet, so as not to admit it once into a whole +poem. One Tryphiodorus was a great master in this kind of +writing. He composed an “Odyssey” or epic poem +on the adventures of Ulysses, consisting of four-and-twenty +books, having entirely banished the letter A from his first book, +which was called Alpha, as <i>lucus à non lucendo</i>, +because there was not an Alpha in it. His second book was +inscribed Beta for the same reason. In short, the poet +excluded the whole four-and-twenty letters in their turns, and +showed them, one after another, that he could do his business +without them.</p> +<p>It must have been very pleasant to have seen this poet +avoiding the reprobate letter, as much as another would a false +quantity, and making his escape from it through the several Greek +dialects, when he was pressed with it in any particular +syllable. For the most apt and elegant word in the whole +language was rejected, like a diamond with a flaw in it, if it +appeared blemished with a wrong letter. I shall only +observe upon this head, that if the work I have here mentioned +had been now extant, the “Odyssey” of Tryphiodorus, +in all probability, would have been oftener quoted by our learned +pedants than the “Odyssey” of Homer. What a +perpetual fund would it have been of obsolete words and phrases, +unusual barbarisms and rusticities, absurd spellings and +complicated dialects! I make no question but that it would +have been looked upon as one of the most valuable treasuries of +the Greek tongue.</p> +<p>I find likewise among the ancients that ingenious kind of +conceit which the moderns distinguish by the name of a rebus, +that does not sink a letter, but a whole word, by substituting a +picture in its place. When Cæsar was one of the +masters of the Roman mint, he placed the figure of an elephant +upon the reverse of the public money; the word Cæsar +signifying an elephant in the Punic language. This was +artificially contrived by Cæsar, because it was not lawful +for a private man to stamp his own figure upon the coin of the +commonwealth. Cicero, who was so called from the founder of +his family, that was marked on the nose with a little wen like a +vetch, which is <i>Cicer</i> in Latin, instead of Marcus Tullius +Cicero, ordered the words Marcus Tullius, with a figure of a +vetch at the end of them, to be inscribed on a public +monument. This was done probably to show that he was +neither ashamed of his name nor family, notwithstanding the envy +of his competitors had often reproached him with both. In +the same manner we read of a famous building that was marked in +several parts of it with the figures of a frog and a lizard; +those words in Greek having been the names of the architects, who +by the laws of their country were never permitted to inscribe +their own names upon their works. For the same reason it is +thought that the forelock of the horse, in the antique equestrian +statue of Marcus Aurelius, represents at a distance the shape of +an owl, to intimate the country of the statuary, who, in all +probability, was an Athenian. This kind of wit was very +much in vogue among our own countrymen about an age or two ago, +who did not practise it for any oblique reason, as the ancients +above-mentioned, but purely for the sake of being witty. +Among innumerable instances that may be given of this nature, I +shall produce the device of one Mr. Newberry, as I find it +mentioned by our learned Camden in his Remains. Mr. +Newberry, to represent his name by a picture, hung up at his door +the sign of a yew-tree, that has several berries upon it, and in +the midst of them a great golden N hung upon a bough of the tree, +which by the help of a little false spelling made up the word +Newberry.</p> +<p>I shall conclude this topic with a rebus, which has been +lately hewn out in freestone, and erected over two of the portals +of Blenheim House, being the figure of a monstrous lion tearing +to pieces a little cock. For the better understanding of +which device I must acquaint my English reader that a cock has +the misfortune to be called in Latin by the same word that +signifies a Frenchman, as a lion is the emblem of the English +nation. Such a device in so noble a pile of building looks +like a pun in an heroic poem; and I am very sorry the truly +ingenious architect would suffer the statuary to blemish his +excellent plan with so poor a conceit. But I hope what I +have said will gain quarter for the cock, and deliver him out of +the lion’s paw.</p> +<p>I find likewise in ancient times the conceit of making an echo +talk sensibly, and give rational answers. If this could be +excusable in any writer, it would be in Ovid where he introduces +the Echo as a nymph, before she was worn away into nothing but a +voice. The learned Erasmus, though a man of wit and genius, +has composed a dialogue upon this silly kind of device, and made +use of an Echo, who seems to have been a very extraordinary +linguist, for she answers the person she talks with in Latin, +Greek, and Hebrew, according as she found the syllables which she +was to repeat in any of those learned languages. Hudibras, +in ridicule of this false kind of wit, has described Bruin +bewailing the loss of his bear to the solitary Echo, who is of +great use to the poet in several distiches, as she does not only +repeat after him, but helps out his verse, and furnishes him with +rhymes:—</p> +<blockquote><p>He raged, and kept as heavy a coil as<br /> +Stout Hercules for loss of Hylas;<br /> +Forcing the valleys to repeat<br /> +The accents of his sad regret;<br /> +He beat his breast, and tore his hair,<br /> +For loss of his dear crony bear:<br /> +That Echo from the hollow ground<br /> +His doleful wailings did resound<br /> +More wistfully by many times,<br /> +Than in small poets’ splay-foot rhymes,<br /> +That make her, in their rueful stories,<br /> +To answer to int’rogatories,<br /> +And most unconscionably depose<br /> +Things of which she nothing knows;<br /> +And when she has said all she can say,<br /> +’Tis wrested to the lover’s fancy.<br /> +Quoth he, “O whither, wicked Bruin,<br /> +Art thou fled to my”—Echo, <i>Ruin</i>?<br /> +“I thought th’ hadst scorn’d to budge a step<br +/> +For fear.” Quoth Echo, <i>Marry guep</i>.<br /> +“Am I not here to take thy part?”<br /> +Then what has quell’d thy stubborn heart?<br /> +Have these bones rattled, and this head<br /> +So often in thy quarrel bled?<br /> +Nor did I ever winch or grudge it,<br /> +For thy dear sake.” Quoth she, <i>Mum budget</i>.<br +/> +Think’st thou ’twill not be laid i’ th’ +dish,<br /> +Thou turn’dst thy back?” Quoth Echo, +<i>Pish</i>.<br /> +To run from those th’ hadst overcome<br /> +Thus cowardly?” Quoth Echo, <i>Mum</i>.<br /> +“But what a-vengeance makes thee fly<br /> +From me too as thine enemy?<br /> +Or if thou hadst no thought of me,<br /> +Nor what I have endured for thee,<br /> +Yet shame and honour might prevail<br /> +To keep thee thus from turning tail:<br /> +For who would grudge to spend his blood in<br /> +His honour’s cause?” Quoth she, <i>A +pudding</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Part</i> I., <i>Cant.</i> 3, +183.</p> +</blockquote> +<h3>Third Paper.</h3> +<blockquote><p><i>Hoc est quod palles</i>? <i>Cur quis non +prandeat</i>, <i>hoc est</i>?</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Pers.</span>, +<i>Sat.</i> iii. 85.</p> +<p>Is it for this you gain those meagre looks,<br /> +And sacrifice your dinner to your books?</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Several kinds of false wit that vanished in the refined ages +of the world, discovered themselves again in the times of monkish +ignorance.</p> +<p>As the monks were the masters of all that little learning +which was then extant, and had their whole lives entirely +disengaged from business, it is no wonder that several of them, +who wanted genius for higher performances, employed many hours in +the composition of such tricks in writing as required much time +and little capacity. I have seen half the +“Æneid” turned into Latin rhymes by one of the +<i>beaux esprits</i> of that dark age: who says, in his preface +to it, that the “Æneid” wanted nothing but the +sweets of rhyme to make it the most perfect work in its +kind. I have likewise seen a hymn in hexameters to the +Virgin Mary, which filled a whole book, though it consisted but +of the eight following words:—</p> +<blockquote><p><i>Tot tibi sunt</i>, <i>Virgo</i>, <i>dotes</i>, +<i>quot sidera coelo</i>.</p> +<p>Thou hast as many virtues, O Virgin, as there are stars in +heaven.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The poet rang the changes upon these eight several words, and +by that means made his verses almost as numerous as the virtues +and stars which they celebrated. It is no wonder that men +who had so much time upon their hands did not only restore all +the antiquated pieces of false wit, but enriched the world with +inventions of their own. It is to this age that we owe the +production of anagrams, which is nothing else but a transmutation +of one word into another, or the turning of the same set of +letters into different words; which may change night into day, or +black into white, if chance, who is the goddess that presides +over these sorts of composition, shall so direct. I +remember a witty author, in allusion to this kind of writing, +calls his rival, who, it seems, was distorted, and had his limbs +set in places that did not properly belong to them, “the +anagram of a man.”</p> +<p>When the anagrammatist takes a name to work upon, he considers +it at first as a mine not broken up, which will not show the +treasure it contains till he shall have spent many hours in the +search of it; for it is his business to find out one word that +conceals itself in another, and to examine the letters in all the +variety of stations in which they can possibly be ranged. I +have heard of a gentleman who, when this kind of wit was in +fashion, endeavoured to gain his mistress’s heart by +it. She was one of the finest women of her age, and known +by the name of the Lady Mary Boon. The lover not being able +to make anything of Mary, by certain liberties indulged to this +kind of writing converted it into Moll; and after having shut +himself up for half a year, with indefatigable industry produced +an anagram. Upon the presenting it to his mistress, who was +a little vexed in her heart to see herself degraded into Moll +Boon, she told him, to his infinite surprise, that he had +mistaken her surname, for that it was not Boon, but Bohun.</p> +<blockquote><p>—<i>Ibi omnis</i><br /> +<i>Effusus labor</i>.—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The lover was thunder-struck with his misfortune, insomuch +that in a little time after he lost his senses, which, indeed, +had been very much impaired by that continual application he had +given to his anagram.</p> +<p>The acrostic was probably invented about the same time with +the anagram, though it is impossible to decide whether the +inventor of the one or the other were the greater +blockhead. The simple acrostic is nothing but the name or +title of a person, or thing, made out of the initial letters of +several verses, and by that means written, after the manner of +the Chinese, in a perpendicular line. But besides these +there are compound acrostics, when the principal letters stand +two or three deep. I have seen some of them where the +verses have not only been edged by a name at each extremity, but +have had the same name running down like a seam through the +middle of the poem.</p> +<p>There is another near relation of the anagrams and acrostics, +which is commonly called a chronogram. This kind of wit +appears very often on many modern medals, especially those of +Germany, when they represent in the inscription the year in which +they were coined. Thus we see on a medal of Gustavus +Adolphus time following words, <span class="smcap">ChrIstVs DuX +ergo trIVMphVs</span>. If you take the pains to pick the +figures out of the several words, and range them in their proper +order, you will find they amount to <span +class="smcap">mdcxvvvii</span>, or 1627, the year in which the +medal was stamped: for as some of the letters distinguish +themselves from the rest, and overtop their fellows, they are to +be considered in a double capacity, both as letters and as +figures. Your laborious German wits will turn over a whole +dictionary for one of these ingenious devices. A man would +think they were searching after an apt classical term, but +instead of that they are looking out a word that has an L, an M, +or a D in it. When, therefore, we meet with any of these +inscriptions, we are not so much to look in them for the thought, +as for the year of the Lord.</p> +<p>The <i>bouts-rimés</i> were the favourites of the +French nation for a whole age together, and that at a time when +it abounded in wit and learning. They were a list of words +that rhyme to one another, drawn up by another hand, and given to +a poet, who was to make a poem to the rhymes in the same order +that they were placed upon the list: the more uncommon the rhymes +were, the more extraordinary was the genius of the poet that +could accommodate his verses to them. I do not know any +greater instance of the decay of wit and learning among the +French, which generally follows the declension of empire, than +the endeavouring to restore this foolish kind of wit. If +the reader will be at trouble to see examples of it, let him look +into the new <i>Mercure Gallant</i>, where the author every month +gives a list of rhymes to be filled up by the ingenious, in order +to be communicated to the public in the <i>Mercure</i> for the +succeeding month. That for the month of November last, +which now lies before me, is as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>Lauriers<br /> +Guerriers<br /> +Musette<br /> +Lisette<br /> +Cæsars<br /> +Etendars<br /> +Houlette<br /> +Folette</p> +</blockquote> +<p>One would be amazed to see so learned a man as Menage talking +seriously on this kind of trifle in the following +passage:—</p> +<p>“Monsieur de la Chambre has told me that he never knew +what he was going to write when he took his pen into his hand; +but that one sentence always produced another. For my own +part, I never knew what I should write next when I was making +verses. In the first place I got all my rhymes together, +and was afterwards perhaps three or four months in filling them +up. I one day showed Monsieur Gombaud a composition of this +nature, in which, among others, I had made use of the four +following rhymes, Amaryllis, Phyllis, Maine, Arne; desiring him +to give me his opinion of it. He told me immediately that +my verses were good for nothing. And upon my asking his +reason, he said, because the rhymes are too common, and for that +reason easy to be put into verse. ‘Marry,’ says +I, ‘if it be so, I am very well rewarded for all the pains +I have been at!’ But by Monsieur Gombaud’s +leave, notwithstanding the severity of the criticism, the verses +were good.” (<i>Vide</i> +“Menagiana.”) Thus far the learned Menage, whom +I have translated word for word.</p> +<p>The first occasion of these <i>bouts-rimés</i> made +them in some manner excusable, as they were tasks which the +French ladies used to impose on their lovers. But when a +grave author, like him above-mentioned, tasked himself, could +there be anything more ridiculous? Or would not one be apt +to believe that the author played booty, and did not make his +list of rhymes till he had finished his poem?</p> +<p>I shall only add that this piece of false wit has been finely +ridiculed by Monsieur Sarasin, in a poem entitled “La +Défaite des Bouts-Rimés.” (The Rout of +the Bouts-Rimés).</p> +<p>I must subjoin to this last kind of wit the double rhymes, +which are used in doggrel poetry, and generally applauded by +ignorant readers. If the thought of the couplet in such +compositions is good, the rhyme adds little to it; and if bad, it +will not be in the power of the rhyme to recommend it. I am +afraid that great numbers of those who admire the incomparable +“Hudibras,” do it more on account of these doggrel +rhymes than of the parts that really deserve admiration. I +am sure I have heard the</p> +<blockquote><p>Pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,<br /> +Was beat with fist, instead of a stick (Canto I, II),</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and—</p> +<blockquote><p>There was an ancient philosopher<br /> +Who had read Alexander Ross over</p> +<p style="text-align: right">(<i>Part</i> I., <i>Canto</i> 2, +1),</p> +</blockquote> +<p>more frequently quoted than the finest pieces of wit in the +whole poem.</p> +<h3>Fourth Paper.</h3> +<blockquote><p><i>Non equidem hoc studeo bullatis ut mihi +nugis</i><br /> +<i>Pagina turgescat</i>, <i>dare pondus idonea fumo</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Pers.</span>, +<i>Sat.</i> v. 19.</p> +<p>’Tis not indeed my talent to engage<br /> +In lofty trifles, or to swell my page<br /> +With wind and noise.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There is no kind of false wit which has been so recommended by +the practice of all ages as that which consists in a jingle of +words, and is comprehended under the general name of +punning. It is indeed impossible to kill a weed which the +soil has a natural disposition to produce. The seeds of +punning are in the minds of all men, and though they may be +subdued by reason, reflection, and good sense, they will be very +apt to shoot up in the greatest genius that is not broken and +cultivated by the rules of art. Imitation is natural to us, +and when it does not raise the mind to poetry, painting, music, +or other more noble arts, it often breaks out in puns and +quibbles.</p> +<p>Aristotle, in the eleventh chapter of his book of rhetoric, +describes two or three kinds of puns, which he calls paragrams, +among the beauties of good writing, and produces instances of +them out of some of the greatest authors in the Greek +tongue. Cicero has sprinkled several of his works with +puns, and, in his book where he lays down the rules of oratory, +quotes abundance of sayings as pieces of wit, which also, upon +examination, prove arrant puns. But the age in which the +pun chiefly flourished was in the reign of King James the +First. That learned monarch was himself a tolerable +punster, and made very few bishops or Privy Councillors that had +not some time or other signalised themselves by a clinch, or a +conundrum. It was, therefore, in this age that the pun +appeared with pomp and dignity. It had been before admitted +into merry speeches and ludicrous compositions, but was now +delivered with great gravity from the pulpit, or pronounced in +the most solemn manner at the council-table. The greatest +authors, in their most serious works, made frequent use of +puns. The sermons of Bishop Andrews, and the tragedies of +Shakespeare, are full of them. The sinner was punned into +repentance by the former; as in the latter, nothing is more usual +than to see a hero weeping and quibbling for a dozen lines +together.</p> +<p>I must add to these great authorities, which seem to have +given a kind of sanction to this piece of false wit, that all the +writers of rhetoric have treated of punning with very great +respect, and divided the several kinds of it into hard names, +that are reckoned among the figures of speech, and recommended as +ornaments in discourse. I remember a country schoolmaster +of my acquaintance told me once, that he had been in company with +a gentleman whom he looked upon to be the greatest paragrammatist +among the moderns. Upon inquiry, I found my learned friend +had dined that day with Mr. Swan, the famous punster; and +desiring him to give me some account of Mr. Swan’s +conversation, he told me that he generally talked in the +<i>Paranomasia</i>, that he sometimes gave in to the +<i>Plocé</i>, but that in his humble opinion he shone most +in the <i>Antanaclasis</i>.</p> +<p>I must not here omit that a famous university of this land was +formerly very much infested with puns; but whether or not this +might arise from the fens and marshes in which it was situated, +and which are now drained, I must leave to the determination of +more skilful naturalists.</p> +<p>After this short history of punning, one would wonder how it +should be so entirely banished out of the learned world as it is +at present, especially since it had found a place in the writings +of the most ancient polite authors. To account for this we +must consider that the first race of authors, who were the great +heroes in writing, were destitute of all rules and arts of +criticism; and for that reason, though they excel later writers +in greatness of genius, they fall short of them in accuracy and +correctness. The moderns cannot reach their beauties, but +can avoid their imperfections. When the world was furnished +with these authors of the first eminence, there grew up another +set of writers, who gained themselves a reputation by the remarks +which they made on the works of those who preceded them. It +was one of the employments of these secondary authors to +distinguish the several kinds of wit by terms of art, and to +consider them as more or less perfect, according as they were +founded in truth. It is no wonder, therefore, that even +such authors as Isocrates, Plato, and Cicero, should have such +little blemishes as are not to be met with in authors of a much +inferior character, who have written since those several +blemishes were discovered. I do not find that there was a +proper separation made between puns and true wit by any of the +ancient authors, except Quintilian and Longinus. But when +this distinction was once settled, it was very natural for all +men of sense to agree in it. As for the revival of this +false wit, it happened about the time of the revival of letters; +but as soon as it was once detected, it immediately vanished and +disappeared. At the same time there is no question but, as +it has sunk in one age and rose in another, it will again recover +itself in some distant period of time, as pedantry and ignorance +shall prevail upon wit and sense. And, to speak the truth, +I do very much apprehend, by some of the last winter’s +productions, which had their sets of admirers, that our posterity +will in a few years degenerate into a race of punsters: at least, +a man may be very excusable for any apprehensions of this kind, +that has seen acrostics handed about the town with great secresy +and applause; to which I must also add a little epigram called +the “Witches’ Prayer,” that fell into verse +when it was read either backward or forward, excepting only that +it cursed one way, and blessed the other. When one sees +there are actually such painstakers among our British wits, who +can tell what it may end in? If we must lash one another, +let it be with the manly strokes of wit and satire: for I am of +the old philosopher’s opinion, that, if I must suffer from +one or the other, I would rather it should be from the paw of a +lion than from the hoof of an ass. I do not speak this out +of any spirit of party. There is a most crying dulness on +both sides. I have seen Tory acrostics and Whig anagrams, +and do not quarrel with either of them because they are Whigs or +Tories, but because they are anagrams and acrostics.</p> +<p>But to return to punning. Having pursued the history of +a pun, from its original to its downfall, I shall here define it +to be a conceit arising from the use of two words that agree in +the sound, but differ in the sense. The only way, +therefore, to try a piece of wit is to translate it into a +different language. If it bears the test, you may pronounce +it true; but if it vanishes in the experiment, you may conclude +it to have been a pun. In short, one may say of a pun, as +the countryman described his nightingale, that it is +“<i>vox et præterea nihil</i>”—“a +sound, and nothing but a sound.” On the contrary, one +may represent true wit by the description which Aristænetus +makes of a fine woman:—“When she is dressed she is +beautiful: when she is undressed she is beautiful;” or, as +Mercerus has translated it more emphatically, <i>Induitur</i>, +<i>formosa est</i>: <i>exuitur</i>, <i>ipsa forma est</i>.</p> +<h3>Fifth Paper.</h3> +<blockquote><p><i>Scribendi recte sapere est et principium</i>, +<i>et fons</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Hor.</span>, +<i>Ars Poet.</i> 309.</p> +<p>Sound judgment is the ground of writing well.—<span +class="smcap">Roscommon</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Mr. Locke has an admirable reflection upon the difference of +wit and judgment, whereby he endeavours to show the reason why +they are not always the talents of the same person. His +words are as follow:—“And hence, perhaps, may be +given some reason of that common observation, ‘That men who +have a great deal of wit, and prompt memories, have not always +the clearest judgment or deepest reason.’ For wit +lying most in the assemblage of ideas, and putting those together +with quickness and variety wherein can be found any resemblance +or congruity, thereby to make up pleasant pictures and agreeable +visions in the fancy: judgment, on the contrary, lies quite on +the other side, in separating carefully one from another, ideas +wherein can be found the least difference, thereby to avoid being +misled by similitude, and by affinity to take one thing for +another. This is a way of proceeding quite contrary to +metaphor and allusion, wherein, for the most part, lies that +entertainment and pleasantry of wit which strikes so lively on +the fancy, and is therefore so acceptable to all +people.”</p> +<p>This is, I think, the best and most philosophical account that +I have ever met with of wit, which generally, though not always, +consists in such a resemblance and congruity of ideas as this +author mentions. I shall only add to it, by way of +explanation, that every resemblance of ideas is not that which we +call wit, unless it be such an one that gives delight and +surprise to the reader. These two properties seem essential +to wit, more particularly the last of them. In order, +therefore, that the resemblance in the ideas be wit, it is +necessary that the ideas should not lie too near one another in +the nature of things; for, where the likeness is obvious, it +gives no surprise. To compare one man’s singing to +that of another, or to represent the whiteness of any object by +that of milk and snow, or the variety of its colours by those of +the rainbow, cannot be called wit, unless, besides this obvious +resemblance, there be some further congruity discovered in the +two ideas that is capable of giving the reader some +surprise. Thus, when a poet tells us the bosom of his +mistress is as white as snow, there is no wit in the comparison; +but when he adds, with a sigh, it is as cold too, it then grows +into wit. Every reader’s memory may supply him with +innumerable instances of the same nature. For this reason, +the similitudes in heroic poets, who endeavour rather to fill the +mind with great conceptions than to divert it with such as are +new and surprising, have seldom anything in them that can be +called wit. Mr. Locke’s account of wit, with this +short explanation, comprehends most of the species of wit, as +metaphors, similitudes, allegories, enigmas, mottoes, parables, +fables, dreams, visions, dramatic writings, burlesque, and all +the methods of allusion: as there are many other pieces of wit, +how remote soever they may appear at first sight from the +foregoing description, which upon examination will be found to +agree with it.</p> +<p>As true wit generally consists in this resemblance and +congruity of ideas, false wit chiefly consists in the resemblance +and congruity sometimes of single letters, as in anagrams, +chronograms, lipograms, and acrostics; sometimes of syllables, as +in echoes and doggrel rhymes; sometimes of words, as in puns and +quibbles; and sometimes of whole sentences or poems, cast into +the figures of eggs, axes, or altars; nay, some carry the notion +of wit so far as to ascribe it even to external mimicry, and to +look upon a man as an ingenious person that can resemble the +tone, posture, or face of another.</p> +<p>As true wit consists in the resemblance of ideas, and false +wit in the resemblance of words, according to the foregoing +instances, there is another kind of wit which consists partly in +the resemblance of ideas and partly in the resemblance of words, +which for distinction sake I shall call mixed wit. This +kind of wit is that which abounds in Cowley more than in any +author that ever wrote. Mr. Waller has likewise a great +deal of it. Mr. Dryden is very sparing in it. Milton +had a genius much above it. Spenser is in the same class +with Milton. The Italians, even in their epic poetry, are +full of it. Monsieur Boileau, who formed himself upon the +ancient poets, has everywhere rejected it with scorn. If we +look after mixed wit among the Greek writers, we shall find it +nowhere but in the epigrammatists. There are indeed some +strokes of it in the little poem ascribed to Musæus, which +by that as well as many other marks betrays itself to be a modern +composition. If we look into the Latin writers we find none +of this mixed wit in Virgil, Lucretius, or Catullus; very little +in Horace, but a great deal of it in Ovid, and scarce anything +else in Martial.</p> +<p>Out of the innumerable branches of mixed wit, I shall choose +one instance which may be met with in all the writers of this +class. The passion of love in its nature has been thought +to resemble fire, for which reason the words “fire” +and “flame” are made use of to signify love. +The witty poets, therefore, have taken an advantage, from the +doubtful meaning of the word “fire,” to make an +infinite number of witticisms. Cowley observing the cold +regard of his mistress’s eyes, and at the same time the +power of producing love in him, considers them as burning-glasses +made of ice; and, finding himself able to live in the greatest +extremities of love, concludes the torrid zone to be +habitable. When his mistress has read his letter written in +juice of lemon, by holding it to the fire, he desires her to read +it over a second time by love’s flames. When she +weeps, he wishes it were inward heat that distilled those drops +from the limbec. When she is absent, he is beyond eighty, +that is, thirty degrees nearer the pole than when she is with +him. His ambitious love is a fire that naturally mounts +upwards; his happy love is the beams of heaven, and his unhappy +love flames of hell. When it does not let him sleep, it is +a flame that sends up no smoke; when it is opposed by counsel and +advice, it is a fire that rages the more by the winds blowing +upon it. Upon the dying of a tree, in which he had cut his +loves, he observes that his written flames had burnt up and +withered the tree. When he resolves to give over his +passion, he tells us that one burnt like him for ever dreads the +fire. His heart is an Ætna, that, instead of +Vulcan’s shop, encloses Cupid’s forge in it. +His endeavouring to drown his love in wine is throwing oil upon +the fire. He would insinuate to his mistress that the fire +of love, like that of the sun, which produces so many living +creatures, should not only warm, but beget. Love in another +place cooks Pleasure at his fire. Sometimes the +poet’s heart is frozen in every breast, and sometimes +scorched in every eye. Sometimes he is drowned in tears and +burnt in love, like a ship set on fire in the middle of the +sea.</p> +<p>The reader may observe in every one of these instances that +the poet mixes the qualities of fire with those of love; and in +the same sentence, speaking of it both as a passion and as real +fire, surprises the reader with those seeming resemblances or +contradictions that make up all the wit in this kind of +writing. Mixed wit, therefore, is a composition of pun and +true wit, and is more or less perfect as the resemblance lies in +the ideas or in the words. Its foundations are laid partly +in falsehood and partly in truth; reason puts in her claim for +one half of it, and extravagance for the other. The only +province, therefore, for this kind of wit is epigram, or those +little occasional poems that in their own nature are nothing else +but a tissue of epigrams. I cannot conclude this head of +mixed wit without owning that the admirable poet, out of whom I +have taken the examples of it, had as much true wit as any author +that ever wrote; and indeed all other talents of an extraordinary +genius.</p> +<p>It may be expected, since I am upon this subject, that I +should take notice of Mr. Dryden’s definition of wit, +which, with all the deference that is due to the judgment of so +great a man, is not so properly a definition of wit as of good +writing in general. Wit, as he defines it, is “a +propriety of words and thoughts adapted to the +subject.” If this be a true definition of wit, I am +apt to think that Euclid was the greatest wit that ever set pen +to paper. It is certain there never was a greater propriety +of words and thoughts adapted to the subject than what that +author has made use of in his Elements. I shall only appeal +to my reader if this definition agrees with any notion he has of +wit. If it be a true one, I am sure Mr. Dryden was not only +a better poet, but a greater wit than Mr. Cowley, and Virgil a +much more facetious man than either Ovid or Martial.</p> +<p>Bouhours, whom I look upon to be the most penetrating of all +the French critics, has taken pains to show that it is impossible +for any thought to be beautiful which is not just, and has not +its foundation in the nature of things; that the basis of all wit +is truth; and that no thought can be valuable of which good sense +is not the groundwork. Boileau has endeavoured to inculcate +the same notion in several parts of his writings, both in prose +and verse. This is that natural way of writing, that +beautiful simplicity which we so much admire in the compositions +of the ancients, and which nobody deviates from but those who +want strength of genius to make a thought shine in its own +natural beauties. Poets who want this strength of genius to +give that majestic simplicity to nature, which we so much admire +in the works of the ancients, are forced to hunt after foreign +ornaments, and not to let any piece of wit of what kind soever +escape them. I look upon these writers as Goths in poetry, +who, like those in architecture, not being able to come up to the +beautiful simplicity of the old Greeks and Romans, have +endeavoured to supply its place with all the extravagancies of an +irregular fancy. Mr. Dryden makes a very handsome +observation on Ovid’s writing a letter from Dido to +Æneas, in the following words: “Ovid,” says he, +speaking of Virgil’s fiction of Dido and Æneas, +“takes it up after him, even in the same age, and makes an +ancient heroine of Virgil’s new-created Dido; dictates a +letter for her just before her death to the ungrateful fugitive, +and, very unluckily for himself, is for measuring a sword with a +man so much superior in force to him on the same subject. I +think I may be judge of this, because I have translated +both. The famous author of ‘The Art of Love’ +has nothing of his own; he borrows all from a greater master in +his own profession, and, which is worse, improves nothing which +he finds. Nature fails him; and, being forced to his old +shift, he has recourse to witticism. This passes indeed +with his soft admirers, and gives him the preference to Virgil in +their esteem.”</p> +<p>Were not I supported by so great an authority as that of Mr. +Dryden, I should not venture to observe that the taste of most of +our English poets, as well as readers, is extremely Gothic. +He quotes Monsieur Segrais for a threefold distinction of the +readers of poetry; in the first of which he comprehends the +rabble of readers, whom he does not treat as such with regard to +their quality, but to their numbers and the coarseness of their +taste. His words are as follows: “Segrais has +distinguished the readers of poetry, according to their capacity +of judging, into three classes.” [He might have said +the same of writers too if he had pleased.] “In the +lowest form he places those whom he calls Les Petits Esprits, +such things as our upper-gallery audience in a playhouse, who +like nothing but the husk and rind of wit, and prefer a quibble, +a conceit, an epigram, before solid sense and elegant +expression. These are mob readers. If Virgil and +Martial stood for Parliament-men, we know already who would carry +it. But though they made the greatest appearance in the +field, and cried the loudest, the best of it is they are but a +sort of French Huguenots, or Dutch boors, brought over in herds, +but not naturalised: who have not lands of two pounds per annum +in Parnassus, and therefore are not privileged to poll. +Their authors are of the same level, fit to represent them on a +mountebank’s stage, or to be masters of the ceremonies in a +bear-garden; yet these are they who have the most admirers. +But it often happens, to their mortification, that as their +readers improve their stock of sense, as they may by reading +better books, and by conversation with men of judgment, they soon +forsake them.”</p> +<p>I must not dismiss this subject without observing that, as Mr. +Locke, in the passage above-mentioned, has discovered the most +fruitful source of wit, so there is another of a quite contrary +nature to it, which does likewise branch itself into several +kinds. For not only the resemblance, but the opposition of +ideas does very often produce wit, as I could show in several +little points, turns, and antitheses that I may possibly enlarge +upon in some future speculation.</p> +<h3>Sixth Paper.</h3> +<blockquote><p><i>Humano capiti cervicem pictor equinam</i><br /> +<i>Jungere si velit</i>, <i>et varias inducere plumas</i>,<br /> +<i>Undique collatis membris</i>, <i>ut turpiter atrum</i><br /> +<i>Desinat in piscem mulier formosa superne</i>;<br /> +<i>Spectatum admissi risum teneatis</i>, <i>amici</i>?<br /> +<i>Credite</i>, <i>Pisones</i>, <i>isti tabulæ</i>, <i>fore +librum</i><br /> +<i>Persimilem</i>, <i>cujus</i>, <i>velut ægri somnia</i>, +<i>vanæ</i><br /> +<i>Fingentur species</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Hor.</span>, +<i>Ars Poet.</i> 1.</p> +<p>If in a picture, Piso, you should see<br /> +A handsome woman with a fish’s tail,<br /> +Or a man’s head upon a horse’s neck,<br /> +Or limbs of beasts, of the most different kinds,<br /> +Cover’d with feathers of all sorts of birds,—<br /> +Would you not laugh, and think the painter mad?<br /> +Trust me, that book is as ridiculous<br /> +Whose incoherent style, like sick men’s dreams,<br /> +Varies all shapes, and mixes all extremes.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Roscommon</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is very hard for the mind to disengage itself from a +subject in which it has been long employed. The thoughts +will be rising of themselves from time to time, though we give +them no encouragement: as the tossings and fluctuations of the +sea continue several hours after the winds are laid.</p> +<p>It is to this that I impute my last night’s dream or +vision, which formed into one continued allegory the several +schemes of wit, whether false, mixed, or true, that have been the +subject of my late papers.</p> +<p>Methought I was transported into a country that was filled +with prodigies and enchantments, governed by the goddess of +Falsehood, and entitled the Region of False Wit. There was +nothing in the fields, the woods, and the rivers, that appeared +natural. Several of the trees blossomed in leaf-gold, some +of them produced bone-lace, and some of them precious +stones. The fountains bubbled in an opera tune, and were +filled with stags, wild bears, and mermaids, that lived among the +waters; at the same time that dolphins and several kinds of fish +played upon the banks, or took their pastime in the +meadows. The birds had many of them golden beaks, and human +voices. The flowers perfumed the air with smells of +incense, ambergris, and pulvillios; and were so interwoven with +one another, that they grew up in pieces of embroidery. The +winds were filled with sighs and messages of distant +lovers. As I was walking to and fro in this enchanted +wilderness, I could not forbear breaking out into soliloquies +upon the several wonders which lay before me, when, to my great +surprise, I found there were artificial echoes in every walk, +that, by repetitions of certain words which I spoke, agreed with +me or contradicted me in everything I said. In the midst of +my conversation with these invisible companions, I discovered in +the centre of a very dark grove a monstrous fabric built after +the Gothic manner, and covered with innumerable devices in that +barbarous kind of sculpture. I immediately went up to it, +and found it to be a kind of heathen temple consecrated to the +god of Dulness. Upon my entrance I saw the deity of the +place, dressed in the habit of a monk, with a book in one hand +and a rattle in the other. Upon his right hand was +Industry, with a lamp burning before her; and on his left, +Caprice, with a monkey sitting on her shoulder. Before his +feet there stood an altar of a very odd make, which, as I +afterwards found, was shaped in that manner to comply with the +inscription that surrounded it. Upon the altar there lay +several offerings of axes, wings, and eggs, cut in paper, and +inscribed with verses. The temple was filled with votaries, +who applied themselves to different diversions, as their fancies +directed them. In one part of it I saw a regiment of +anagrams, who were continually in motion, turning to the right or +to the left, facing about, doubling their ranks, shifting their +stations, and throwing themselves into all the figures and +counter-marches of the most changeable and perplexed +exercise.</p> +<p>Not far from these was the body of acrostics, made up of very +disproportioned persons. It was disposed into three +columns, the officers planting themselves in a line on the left +hand of each column. The officers were all of them at least +six feet high, and made three rows of very proper men; but the +common soldiers, who filled up the spaces between the officers, +were such dwarfs, cripples, and scarecrows, that one could hardly +look upon them without laughing. There were behind the +acrostics two or three files of chronograms, which differed only +from the former as their officers were equipped, like the figure +of Time, with an hour-glass in one hand, and a scythe in the +other, and took their posts promiscuously among the private men +whom they commanded.</p> +<p>In the body of the temple, and before the very face of the +deity, methought I saw the phantom of Tryphiodorus, the +lipogrammatist, engaged in a ball with four-and-twenty persons, +who pursued him by turns through all the intricacies and +labyrinths of a country dance, without being able to overtake +him.</p> +<p>Observing several to be very busy at the western end of the +temple, I inquired into what they were doing, and found there was +in that quarter the great magazine of rebuses. These were +several things of the most different natures tied up in bundles, +and thrown upon one another in heaps like fagots. You might +behold an anchor, a night-rail, and a hobby-horse bound up +together. One of the workmen, seeing me very much +surprised, told me there was an infinite deal of wit in several +of those bundles, and that he would explain them to me if I +pleased; I thanked him for his civility, but told him I was in +very great haste at that time. As I was going out of the +temple, I observed in one corner of it a cluster of men and women +laughing very heartily, and diverting themselves at a game of +crambo. I heard several double rhymes as I passed by them, +which raised a great deal of mirth.</p> +<p>Not far from these was another set of merry people engaged at +a diversion, in which the whole jest was to mistake one person +for another. To give occasion for these ludicrous mistakes, +they were divided into pairs, every pair being covered from head +to foot with the same kind of dress, though perhaps there was not +the least resemblance in their faces. By this means an old +man was sometimes mistaken for a boy, a woman for a man, and a +blackamoor for an European, which very often produced great peals +of laughter. These I guessed to be a party of puns. +But being very desirous to get out of this world of magic, which +had almost turned my brain, I left the temple and crossed over +the fields that lay about it with all the speed I could +make. I was not gone far before I heard the sound of +trumpets and alarms, which seemed to proclaim the march of an +enemy: and, as I afterwards found, was in reality what I +apprehended it. There appeared at a great distance a very +shining light, and in the midst of it a person of a most +beautiful aspect; her name was Truth. On her right hand +there marched a male deity, who bore several quivers on his +shoulders, and grasped several arrows in his hand; his name was +Wit. The approach of these two enemies filled all the +territories of False Wit with an unspeakable consternation, +insomuch that the goddess of those regions appeared in person +upon her frontiers, with the several inferior deities and the +different bodies of forces which I had before seen in the temple, +who were now drawn up in array, and prepared to give their foes a +warm reception. As the march of the enemy was very slow, it +gave time to the several inhabitants who bordered upon the +regions of Falsehood to draw their forces into a body, with a +design to stand upon their guard as neuters, and attend the issue +of the combat.</p> +<p>I must here inform my reader that the frontiers of the +enchanted region, which I have before described, were inhabited +by the species of Mixed Wit, who made a very odd appearance when +they were mustered together in an army. There were men +whose bodies were stuck full of darts, and women whose eyes were +burning-glasses; men that had hearts of fire, and women that had +breasts of snow. It would be endless to describe several +monsters of the like nature that composed this great army, which +immediately fell asunder, and divided itself into two parts, the +one half throwing themselves behind the banners of Truth, and the +others behind those of Falsehood.</p> +<p>The goddess of Falsehood was of a gigantic stature, and +advanced some paces before the front of the army; but as the +dazzling light which flowed from Truth began to shine upon her, +she faded insensibly; insomuch that in a little space she looked +rather like a huge phantom than a real substance. At +length, as the goddess of Truth approached still nearer to her, +she fell away entirely, and vanished amidst the brightness of her +presence; so that there did not remain the least trace or +impression of her figure in the place where she had been +seen.</p> +<p>As at the rising of the sun the constellations grow thin, and +the stars go out one after another, till the whole hemisphere is +extinguished; such was the vanishing of the goddess, and not only +of the goddess herself, but of the whole army that attended her, +which sympathised with their leader, and shrunk into nothing, in +proportion as the goddess disappeared. At the same time the +whole temple sunk, the fish betook themselves to the streams, and +the wild beasts to the woods, the fountains recovered their +murmurs, the birds their voices, the trees their leaves, the +flowers their scents, and the whole face of nature its true and +genuine appearance. Though I still continued asleep, I +fancied myself, as it were, awakened out of a dream, when I saw +this region of prodigies restored to woods and rivers, fields and +meadows.</p> +<p>Upon the removal of that wild scene of wonders, which had very +much disturbed my imagination, I took a full survey of the +persons of Wit and Truth; for indeed it was impossible to look +upon the first without seeing the other at the same time. +There was behind them a strong compact body of figures. The +genius of Heroic Poetry appeared with a sword in her hand, and a +laurel on her head. Tragedy was crowned with cypress, and +covered with robes dipped in blood. Satire had smiles +in her look, and a dagger under her garment. Rhetoric was +known by her thunderbolt, and Comedy by her mask. After +several other figures, Epigram marched up in the rear, who had +been posted there at the beginning of the expedition, that he +might not revolt to the enemy, whom he was suspected to favour in +his heart. I was very much awed and delighted with the +appearance of the god of Wit; there was something so amiable, and +yet so piercing in his looks, as inspired me at once with love +and terror. As I was gazing on him, to my unspeakable joy, +he took a quiver of arrows from his shoulder, in order to make me +a present of it; but as I was reaching out my hand to receive it +of him, I knocked it against a chair, and by that means +awaked.</p> +<h2>FRIENDSHIP.</h2> +<blockquote><p><i>Nos duo turba sumus</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Ovid</span>, +<i>Met.</i> i. 355.</p> +<p>We two are a multitude.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>One would think that the larger the company is, in which we +are engaged, the greater variety of thoughts and subjects would +be started in discourse; but instead of this, we find that +conversation is never so much straitened and confined as in +numerous assemblies. When a multitude meet together upon +any subject of discourse, their debates are taken up chiefly with +forms and general positions; nay, if we come into a more +contracted assembly of men and women, the talk generally runs +upon the weather, fashions, news, and the like public +topics. In proportion as conversation gets into clubs and +knots of friends, it descends into particulars, and grows more +free and communicative: but the most open, instructive, and +unreserved discourse is that which passes between two persons who +are familiar and intimate friends. On these occasions, a +man gives a loose to every passion and every thought that is +uppermost, discovers his most retired opinions of persons and +things, tries the beauty and strength of his sentiments, and +exposes his whole soul to the examination of his friend.</p> +<p>Tully was the first who observed that friendship improves +happiness and abates misery, by the doubling of our joy and +dividing of our grief; a thought in which he hath been followed +by all the essayists upon friendship that have written since his +time. Sir Francis Bacon has finely described other +advantages, or, as he calls them, fruits of friendship; and, +indeed, there is no subject of morality which has been better +handled and more exhausted than this. Among the several +fine things which have been spoken of it, I shall beg leave to +quote some out of a very ancient author, whose book would be +regarded by our modern wits as one of the most shining tracts of +morality that is extant, if it appeared under the name of a +Confucius, or of any celebrated Grecian philosopher; I mean the +little apocryphal treatise entitled The Wisdom of the Son of +Sirach. How finely has he described the art of making +friends by an obliging and affable behaviour; and laid down that +precept, which a late excellent author has delivered as his own, +That we should have many well-wishers, but few friends. +“Sweet language will multiply friends; and a fair-speaking +tongue will increase kind greetings. Be in peace with many, +nevertheless have but one counsellor of a thousand.” +With what prudence does he caution us in the choice of our +friends! And with what strokes of nature, I could almost +say of humour, has he described the behaviour of a treacherous +and self-interested friend! “If thou wouldest get a +friend, prove him first, and be not hasty to credit him: for some +man is a friend for his own occasion, and will not abide in the +day of thy trouble. And there is a friend who, being turned +to enmity and strife, will discover thy reproach.” +Again, “Some friend is a companion at the table, and will +not continue in the day of thy affliction: but in thy prosperity +he will be as thyself, and will be bold over thy servants. +If thou be brought low, he will be against thee, and hide himself +from thy face.” What can be more strong and pointed +than the following verse?—“Separate thyself from +thine enemies, and take heed of thy friends.” In the +next words he particularises one of those fruits of friendship +which is described at length by the two famous authors +above-mentioned, and falls into a general eulogium of friendship, +which is very just as well as very sublime. “A +faithful friend is a strong defence; and he that hath found such +an one hath found a treasure. Nothing doth countervail a +faithful friend, and his excellency is unvaluable. A +faithful friend is the medicine of life; and they that fear the +Lord shall find him. Whose feareth the Lord shall direct +his friendship aright; for as he is, so shall his neighbour, that +is his friend, be also.” I do not remember to have +met with any saying that has pleased me more than that of a +friend’s being the medicine of life, to express the +efficacy of friendship in healing the pains and anguish which +naturally cleave to our existence in this world; and am +wonderfully pleased with the turn in the last sentence, that a +virtuous man shall as a blessing meet with a friend who is as +virtuous as himself. There is another saying in the same +author, which would have been very much admired in a heathen +writer: “Forsake not an old friend, for the new is not +comparable to him: a new friend is as new wine; when it is old +thou shalt drink it with pleasure.” With what +strength of allusion and force of thought has he described the +breaches and violations of friendship!—“Whoso casteth +a stone at the birds, frayeth them away; and he that upbraideth +his friend, breaketh friendship. Though thou drawest a +sword at a friend, yet despair not, for there may be a returning +to favour. If thou hast opened thy mouth against thy +friend, fear not, for there may be a reconciliation: except for +upbraiding, or pride, or disclosing of secrets, or a treacherous +wound; for, for these things every friend will +depart.” We may observe in this, and several other +precepts in this author, those little familiar instances and +illustrations which are so much admired in the moral writings of +Horace and Epictetus. There are very beautiful instances of +this nature in the following passages, which are likewise written +upon the same subject: “Whose discovereth secrets, loseth +his credit, and shall never find a friend to his mind. Love +thy friend, and be faithful unto him; but if thou bewrayeth his +secrets, follow no more after him: for as a man hath destroyed +his enemy, so hast thou lost the love of thy friend; as one that +letteth a bird go out of his hand, so hast thou let thy friend +go, and shall not get him again: follow after him no more, for he +is too far off; he is as a roe escaped out of the snare. As +for a wound it may be bound up, and after reviling there may be +reconciliation; but he that bewrayeth secrets, is without +hope.”</p> +<p>Among the several qualifications of a good friend, this wise +man has very justly singled out constancy and faithfulness as the +principal: to these, others have added virtue, knowledge, +discretion, equality in age and fortune, and, as Cicero calls it, +<i>Morum comitas</i>, “a pleasantness of +temper.” If I were to give my opinion upon such an +exhausted subject, I should join to these other qualifications a +certain equability or evenness of behaviour. A man often +contracts a friendship with one whom perhaps he does not find out +till after a year’s conversation; when on a sudden some +latent ill-humour breaks out upon him, which he never discovered +or suspected at his first entering into an intimacy with +him. There are several persons who in some certain periods +of their lives are inexpressibly agreeable, and in others as +odious and detestable. Martial has given us a very pretty +picture of one of this species, in the following epigram:</p> +<blockquote><p><i>Difficilis</i>, <i>facilis</i>, +<i>jucundus</i>, <i>acerbus es idem</i>,<br /> +<i>Nec tecum possum vivere</i>, <i>nec sine te</i>.</p> +<p><i>Ep.</i> xii. 47.</p> +<p>In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow,<br /> +Thou’rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow;<br /> +Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen about thee,<br /> +There is no living with thee, nor without thee.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is very unlucky for a man to be entangled in a friendship +with one who, by these changes and vicissitudes of humour, is +sometimes amiable and sometimes odious: and as most men are at +some times in admirable frame and disposition of mind, it should +be one of the greatest tasks of wisdom to keep ourselves well +when we are so, and never to go out of that which is the +agreeable part of our character.</p> +<h2>CHEVY-CHASE.</h2> +<h3>Part One.</h3> +<blockquote><p><i>Interdum vulgus rectum videt</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Hor.</span>, +<i>Ep.</i> ii. 1, 63.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Sometimes the vulgar see and judge aright. 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 anything should be universally tasted +and approved by a multitude, though 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 +conditions. 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 foretell the success of his play in the +theatre from the reception it met at his fireside; for he tells +us the audience always followed the old woman, and never failed +to laugh in the same place.</p> +<p>I know nothing which more shows the essential and inherent +perfection of simplicity of thought, above that which I call the +Gothic 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 of 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.</p> +<p>The old song of “Chevy-Chase” is the favourite +ballad of the common people of England, and Ben Jonson used to +say he had rather have been the author of it than of all his +works. Sir Philip Sidney, in his discourse of Poetry, +speaks of it in the following words: “I never heard the old +song of Percy 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 style, 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 critique upon it without any +further apology for so doing.</p> +<p>The greatest modern critics have laid it down as a rule that +an heroic 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 Asiatic +prince, and the several advantages which the enemy gained by such +discords. At the time the poem we are now treating of was +written, the dissensions 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:</p> +<blockquote><p>God save the king, and bless the land<br /> + In plenty, joy, and peace;<br /> +And grant henceforth that foul debate<br /> + ’Twixt noblemen may cease.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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.</p> +<p>The poet before us has not only found out a hero in his own +country, but raises the reputation of it by several beautiful +incidents. The 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. But 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:</p> +<blockquote><p>This news was brought to Edinburgh,<br /> + Where Scotland’s king did reign,<br /> +That brave Earl Douglas suddenly<br /> + Was with an arrow slain.</p> +<p>“O heavy news!” King James did say,<br /> + “Scotland can witness be,<br /> +I have not any captain more<br /> + Of such account as he.”</p> +<p>Like tidings to King Henry came,<br /> + Within as short a space,<br /> +That Percy of Northumberland<br /> + Was slain in Chevy-Chase.</p> +<p>“Now God be with him,” said our king,<br /> + “Sith ’twill no better be,<br /> +I trust I have within my realm<br /> + Five hundred as good as he.</p> +<p>“Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say<br /> + But I will vengeance take,<br /> +And be revenged on them all<br /> + For brave Lord Percy’s sake.”</p> +<p>This vow full well the king performed<br /> + After on Humble-down,<br /> +In one day fifty knights were slain,<br /> + With lords of great renown.</p> +<p>And of the rest of small account<br /> + Did many thousands die, &c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>At the same time that our poet shows a laudable partiality to +his countrymen, he represents the Scots after a manner not +unbecoming so bold and brave a people:</p> +<blockquote><p>Earl Douglas on a milk-white steed,<br /> + Most like a baron bold,<br /> +Rode foremost of the company,<br /> + Whose armour shone like gold.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>His sentiments and actions are every way suitable to a +hero. “One of us two,” says he, “must +die: I am an earl as well as yourself, so that you can have no +pretence for refusing the combat; however,” says he, +“it is 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:”</p> +<blockquote><p>“Ere thus I will out-braved be,<br /> + One of us two shall die;<br /> +I know thee well, an earl thou art,<br /> + Lord Percy, so am I.</p> +<p>“But trust me, Percy, pity it were<br /> + And great offence to kill<br /> +Any of these our harmless men,<br /> + For they have done no ill.</p> +<p>“Let thou and I the battle try,<br /> + And set our men aside.”<br /> +“Accurst be he,” Lord Percy said,<br /> + “By whom this is deny’d.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When these brave men had distinguished themselves in the +battle and in single combat with each other, in the midst of a +generous parley, 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:</p> +<blockquote><p>With that there came an arrow keen<br /> + Out of an English bow,<br /> +Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart<br /> + A deep and deadly blow.</p> +<p>Who never spoke more words than these,<br /> + “Fight on, my merry men all,<br /> +For why, my life is at an end,<br /> + Lord Percy sees my fall.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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:</p> +<blockquote><p><i>Tum sic exspirans</i>, &c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Virg.</span>, +<i>Æn.</i> xi. 820.</p> +<blockquote><p>A gath’ring mist o’erclouds her +cheerful eyes;<br /> +And from her cheeks the rosy colour flies,<br /> +Then turns to her, whom of her female train<br /> +She trusted most, and thus she speaks with pain:<br /> +“Acca, ’tis past! he swims before my sight,<br /> +Inexorable Death, and claims his right.<br /> +Bear my last words to Turnus; fly with speed<br /> +And bid him timely to my charge succeed;<br /> +Repel the Trojans, and the town relieve:<br /> +Farewell.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Turnus did not die in so heroic a manner, though our poet +seems to have had his eye upon Turnus’s speech in the last +verse:</p> +<blockquote><p>Lord Percy sees my fall.</p> +<p>—<i>Vicisti</i>, <i>et victum tendere palmas</i><br /> +<i>Ausonii vidêre</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Virg.</span>, +<i>Æn.</i> xii. 936.</p> +<p>The Latin chiefs have seen me beg my life.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Earl Percy’s lamentation over his enemy is generous, +beautiful, and passionate. I must only caution the reader +not to let the simplicity of the style, which one may well pardon +in so old a poet, prejudice him against the greatness of the +thought:</p> +<blockquote><p>Then leaving life, Earl Percy took<br /> + The dead man by the hand,<br /> +And said, “Earl Douglas, for thy life<br /> + Would I had lost my land.</p> +<p>“O Christ! my very heart doth bleed<br /> + With sorrow for thy sake;<br /> +For sure a more renowned knight<br /> + Mischance did never take.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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:</p> +<blockquote><p><i>At verò ut vultum vidit morientis et +ora</i>,<br /> +<i>Ora modis Anchisiades pallentia miris</i>;<br /> +<i>Ingemuit</i>, <i>miserans graviter</i>, <i>dextramqne +tetendit</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Virg.</span>, +<i>Æn.</i> x. 821.</p> +<p>The pious prince beheld young Lausus dead;<br /> +He grieved, he wept, then grasped his hand and said,<br /> +“Poor hapless youth! what praises can be paid<br /> +To worth so great?”</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I shall take another opportunity to consider the other parts +of this old song.</p> +<h3>Part Two.</h3> +<blockquote><p>—<i>Pendent opera interrupta</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Virg.</span>, +<i>Æn.</i> iv. 88.</p> +<p>The works unfinished and neglected lie.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In my last Monday’s paper I gave some general instances +of those beautiful strokes which please the reader in the old +song of “Chevy-Chase;” I shall here, according to my +promise, be more particular, and show that the sentiments in that +ballad are extremely natural and poetical, and full of the +majestic simplicity which we admire in the greatest of the +ancient poets: for which reason I shall quote several passages of +it, in which the thought is altogether the same with what we meet +in several passages of the “Æneid;” not that I +would infer from thence that the poet, whoever he was, proposed +to himself any imitation of those passages, but that he was +directed to them in general by the same kind of poetical genius, +and by the same copyings after nature.</p> +<p>Had this old song been filled with epigrammatical turns and +points of wit, it might perhaps have pleased the wrong taste of +some readers; but it would never have become the delight of the +common people, nor have warmed the heart of Sir Philip Sidney +like the sound of a trumpet; it is only nature that can have this +effect, and please those tastes which are the most unprejudiced, +or the most refined. I must, however, beg leave to dissent +from so great an authority as that of Sir Philip Sidney, in the +judgment which he has passed as to the rude style and evil +apparel of this antiquated song; for there are several parts in +it where not only the thought but the language is majestic, and +the numbers sonorous; at least the apparel is much more gorgeous +than many of the poets made use of in Queen Elizabeth’s +time, as the reader will see in several of the following +quotations.</p> +<p>What can be greater than either the thought or the expression +in that stanza,</p> +<blockquote><p>To drive the deer with hound and horn<br /> + Earl Percy took his way;<br /> +The child may rue that is unborn<br /> + The hunting of that day!</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This way of considering the misfortunes which this battle +would bring upon posterity, not only on those who were born +immediately after the battle, and lost their fathers in it, but +on those also who perished in future battles which took their +rise from this quarrel of the two earls, is wonderfully beautiful +and conformable to the way of thinking among the ancient +poets.</p> +<blockquote><p><i>Audiet pugnas vitio parentum</i>.<br /> +<i> Rara juventus</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Hor.</span>, +<i>Od.</i> i. 2, 23.</p> +<p>Posterity, thinn’d by their fathers’ crimes,<br /> +Shall read, with grief, the story of their times.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>What can be more sounding and poetical, or resemble more the +majestic simplicity of the ancients, than the following +stanzas?—</p> +<blockquote><p>The stout Earl of Northumberland<br /> + A vow to God did make,<br /> +His pleasure in the Scottish woods<br /> + Three summer’s days to take.</p> +<p>With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,<br /> + All chosen men of might,<br /> +Who knew full well, in time of need,<br /> + To aim their shafts aright.</p> +<p>The hounds ran swiftly through the woods<br /> + The nimble deer to take,<br /> +And with their cries the hills and dales<br /> + An echo shrill did make.</p> +<p> —<i>Vocat ingenti +clamore Cithæron</i>,<br /> +<i>Taygetique canes</i>, <i>domitrixque Epidaurus equorum</i>:<br +/> +<i>Et vox assensu memorum ingeminata remugit</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Virg.</span>, +<i>Georg.</i> iii. 43.</p> +<p>Cithæron loudly calls me to my way:<br /> +Thy hounds, Taygetus, open, and pursue their prey:<br /> +High Epidaurus urges on my speed,<br /> +Famed for his hills, and for his horses’ breed:<br /> +From hills and dales the cheerful cries rebound:<br /> +For Echo hunts along, and propagates the sound.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</p> +<p>Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come,<br /> + His men in armour bright;<br /> +Full twenty hundred Scottish spears,<br /> + All marching in our sight.</p> +<p>All men of pleasant Tividale,<br /> + Fast by the river Tweed, &c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The country of the Scotch warrior, described in these two last +verses, has a fine romantic situation, and affords a couple of +smooth words for verse. If the reader compares the +foregoing six lines of the song with the following Latin verses, +he will see how much they are written in the spirit of +Virgil:</p> +<blockquote><p><i>Adversi campo apparent</i>: <i>hastasque +reductis</i><br /> +<i>Protendunt longè dextris</i>, <i>et spicula +vibrant</i>:—<br /> +<i>Quique altum Præneste viri</i>, <i>quique arva +Gabinæ</i><br /> +<i>Junonis</i>, <i>gelidumque Anienem</i>, <i>et roscida +rivis</i><br /> +<i>Hernica saxa colunt</i>:—<i>qui rosea rura +Velini</i>;<br /> +<i>Qui Tetricæ horrentes rupes</i>, <i>montemq ue +Severum</i>,<br /> +<i>Casperiamque colunt</i>, <i>porulosque et flumen +Himellæ</i>:<br /> +<i>Qui Tyberim Fabarimque bibunt</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Æn.</i> xi. 605, vii. 682, +712.</p> +<p>Advancing in a line they couch their spears—<br /> +—Præneste sends a chosen band,<br /> +With those who plough Saturnia’s Gabine land:<br /> +Besides the succours which cold Anien yields:<br /> +The rocks of Hernicus—besides a band<br /> +That followed from Velinum’s dewy land—<br /> +And mountaineers that from Severus came:<br /> +And from the craggy cliffs of Tetrica;<br /> +And those where yellow Tiber takes his way,<br /> +And where Himella’s wanton waters play:<br /> +Casperia sends her arms, with those that lie<br /> +By Fabaris, and fruitful Foruli.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But to proceed:</p> +<blockquote><p>Earl Douglas on a milk-white steed,<br /> + Most like a baron bold,<br /> +Rode foremost of the company,<br /> + Whose armour shone like gold.</p> +<p><i>Turnus</i>, <i>ut antevolans tardum præcesserat +agmen</i>, &c.<br /> +<i>Vidisti</i>, <i>quo Turnus equo</i>, <i>quibus ibat in +armis</i><br /> +<i>Aurcus</i>—</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Æn.</i> ix. 47, 269.</p> +<blockquote><p>Our English archers bent their bows,<br /> + Their hearts were good and true;<br /> +At the first flight of arrows sent,<br /> + Full threescore Scots they slew.</p> +<p>They closed full fast on ev’ry side,<br /> + No slackness there was found;<br /> +And many a gallant gentleman<br /> + Lay gasping on the ground.</p> +<p>With that there came an arrow keen<br /> + Out of an English bow,<br /> +Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart,<br /> + A deep and deadly blow.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Æneas was wounded after the same manner by an unknown +hand in the midst of a parley.</p> +<blockquote><p><i>Has inter voces</i>, <i>media inter talia +verba</i>,<br /> +<i>Ecce viro stridens alis allapsa sagitta est</i>,<br /> +<i>Incertum quâ pulsa manu</i>—</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Æn.</i> xii. 318.</p> +<p>Thus, while he spake, unmindful of defence,<br /> +A winged arrow struck the pious prince;<br /> +But whether from a human hand it came,<br /> +Or hostile god, is left unknown by fame.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But of all the descriptive parts of this song, there are none +more beautiful than the four following stanzas, which have a +great force and spirit in them, and are filled with very natural +circumstances. The thought in the third stanza was never +touched by any other poet, and is such a one as would have shone +in Homer or in Virgil:</p> +<blockquote><p>So thus did both these nobles die,<br /> + Whose courage none could stain;<br /> +An English archer then perceived<br /> + The noble Earl was slain.</p> +<p>He had a bow bent in his hand,<br /> + Made of a trusty tree,<br /> +An arrow of a cloth-yard long<br /> + Unto the head drew he.</p> +<p>Against Sir Hugh Montgomery<br /> + So right his shaft he set,<br /> +The gray-goose wing that was thereon<br /> + In his heart-blood was wet.</p> +<p>This fight did last from break of day<br /> + Till setting of the sun;<br /> +For when they rung the ev’ning bell<br /> + The battle scarce was done.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>One may observe, likewise, that in the catalogue of the slain, +the author has followed the example of the greatest ancient +poets, not only in giving a long list of the dead, but by +diversifying it with little characters of particular persons.</p> +<blockquote><p>And with Earl Douglas there was slain<br /> + Sir Hugh Montgomery,<br /> +Sir Charles Carrel, that from the field<br /> + One foot would never fly.</p> +<p>Sir Charles Murrel of Ratcliff too,<br /> + His sister’s son was he;<br /> +Sir David Lamb so well esteem’d,<br /> + Yet saved could not be.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The familiar sound in these names destroys the majesty of the +description; for this reason I do not mention this part of the +poem but to show the natural cast of thought which appears in it, +as the two last verses look almost like a translation of +Virgil.</p> +<blockquote><p>—<i>Cadit et Ripheus justissimus unus</i><br +/> +<i>Qui fuit in Teucris et servantissimus æqui</i>.<br /> +<i>Diis aliter visum</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Æn.</i> ii. 426.</p> +<p>Then Ripheus fell in the unequal fight,<br /> +Just of his word, observant of the right:<br /> +Heav’n thought not so.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In the catalogue of the English who fell, Witherington’s +behaviour is in the same manner particularised very artfully, as +the reader is prepared for it by that account which is given of +him in the beginning of the battle; though I am satisfied your +little buffoon readers, who have seen that passage ridiculed in +“Hudibras,” will not be able to take the beauty of +it: for which reason I dare not so much as quote it.</p> +<blockquote><p>Then stept a gallant ’squire forth,<br /> + Witherington was his name,<br /> +Who said, “I would not have it told<br /> + To Henry our king for shame,</p> +<p>“That e’er my captain fought on foot,<br /> + And I stood looking on.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We meet with the same heroic sentiment in Virgil:</p> +<blockquote><p><i>Non pudet</i>, <i>O Rutuli</i>, <i>cunctis pro +talibus unam</i><br /> +<i>Objectare animam</i>? <i>numerone an viribus æqui</i><br +/> +<i>Non sumus</i>?</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Æn.</i> xii. 229</p> +<p>For shame, Rutilians, can you hear the sight<br /> +Of one exposed for all, in single fight?<br /> +Can we before the face of heav’n confess<br /> +Our courage colder, or our numbers less?</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>What can be more natural, or more moving, than the +circumstances in which he describes the behaviour of those women +who had lost their husbands on this fatal day?</p> +<blockquote><p>Next day did many widows come<br /> + Their husbands to bewail;<br /> +They wash’d their wounds in brinish tears,<br /> + But all would not prevail.</p> +<p>Their bodies bathed in purple blood,<br /> + They bore with them away;<br /> +They kiss’d them dead a thousand times,<br /> + When they were clad in clay.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Thus we see how the thoughts of this poem, which naturally +arise from the subject, are always simple, and sometimes +exquisitely noble; that the language is often very sounding, and +that the whole is written with a true poetical spirit.</p> +<p>If this song had been written in the Gothic manner which is +the delight of all our little wits, whether writers or readers, +it would not have hit the taste of so many ages, and have pleased +the readers of all ranks and conditions. I shall only beg +pardon for such a profusion of Latin quotations; which I should +not have made use of, but that I feared my own judgment would +have looked too singular on such a subject, had not I supported +it by the practice and authority of Virgil.</p> +<h2>A DREAM OF THE PAINTERS.</h2> +<blockquote><p>—<i>Animum picturâ pascit +inani</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Virg.</span>, +<i>Æn.</i> i. 464.</p> +<p>And with the shadowy picture feeds his mind.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When the weather hinders me from taking my diversions +without-doors, I frequently make a little party, with two or +three select friends, to visit anything curious that may be seen +under cover. My principal entertainments of this nature are +pictures, insomuch that when I have found the weather set in to +be very bad, I have taken a whole day’s journey to see a +gallery that is furnished by the hands of great masters. By +this means, when the heavens are filled with clouds, when the +earth swims in rain, and all nature wears a lowering countenance, +I withdraw myself from these uncomfortable scenes, into the +visionary worlds of art; where I meet with shining landscapes, +gilded triumphs, beautiful faces, and all those other objects +that fill the mind with gay ideas, and disperse that gloominess +which is apt to hang upon it in those dark disconsolate +seasons.</p> +<p>I was some weeks ago in a course of these diversions, which +had taken such an entire possession of my imagination that they +formed in it a short morning’s dream, which I shall +communicate to my reader, rather as the first sketch and outlines +of a vision, than as a finished piece.</p> +<p>I dreamt that I was admitted into a long, spacious gallery, +which had one side covered with pieces of all the famous painters +who are now living, and the other with the works of the greatest +masters that are dead.</p> +<p>On the side of the living, I saw several persons busy in +drawing, colouring, and designing. On the side of the dead +painters, I could not discover more than one person at work, who +was exceeding slow in his motions, and wonderfully nice in his +touches.</p> +<p>I was resolved to examine the several artists that stood +before me, and accordingly applied myself to the side of the +living. The first I observed at work in this part of the +gallery was Vanity, with his hair tied behind him in a riband, +and dressed like a Frenchman. All the faces he drew were +very remarkable for their smiles, and a certain smirking air +which he bestowed indifferently on every age and degree of either +sex. The <i>toujours gai</i> appeared even in his judges, +bishops, and Privy Councillors. In a word, all his men were +<i>petits maïtres</i>, and all his women +<i>coquettes</i>. The drapery of his figures was extremely +well suited to his faces, and was made up of all the glaring +colours that could be mixed together; every part of the dress was +in a flutter, and endeavoured to distinguish itself above the +rest.</p> +<p>On the left hand of Vanity stood a laborious workman, who I +found was his humble admirer, and copied after him. He was +dressed like a German, and had a very hard name that sounded +something like Stupidity.</p> +<p>The third artist that I looked over was Fantasque, dressed +like a Venetian scaramouch. He had an excellent hand at +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.</p> +<p>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. He made so much haste to despatch his business that +he neither gave himself time to clean his pencils nor mix his +colours. The name of this expeditious workman was +Avarice.</p> +<p>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 show themselves by the candles which were lighted up in +several parts of them; and were so inflamed by the sunshine which +accidentally fell upon them, that at first sight I could scarce +forbear crying out “Fire!”</p> +<p>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 busy in retouching the finest +pieces, though he produced no originals of his own. His +pencil aggravated every feature that was before overcharged, +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.</p> +<p>Having taken a cursory view of one side of the gallery, I +turned myself to that which was filled by the works of those +great masters that were dead; when immediately I fancied myself +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 pictures stood in one row, Titian’s in +another, Guido Rheni’s in a third. One part of the +wall was peopled by Hannabal 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 clothes; so that they +looked like different nations of the same species.</p> +<p>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. He 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<h2>SPARE TIME.</h2> +<h3>Part One.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> —<i>Spatio +brevi</i><br /> +<i>Spem longam reseces</i>: <i>dum loquimur</i>, <i>fugerit +invida</i><br /> +<i>Ætas</i>: <i>carpe diem</i>, <i>quâm minimum +credula postero</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Hor.</span>, +<i>Od.</i> i. 11, 6.</p> +<p>Thy lengthen’d hope with prudence bound,<br /> + Proportion’d to the flying hour:<br /> +While thus we talk in careless ease,<br /> + Our envious minutes wing their flight;<br /> +Then swift the fleeting pleasure seize,<br /> + Nor trust to-morrow’s doubtful light.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Francis</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We all of us complain of the shortness of time, saith Seneca, +and yet have much more than we know what to do with. Our +lives, says he, are spent either in doing nothing at all, or in +doing nothing to the purpose, or in doing nothing that we ought +to do. We are always complaining our days are few, and +acting as though there would be no end of them. That noble +philosopher described our inconsistency with ourselves in this +particular, by all those various turns of expression and thoughts +which are peculiar to his writings.</p> +<p>I often consider mankind as wholly inconsistent with itself in +a point that bears some affinity to the former. Though we +seem grieved at the shortness of life in general, we are wishing +every period of it at an end. The minor longs to be of age, +then to be a man of business, then to make up an estate, then to +arrive at honours, then to retire. Thus, although the whole +of life is allowed by every one to be short, the several +divisions of it appear long and tedious. We are for +lengthening our span in general, but would fain contract the +parts of which it is composed. The usurer would be very +well satisfied to have all the time annihilated that lies between +the present moment and next quarter-day. The politician +would be contented to lose three years in his life, could he +place things in the posture which he fancies they will stand in +after such a revolution of time. The lover would be glad to +strike out of his existence all the moments that are to pass away +before the happy meeting. Thus, as fast as our time runs, +we should be very glad, in most part of our lives, that it ran +much faster than it does. Several hours of the day hang +upon our hands, nay, we wish away whole years; and travel through +time as through a country filled with many wild and empty wastes, +which we would fain hurry over, that we may arrive at those +several little settlements or imaginary points of rest which are +dispersed up and down in it.</p> +<p>If we divide the life of most men into twenty parts, we shall +find that at least nineteen of them are mere gaps and chasms, +which are neither filled with pleasure nor business. I do +not, however, include in this calculation the life of those men +who are in a perpetual hurry of affairs, but of those only who +are not always engaged in scenes of action; and I hope I shall +not do an unacceptable piece of service to these persons, if I +point out to them certain methods for the filling up their empty +spaces of life. The methods I shall propose to them are as +follow.</p> +<p>The first is the exercise of virtue, in the most general +acceptation of the word. That particular scheme which +comprehends the social virtues may give employment to the most +industrious temper, and find a man in business more than the most +active station of life. To advise the ignorant, relieve the +needy, comfort the afflicted, are duties that fall in our way +almost every day of our lives. A man has frequent +opportunities of mitigating the fierceness of a party; of doing +justice to the character of a deserving man; of softening the +envious, quieting the angry, and rectifying the prejudiced; which +are all of them employments suited to a reasonable nature, and +bring great satisfaction to the person who can busy himself in +them with discretion.</p> +<p>There is another kind of virtue that may find employment for +those retired hours in which we are altogether left to ourselves, +and destitute of company and conversation; I mean that +intercourse and communication which every reasonable creature +ought to maintain with the great Author of his being. The +man who lives under an habitual sense of the Divine presence, +keeps up a perpetual cheerfulness of temper, and enjoys every +moment the satisfaction of thinking himself in company with his +dearest and best of friends. The time never lies heavy upon +him: it is impossible for him to be alone. His thoughts and +passions are the most busied at such hours when those of other +men are the most inactive. He no sooner steps out of the +world but his heart burns with devotion, swells with hope, and +triumphs in the consciousness of that Presence which everywhere +surrounds him; or, on the contrary, pours out its fears, its +sorrows, its apprehensions, to the great Supporter of its +existence.</p> +<p>I have here only considered the necessity of a man’s +being virtuous, that he may have something to do; but if we +consider further that the exercise of virtue is not only an +amusement for the time it lasts, but that its influence extends +to those parts of our existence which lie beyond the grave, and +that our whole eternity is to take its colour from those hours +which we here employ in virtue or in vice, the argument redoubles +upon us for putting in practice this method of passing away our +time.</p> +<p>When a man has but a little stock to improve, and has +opportunities of turning it all to good account, what shall we +think of him if he suffers nineteen parts of it to lie dead, and +perhaps employs even the twentieth to his ruin or +disadvantage? But, because the mind cannot be always in its +fervours, nor strained up to a pitch of virtue, it is necessary +to find out proper employments for it in its relaxations.</p> +<p>The next method, therefore, that I would propose to fill up +our time, should be useful and innocent diversions. I must +confess I think it is below reasonable creatures to be altogether +conversant in such diversions as are merely innocent, and have +nothing else to recommend them but that there is no hurt in +them. Whether any kind of gaming has even thus much to say +for itself, I shall not determine; but I think it is very +wonderful to see persons of the best sense passing away a dozen +hours together in shuffling and dividing a pack of cards, with no +other conversation but what is made up of a few game phrases, and +no other ideas but those of black or red spots ranged together in +different figures. Would not a man laugh to hear any one of +this species complaining that life is short?</p> +<p>The stage might be made a perpetual source of the most noble +and useful entertainments, were it under proper regulations.</p> +<p>But the mind never unbends itself so agreeably as in the +conversation of a well-chosen friend. There is indeed no +blessing of life that is any way comparable to the enjoyment of a +discreet and virtuous friend. It eases and unloads the +mind, clears and improves the understanding, engenders thoughts +and knowledge, animates virtue and good resolutions, soothes and +allays the passions, and finds employment for most of the vacant +hours of life.</p> +<p>Next to such an intimacy with a particular person, one would +endeavour after a more general conversation with such as are able +to entertain and improve those with whom they converse, which are +qualifications that seldom go asunder.</p> +<p>There are many other useful amusements of life which one would +endeavour to multiply, that one might on all occasions have +recourse to something rather than suffer the mind to lie idle, or +run adrift with any passion that chances to rise in it.</p> +<p>A man that has a taste of music, painting, or architecture, is +like one that has another sense, when compared with such as have +no relish of those arts. The florist, the planter, the +gardener, the husbandman, when they are only as accomplishments +to the man of fortune, are great reliefs to a country life, and +many ways useful to those who are possessed of them.</p> +<p>But of all the diversions of life, there is none so proper to +fill up its empty spaces as the reading of useful and +entertaining authors. But this I shall only touch upon, +because it in some measure interferes with the third method, +which I shall propose in another paper, for the employment of our +dead, inactive hours, and which I shall only mention in general +to be the pursuit of knowledge.</p> +<h3>Part Two.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> —<i>Hoc +est</i><br /> +<i>Vivere bis</i>, <i>vitâ posse priore frui</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Mart.</span>, +<i>Ep.</i> x. 23.</p> +<p>The present joys of life we doubly taste,<br /> +By looking back with pleasure to the past.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The last method which I proposed in my Saturday’s paper, +for filing up those empty spaces of life which are so tedious and +burthensome to idle people, is the employing ourselves in the +pursuit of knowledge. I remember Mr. Boyle, speaking of a +certain mineral, tells us that a man may consume his whole life +in the study of it without arriving at the knowledge of all its +qualities. The truth of it is, there is not a single +science, or any branch of it, that might not furnish a man with +business for life, though it were much longer than it is.</p> +<p>I shall not here engage on those beaten subjects of the +usefulness of knowledge, nor of the pleasure and perfection it +gives the mind, nor on the methods of attaining it, nor recommend +any particular branch of it; all which have been the topics of +many other writers; but shall indulge myself in a speculation +that is more uncommon, and may therefore, perhaps, be more +entertaining.</p> +<p>I have before shown how the unemployed parts of life appear +long and tedious, and shall here endeavour to show how those +parts of life which are exercised in study, reading, and the +pursuits of knowledge, are long, but not tedious, and by that +means discover a method of lengthening our lives, and at the same +time of turning all the parts of them to our advantage.</p> +<p>Mr. Locke observes, “That we get the idea of time or +duration, by reflecting on that train of ideas which succeed one +another in our minds: that, for this reason, when we sleep +soundly without dreaming, we have no perception of time, or the +length of it whilst we sleep; and that the moment wherein we +leave off to think, till the moment we begin to think again, +seems to have no distance.” To which the author adds, +“and so I doubt not but it would be to a waking man, if it +were possible for him to keep only one idea in his mind, without +variation and the succession of others; and we see that one who +fixes his thoughts very intently on one thing, so as to take but +little notice of the succession of ideas that pass in his mind +whilst he is taken up with that earnest contemplation, lets slip +out of his account a good part of that duration, and thinks that +time shorter than it is.”</p> +<p>We might carry this thought further, and consider a man as on +one side, shortening his time by thinking on nothing, or but a +few things; so, on the other, as lengthening it, by employing his +thoughts on many subjects, or by entertaining a quick and +constant succession of ideas. Accordingly, Monsieur +Malebranche, in his “Inquiry after Truth,” which was +published several years before Mr. Locke’s Essay on +“Human Understanding,” tells us, “that it is +possible some creatures may think half an hour as long as we do a +thousand years; or look upon that space of duration which we call +a minute, as an hour, a week, a month, or a whole age.”</p> +<p>This notion of Monsieur Malebranche is capable of some little +explanation from what I have quoted out of Mr. Locke; for if our +notion of time is produced by our reflecting on the succession of +ideas in our mind, and this succession may be infinitely +accelerated or retarded, it will follow that different beings may +have different notions of the same parts of duration, according +as their ideas, which we suppose are equally distinct in each of +them, follow one another in a greater or less degree of +rapidity.</p> +<p>There is a famous passage in the Alcoran, which looks as if +Mahomet had been possessed of the notion we are now speaking +of. It is there said that the Angel Gabriel took Mahomet +out of his bed one morning to give him a sight of all things in +the seven heavens, in paradise, and in hell, which the prophet +took a distinct view of; and, after having held ninety thousand +conferences with God, was brought back again to his bed. +All this, says the Alcoran, was transacted in so small a space of +time, that Mahomet at his return found his bed still warm, and +took up an earthen pitcher, which was thrown down at the very +instant that the Angel Gabriel carried him away, before the water +was all spilt.</p> +<p>There is a very pretty story in the Turkish Tales, which +relates to this passage of that famous impostor, and bears some +affinity to the subject we are now upon. A sultan of Egypt, +who was an infidel, used to laugh at this circumstance in +Mahomet’s life, as what was altogether impossible and +absurd: but conversing one day with a great doctor in the law, +who had the gift of working miracles, the doctor told him he +would quickly convince him of the truth of this passage in the +history of Mahomet, if he would consent to do what he should +desire of him. Upon this the sultan was directed to place +himself by a huge tub of water, which he did accordingly; and as +he stood by the tub amidst a circle of his great men, the holy +man bade him plunge his head into the water and draw it up +again. The king accordingly thrust his head into the water, +and at the same time found himself at the foot of a mountain on +the sea-shore. The king immediately began to rage against +his doctor for this piece of treachery and witchcraft; but at +length, knowing it was in vain to be angry, he set himself to +think on proper methods for getting a livelihood in this strange +country. Accordingly he applied himself to some people whom +he saw at work in a neighbouring wood: these people conducted him +to a town that stood at a little distance from the wood, where, +after some adventures, he married a woman of great beauty and +fortune. He lived with this woman so long that he had by +her seven sons and seven daughters. He was afterwards +reduced to great want, and forced to think of plying in the +streets as a porter for his livelihood. One day as he was +walking alone by the sea-side, being seized with many melancholy +reflections upon his former and his present state of life, which +had raised a fit of devotion in him, he threw off his clothes +with a design to wash himself, according to the custom of the +Mahometans, before he said his prayers.</p> +<p>After his first plunge into the sea, he no sooner raised his +head above the water but he found himself standing by the side of +the tub, with the great men of his court about him, and the holy +man at his side. He immediately upbraided his teacher for +having sent him on such a course of adventures, and betrayed him +into so long a state of misery and servitude; but was wonderfully +surprised when he heard that the state he talked of was only a +dream and delusion; that he had not stirred from the place where +he then stood; and that he had only dipped his head into the +water, and immediately taken it out again.</p> +<p>The Mahometan doctor took this occasion of instructing the +sultan that nothing was impossible with God; and that He, with +whom a thousand years are but as one day, can, if He pleases, +make a single day—nay, a single moment—appear to any +of His creatures as a thousand years.</p> +<p>I shall leave my reader to compare these Eastern fables with +the notions of those two great philosophers whom I have quoted in +this paper; and shall only, by way of application, desire him to +consider how we may extend life beyond its natural dimensions, by +applying ourselves diligently to the pursuit of knowledge.</p> +<p>The hours of a wise man are lengthened by his ideas, as those +of a fool are by his passions. The time of the one is long, +because he does not know what to do with it; so is that of the +other, because he distinguishes every moment of it with useful or +amusing thoughts; or, in other words, because the one is always +wishing it away, and the other always enjoying it.</p> +<p>How different is the view of past life, in the man who is +grown old in knowledge and wisdom, from that of him who is grown +old in ignorance and folly! The latter is like the owner of +a barren country, that fills his eye with the prospect of naked +hills and plains, which produce nothing either profitable or +ornamental; the other beholds a beautiful and spacious landscape +divided into delightful gardens, green meadows, fruitful fields, +and can scarce cast his eye on a single spot of his possessions +that is not covered with some beautiful plant or flower.</p> +<h2>CENSURE.</h2> +<blockquote><p><i>Romulus</i>, <i>et Liber pater</i>, <i>et cum +Castore Pollux</i>,<br /> +<i>Post ingentia facta</i>, <i>deorum in templa recepti</i>;<br +/> +<i>Dum terras hominumque colunt genus</i>, <i>aspera bella</i><br +/> +<i>Componunt</i>, <i>agros assignant</i>, <i>oppida +condunt</i>;<br /> +<i>Ploravere suis non respondere favorem</i><br /> +<i>Speratum meritis</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Hor.</span>, +<i>Epist.</i> ii. 1, 5.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">MITATED.</p> +<p>Edward and Henry, now the boast of fame,<br /> +And virtuous Alfred, a more sacred name,<br /> +After a life of generous toils endured,<br /> +The Gaul subdued, or property secured,<br /> +Ambition humbled, mighty cities storm’d,<br /> +Or laws establish’d, and the world reform’d;<br /> +Closed their long glories with a sigh to find<br /> +Th’ unwilling gratitude of base mankind.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Pope</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“Censure,” says a late ingenious author, “is +the tax a man pays to the public for being eminent.” +It is a folly for an eminent man to think of escaping it, and a +weakness to be affected with it. All the illustrious +persons of antiquity, and indeed of every age in the world, have +passed through this fiery persecution. There is no defence +against reproach but obscurity; it is a kind of concomitant to +greatness, as satires and invectives were an essential part of a +Roman triumph.</p> +<p>If men of eminence are exposed to censure on one hand, they +are as much liable to flattery on the other. If they +receive reproaches which are not due to them, they likewise +receive praises which they do not deserve. In a word, the +man in a high post is never regarded with an indifferent eye, but +always considered as a friend or an enemy. For this reason +persons in great stations have seldom their true characters drawn +till several years after their deaths. Their personal +friendships and enmities must cease, and the parties they were +engaged in be at an end, before their faults or their virtues can +have justice done them. When writers have the least +opportunity of knowing the truth, they are in the best +disposition to tell it.</p> +<p>It is therefore the privilege of posterity to adjust the +characters of illustrious persons, and to set matters right +between those antagonists who by their rivalry for greatness +divided a whole age into factions. We can now allow +Cæsar to be a great man, without derogating from Pompey; +and celebrate the virtues of Cato, without detracting from those +of Cæsar. Every one that has been long dead has a due +proportion of praise allotted him, in which, whilst he lived, his +friends were too profuse, and his enemies too sparing.</p> +<p>According to Sir Isaac Newton’s calculations, the last +comet that made its appearance, in 1680, imbibed so much heat by +its approaches to the sun, that it would have been two thousand +times hotter than red-hot iron, had it been a globe of that +metal; and that supposing it as big as the earth, and at the same +distance from the sun, it would be fifty thousand years in +cooling, before it recovered its natural temper. In the +like manner, if an Englishman considers the great ferment into +which our political world is thrown at present, and how intensely +it is heated in all its parts, he cannot suppose that it will +cool again in less than three hundred years. In such a +tract of time it is possible that the heats of the present age +may be extinguished, and our several classes of great men +represented under their proper characters. Some eminent +historian may then probably arise that will not write +<i>recentibus odiis</i>, as Tacitus expresses it, with the +passions and prejudices of a contemporary author, but make an +impartial distribution of fame among the great men of the present +age.</p> +<p>I cannot forbear entertaining myself very often with the idea +of such an imaginary historian describing the reign of Anne the +First, and introducing it with a preface to his reader, that he +is now entering upon the most shining part of the English +story. The great rivals in fame will be then distinguished +according to their respective merits, and shine in their proper +points of light. Such an one, says the historian, though +variously represented by the writers of his own age, appears to +have been a man of more than ordinary abilities, great +application, and uncommon integrity: nor was such an one, though +of an opposite party and interest, inferior to him in any of +these respects. The several antagonists who now endeavour +to depreciate one another, and are celebrated or traduced by +different parties, will then have the same body of admirers, and +appear illustrious in the opinion of the whole British +nation. The deserving man, who can now recommend himself to +the esteem of but half his countrymen, will then receive the +approbations and applauses of a whole age.</p> +<p>Among the several persons that flourish in this glorious +reign, there is no question but such a future historian, as the +person of whom I am speaking, will make mention of the men of +genius and learning who have now any figure in the British +nation. For my own part, I often flatter myself with the +honourable mention which will then be made of me; and have drawn +up a paragraph in my own imagination, that I fancy will not be +altogether unlike what will be found in some page or other of +this imaginary historian.</p> +<p>It was under this reign, says he, that the <i>Spectator</i> +published those little diurnal essays which are still +extant. We know very little of the name or person of this +author, except only that he was a man of a very short face, +extremely addicted to silence, and so great a lover of knowledge, +that he made a voyage to Grand Cairo for no other reason but to +take the measure of a pyramid. His chief friend was one Sir +Roger De Coverley, a whimsical country knight, and a Templar, +whose name he has not transmitted to us. He lived as a +lodger at the house of a widow-woman, and was a great humorist in +all parts of his life. This is all we can affirm with any +certainty of his person and character. As for his +speculations, notwithstanding the several obsolete words and +obscure phrases of the age in which he lived, we still understand +enough of them to see the diversions and characters of the +English nation in his time: not but that we are to make allowance +for the mirth and humour of the author, who has doubtless +strained many representations of things beyond the truth. +For if we interpret his words in their literal meaning, we must +suppose that women of the first quality used to pass away whole +mornings at a puppet-show; that they attested their principles by +their patches; that an audience would sit out an evening to hear +a dramatical performance written in a language which they did not +understand; that chairs and flower-pots were introduced as actors +upon the British stage; that a promiscuous assembly of men and +women were allowed to meet at midnight in masks within the verge +of the Court; with many improbabilities of the like nature. +We must therefore, in these and the like cases, suppose that +these remote hints and allusions aimed at some certain follies +which were then in vogue, and which at present we have not any +notion of. We may guess by several passages in the +speculations, that there were writers who endeavoured to detract +from the works of this author; but as nothing of this nature is +come down to us, we cannot guess at any objections that could be +made to his paper. If we consider his style with that +indulgence which we must show to old English writers, or if we +look into the variety of his subjects, with those several +critical dissertations, moral reflections,</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>The following part of the paragraph is so much to my +advantage, and beyond anything I can pretend to, that I hope my +reader will excuse me for not inserting it.</p> +<h2>THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.</h2> +<blockquote><p><i>Est brevitate opus</i>, <i>ut currat +sententia</i>,</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Hor.</span>, +<i>Sat.</i> i. 10, 9.</p> +<p>Let brevity despatch the rapid thought.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I have somewhere read of an eminent person who used in his +private offices of devotion to give thanks to Heaven that he was +born a Frenchman: for my own part I look upon it as a peculiar +blessing that I was born an Englishman. Among many other +reasons, I think myself very happy in my country, as the language +of it is wonderfully adapted to a man who is sparing of his +words, and an enemy to loquacity.</p> +<p>As I have frequently reflected on my good fortune in this +particular, I shall communicate to the public my speculations +upon the English tongue, not doubting but they will be acceptable +to all my curious readers.</p> +<p>The English delight in silence more than any other European +nation, if the remarks which are made on us by foreigners are +true. Our discourse is not kept up in conversation, but +falls into more pauses and intervals than in our neighbouring +countries; as it is observed that the matter of our writings is +thrown much closer together, and lies in a narrower compass, than +is usual in the works of foreign authors; for, to favour our +natural taciturnity, when we are obliged to utter our thoughts we +do it in the shortest way we are able, and give as quick a birth +to our conceptions as possible.</p> +<p>This humour shows itself in several remarks that we may make +upon the English language. As, first of all, by its +abounding in monosyllables, which gives us an opportunity of +delivering our thoughts in few sounds. This indeed takes +off from the elegance of our tongue, but at the same time +expresses our ideas in the readiest manner, and consequently +answers the first design of speech better than the multitude of +syllables which make the words of other languages more tuneable +and sonorous. The sounds of our English words are commonly +like those of string music, short and transient, which rise and +perish upon a single touch; those of other languages are like the +notes of wind instruments, sweet and swelling, and lengthened out +into variety of modulation.</p> +<p>In the next place we may observe that, where the words are not +monosyllables, we often make them so, as much as lies in our +power, by our rapidity of pronunciation; as it generally happens +in most of our long words which are derived from the Latin, where +we contract the length of the syllables, that gives them a grave +and solemn air in their own language, to make them more proper +for despatch, and more conformable to the genius of our +tongue. This we may find in a multitude of words, as +“liberty,” “conspiracy,” +“theatre,” “orator,” &c.</p> +<p>The same natural aversion to loquacity has of late years made +a very considerable alteration in our language, by closing in one +syllable the termination of our preterperfect tense, as in the +words “drown’d,” “walk’d,” +“arriv’d,” for “drowned,” +“walked,” “arrived,” which has very much +disfigured the tongue, and turned a tenth part of our smoothest +words into so many clusters of consonants. This is the more +remarkable because the want of vowels in our language has been +the general complaint of our politest authors, who nevertheless +are the men that have made these retrenchments, and consequently +very much increased our former scarcity.</p> +<p>This reflection on the words that end in “ed” I +have heard in conversation from one of the greatest geniuses this +age has produced. I think we may add to the foregoing +observation, the change which has happened in our language by the +abbreviation of several words that are terminated in +“eth,” by substituting an “s” in the room +of the last syllable, as in “drowns,” +“walks,” “arrives,” and innumerable other +words, which in the pronunciation of our forefathers were +“drowneth,” “walketh,” +“arriveth.” This has wonderfully multiplied a +letter which was before too frequent in the English tongue, and +added to that hissing in our language which is taken so much +notice of by foreigners, but at the same time humours our +taciturnity, and eases us of many superfluous syllables.</p> +<p>I might here observe that the same single letter on many +occasions does the office of a whole word, and represents the +“his” and “her” of our forefathers. +There is no doubt but the ear of a foreigner, which is the best +judge in this case, would very much disapprove of such +innovations, which indeed we do ourselves in some measure, by +retaining the old termination in writing, and in all the solemn +offices of our religion.</p> +<p>As, in the instances I have given, we have epitomised many of +our particular words to the detriment of our tongue, so on other +occasions we have drawn two words into one, which has likewise +very much untuned our language, and clogged it with consonants, +as “mayn’t,” “can’t,” +“shan’t,” “won’t,” and the +like, for “may not,” “can not,” +“shall not,” “will not,” &c.</p> +<p>It is perhaps this humour of speaking no more than we needs +must which has so miserably curtailed some of our words, that in +familiar writings and conversations they often lose all but their +first syllables, as in “mob.,” “rep.,” +“pos.,” “incog.,” and the like; and as +all ridiculous words make their first entry into a language by +familiar phrases, I dare not answer for these that they will not +in time be looked upon as a part of our tongue. We see some +of our poets have been so indiscreet as to imitate +Hudibras’s doggrel expressions in their serious +compositions, by throwing out the signs of our substantives which +are essential to the English language. Nay, this humour of +shortening our language had once run so far, that some of our +celebrated authors, among whom we may reckon Sir Roger +L’Estrange in particular, began to prune their words of all +superfluous letters, as they termed them, in order to adjust the +spelling to the pronunciation; which would have confounded all +our etymologies, and have quite destroyed our tongue.</p> +<p>We may here likewise observe that our proper names, when +familiarised in English, generally dwindle to monosyllables, +whereas in other modern languages they receive a softer turn on +this occasion, by the addition of a new syllable.—Nick, in +Italian, is Nicolini; Jack, in French, Janot; and so of the +rest.</p> +<p>There is another particular in our language which is a great +instance of our frugality in words, and that is the suppressing +of several particles which must be produced in other tongues to +make a sentence intelligible. This often perplexes the best +writers, when they find the relatives “whom,” +“which,” or “they,” at their mercy, +whether they may have admission or not; and will never be decided +till we have something like an academy, that by the best +authorities, and rules drawn from the analogy of languages, shall +settle all controversies between grammar and idiom.</p> +<p>I have only considered our language as it shows the genius and +natural temper of the English, which is modest, thoughtful, and +sincere, and which, perhaps, may recommend the people, though it +has spoiled the tongue. We might, perhaps, carry the same +thought into other languages, and deduce a great part of what is +peculiar to them from the genius of the people who speak +them. It is certain the light talkative humour of the +French has not a little infected their tongue, which might be +shown by many instances; as the genius of the Italians, which is +so much addicted to music and ceremony, has moulded all their +words and phrases to those particular uses. The stateliness +and gravity of the Spaniards shows itself to perfection in the +solemnity of their language; and the blunt, honest humour of the +Germans sounds better in the roughness of the High-Dutch than it +would in a politer tongue.</p> +<h2>THE VISION OF MIRZA.</h2> + +<blockquote><p> —<i>Omnem</i>, +<i>quæ nunc obducta tuenti</i><br /> +<i>Mortales hebetat visus tibi</i>, <i>et humida +circúm</i><br /> +<i>Caligat</i>, <i>nubem eripiam</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Virg.</span>, +<i>Æn.</i> ii. 604.</p> +<p>The cloud, which, intercepting the clear light,<br /> +Hangs o’er thy eyes, and blunts thy mortal sight,<br /> +I will remove.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>When I was at Grand Cairo, I picked up several Oriental +manuscripts, which I have still by me. Among others I met +with one entitled “The Visions of Mirza,” which I +have read over with great pleasure. I intend to give it to +the public when I have no other entertainment for them; and shall +begin with the first vision, which I have translated word for +word as follows:</p> +<p>“On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the +custom of my forefathers, I always keep holy, after having washed +myself, and offered up my morning devotions, I ascended the high +hills of Bagdad, in order to pass the rest of the day in +meditation and prayer. As I was here airing myself on the +tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound contemplation on +the vanity of human life; and passing from one thought to +another, ‘Surely,’ said I, ‘man is but a +shadow, and life a dream.’ Whilst I was thus musing, +I cast my eyes towards the summit of a rock that was not far from +me, where I discovered one in the habit of a shepherd, with a +musical instrument in his hand. As I looked upon him he +applied it to his lips, and began to play upon it. The +sound of it was exceeding sweet, and wrought into a variety of +tunes that were inexpressibly melodious, and altogether different +from anything I had ever heard. They put me in mind of +those heavenly airs that are played to the departed souls of good +men upon their first arrival in Paradise, to wear out the +impressions of their last agonies, and qualify them for the +pleasures of that happy place. My heart melted away in +secret raptures.</p> +<p>“I had been often told that the rock before me was the +haunt of a genius, and that several had been entertained with +music who had passed by it, but never heard that the musician had +before made himself visible. When he had raised my thoughts +by those transporting airs which he played, to taste the +pleasures of his conversation, as I looked upon him like one +astonished, he beckoned to me, and, by the waving of his hand, +directed me to approach the place where he sat. I drew near +with that reverence which is due to a superior nature; and, as my +heart was entirely subdued by the captivating strains I had +heard, I fell down at his feet and wept. The genius smiled +upon me with a look of compassion and affability that +familiarised him to my imagination, and at once dispelled all the +fears and apprehensions with which I approached him. He +lifted me from the ground, and, taking me by the hand, +‘Mirza,’ said he, ‘I have heard thee in thy +soliloquies; follow me.’</p> +<p>“He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and +placing me on the top of it, ‘Cast thy eyes +eastward,’ said he, ‘and tell me what thou +seest.’ ‘I see,’ said I, ‘a huge +valley, and a prodigious tide of water rolling through +it.’ ‘The valley that thou seest,’ said +he, ‘is the Vale of Misery, and the tide of water that thou +seest is part of the great tide of Eternity.’ +‘What is the reason,’ said I, ‘that the tide I +see rises out of a thick mist at one end, and again loses itself +in a thick mist at the other?’ ‘What thou +seest,’ said he, ‘is that portion of Eternity which +is called Time, measured out by the sun, and reaching from the +beginning of the world to its consummation. Examine +now,’ said he, ‘this sea that is bounded with +darkness at both ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in +it.’ ‘I see a bridge,’ said I, +‘standing in the midst of the tide.’ ‘The +bridge thou seest,’ said he, ‘is Human Life; consider +it attentively.’ Upon a more leisurely survey of it, +I found that it consisted of threescore and ten entire arches, +with several broken arches, which, added to those that were +entire, made up the number about a hundred. As I was +counting the arches, the genius told me that this bridge +consisted at first of a thousand arches; but that a great flood +swept away the rest, and left the bridge in the ruinous condition +I now beheld it. ‘But tell me further,’ said +he, ‘what thou discoverest on it.’ ‘I see +multitudes of people passing over it,’ said I, ‘and a +black cloud hanging on each end of it.’ As I looked +more attentively, I saw several of the passengers dropping +through the bridge into the great tide that flowed underneath it; +and, upon further examination, perceived there were innumerable +trap-doors that lay concealed in the bridge, which the passengers +no sooner trod upon but they fell through them into the tide, and +immediately disappeared. These hidden pit-falls were set +very thick at the entrance of the bridge, so that throngs of +people no sooner broke through the cloud but many of them fell +into them. They grew thinner towards the middle, but +multiplied and lay closer together towards the end of the arches +that were entire.</p> +<p>“There were indeed some persons, but their number was +very small, that continued a kind of hobbling march on the broken +arches, but fell through one after another, being quite tired and +spent with so long a walk.</p> +<p>“I passed some time in the contemplation of this +wonderful structure, and the great variety of objects which it +presented. My heart was filled with a deep melancholy to +see several dropping unexpectedly in the midst of mirth and +jollity, and catching at everything that stood by them to save +themselves. Some were looking up towards the heavens in a +thoughtful posture, and in the midst of a speculation stumbled +and fell out of sight. Multitudes were very busy in the +pursuit of bubbles that glittered in their eyes and danced before +them; but often when they thought themselves within the reach of +them, their footing failed and down they sunk. In this +confusion of objects, I observed some with scimitars in their +hands, who ran to and fro from the bridge, thrusting several +persons on trapdoors which did not seem to lie in their way, and +which they might have escaped had they not been thus forced upon +them.</p> +<p>“The genius, seeing me indulge myself on this melancholy +prospect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon it. +‘Take thine eyes off the bridge,’ said he, ‘and +tell me if thou yet seest anything thou dost not +comprehend.’ Upon looking up, ‘What +mean,’ said I, ‘those great flights of birds that are +perpetually hovering about the bridge, and settling upon it from +time to time? I see vultures, harpies, ravens, cormorants, +and among many other feathered creatures, several little winged +boys, that perch in great numbers upon the middle +arches.’ ‘These,’ said the genius, +‘are Envy, Avarice, Superstition, Despair, Love, with the +like cares and passions that infest human life.’</p> +<p>“I here fetched a deep sigh. ‘Alas,’ +said I, ‘man was made in vain! how is he given away to +misery and mortality! tortured in life, and swallowed up in +death!’ The genius, being moved with compassion +towards me, bade me quit so uncomfortable a prospect. +‘Look no more,’ said he, ‘on man in the first +stage of his existence, in his setting out for Eternity; but cast +thine eye on that thick mist into which the tide bears the +several generations of mortals that fall into it.’ I +directed my sight as I was ordered, and, whether or no the good +genius strengthened it with any supernatural force, or dissipated +part of the mist that was before too thick for the eye to +penetrate, I saw the valley opening at the further end, and +spreading forth into an immense ocean, that had a huge rock of +adamant running through the midst of it, and dividing it into two +equal parts. The clouds still rested on one half of it, +insomuch that I could discover nothing in it; but the other +appeared to me a vast ocean planted with innumerable islands, +that were covered with fruits and flowers, and interwoven with a +thousand little shining seas that ran among them. I could +see persons dressed in glorious habits, with garlands upon their +heads, passing among the trees, lying down by the sides of +fountains, or resting on beds of flowers; and could hear a +confused harmony of singing birds, falling waters, human voices, +and musical instruments. Gladness grew in me upon the +discovery of so delightful a scene. I wished for the wings +of an eagle, that I might fly away to those happy seats; but the +genius told me there was no passage to them, except through the +gates of death that I saw opening every moment upon the +bridge. ‘The islands,’ said he, ‘that lie +so fresh and green before thee, amid with which the whole face of +the ocean appears spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in +number than the sands on the sea-shore: there are myriads of +islands behind those which thou here discoverest, reaching +further than thine eye, or even thine imagination can extend +itself. These are the mansions of good men after death, +who, according to the degree and kinds of virtue in which they +excelled, are distributed among those several islands, which +abound with pleasures of different kinds and degrees, suitable to +the relishes and perfections of those who are settled in them: +every island is a paradise accommodated to its respective +inhabitants. Are not these, O Mirza, habitations worth +contending for? Does life appear miserable that gives thee +opportunities of earning such a reward? Is death to be +feared that will convey thee to so happy an existence? +Think not man was made in vain, who has such an Eternity reserved +for him.’ I gazed with inexpressible pleasure on +these happy islands. At length, said I, ‘Show me now, +I beseech thee, the secrets that lie hid under those dark clouds +which cover the ocean on the other side of the rock of +adamant.’ The genius making me no answer, I turned +about to address myself to him a second time, but I found that he +had left me; I then turned again to the vision which I had been +so long contemplating: but instead of the rolling tide, the +arched bridge, and the happy islands, I saw nothing but the long +hollow valley of Bagdad, with oxen, sheep, and camels grazing +upon the sides of it.”</p> +<h2>GENIUS.</h2> +<blockquote><p> —<i>Cui +mens divinior</i>, <i>atque os</i><br /> +<i>Magna sonaturum des nominis hujus honorem</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Hor.</span>, +<i>Sat.</i> i. 4, 43.</p> +<p>On him confer the poet’s sacred name,<br /> +Whose lofty voice declares the heavenly flame.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There is no character more frequently given to a writer than +that of being a genius. I have heard many a little +sonneteer called a fine genius. There is not a heroic +scribbler in the nation that has not his admirers who think him a +great genius; and as for your smatterers in tragedy, there is +scarce a man among them who is not cried up by one or other for a +prodigious genius.</p> +<p>My design in this paper is to consider what is properly a +great genius, and to throw some thoughts together on so uncommon +a subject.</p> +<p>Among great geniuses those few draw the admiration of all the +world upon them, and stand up as the prodigies of mankind, who, +by the mere strength of natural parts, and without any assistance +of art or learning, have produced works that were the delight of +their own times and the wonder of posterity. There appears +something nobly wild and extravagant in these great natural +geniuses, that is infinitely more beautiful than all turn and +polishing of what the French call a <i>bel esprit</i>, by which +they would express a genius refined by conversation, reflection, +and the reading of the most polite authors. The greatest +genius which runs through the arts and sciences takes a kind of +tincture from them and falls unavoidably into imitation.</p> +<p>Many of these great natural geniuses, that were never +disciplined and broken by rules of art, are to be found among the +ancients, and in particular among those of the more Eastern parts +of the world. Homer has innumerable flights that Virgil was +not able to reach, and in the Old Testament we find several +passages more elevated and sublime than any in Homer. At +the same time that we allow a greater and more daring genius to +the ancients, we must own that the greatest of them very much +failed in, or, if you will, that they were much above the nicety +and correctness of the moderns. In their similitudes and +allusions, provided there was a likeness, they did not much +trouble themselves about the decency of the comparison: thus +Solomon resembles the nose of his beloved to the tower of Lebanon +which looketh towards Damascus, as the coming of a thief in the +night is a similitude of the same kind in the New +Testament. It would be endless to make collections of this +nature. Homer illustrates one of his heroes encompassed +with the enemy, by an ass in a field of corn that has his sides +belaboured by all the boys of the village without stirring a foot +for it; and another of them tossing to and fro in his bed, and +burning with resentment, to a piece of flesh broiled on the +coals. This particular failure in the ancients opens a +large field of raillery to the little wits, who can laugh at an +indecency, but not relish the sublime in these sorts of +writings. The present Emperor of Persia, conformable to +this Eastern way of thinking, amidst a great many pompous titles, +denominates himself “the sun of glory” and “the +nutmeg of delight.” In short, to cut off all +cavilling against the ancients, and particularly those of the +warmer climates, who had most heat and life in their +imaginations, we are to consider that the rule of observing what +the French call the <i>bienseance</i> in an allusion has been +found out of later years, and in the colder regions of the world, +where we could make some amends for our want of force and spirit +by a scrupulous nicety and exactness in our compositions. +Our countryman Shakespeare was a remarkable instance of this +first kind of great geniuses.</p> +<p>I cannot quit this head without observing that Pindar was a +great genius of the first class, who was hurried on by a natural +fire and impetuosity to vast conceptions of things and noble +sallies of imagination. At the same time can anything be +more ridiculous than for men of a sober and moderate fancy to +imitate this poet’s way of writing in those monstrous +compositions which go among us under the name of Pindarics? +When I see people copying works which, as Horace has represented +them, are singular in their kind, and inimitable; when I see men +following irregularities by rule, and by the little tricks of art +straining after the most unbounded flights of nature, I cannot +but apply to them that passage in Terence:</p> + +<blockquote><p> —<i>Incerta +hæc si tu postules</i><br /> +<i>Ratione certâ facere</i>, <i>nihilo plus agas</i><br /> +<i>Quâm si des operam</i>, <i>ut cum ratione +insanias</i>.</p> +<p><i>Eun.</i>, Act I., Sc. 1, I. 16.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>You may as well pretend to be mad and in your senses at the +same time, as to think of reducing these uncertain things to any +certainty by reason.</p> +<p>In short, a modern Pindaric writer compared with Pindar is +like a sister among the Camisars compared with Virgil’s +Sibyl; there is the distortion, grimace, and outward figure, but +nothing of that divine impulse which raises the mind above +itself, and makes the sounds more than human.</p> +<p>There is another kind of great geniuses which I shall place in +a second class, not as I think them inferior to the first, but +only for distinction’s sake, as they are of a different +kind. This second class of great geniuses are those that +have formed themselves by rules, and submitted the greatness of +their natural talents to the corrections and restraints of +art. Such among the Greeks were Plato and Aristotle; among +the Romans, Virgil and Tully; among the English, Milton and Sir +Francis Bacon.</p> +<p>The genius in both these classes of authors may be equally +great, but shows itself after a different manner. In the +first it is like a rich soil in a happy climate, that produces a +whole wilderness of noble plants rising in a thousand beautiful +landscapes without any certain order or regularity; in the other +it is the same rich soil, under the same happy climate, that has +been laid out in walks and parterres, and cut into shape and +beauty by the skill of the gardener.</p> +<p>The great danger in these latter kind of geniuses is lest they +cramp their own abilities too much by imitation, and form +themselves altogether upon models, without giving the full play +to their own natural parts. An imitation of the best +authors is not to compare with a good original; and I believe we +may observe that very few writers make an extraordinary figure in +the world who have not something in their way of thinking or +expressing themselves, that is peculiar to them, and entirely +their own.</p> +<p>It is odd to consider what great geniuses are sometimes thrown +away upon trifles.</p> +<p>“I once saw a shepherd,” says a famous Italian +author, “who used to divert himself in his solitudes with +tossing up eggs and catching them again without breaking them; in +which he had arrived to so great a degree of perfection that he +would keep up four at a time for several minutes together playing +in the air, and falling into his hand by turns. I +think,” says the author, “I never saw a greater +severity than in this man’s face, for by his wonderful +perseverance and application he had contracted the seriousness +and gravity of a privy councillor, and I could not but reflect +with myself that the same assiduity and attention, had they been +rightly applied, ‘might’ have made a greater +mathematician than Archimedes.”</p> +<h2>THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA.</h2> +<blockquote><p><i>Illa</i>; <i>Quis et me</i>, <i>inquit</i>, +<i>miseram et te perdidit</i>, <i>Orpheu</i>?—<br /> +<i>Jamque vale</i>: <i>feror ingenti circumdata nocte</i>,<br /> +<i>Invalidasque tibi tendens</i>, <i>heu</i>! <i>non tua</i>, +<i>palmas</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Virg.</span>, +<i>Georg.</i>, iv. 494.</p> +<p>Then thus the bride: “What fury seiz’d on thee, +<br /> +Unhappy man! to lose thyself and me?—<br /> +And now farewell! involv’d in shades of night,<br /> +For ever I am ravish’d from thy sight:<br /> +In vain I reach my feeble hands, to join<br /> +In sweet embraces—ah! no longer thine!”</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Dryden</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Constantia was a woman of extraordinary wit and beauty, but +very unhappy in a father who, having arrived at great riches by +his own industry, took delight in nothing but his money. +Theodosius was the younger son of a decayed family, of great +parts and learning, improved by a genteel and virtuous +education. When he was in the twentieth year of his age he +became acquainted with Constantia, who had not then passed her +fifteenth. As he lived but a few miles distant from her +father’s house, he had frequent opportunities of seeing +her; and, by the advantages of a good person and a pleasing +conversation, made such an impression in her heart as it was +impossible for time to efface. He was himself no less +smitten with Constantia. A long acquaintance made them +still discover new beauties in each other, and by degrees raised +in them that mutual passion which had an influence on their +following lives. It unfortunately happened that, in the +midst of this intercourse of love and friendship between +Theodosius and Constantia, there broke out an irreparable quarrel +between their parents; the one valuing himself too much upon his +birth, and the other upon his possessions. The father of +Constantia was so incensed at the father of Theodosius, that he +contracted an unreasonable aversion towards his son, insomuch +that he forbade him his house, and charged his daughter upon her +duty never to see him more. In the meantime, to break off +all communication between the two lovers, who he knew entertained +secret hopes of some favourable opportunity that should bring +them together, he found out a young gentleman of a good fortune +and an agreeable person, whom he pitched upon as a husband for +his daughter. He soon concerted this affair so well, that +he told Constantia it was his design to marry her to such a +gentleman, and that her wedding should be celebrated on such a +day. Constantia, who was overawed with the authority of her +father, and unable to object anything against so advantageous a +match, received the proposal with a profound silence, which her +father commended in her, as the most decent manner of a +virgin’s giving her consent to an overture of that +kind. The noise of this intended marriage soon reached +Theodosius, who, after a long tumult of passions which naturally +rise in a lover’s heart on such an occasion, wrote the +following letter to Constantia:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“The thought of my Constantia, which for +some years has been my only happiness, is now become a greater +torment to me than I am able to bear. Must I then live to +see you another’s? The streams, the fields, and +meadows, where we have so often talked together, grow painful to +me; life itself is become a burden. May you long be happy +in the world, but forget that there was ever such a man in it +as</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“<span +class="smcap">Theodosius</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This letter was conveyed to Constantia that very evening, who +fainted at the reading of it; and the next morning she was much +more alarmed by two or three messengers that came to her +father’s house, one after another, to inquire if they had +heard anything of Theodosius, who, it seems, had left his chamber +about midnight, and could nowhere be found. The deep +melancholy which had hung upon his mind some time before made +them apprehend the worst that could befall him. Constantia, +who knew that nothing but the report of her marriage could have +driven him to such extremities, was not to be comforted. +She now accused herself for having so tamely given an ear to the +proposal of a husband, and looked upon the new lover as the +murderer of Theodosius. In short, she resolved to suffer +the utmost effects of her father’s displeasure rather than +comply with a marriage which appeared to her so full of guilt and +horror. The father, seeing himself entirely rid of +Theodosius, and likely to keep a considerable portion in his +family, was not very much concerned at the obstinate refusal of +his daughter, and did not find it very difficult to excuse +himself upon that account to his intended son-in-law, who had all +along regarded this alliance rather as a marriage of convenience +than of love. Constantia had now no relief but in her +devotions and exercises of religion, to which her affections had +so entirely subjected her mind, that after some years had abated +the violence of her sorrows, and settled her thoughts in a kind +of tranquillity, she resolved to pass the remainder of her days +in a convent. Her father was not displeased with a +resolution which would save money in his family, and readily +complied with his daughter’s intentions. Accordingly, +in the twenty-fifth year of her age, while her beauty was yet in +all its height and bloom, he carried her to a neighbouring city, +in order to look out a sisterhood of nuns among whom to place his +daughter. There was in this place a father of a convent who +was very much renowned for his piety and exemplary life: and as +it is usual in the Romish Church for those who are under any +great affliction, or trouble of mind, to apply themselves to the +most eminent confessors for pardon and consolation, our beautiful +votary took the opportunity of confessing herself to this +celebrated father.</p> +<p>We must now return to Theodosius, who, the very morning that +the above-mentioned inquiries had been made after him, arrived at +a religious house in the city where now Constantia resided; and +desiring that secrecy and concealment of the fathers of the +convent, which is very usual upon any extraordinary occasion, he +made himself one of the order, with a private vow never to +inquire after Constantia; whom he looked upon as given away to +his rival upon the day on which, according to common fame, their +marriage was to have been solemnised. Having in his youth +made a good progress in learning, that he might dedicate himself +more entirely to religion, he entered into holy orders, and in a +few years became renowned for his sanctity of life, and those +pious sentiments which he inspired into all who conversed with +him. It was this holy man to whom Constantia had determined +to apply herself in confession, though neither she nor any other, +besides the prior of the convent, knew anything of his name or +family. The gay, the amiable Theodosius had now taken upon +him the name of Father Francis, and was so far concealed in a +long beard, a shaven head, and a religious habit, that it was +impossible to discover the man of the world in the venerable +conventual.</p> +<p>As he was one morning shut up in his confessional, Constantia +kneeling by him opened the state of her soul to him; and after +having given him the history of a life full of innocence, she +burst out into tears, and entered upon that part of her story in +which he himself had so great a share. “My +behaviour,” says she, “has, I fear, been the death of +a man who had no other fault but that of loving me too +much. Heaven only knows how dear he was to me whilst he +lived, and how bitter the remembrance of him has been to me since +his death.” She here paused, and lifted up her eyes +that streamed with tears towards the father, who was so moved +with the sense of her sorrows that he could only command his +voice, which was broken with sighs and sobbings, so far as to bid +her proceed. She followed his directions, and in a flood of +tears poured out her heart before him. The father could not +forbear weeping aloud, insomuch that, in the agonies of his +grief, the seat shook under him. Constantia, who thought +the good man was thus moved by his compassion towards her, and by +the horror of her guilt, proceeded with the utmost contrition to +acquaint him with that vow of virginity in which she was going to +engage herself, as the proper atonement for her sins, and the +only sacrifice she could make to the memory of Theodosius. +The father, who by this time had pretty well composed himself, +burst out again in tears upon hearing that name to which he had +been so long disused, and upon receiving this instance of an +unparalleled fidelity from one who he thought had several years +since given herself up to the possession of another. Amidst +the interruptions of his sorrow, seeing his penitent overwhelmed +with grief, he was only able to bid her from time to time be +comforted—to tell her that her sins were forgiven +her—that her guilt was not so great as she +apprehended—that she should not suffer herself to be +afflicted above measure. After which he recovered himself +enough to give her the absolution in form: directing her at the +same time to repair to him again the next day, that he might +encourage her in the pious resolution she had taken, and give her +suitable exhortations for her behaviour in it. Constantia +retired, and the next morning renewed her applications. +Theodosius, having manned his soul with proper thoughts and +reflections, exerted himself on this occasion in the best manner +he could to animate his penitent in the course of life she was +entering upon, and wear out of her mind those groundless fears +and apprehensions which had taken possession of it; concluding +with a promise to her, that he would from time to time continue +his admonitions when she should have taken upon her the holy +veil. “The rules of our respective orders,” +says he, “will not permit that I should see you; but you +may assure yourself not only of having a place in my prayers, but +of receiving such frequent instructions as I can convey to you by +letters. Go on cheerfully in the glorious course you have +undertaken, and you will quickly find such a peace and +satisfaction in your mind which it is not in the power of the +world to give.”</p> +<p>Constantia’s heart was so elevated within the discourse +of Father Francis, that the very next day she entered upon her +vow. As soon as the solemnities of her reception were over, +she retired, as it is usual, with the abbess into her own +apartment.</p> +<p>The abbess had been informed the night before of all that had +passed between her novitiate and father Francis: from whom she +now delivered to her the following letter:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“As the first-fruits of those joys and +consolations which you may expect from the life you are now +engaged in, I must acquaint you that Theodosius, whose death sits +so heavy upon your thoughts, is still alive; and that the father +to whom you have confessed yourself was once that Theodosius whom +you so much lament. The love which we have had for one +another will make us more happy in its disappointment than it +could have done in its success. Providence has disposed of +us for our advantage, though not according to our wishes. +Consider your Theodosius still as dead, but assure yourself of +one who will not cease to pray for you in father</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“<span +class="smcap">Francis</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Constantia saw that the handwriting agreed with the contents +of the letter; and, upon reflecting on the voice of the person, +the behaviour, and above all the extreme sorrow of the father +during her confession, she discovered Theodosius in every +particular. After having wept with tears of joy, “It +is enough,” says she; “Theodosius is still in being: +I shall live with comfort and die in peace.”</p> +<p>The letters which the father sent her afterwards are yet +extant in the nunnery where she resided; and are often read to +the young religious, in order to inspire them with good +resolutions and sentiments of virtue. It so happened that +after Constantia had lived about ten years in the cloister, a +violent fever broke out in the place, which swept away great +multitudes, and among others Theodosius. Upon his death-bed +he sent his benediction in a very moving manner to Constantia, +who at that time was herself so far gone in the same fatal +distemper that she lay delirious. Upon the interval which +generally precedes death in sickness of this nature, the abbess, +finding that the physicians had given her over, told her that +Theodosius had just gone before her, and that he had sent her his +benediction in his last moments. Constantia received it +with pleasure. “And now,” says she, “if I +do not ask anything improper, let me be buried by +Theodosius. My vow reaches no further than the grave; what +I ask is, I hope, no violation of it.” She died soon +after, and was interred according to her request.</p> +<p>The tombs are still to be seen, with a short Latin inscription +over them to the following purpose:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Here lie the bodies of Father Francis and +Sister Constance. They were lovely in their lives, and in +their death they were not divided.”</p> +</blockquote> +<h2>GOOD NATURE.</h2> +<h3>Part One.</h3> +<blockquote><p><i>Sic vita erat</i>: <i>facilè omnes +perferre ac pati</i>:<br /> +<i>Cum quibus erat cunque unà</i>, <i>his sese +dedere</i>,<br /> +<i>Eorum obsequi studiis</i>: <i>advorsus nemini</i>;<br /> +<i>Nunquam præponens se aliis</i>. <i>Ita +facillime</i><br /> +<i>Sine invidia invenias laudem</i>.—</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Ter.</span>, +<i>Andr.</i>, Act i. <i>se.</i> 1.</p> +<p>His manner of life was this: to bear with everybody’s +humours; to comply with the inclinations and pursuits of those he +conversed with; to contradict nobody; never to assume a +superiority over others. This is the ready way to gain +applause without exciting envy.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Man is subject to innumerable pains and sorrows by the very +condition of humanity, and yet, as if Nature had not sown evils +enough in life, we are continually adding grief to grief, and +aggravating the common calamity by our cruel treatment of one +another. Every man’s natural weight of affliction is +still made more heavy by the envy, malice, treachery, or +injustice of his neighbour. At the same time that the storm +beats on the whole species, we are falling foul upon one +another.</p> +<p>Half the misery of human life might be extinguished, would men +alleviate the general curse they lie under, by mutual offices of +compassion, benevolence, and humanity. There is nothing, +therefore, which we ought more to encourage in ourselves and +others, than that disposition of mind which in our language goes +under the title of good nature, and which I shall choose for the +subject of this day’s speculation.</p> +<p>Good-nature is more agreeable in conversation than wit, and +gives a certain air to the countenance which is more amiable than +beauty. It shows virtue in the fairest light, takes off in +some measure from the deformity of vice, and makes even folly and +impertinence supportable.</p> +<p>There is no society or conversation to be kept up in the world +without good nature, or something which must bear its appearance, +and supply its place. For this reason, mankind have been +forced to invent a kind of artificial humanity, which is what we +express by the word good-breeding. For if we examine +thoroughly the idea of what we call so, we shall find it to be +nothing else but an imitation and mimicry of good nature, or, in +other terms, affability, complaisance, and easiness of temper, +reduced into an art. These exterior shows and appearances +of humanity render a man wonderfully popular and beloved, when +they are founded upon a real good nature; but, without it, are +like hypocrisy in religion, or a bare form of holiness, which, +when it is discovered, makes a man more detestable than professed +impiety.</p> +<p>Good-nature is generally born with us: health, prosperity, and +kind treatment from the world, are great cherishers of it where +they find it; but nothing is capable of forcing it up, where it +does not grow of itself. It is one of the blessings of a +happy constitution, which education may improve, but not +produce.</p> +<p>Xenophon, in the life of his imaginary prince whom he +describes as a pattern for real ones, is always celebrating the +philanthropy and good nature of his hero, which he tells us he +brought into the world with him; and gives many remarkable +instances of it in his childhood, as well as in all the several +parts of his life. Nay, on his death-bed, he describes him +as being pleased, that while his soul returned to Him who made +it, his body should incorporate with the great mother of all +things, and by that means become beneficial to mankind. For +which reason, he gives his sons a positive order not to enshrine +it in gold or silver, but to lay it in the earth as soon as the +life was gone out of it.</p> +<p>An instance of such an overflowing of humanity, such an +exuberant love to mankind, could not have entered into the +imagination of a writer who had not a soul filled with great +ideas, and a general benevolence to mankind.</p> +<p>In that celebrated passage of Sallust, where Cæsar and +Cato are placed in such beautiful but opposite lights, +Cæsar’s character is chiefly made up of good nature, +as it showed itself in all its forms towards his friends or his +enemies, his servants or dependents, the guilty or the +distressed. As for Cato’s character, it is rather +awful than amiable. Justice seems most agreeable to the +nature of God, and mercy to that of man. A Being who has +nothing to pardon in Himself, may reward every man according to +his works; but he whose very best actions must be seen with +grains of allowance, cannot be too mild, moderate, and +forgiving. For this reason, among all the monstrous +characters in human nature, there is none so odious, nor indeed +so exquisitely ridiculous, as that of a rigid, severe temper in a +worthless man.</p> +<p>This part of good nature however, which consists in the +pardoning and overlooking of faults, is to be exercised only in +doing ourselves justice, and that too in the ordinary commerce +and occurrences of life; for, in the public administrations of +justice, mercy to one may be cruelty to others.</p> +<p>It is grown almost into a maxim, that good-natured men are not +always men of the most wit. This observation, in my +opinion, has no foundation in nature. The greatest wits I +have conversed with are men eminent for their humanity. I +take, therefore, this remark to have been occasioned by two +reasons. First, because ill-nature among ordinary observers +passes for wit. A spiteful saying gratifies so many little +passions in those who hear it, that it generally meets with a +good reception. The laugh rises upon it, and the man who +utters it is looked upon as a shrewd satirist. This may be +one reason why a great many pleasant companions appear so +surprisingly dull when they have endeavoured to be merry in +print; the public being more just than private clubs or +assemblies, in distinguishing between what is wit and what is +ill-nature.</p> +<p>Another reason why the good-natured man may sometimes bring +his wit in question is perhaps because he is apt to be moved with +compassion for those misfortunes or infirmities which another +would turn into ridicule, and by that means gain the reputation +of a wit. The ill-natured man, though but of equal parts, +gives himself a larger field to expatiate in; he exposes those +failings in human nature which the other would cast a veil over, +laughs at vices which the other either excuses or conceals, gives +utterance to reflections which the other stifles, falls +indifferently upon friends or enemies, exposes the person who has +obliged him, and, in short, sticks at nothing that may establish +his character as a wit. It is no wonder, therefore, he +succeeds in it better than the man of humanity, as a person who +makes use of indirect methods is more likely to grow rich than +the fair trader.</p> +<h3>Part Two.</h3> +<blockquote><p>—<i>Quis enim bonus</i>, <i>aut face +dignus</i><br /> +<i>Arcanâ</i>, <i>qualem Cereris vult esse sacerdos</i>,<br +/> +<i>Ulla aliena sibi credat mala</i>?—</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Juv.</span>, +<i>Sat.</i> xv. 140.</p> +<p>Who can all sense of others’ ills escape,<br /> +Is but a brute, at best, in human shape.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Tate</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In one of my last week’s papers, I treated of +good-nature as it is the effect of constitution; I shall now +speak of it as it is a moral virtue. The first may make a +man easy in himself and agreeable to others, but implies no merit +in him that is possessed of it. A man is no more to be +praised upon this account, than because he has a regular pulse or +a good digestion. This good nature, however, in the +constitution, which Mr. Dryden somewhere calls “a milkiness +of blood,” is an admirable groundwork for the other. +In order, therefore, to try our good-nature, whether it arises +from the body or the mind, whether it be founded in the animal or +rational part of our nature; in a word, whether it be such as is +entitled to any other reward besides that secret satisfaction and +contentment of mind which is essential to it, and the kind +reception it procures us in the world, we must examine it by the +following rules:</p> +<p>First, whether it acts with steadiness and uniformity in +sickness and in health, in prosperity and in adversity; if +otherwise, it is to be looked upon as nothing else but an +irradiation of the mind from some new supply of spirits, or a +more kindly circulation of the blood. Sir Francis Bacon +mentions a cunning solicitor, who would never ask a favour of a +great man before dinner; but took care to prefer his petition at +a time when the party petitioned had his mind free from care, and +his appetites in good humour. Such a transient temporary +good-nature as this, is not that philanthropy, that love of +mankind, which deserves the title of a moral virtue.</p> +<p>The next way of a man’s bringing his good-nature to the +test is to consider whether it operates according to the rules of +reason and duty: for if, notwithstanding its general benevolence +to mankind, it makes no distinction between its objects; if it +exerts itself promiscuously towards the deserving and the +undeserving; if it relieves alike the idle and the indigent; if +it gives itself up to the first petitioner, and lights upon any +one rather by accident than choice—it may pass for an +amiable instinct, but must not assume the name of a moral +virtue.</p> +<p>The third trial of good-nature will be the examining ourselves +whether or no we are able to exert it to our own disadvantage, +and employ it on proper objects, notwithstanding any little pain, +want, or inconvenience, which may arise to ourselves from it: in +a word, whether we are willing to risk any part of our fortune, +our reputation, our health or ease, for the benefit of +mankind. Among all these expressions of good nature, I +shall single out that which goes under the general name of +charity, as it consists in relieving the indigent: that being a +trial of this kind which offers itself to us almost at all times +and in every place.</p> +<p>I should propose it as a rule, to every one who is provided +with any competency of fortune more than sufficient for the +necessaries of life, to lay aside a certain portion of his income +for the use of the poor. This I would look upon as an +offering to Him who has a right to the whole, for the use of +those whom, in the passage hereafter mentioned, He has described +as His own representatives upon earth. At the same time, we +should manage our charity with such prudence and caution, that we +may not hurt our own friends or relations whilst we are doing +good to those who are strangers to us.</p> +<p>This may possibly be explained better by an example than by a +rule.</p> +<p>Eugenius is a man of a universal good nature, and generous +beyond the extent of his fortune; but withal so prudent in the +economy of his affairs, that what goes out in charity is made up +by good management. Eugenius has what the world calls two +hundred pounds a year; but never values himself above nine-score, +as not thinking he has a right to the tenth part, which he always +appropriates to charitable uses. To this sum he frequently +makes other voluntary additions, insomuch, that in a good +year—for such he accounts those in which he has been able +to make greater bounties than ordinary—he has given above +twice that sum to the sickly and indigent. Eugenius +prescribes to himself many particular days of fasting and +abstinence, in order to increase his private bank of charity, and +sets aside what would be the current expenses of those times for +the use of the poor. He often goes afoot where his business +calls him, and at the end of his walk has given a shilling, which +in his ordinary methods of expense would have gone for +coach-hire, to the first necessitous person that has fallen in +his way. I have known him, when he has been going to a play +or an opera, divert the money which was designed for that purpose +upon an object of charity whom he has met with in the street; and +afterwards pass his evening in a coffee-house, or at a +friend’s fireside, with much greater satisfaction to +himself than he could have received from the most exquisite +entertainments of the theatre. By these means he is +generous without impoverishing himself, and enjoys his estate by +making it the property of others.</p> +<p>There are few men so cramped in their private affairs, who may +not be charitable after this manner, without any disadvantage to +themselves, or prejudice to their families. It is but +sometimes sacrificing a diversion or convenience to the poor, and +turning the usual course of our expenses into a better +channel. This is, I think, not only the most prudent and +convenient, but the most meritorious piece of charity which we +can put in practice. By this method, we in some measure +share the necessities of the poor at the same time that we +relieve them, and make ourselves not only their patrons, but +their fellow-sufferers.</p> +<p>Sir Thomas Brown, in the last part of his “Religio +Medici,” in which he describes his charity in several +heroic instances, and with a noble heat of sentiments, mentions +that verse in the Proverbs of Solomon: “He that giveth to +the poor lendeth to the Lord.” There is more rhetoric +in that one sentence, says he, than in a library of sermons; and +indeed, if those sentences were understood by the reader with the +same emphasis as they are delivered by the author, we needed not +those volumes of instructions, but might be honest by an +epitome.</p> +<p>This passage of Scripture is, indeed, wonderfully persuasive; +but I think the same thought is carried much further in the New +Testament, where our Saviour tells us, in a most pathetic manner, +that he shall hereafter regard the clothing of the naked, the +feeding of the hungry, and the visiting of the imprisoned, as +offices done to Himself, and reward them accordingly. +Pursuant to those passages in Holy Scripture, I have somewhere +met with the epitaph of a charitable man, which has very much +pleased me. I cannot recollect the words, but the sense of +it is to this purpose: What I spent I lost; what I possessed is +left to others; what I gave away remains with me.</p> +<p>Since I am thus insensibly engaged in Sacred Writ, I cannot +forbear making an extract of several passages which I have always +read with great delight in the book of Job. It is the +account which that holy man gives of his behaviour in the days of +his prosperity; and, if considered only as a human composition, +is a finer picture of a charitable and good-natured man than is +to be met with in any other author.</p> +<p>“Oh that I were as in months past, as in the days when +God preserved me: When his candle shined upon my head, and when +by his light I walked through darkness: When the Almighty was yet +with me; when my children were about me: When I washed my steps +with butter, and the rock poured me out rivers of oil.</p> +<p>“When the ear heard me, then it blessed me; and when the +eye saw me, it gave witness to me. Because I delivered the +poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to +help him. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came +upon me, and I caused the widow’s heart to sing for +joy. I was eyes to the blind; and feet was I to the lame; I +was a father to the poor, and the cause which I knew not I +searched out. Did not I weep for him that was in +trouble? Was not my soul grieved for the poor? Let me +be weighed in an even balance, that God may know mine +integrity. If I did despise the cause of my man-servant or +of my maid-servant when they contended with me: What then shall I +do when God riseth up? and when he visiteth, what shall I answer +him? Did not he that made me in the womb, make him? and did +not one fashion us in the womb? If I have withheld the poor +from their desire, or have caused the eyes of the widow to fail; +Or have eaten my morsel myself alone, and the fatherless hath not +eaten thereof; If I have seen any perish for want of clothing, or +any poor without covering; If his loins have not blessed me, and +if he were not warmed with the fleece of my sheep; If I have +lifted my hand against the fatherless, when I saw my help in the +gate: Then let mine arm fall from my shoulder-blade, and mine arm +be broken from the bone. If I [have] rejoiced at the +destruction of him that hated me, or lifted up myself when evil +found him: Neither have I suffered my mouth to sin, by wishing a +curse to his soul. The stranger did not lodge in the +street; but I opened my doors to the traveller. If my land +cry against me, or that the furrows likewise thereof complain: If +I have eaten the fruits thereof without money, or have caused the +owners thereof to lose their life: Let thistles grow instead of +wheat, and cockle instead of barley.”</p> +<h2>A GRINNING MATCH.</h2> +<blockquote><p>—<i>Remove fera monstra</i>, +<i>tuæque</i><br /> +<i>Saxificos vultus</i>, <i>quæcunque ea</i>, <i>tolle +Medusæ</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Ovid</span>, +<i>Met.</i> v. 216.</p> +<p>Hence with those monstrous features, and, O! spare<br /> +That Gorgon’s look, and petrifying stare.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Pope</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In a late paper, I mentioned the project of an ingenious +author for the erecting of several handicraft prizes to be +contended for by our British artisans, and the influence they +might have towards the improvement of our several +manufactures. I have since that been very much surprised by +the following advertisement, which I find in the <i>Post-boy</i> +of the 11th instant, and again repeated in the <i>Post-boy</i> of +the 15th:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“On the 9th of October next will be run for +upon Coleshill-heath, in Warwickshire, a plate of six guineas +value, three heats, by any horse, mare, or gelding that hath not +won above the value of £5, the winning horse to be sold for +£10, to carry 10 stone weight, if 14 hands high; if above +or under, to carry or be allowed weight for inches, and to be +entered Friday, the 5th, at the Swan in Coleshill, before six in +the evening. Also, a plate of less value to be run for by +asses. The same day a gold ring to be grinn’d for by +men.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The first of these diversions that is to be exhibited by the +£10 race-horses, may probably have its use; but the two +last, in which the asses and men are concerned, seem to me +altogether extraordinary and unaccountable. Why they should +keep running asses at Coleshill, or how making mouths turns to +account in Warwickshire, more than in any other parts of England, +I cannot comprehend. I have looked over all the Olympic +games, and do not find anything in them like an ass-race, or a +match at grinning. However it be, I am informed that +several asses are now kept in body-clothes, and sweated every +morning upon the heath: and that all the country-fellows within +ten miles of the Swan grin an hour or two in their glasses every +morning, in order to qualify themselves for the 9th of +October. The prize which is proposed to be grinned for has +raised such an ambition among the common people of out-grinning +one another, that many very discerning persons are afraid it +should spoil most of the faces in the county; and that a +Warwickshire man will be known by his grin, as Roman Catholics +imagine a Kentish man is by his tail. The gold ring which +is made the prize of deformity, is just the reverse of the golden +apple that was formerly made the prize of beauty, and should +carry for its poesy the old motto inverted:</p> +<blockquote><p><i>Detur tetriori</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Or, to accommodate it to the capacity of the combatants,</p> +<blockquote><p>The frightfull’st grinner<br /> +Be the winner.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In the meanwhile I would advise a Dutch painter to be present +at this great controversy of faces, in order to make a collection +of the most remarkable grins that shall be there exhibited.</p> +<p>I must not here omit an account which I lately received of one +of these grinning matches from a gentleman, who, upon reading the +above-mentioned advertisement, entertained a coffee-house with +the following narrative:—Upon the taking of Namur, amidst +other public rejoicings made on that occasion, there was a gold +ring given by a Whig justice of peace to be grinned for. +The first competitor that entered the lists was a black, swarthy +Frenchman, who accidentally passed that way, and being a man +naturally of a withered look and hard features, promised himself +good success. He was placed upon a table in the great point +of view, and, looking upon the company like Milton’s +Death,</p> +<blockquote><p>Grinned horribly a ghastly smile.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>His muscles were so drawn together on each side of his face +that he showed twenty teeth at a grin, and put the country in +some pain lest a foreigner should carry away the honour of the +day; but upon a further trial they found he was master only of +the merry grin.</p> +<p>The next that mounted the table was a malcontent in those +days, and a great master in the whole art of grinning, but +particularly excelled in the angry grin. He did his part so +well that he is said to have made half a dozen women miscarry; +but the justice being apprised by one who stood near him that the +fellow who grinned in his face was a Jacobite, and being +unwilling that a disaffected person should win the gold ring, and +be looked upon as the best grinner in the county, he ordered the +oaths to be tendered unto him upon his quitting the table, which +the grinner refusing, he was set aside as an unqualified +person. There were several other grotesque figures that +presented themselves, which it would be too tedious to +describe. I must not, however, omit a ploughman, who lived +in the further part of the county, and being very lucky in a pair +of long lantern jaws, wrung his face into such a hideous grimace +that every feature of it appeared under a different +distortion. The whole company stood astonished at such a +complicated grin, and were ready to assign the prize to him, had +it not been proved by one of his antagonists that he had +practised with verjuice for some days before, and had a crab +found upon him at the very time of grinning; upon which the best +judges of grinning declared it as their opinion that he was not +to be looked upon as a fair grinner, and therefore ordered him to +be set aside as a cheat.</p> +<p>The prize, it seems, fell at length upon a cobbler, Giles +Gorgon by name, who produced several new grins of his own +invention, having been used to cut faces for many years together +over his last. At the very first grin he cast every human +feature out of his countenance; at the second he became the face +of spout; at the third a baboon; at the fourth the head of a +bass-viol; and at the fifth a pair of nut-crackers. The +whole assembly wondered at his accomplishments, and bestowed the +ring on him unanimously; but what he esteemed more than all the +rest, a country wench, whom he had wooed in vain for above five +years before, was so charmed with his grins and the applauses +which he received on all sides, that she married him the week +following, and to this day wears the prize upon her finger, the +cobbler having made use of it as his wedding ring.</p> +<p>This paper might perhaps seem very impertinent if it grew +serious in the conclusion. I would, nevertheless, leave it +to the consideration of those who are the patrons of this +monstrous trial of skill, whether or no they are not guilty, in +some measure, of an affront to their species in treating after +this manner the “human face divine,” and turning that +part of us, which has so great an image impressed upon it, into +the image of a monkey; whether the raising such silly +competitions among the ignorant, proposing prizes for such +useless accomplishments, filling the common people’s heads +with such senseless ambitions, and inspiring them with such +absurd ideas of superiority and pre-eminence, has not in it +something immoral as well as ridiculous.</p> +<h2>TRUST IN GOD.</h2> +<blockquote><p><i>Si fractus illabatur orbis</i>,<br /> + <i>Impavidum ferient ruinæ</i>.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">—<span +class="smcap">Hor</span>., Car. iii. 3, 7.</p> +<p>Should the whole frame of nature round him break,<br /> + In ruin and confusion hurled,<br /> +He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty crack,<br /> + And stand secure amidst a falling world.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Anon</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Man, considered in himself, is a very helpless and a very +wretched being. He is subject every moment to the greatest +calamities and misfortunes. He is beset with dangers on all +sides, and may become unhappy by numberless casualties which he +could not foresee, nor have prevented had he foreseen them.</p> +<p>It is our comfort, while we are obnoxious to so many +accidents, that we are under the care of One who directs +contingencies, and has in His hands the management of everything +that is capable of annoying or offending us; who knows the +assistance we stand in need of, and is always ready to bestow it +on those who ask it of Him.</p> +<p>The natural homage which such a creature bears to so +infinitely wise and good a Being is a firm reliance on Him for +the blessings and conveniences of life, and an habitual trust in +Him for deliverance out of all such dangers and difficulties as +may befall us.</p> +<p>The man who always lives in this disposition of mind has not +the same dark and melancholy views of human nature as he who +considers himself abstractedly from this relation to the Supreme +Being. At the same time that he reflects upon his own +weakness and imperfection he comforts himself with the +contemplation of those Divine attributes which are employed for +his safety and his welfare. He finds his want of foresight +made up by the Omniscience of Him who is his support. He is +not sensible of his own want of strengths when he knows that his +helper is almighty. In short, the person who has a firm +trust on the Supreme Being is powerful in His power, wise by His +wisdom, happy by His happiness. He reaps the benefit of +every Divine attribute, and loses his own insufficiency in the +fulness of infinite perfection.</p> +<p>To make our lives more easy to us, we are commanded to put our +trust in Him, who is thus able to relieve and succour us; the +Divine goodness having made such reliance a duty, notwithstanding +we should have been miserable had it been forbidden us.</p> +<p>Among several motives which might be made use of to recommend +this duty to us, I shall only take notice of these that +follow.</p> +<p>The first and strongest is, that we are promised He will not +fail those who put their trust in Him.</p> +<p>But without considering the supernatural blessing which +accompanies this duty, we may observe that it has a natural +tendency to its own reward, or, in other words, that this firm +trust and confidence in the great Disposer of all things +contributes very much to the getting clear of any affliction, or +to the bearing it manfully. A person who believes he has +his succour at hand, and that he acts in the sight of his friend, +often exerts himself beyond his abilities, and does wonders that +are not to be matched by one who is not animated with such a +confidence of success. I could produce instances from +history of generals who, out of a belief that they were under the +protection of some invisible assistant, did not only encourage +their soldiers to do their utmost, but have acted themselves +beyond what they would have done had they not been inspired by +such a belief. I might in the same manner show how such a +trust in the assistance of an Almighty Being naturally produces +patience, hope, cheerfulness, and all other dispositions of the +mind that alleviate those calamities which we are not able to +remove.</p> +<p>The practice of this virtue administers great comfort to the +mind of man in times of poverty and affliction, but most of all +in the hour of death. When the soul is hovering in the last +moments of its separation, when it is just entering on another +state of existence, to converse with scenes, and objects, and +companions, that are altogether new—what can support her +under such tremblings of thought, such fear, such anxiety, such +apprehensions, but the casting of all her cares upon Him who +first gave her being, who has conducted her through one stage of +it, and will be always with her, to guide and comfort her in her +progress through eternity?</p> +<p>David has very beautifully represented this steady reliance on +God Almighty in his twenty-third Psalm, which is a kind of +pastoral hymn, and filled with those allusions which are usual in +that kind of writing. As the poetry is very exquisite, I +shall present my reader with the following translation of it:</p> +<blockquote><p>I.</p> +<p>The Lord my pasture shall prepare,<br /> +And feed me with a shepherd’s care;<br /> +His presence shall my wants supply,<br /> +And guard me with a watchful eye;<br /> +My noonday walks He shall attend,<br /> +And all my midnight hours defend.</p> +<p>II.</p> +<p>When in the sultry glebe I faint,<br /> +Or on the thirsty mountain pant;<br /> +To fertile vales and dewy meads<br /> +My weary, wand’ring steps He leads;<br /> +Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,<br /> +Amid the verdant landscape flow.</p> +<p>III.</p> +<p>Though in the paths of death I tread,<br /> +With gloomy horrors overspread,<br /> +My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,<br /> +For thou, O Lord, art with me still;<br /> +Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,<br /> +And guide me through the dreadful shade.</p> +<p>IV.</p> +<p>Though in a bare and rugged way,<br /> +Through devious, lonely wilds I stray,<br /> +Thy bounty shall my pains beguile:<br /> +The barren wilderness shall smile<br /> +With sudden greens and herbage crowned,<br /> +And streams shall murmur all around.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS AND TALES***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 2791-h.htm or 2791-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/9/2791 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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