Chapter C: Letter I: found that Will was fallen off from his former Gayety, having (9)

In the mean time, I intend my present Paper as a short Answer to most of those which have been already sent me.

The Publick however is not to expect I should let them into all my Secrets; and though I appear abstruse to most People, it is sufficient if I am understood by my particular Correspondents.

My Well-wisher _Van Nath_ is very arch, but not quite enough so to appear in Print.

_Philadelphus_ will, in a little time, see his Query fully answered by a Treatise which is now in the Press.

It was very improper at that time to comply with Mr. _G_.

Miss _Kitty_ must excuse me.

The Gentleman who sent me a Copy of Verses on his Mistress's Dancing, is I believe too thoroughly in Love to compose correctly.

I have too great a Respect for both the Universities to praise one at the Expence of the other.

_Tom Nimble_ is a very honest Fellow, and I desire him to present my humble Service to his Cousin _Fill Bumper_.

I am obliged for the Letter upon Prejudice.

I may in due time animadvert on the Case of _Grace Grumble_.

The Petition of _P. S. granted_.

That of _Sarah Loveit, refused_.

The Papers of _A. S._ are returned.

I thank _Aristippus_ for his kind Invitation.

My Friend at _Woodstock_ is a bold Man, to undertake for all within Ten Miles of him.

I am afraid the Entertainment of _Tom Turnover_ will hardly be relished by the good Cities of _London_ and _Westminster_.

I must consider further of it, before I indulge _W. F._ in those Freedoms he takes with the Ladies Stockings.

I am obliged to the ingenious Gentleman, who sent me an Ode on the Subject of a late SPECTATOR, and shall take particular Notice of his last Letter.

When the Lady who wrote me a Letter, dated _July_ the 20th, in relation to some Passages in a _Lover_, will be more particular in her Directions, I shall be so in my Answer.

The poor Gentleman, who fancies my Writings could reclaim an Husband who can abuse such a Wife as he describes, has I am afraid too great an Opinion of my Skill.

_Philanthropos_ is, I dare say, a very well-meaning Man, but a little too prolix in his Compositions.

_Constantius_ himself must be the best Judge in the Affair he mentions.

The Letter dated from _Lincoln_ is received.

_Arethusa_ and her Friend may hear further from me.

_Celia_ is a little too hasty.

_Harriot_ is a good Girl, but must not Curtsie to Folks she does not know.

I must ingeniously confess my Friend _Sampson Bentstaff_ has quite puzzled me, and writ me a long Letter which I cannot comprehend one Word of.

_Collidan_ must also explain what he means by his _Drigelling_.

I think it beneath my _Spectatorial_ Dignity, to concern my self in the Affair of the boiled Dumpling.

I shall consult some _Litterati_ on the Project sent me for the Discovery of the Longitude.

I know not how to conclude this Paper better, than by inserting a Couple of Letters which are really genuine, and which I look upon to be two of the smartest Pieces I have received from my Correspondents of either Sex.

_Brother_ SPEC.

'While you are surveying every Object that falls in your way, I am
wholly taken up with one. Had that Sage, who demanded what Beauty was,
lived to see the dear Angel I love, he would not have asked such a
Question. Had another seen her, he would himself have loved the Person
in whom Heaven has made Virtue visible; and were you your self to be
in her ompany, you could never, with all your Loquacity, say enough of
her good Humour and Sense. I send you the Outlines of a Picture, which
I can no more finish than I can sufficiently admire the dear Original.
I am

_Your most Affectionate Brother,_
Constantio Spec.

_Good Mr._ Pert,

'I will allow you nothing till you resolve me the following Question.
Pray what's the Reason that while you only talk now upon _Wednesdays_,
_Fridays_, and _Mondays_, you pretend to be a greater Tatler, than
when you spoke every Day as you formerly used to do? If this be your
plunging out of your Taciturnity, pray let the Length of your Speeches
compensate for the Scarceness of them.

_I am_,
_Good Mr_. Pert,
_Your Admirer, if you will be long enough for Me_,
Amanda Lovelength.

* * * * *

No. 582. Wednesday, August 18, 1714.

'--Tenet insanabile multos
Scribendi Cacoethes--'

Juv.

There is a certain Distemper, which is mentioned neither by _Galen_ nor _Hippocrates_, nor to be met with in the _London Dispensary_. _Juvenal_, in the Motto of my Paper, terms it a _Cacoethes_; which is a hard Word for a Disease called in plain _English_, the _Itch of Writing_. This _Cacoethes_ is as Epidemical as the Small-Pox, there being very few who are not seized with it some time or other in their Lives. There is, however, this Difference in these two Distempers, that the first, after having indisposed you for a time, never returns again; whereas this I am speaking of, when it is once got into the Blood, seldom comes out of it. The _British_ Nation is very much afflicted with this Malady, and tho' very many Remedies have been applied to Persons infected with it, few of them have ever proved successful. Some have been cauterized with Satyrs and Lampoons, but have received little or no Benefit from them; others have had their Heads fastned for an Hour together between a Cleft Board, which is made use of as a Cure for the Disease when it appears in its greatest Malignity. [1] There is indeed one kind of this Malady which has been sometimes removed, like the Biting of a _Tarantula_, with the sound of a musical Instrument, which is commonly known by the Name of a Cat-Call. But if you have a Patient of this kind under your Care, you may assure your self there is no other way of recovering him effectually, but by forbidding him the use of Pen, Ink and Paper.

But to drop the Allegory before I have tired it out, there is no Species of Scriblers more offensive, and more incurable, than your Periodical Writers, whose Works return upon the Publick on certain Days and at stated Times. We have not the Consolation in the Perusal of these Authors, which we find at the reading of all others, (namely) that we are sure if we have but Patience, we may come to the End of their Labours. I have often admired a humorous Saying of _Diogenes_, who reading a dull Author to several of his Friends, when every one began to be tired, finding he was almost come to a blank leaf at the End of it, cried, _Courage, Lads, I see Land_. On the contrary, our Progress through that kind of Writers I am now speaking of is never at an End. One Day makes Work for another, we do not know when to promise our selves Rest.

It is a melancholy thing to consider, that the Art of Printing, which might be the greatest Blessing to Mankind, should prove detrimental to us, and that it should be made use of to scatter Prejudice and Ignorance through a People, instead of conveying to them Truth and Knowledge.

I was lately reading a very whimsical Treatise, entitled, _William Ramsey's_ Vindication of Astrology. This profound Author, among many mystical Passages, has the following one:

'The Absence of the Sun is not the Cause of Night, forasmuch as his
Light is so great that it may illuminate the Earth all over at once as
clear as broad Day, but there are tenebrificous and dark Stars, by
whose Influence Night is brought on, and which do ray out Darkness and
Obscurity upon the Earth, as the Sun does Light.'

I consider Writers in the same View this sage Astrologer does the Heavenly Bodies. Some of them are Stars that scatter Light as others do Darkness. I could mention several Authors who are tenebrificous Stars of the first Magnitude, and point out a Knot of Gentlemen, who have been dull in Consort, and may be looked upon as a dark Constellation. The Nation has been a great while benighted with several of these Antiluminaries. I suffered them to ray out their Darkness as long as I was able to endure it, till at length I came to a Resolution of rising upon them, and hope in a little time to drive them quite out of the _British_ Hemisphere.

[Footnote 1: Put in the Pillory.]

* * * * *

No. 583. Friday, August 20, 1714. Addison.

'Ipse thymum pinosque ferens de montibus altis,
Tecta serat latè circum, cui talia Curæ:
Ipse labore manum duro terat, ipse feraces
Figat humo plantas, et amicos irriget Imbres.'

Virg.

Every Station of Life has Duties which are proper to it. Those who are determined by Choice to any particular kind of Business, are indeed more happy than those who are determined by Necessity, but both are under an equal Obligation of fixing on Employments, which may be either useful to themselves or beneficial to others. No one of the Sons of _Adam_ ought to think himself exempt from that Labour and Industry which were denounced to our first Parent, and in him to all his Posterity. Those to whom Birth or Fortune may seem to make such an Application unnecessary, ought to find out some Calling or Profession for themselves, that they may not lie as a Burden on the Species, and be the only useless Parts of the Creation.

Many of our Country Gentlemen in their busie Hours apply themselves wholly to the Chase, or to some other Diversion which they find in the Fields and Woods. This gave occasion to one of our most eminent _English_ Writers to represent every one of them as lying under a kind of Curse pronounced to them in the Words of _Goliah, I will give thee to the Fowls of the Air, and to the Beasts of the Field_.

Tho' Exercises of this kind, when indulged with Moderation, may have a good Influence both on the Mind and Body, the Country affords many other Amusements of a more noble kind.

Among these I know none more delightful in itself, and beneficial to the Publick, than that of _PLANTING_. I could mention a Nobleman whose Fortune has placed him in several Parts of _England_, and who has always left these visible Marks behind him, which show he has been there: He never hired a House in his Life, without leaving all about it the Seeds of Wealth, and bestowing Legacies on the Posterity of the Owner. Had all the Gentlemen of _England_ made the same Improvements upon their Estates, our whole Country would have been at this time as one great Garden. Nor ought such an Employment to be looked upon as too inglorious for Men of the highest Rank. There have been Heroes in this Art, as well as in others. We are told in particular of _Cyrus_ the Great, that he planted all the Lesser _Asia_. There is indeed something truly magnificent in this kind of Amusement: It gives a nobler Air to several Parts of Nature; it fills the Earth with a Variety of beautiful Scenes, and has something in it like Creation. For this Reason the Pleasure of one who Plants is something like that of a Poet, who, as _Aristotle_ observes, is more delighted with his Productions than any other Writer or Artist whatsoever.

Plantations have one Advantage in them which is not to be found in most other Works, as they give a Pleasure of a more lasting Date, and continually improve in the Eye of the Planter, When you have finished a Building or any other Undertaking of the like Nature, it immediately decays upon your Hands; you see it brought to its utmost Point of Perfection, and from that time hastening to its Ruin. On the contrary, when you have finished your Plantations, they are still arriving at greater Degrees of Perfection as long as you live, and appear more delightful in every succeeding Year than they did in the foregoing.

But I do not only recommend this Art to Men of Estates as a pleasing Amusement, but as it is a kind of Virtuous Employment, and may therefore be inculcated by moral Motives; particularly from the Love which we ought to have for our Country, and the Regard which we ought to bear to our Posterity. As for the first, I need only mention what is frequently observed by others, that the Increase of Forest-Trees does by no Means bear a Proportion to the Destruction of them, insomuch that in a few Ages the Nation may be at a Loss to supply it self with Timber sufficient for the Fleets of _England_. I know when a Man talks of Posterity in Matters of this Nature, he is looked upon with an Eye of Ridicule by the cunning and selfish part of Mankind. Most People are of the Humour of an old Fellow of a College, who, when he was pressed by the Society to come into something that might redound to the good of their Successors, grew very peevish, _We are always doing_, says he, _something for Posterity, but I would fain see Posterity do something for us_.

But I think Men are inexcusable, who fail in a Duty of this Nature, since it is so easily discharged. When a Man considers that the putting a few Twigs into the Ground, is doing good to one who will make his appearance in the World about Fifty Years hence, or that he is perhaps making one of his own Descendants easy or rich, by so inconsiderable an Expence, if he finds himself averse to it, he must conclude that he has a poor and base Heart, void of all generous Principles and Love to Mankind.

There is one Consideration, which may very much enforce what I have here said. Many honest Minds that are naturally disposed to do good in the World, and become Beneficial to Mankind, complain within themselves that they have not Talents for it. This therefore is a good Office, which is suited to the meanest Capacities, and which may be performed by Multitudes, who have not Abilities sufficient to deserve well of their Country and to recommend themselves to their Posterity, by any other Method. It is the Phrase of a Friend of mine, when any useful Country Neighbour dies, that _you may trace him:_ which I look upon as a good Funeral Oration, at the Death of an honest Husbandman, who hath left the Impressions of his Industry behind him, in the Place where he has lived.

Upon the foregoing Considerations, I can scarce forbear representing the Subject of this Paper as a kind of Moral Virtue: Which, as I have already shown, recommends it self likewise by the Pleasure that attends it. It must be confessed, that this is none of those turbulent Pleasures which is apt to gratifie a Man in the Heats of Youth; but if it be not so Tumultuous, it is more lasting. Nothing can be more delightful than to entertain ourselves with Prospects of our own making, and to walk under those Shades which our own Industry has raised. Amusements of this Nature compose the Mind, and lay at Rest all those Passions which are uneasie to the Soul of Man, besides that they naturally engender good Thoughts, and dispose us to laudable Contemplations. Many of the old Philosophers passed away the greatest Parts of their Lives among their Gardens. _Epicurus_ himself could not think sensual Pleasure attainable in any other Scene. Every Reader who is acquainted with _Homer_, _Virgil_ and _Horace_, the greatest Genius's of all Antiquity, knows very well with how much Rapture they have spoken on this Subject; and that _Virgil_ in particular has written a whole Book on the Art of Planting.

This Art seems to have been more especially adapted to the Nature of Man in his Primaeval State, when he had Life enough to see his Productions flourish in their utmost Beauty, and gradually decay with him. One who lived before the Flood might have seen a Wood of the tallest Oakes in the Accorn. But I only mention this Particular, in order to introduce in my next Paper, a History which I have found among the Accounts of _China_, and which may be looked upon as an Antediluvian Novel.

* * * * *

No. 584. Monday, August 23, 1714. Addison.

'Hec gelidi fontes, hic mollia prata, Lycori,
Hic Nemus, hic toto tecum consumerer ævo.'

Virg.

Hilpa was one of the 150 Daughters of _Zilpah_, of the Race of _Cohu_, by whom some of the Learned think is meant _Cain_. She was exceedingly beautiful, and when she was but a Girl of threescore and ten Years of Age, received the Addresses of several who made Love to her. Among these were two Brothers, _Harpath_ and _Shalum_; _Harpath_, being the First-born, was Master of that fruitful Region which lies at the Foot of Mount _Tirzah_, in the Southern Parts of _China_. _Shalum_ (which is to say the Planter in the _Chinese_ Language) possessed all the neighbouring Hills, and that great Range of Mountains which goes under the Name of _Tirzah_. _Harpath_ was of a haughty contemptuous Spirit; _Shalum_ was of a gentle Disposition, beloved both by God and Man.

It is said that, among the Antediluvian Women, the Daughters of _Cohu_ had their Minds wholly set upon Riches; for which Reason the beautiful _Hilpa_ preferr'd _Harpath_ to _Shalum_, because of his numerous Flocks and Herds, that covered all the low Country which runs along the Foot of Mount _Tirzah_, and is watered by several Fountains and Streams breaking out of the Sides of that Mountain.

_Harpath_ made so quick a Dispatch of his Courtship, that he married _Hilpa_ in the hundredth Year of her Age; and being of an insolent Temper, laughed to Scorn his Brother _Shalum_ for having pretended to the beautiful _Hilpa_, when he was Master of nothing but a long Chain of Rocks and Mountains. This so much provoked _Shalum_, that he is said to have cursed his Brother in the Bitterness of his Heart, and to have prayed that one of his Mountains might fall upon his Head if ever he came within the Shadow of it.

From this Time forward _Harpath_ would never venture out of the Vallies, but came to an untimely End in the 250th Year of his Age, being drowned in a River as he attempted to cross it This River is called to this Day, from his Name who perished in it, the River _Harpath_, and, what is very remarkable, issues out of one of those Mountains which _Shalum_ wished might fall upon his Brother, when he cursed him in the Bitterness of his Heart.

_Hilpa_ was in the 160th Year of her Age at the Death of her Husband, having brought him but 50 Children, before he was snatched away, as has been already related. Many of the Antediluvians made Love to the young Widow, tho' no one was thought so likely to succeed in her Affections as her first Lover _Shalum_, who renewed his Court to her about ten Years after the Death of _Harpath_; for it was not thought decent in those Days that a Widow should be seen by a Man within ten Years after the Decease of her Husband.

_Shalum_ falling into a deep Melancholy, and resolving to take away that Objection which had been raised against him when he made his first Addresses to _Hilpa_, began immediately, after her Marriage with _Harpath_, to plant all that mountainous Region which fell to his Lot in the Division of this Country. He knew how to adapt every Plant to its proper Soil, and is thought to have inherited many traditional Secrets of that Art from the first Man. This Employment turn'd at length to his Profit as well as to his Amusement: His Mountains were in a few Years shaded with young Trees, that gradually shot up into Groves, Woods, and Forests, intermixed with Walks, and Launs, and Gardens; insomuch that the whole Region, from a naked and desolate Prospect, began now to look like a second Paradise. The Pleasantness of the Place, and the agreeable Disposition of _Shalum_, who was reckoned one of the mildest and wisest of all who lived before the Flood, drew into it Multitudes of People, who were perpetually employed in the sinking of Wells, the digging of Trenches, and the hollowing of Trees, for the better Distribution of Water through every Part of this spacious Plantation.

The Habitations of _Shalum_ looked every Year more beautiful in the Eyes of _Hilpa_, who, after the Space of 70 Autumns, was wonderfully pleased with the distant Prospect of _Shalum_'s Hills, which were then covered with innumerable Tufts of Trees and gloomy Scenes that gave a Magnificence to the Place, and converted it into one of the finest Landskips the Eye of Man could behold.

The _Chinese_ record a Letter which _Shalum_ is said to have written to _Hilpa_, in the Eleventh Year of her Widowhood. I shall here translate it, without departing from that noble Simplicity of Sentiments, and Plainness of Manners which appears in the Original.

_Shalum_ was at this Time 180 Years old, and _Hilpa_ 170.

Shalum, _Master of Mount_ Tirzah, _to_ Hilpa, _Mistress of the
Vallies_.

_In the 788th Year of the Creation._

'What have I not suffered, O thou Daughter of _Zilpah_, since thou
gavest thy self away in Marriage to my Rival? I grew weary of the
Light of the Sun, and have been ever since covering my self with Woods
and Forests. These threescore and ten Years have I bewailed the Loss
of thee on the Tops of Mount _Tirzah_, and soothed my Melancholy among
a thousand gloomy Shades of my own raising. My Dwellings are at
present as the Garden of God; every Part of them is filled with
Fruits, and Flowers, and Fountains. The whole Mountain is perfumed for
thy Reception. Come up into it, O my Beloved, and let us People this
Spot of the new World with a beautiful Race of Mortals; let us
multiply exceedingly among these delightful Shades, and fill every
Quarter of them with Sons and Daughters. Remember, O thou Daughter of
_Zilpah,_ that the Age of Man is but a thousand Years; that Beauty is
the Admiration but of a few Centuries. It flourishes as a Mountain
Oak, or as a Cedar on the Top of _Tirzah_, which in three or four
hundred Years will fade away, and never be thought of by Posterity,
unless a young Wood springs from its Roots. Think well on this, and
remember thy Neighbour in the Mountains.

Having here inserted this Letter, which I look upon as the only Antediluvian _Billet-doux_ now extant, I shall in my next Paper give the Answer to it, and the Sequel of this Story.

* * * * *

No. 585. Wednesday, August 25, 1714. Addison.

'Ipsi lætitia voces ad sidera jactant
Intonsi montes: ipsæ jam carmina rupes,
Ipsæ sonant arbusta--'

Virg.

_The Sequel of the Story of_ Shalum _and_ Hilpa.

The Letter inserted in my last had so good an Effect upon _Hilpa,_ that she answered it in less than a Twelvemonth, after the following Manner.

Hilpa, _Mistress of the Vallies, to_ Shalum, _Master of Mount_ Tirzah.

_In the 789th Year of the Creation._

'What have I to do with thee, O _Shalum?_ Thou praisest _Hilpa_'s
Beauty, but art thou not secretly enamoured with the Verdure of her
Meadows? Art thou not more affected with the Prospect of her green
Vallies, than thou wouldest be with the Sight of her Person? The
Lowings of my Herds, and the Bleatings of my Flocks, make a pleasant
Eccho in thy Mountains, and sound sweetly in thy Ears. What tho' I am
delighted with the Wavings of thy Forests, and those Breezes of
Perfumes which flow from the Top of _Tirzah:_ Are these like the
Riches of the Valley?

'I know thee, O _Shalum;_ thou art more wise and happy than any of the
Sons of Men. Thy Dwellings are among the Cedars; thou searchest out
the Diversity of Soils, thou understandest the Influences of the
Stars, and markest the Change of Seasons. Can a Woman appear lovely in
the Eyes of such a one? Disquiet me not, O _Shalum;_ let me alone,
that I may enjoy those goodly Possessions which are fallen to my Lot.
Win me not by thy enticing Words. May thy Trees increase and multiply;
mayest thou add Wood to Wood, and Shade to Shade; but tempt not
_Hilpa_ to destroy thy Solitude, and make thy Retirement populous.

The _Chinese_ say, that a little time afterwards she accepted of a Treat in one of the neighbouring Hills to which _Shalum_ had invited her. This Treat lasted for two Years, and is said to have cost _Shalum_ five hundred Antelopes, two thousand Ostriches, and a thousand Tun of Milk; but what most of all recommended it, was that Variety of delicious Fruits and Pot-herbs, in which no Person then living could any way equal _Shalum_.

He treated her in the Bower which he had planted amidst the Wood of Nightingales. This Wood was made up of such Fruit-Trees and Plants as are most agreeable to the several Kinds of Singing Birds; so that it had drawn into it all the Musick of the Country, and was filled from one End of the Year to the other with the most agreeable Consort in Season.

He shewed her every Day some beautiful and surprising Scene in this new Region of Woodlands; and as by this Means he had all the Opportunities he could wish for of opening his Mind to her, he succeeded so well, that upon her Departure she made him a kind of Promise, and gave him her Word to return him a positive Answer in less than fifty Years.

She had not been long among her own People in the Vallies, when she received new Overtures, and at the same Time a most splendid Visit from _Mishpach_, who was a mighty Man of old, and had built a great City, which he called after his own Name. Every House was made for at least a thousand Years, nay there were some that were leased out for three Lives; so that the Quantity of Stone and Timber consumed in this Building is scarce to be imagined by those who live in the present Age of the World. This great Man entertained her with the Voice of musical Instruments which had been lately invented, and danced before her to the Sound of the Timbrel. He also presented her with several domestick Utensils wrought in Brass and Iron, which had been newly found out for the Conveniency of Life. In the mean time _Shalum_ grew very uneasie with himself, and was sorely displeased at _Hilpa_ for the Reception which she had given to _Mishpach_, insomuch that he never wrote to her or spoke of her during a whole Revolution of _Saturn_; but finding that this Intercourse went no further than a Visit, he again renewed his Addresses to her, who during his long Silence is said very often to have cast a wishing Eye upon Mount _Tirzah_.

Her Mind continued wavering about twenty Years longer between _Shalum_ and _Mishpach_; for tho' her Inclinations favoured the former, her Interest pleaded very powerfully for the other. While her Heart was in this unsettled Condition, the following Accident happened which determined her Choice. A high Tower of Wood that stood in the City of _Mishpach_ having caught Fire by a Flash of Lightning, in a few Days reduced the whole Town to Ashes. _Mishpach_ resolved to rebuild the Place whatever it should cost him; and having already destroyed all the Timber of the Country, he was forced to have Recourse to _Shalum_, whose Forests were now two hundred Years old. He purchased these Woods with so many Herds of Cattle and Flocks of Sheep, and with such a vast Extent of Fields and Pastures, that _Shalum_ was now grown more wealthy than _Mishpach_; and therefore appeared so charming in the Eyes of _Zilpah's_ Daughter, that she no longer refused him in Marriage. On the Day in which he brought her up into the Mountains he raised a most prodigious Pile of Cedar and of every sweet smelling Wood, which reached above 300 Cubits in Height; He also cast into the Pile Bundles of Myrrh and Sheaves of Spikenard, enriching it with every spicy Shrub, and making it fat with the Gums of his Plantations. This was the Burnt-Offering which _Shalum_ offered in the Day of his Espousals: The Smoke of it ascended up to Heaven, and filled the whole Country with Incense and Perfume.

* * * * *

No. 586. Friday, August 27, 1714. John Byrom [1]

'--Quæ in vita usurpant homines, cogitant, curant, vident, Quæque
agunt vigilantes, agitantque, ea cuique in somno accidunt.'

Cic. de Div.

By the last Post I received the following Letter, which is built upon a Thought that is new, and very well carried on; for which Reasons I shall give it to the Publick without Alteration, Addition, or Amendment.

_SIR_,

'It was a good Piece of Advice which _Pythagoras_ gave to his
Scholars, That every Night before they slept they should examine what
they had been a doing that Day, and so discover what Actions were
worthy of Pursuit to-morrow, and what little Vices were to be
prevented from slipping unawares into a Habit. If I might second the
Philosopher's Advice, it should be mine, That in a Morning before my
Scholar rose, he should consider what he had been about that Night,
and with the same Strictness, as if the Condition he has believed
himself to be in, was real. Such a Scrutiny into the Actions of his
Fancy must be of considerable Advantage, for this Reason, because the
Circumstances which a Man imagines himself in during Sleep, are
generally such as entirely favour his Inclinations good or bad, and
give him imaginary Opportunities of pursuing them to the utmost; so
that his Temper will lye fairly open to his View, while he considers
how it is moved when free from those Constraints which the Accidents
of real Life put it under. Dreams are certainly the Result of our
waking Thoughts, and our daily Hopes and Fears are what give the Mind
such nimble Relishes of Pleasure, and such severe Touches of Pain, in
its Midnight Rambles. A Man that murders his Enemy, or deserts his
Friend in a Dream, had need to guard his Temper against Revenge and
Ingratitude, and take heed that he be not tempted to do a vile thing
in the Pursuit of false, or the Neglect of true Honour. For my Part, I
seldom receive a Benefit, but in a Night or two's Time I make most
noble Returns for it; which tho' my Benefactor is not a whit the
better for, yet it pleases me to think that it was from a Principle of
Gratitude in me, that my Mind was susceptible of such generous
Transport while I thought my self repaying the Kindness of my Friend:
And I have often been ready to beg Pardon, instead of returning an
Injury, after considering, that when the Offender was in my Power I
had carried my Resentments much too far.

'I think it has been observed in the Course of your Papers, how much
one's Happiness or Misery may depend upon the Imagination: Of which
Truth those strange Workings of Fancy in Sleep are no inconsiderable
Instances; so that not only the Advantage a Man has of making
Discoveries of himself, but a Regard to his own Ease or Disquiet, may
induce him to accept of my Advice. Such as are willing to comply with
it, I shall put into a way of doing it with pleasure, by observing
only one Maxim which I shall give them, _viz. To go to Bed with a Mind
entirely free from Passion, and a Body clear of the least
Intemperance_.

'They indeed who can sink into Sleep with their Thoughts less calm or
innocent than they should be, do but plunge themselves into Scenes of
Guilt and Misery; or they who are willing to purchase any Midnight
Disquietudes for the Satisfaction of a full Meal, or a Skin full of
Wine; these I have nothing to say to, as not knowing how to invite
them to Reflections full of Shame and Horror: But those that will
observe this Rule, I promise them they shall awake into Health and
Cheerfulness, and be capable of recounting with Delight those glorious
Moments wherein the Mind has been indulging it self in such Luxury of
Thought, such noble Hurry of Imagination. Suppose a Man's going
supperless to Bed should introduce him to the Table of some great
Prince or other, where he shall be entertained with the noblest Marks
of Honour and Plenty, and do so much Business after, that he shall
rise with as good a Stomach to his Breakfast as if he had fasted all
Night long; or suppose he should see his dearest Friends remain all
Night in great Distresses, which he could instantly have disengaged
them from, could he have been content to have gone to Bed without
t'other Bottle: Believe me, these Effects of Fancy are no contemptible
Consequences of commanding or indulging one's Appetite.

'I forbear recommending my Advice upon many other Accounts, till I
hear how you and your Readers relish what I have already said, among
whom if there be any that may pretend it is useless to them, because
they never dream at all, there may be others, perhaps, who do little
else all Day long. Were every one as sensible as I am what happens to
him in his Sleep, it would be no Dispute whether we past so
considerable a Portion of our Time in the Condition of Stocks and
Stones, or whether the Soul were not perpetually at Work upon the
Principle of Thought. However, 'tis an honest Endeavour of mine to
perswade my Countrymen to reap some Advantage from so many unregarded
Hours, and as such you will encourage it.

'I shall conclude with giving you a Sketch or two of my Way of
proceeding.

'If I have any Business of consequence to do to-morrow, I am scarce
dropt asleep to-night but I am in the midst of it, and when awake I
consider the whole Procession of the Affair, and get the Advantage of
the next Day's Experience before the Sun has risen upon it.

'There is scarce a great Post but what I have some Time or other been
in; but my Behaviour while I was Master of a College, pleases me so
well, that whenever there is a Province of that Nature vacant, I
intend to step in as soon as I can.

'I have done many Things that would not pass Examination, when I have
had the Art of Flying, or being invisible; for which Reason I am glad
I am not possessed of those extra-ordinary Qualities.

'Lastly, Mr. SPECTATOR, I have been a great Correspondent of yours,
and have read many of my Letters in your Paper which I never wrote
you. If you have a Mind I should really be so, I have got a Parcel of
Visions and other Miscellanies in my Noctuary, which I shall send you
to enrich your Paper with on proper Occasions.

_I am_, &c.

John Shadow.

_Oxford, Aug_. 20.

[Footnote 1: John Byrom, born at Manchester, in 1691, was quarrelled with by his family for marrying a young lady without fortune, and lived by an ingenious way of teaching short-hand, till the death of an elder brother gave him the family estate. He died in 1763. In 1714 he had just been elected Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. In 1723 he was admitted a Fellow of the Royal Society, and contributed to its Transactions a paper upon his own System of short-hand. In his later years he wrote much rhyme.]

* * * * *

No. 587. Monday, August 30, 1714. John Byrom.

'--Intus, et in Cute novi--'

Pers.

Tho' the Author of the following Vision is unknown to me, I am apt to think it may be the Work of that ingenious Gentleman, who promised me, in the last Paper, some Extracts out of his Noctuary.

_SIR_

'I was the other Day reading the Life of _Mahomet_. Among many other
Extravagancies, I find it recorded of that Impostor, that in the
fourth Year of his Age the Angel _Gabriel_ caught him up, while he was
among his Play-fellows, and, carrying him aside, cut open his Breast,
plucked out his Heart, and wrung out of it that black Drop of Blood,
in which, say the _Turkish_ Divines, is contained the _Fomes Peccati_,
so that he was free from Sin ever after. I immediately said to my
self, tho' this Story be a Fiction, a very good Moral may be drawn
from it, would every Man but apply it to himself, and endeavour to
squeeze out of his Heart whatever Sins or ill Qualities he finds in
it.

'While my Mind was wholly taken up with this Contemplation, I
insensibly fell into a most pleasing Slumber, when methought two
Porters entered my Chamber, carrying a large Chest between them. After
having set it down in the middle of the Room they departed. I
immediately endeavour'd to open what was sent me, when a Shape, like
that in which we paint our Angels, appeared before me, and forbad me.
Enclosed, said he, are the Hearts of several of your Friends and
Acquaintance; but before you can be qualified to see and animadvert on
the Failings of others, you must be pure your self; whereupon he drew
out his Incision Knife, cut me open, took out my Heart, and began to
squeeze it. I was in a great Confusion, to see how many things, which
I had always cherished as Virtues, issued out of my Heart on this
Occasion. In short, after it had been thoroughly squeezed, it looked
like an empty Bladder, when the Phantome, breathing a fresh Particle
of Divine Air into it, restored it safe to its former Repository: and
having sewed me up, we began to examine the Chest.

'The Hearts were all enclosed in transparent Phials, and preserved in
a Liquor which looked like Spirits of Wine. The first which I cast my
Eye upon, I was afraid would have broke the Glass which contained it.
It shot up and down, with incredible Swiftness, thro' the Liquor in
which it swam, and very frequently bounced against the Side of the
Phial. The _Fomes_, or Spot in the Middle of it, was not large, but of
a red fiery Colour, and seemed to be the Cause of these violent
Agitations. That, says my Instructor, is the Heart of _Tom_.
_Dread-Nought_, who behaved himself well in the late Wars, but has for
these Ten Years last past been aiming at some Post of Honour to no
Purpose. He is lately retired into the Country, where, quite choaked
up with Spleen and Choler, he rails at better Men than himself, and
will be for ever uneasie, because it is impossible he should think his
Merit sufficiently rewarded. The next Heart that I examined was
remarkable for its Smallness; it lay still at the Bottom of the Phial,
and I could hardly perceive that it beat at all. The _Fomes_ was quite
black, and had almost diffused it self over the whole Heart. This,
says my Interpreter, is the Heart of _Dick Gloomy_, who never thirsted
after any thing but Money. Notwithstanding all his Endeavours, he is
still poor. This has flung him into a most deplorable State of
Melancholy and Despair. He is a Composition of Envy and Idleness,
hates Mankind, but gives them their Revenge by being more uneasie to
himself, than to any one else.

'The Phial I looked upon next contained a large fair Heart, which beat
very strongly. The _Fomes_ or Spot in it was exceeding small; but I
could not help observing, that which way soever I turned the Phial it
always appeared uppermost and in the strongest Point of Light. The
Heart you are examining, says my Companion, belongs to _Will. Worthy_.
He has, indeed, a most noble Soul, and is possessed of a thousand good
Qualities. The Speck which you discover is _Vanity_.

'Here, says the Angel, is the Heart of _Freelove_, your intimate
Friend. _Freelove_ and I, said I, are at present very cold to one
another, and I do not care for looking on the Heart of a Man, which I
fear is overcast with Rancour. My Teacher commanded me to look upon
it; I did so, and to my unspeakable Surprize, found that a small
swelling Spot, which I at first took to be _Ill-Will_ towards me, was
only _Passion_, and that upon my nearer Inspection it wholly
disappeared; upon which the Phantome told me _Freelove_ was one of the
best-natured Men alive.

'This, says my Teacher, is a Female Heart of your Acquaintance. I
found the _Fomes_ in it of the largest Size, and of a hundred
different Colours, which were still varying every Moment. Upon my
asking to whom it belonged, I was informed that it was the Heart of
_Coquetilla_.

'I set it down, and drew out another, in which I took the _Fomes_ at
first Sight to be very small, but was amazed to find, that as I looked
stedfastly upon it, it grew still larger. It was the Heart of
_Melissa_, a noted Prude who lives the next Door to me.

'I show you this, says the Phantome, because it is indeed a Rarity,
and you have the Happiness to know the Person to whom it belongs. He
then put into my Hands a large Chrystal Glass, that enclosed an Heart,
in which, though I examined it with the utmost Nicety, I could not
perceive any Blemish. I made no Scruple to affirm that it must be the
Heart of _Seraphina_, and was glad, but not surprized, to find that it
was so. She is, indeed, continued my Guide, the Ornament, as well as
the Envy, of her Sex; at these last Words, he pointed to the Hearts of
several of her Female Acquaintance which lay in different Phials, and
had very large Spots in them, all of a deep _Blue_. You are not to
wonder, says he, that you see no Spot in an Heart, whose Innocence has
been Proof against all the Corruptions of a depraved Age. If it has
any Blemish, it is too small to be discovered by Human Eyes.

'I laid it down, and took up the Hearts of other Females, in all of
which the _Fomes_ ran in several Veins, which were twisted together,
and made a very perplexed Figure. I asked the Meaning of it, and was
told it represented _Deceit_.

'I should have been glad to have examined the Hearts of several of my
Acquaintance, whom I knew to be particularly addicted to Drinking,
Gaming, Intreaguing, &c., but my Interpreter told me I must let that
alone till another Opportunity, and flung down the Cover of the Chest
with so much violence, as immediately awoke me.

* * * * *

No. 588. Wednesday, September 1, 1714. H. Grove. [1]

'Dicitis, omnis in Imbecillitate est et Gratia, et Caritas.'

Cicero de Nat. Deor. L.

Man may be considered in two Views, as a Reasonable, and as a Sociable Being; capable of becoming himself either happy or miserable, and of contributing to the Happiness or Misery of his Fellow Creatures. Suitably to this double Capacity, the Contriver of Human Nature hath wisely furnished it with two Principles of Action, Self-love and Benevolence; designed one of them to render Man wakeful to his own personal Interest, the other to dispose him for giving his utmost Assistance to all engaged in the same Pursuit. This is such an Account of our Frame, so agreeable to Reason, so much for the Honour of our Maker, and the Credit of our Species, that it may appear somewhat unaccountable what should induce Men to represent human Nature as they do under Characters of Disadvantage, or, having drawn it with a little and sordid Aspect, what Pleasure they can possibly take in such a Picture. Do they reflect that 'tis their Own, and, if we will believe themselves, is not more odious than the Original?

One of the first that talked in this lofty Strain of our Nature was _Epicurus_. Beneficence, would his Followers say, is all founded in Weakness; and, whatever be pretended, the Kindness that passeth between Men and Men is by every Man directed to himself. This, it must be confessed, is of a Piece with the rest of that hopeful Philosophy, which having patch'd Man up out of the four Elements, attributes his Being to Chance, and derives all his Actions from an unintelligible Declination of Atoms. And for these glorious Discoveries the Poet is beyond Measure transported in the Praises of his Hero, as if he must needs be something more than Man, only for an Endeavour to prove that Man is in nothing superior to Beasts.

In this School was Mr. _Hobs_ instructed to speak after the same Manner, if he did not rather draw his Knowledge from an Observation of his own Temper; for he somewhere unluckily lays down this as a Rule,

'That from the Similitudes of Thoughts and Passions of one Man to the
Thoughts and Passions of another, whosoever looks into himself and
considers what he doth when he thinks, hopes, fears, &c., and upon
what Grounds; he shall hereby read and know what are the Thoughts and
Passions of all other Men upon the like Occasions.'

Now we will allow Mr. _Hobs_ to know best how he was inclined; But in earnest, I should be heartily out of Conceit with my self, if I thought my self of this unamiable Temper, as he affirms, and should have as little Kindness for my self as for any Body in the World. Hitherto I always imagined that kind and benevolent Propensions were the original Growth of the Heart of Man, and, however checked and over-topped by counter Inclinations that have since sprung up within us, have still some Force in the worst of Tempers, and a considerable Influence on the best. And, methinks, it's a fair Step towards the Proof of this, that the most beneficent of all Beings is He who hath an absolute Fulness of Perfection in Himself, who gave Existence to the Universe, and so cannot be supposed to want that which He communicated, without diminishing from the Plenitude of his own Power and Happiness. The Philosophers before mentioned have indeed done all that in them lay to invalidate this Argument; for, placing the Gods in a State of the most elevated Blessedness, they describe them as Selfish as we poor miserable Mortals can be, and shut them out from all Concern for Mankind, upon the Score of their having no Need of us.

But if He that sitteth in the Heavens wants not us, we stand in continual Need of Him; and surely, next to the Survey of the immense Treasures of his own Mind, the most exalted Pleasure He receives is from beholding Millions of Creatures, lately drawn out of the Gulph of Non-existence, rejoycing in the various Degrees of Being and Happiness imparted to them. And as this is the true, the glorious Character of the Deity, so in forming a reasonable Creature He would not, if possible, suffer his Image to pass out of his Hands unadorned with a Resemblance of Himself in this most lovely Part of his Nature. For what Complacency could a Mind, whose Love is as unbounded as his Knowledge, have in a Work so unlike Himself? a Creature that should be capable of knowing and conversing with a vast Circle of Objects, and love none but Himself? What Proportion would there be between the Head and the Heart of such a Creature, its Affections, and its Understandings? Or could a Society of such Creatures, with no other Bottom but Self-Love on which to maintain a Commerce, ever flourish? Reason, 'tis certain, would oblige every Man to pursue the general Happiness, as the Means to procure and establish his own; and yet if, besides this Consideration, there were not a natural Instinct, prompting Men to desire the Welfare and Satisfaction of others, Self-Love, in Defiance of the Admonitions of Reason, would quickly run all Things into a State of War and Confusion.

As nearly interested as the Soul is in the Fate of the Body; our provident Creator saw it necessary, by the constant Returns of Hunger and Thirst, those importunate Appetites, to put it in Mind of its Charge; knowing, that if we should eat and drink no oftner than cold abstracted Speculation should put us upon these Exercises, and then leave it to Reason to prescribe the Quantity, we should soon refine our selves out of this bodily Life. And indeed, 'tis obvious to remark, that we follow nothing heartily, unless carried to it by Inclinations which anticipate our Reason, and, like a Biass, draw the Mind strongly towards it. In order, therefore, to establish a perpetual Intercourse of Benefits amongst Mankind, their Maker would not fail to give them this generous Prepossession of Benevolence, if, as I have said, it were possible. And from whence can we go about to argue its Impossibility? Is it inconsistent with Self-Love? Are their Motions contrary? No more than the diurnal Rotation of the Earth is opposed to its Annual; or its Motion round its own Center, which may be improved as an Illustration of Self-Love, to that which whirls it about the common Center of the World, answering to universal Benevolence. Is the Force of Self-Love abated, or its Interest prejudiced by Benevolence? So far from it, that Benevolence, though a distinct Principle, is extreamly serviceable to Self-Love, and then doth most Service when 'tis least designed.

But to descend from Reason to Matter of Fact; the Pity which arises on Sight of Persons in Distress, and the Satisfaction of Mind which is the Consequence of having removed them into a happier State, are instead of a thousand Arguments to prove such a thing as a disinterested Benevolence. Did Pity proceed from a Reflection we make upon our Liableness to the same ill Accidents we see befall others, it were nothing to the present Purpose; but this is assigning an artificial Cause of a natural Passion, and can by no Means be admitted as a tolerable Account of it, because Children and Persons most Thoughtless about their own Condition, and incapable of entering into the Prospects of Futurity, feel the most violent Touches of Compassion.

And then as to that charming Delight which immediately follows the giving Joy to another, or relieving his Sorrow, and is, when the Objects are numerous, and the kindness of Importance really inexpressible, what can this be owing to but a Consciousness of a Man's having done some thing Praise-worthy, and expressive of a great Soul? Whereas, if in all this he only Sacrificed to Vanity and Self-Love, as there would be nothing brave in Actions that make the most shining Appearance, so Nature would not have rewarded them with this divine Pleasure; nor could the Commendations, which a Person receives for Benefits done upon selfish Views, be at all more Satisfactory, than when he is applauded for what he doth without Design; because in both Cases the Ends of Self-Love are equally answered.

The Conscience of approving ones self a Benefactor to Mankind is the noblest Recompence for being so; doubtless it is, and the most interested cannot propose anything so much to their own Advantage, notwithstanding which, the Inclination is nevertheless unselfish. The Pleasure which attends the Gratification of our Hunger and Thirst, is not the Cause of these Appetites; they are previous to any such Prospect; and so likewise is the Desire of doing Good; with this Difference, that being seated in the intellectual Part, this last, though Antecedent to Reason, may yet be improved and regulated by it, and, I will add, is no otherwise a Virtue than as it is so.