Chapter XXX: Introduction (30)

I am very much at a loss to express by any Word that occurs to me in our Language that which is understood by _Indoles_ in _Latin_. The natural Disposition to any Particular Art, Science, Profession, or Trade, is very much to be consulted in the Care of Youth, and studied by Men for their own Conduct when they form to themselves any Scheme of Life. It is wonderfully hard indeed for a Man to judge of his own Capacity impartially; that may look great to me which may appear little to another, and I may be carried by Fondness towards my self so far, as to attempt Things too high for my Talents and Accomplishments: But it is not methinks so very difficult a Matter to make a Judgment of the Abilities of others, especially of those who are in their Infancy. My Commonplace Book directs me on this Occasion to mention the Dawning of Greatness in _Alexander_, who being asked in his Youth to contend for a Prize in the Olympick Games, answered he would, if he had Kings to run against him. _Cassius_, who was one of the Conspirators against _Cæsar_, gave as great a Proof of his Temper, when in his Childhood he struck a Play-fellow, the Son of _Sylla_, for saying his Father was Master of the _Roman_ People. _Scipio_ is reported to have answered, (when some Flatterers at Supper were asking him what the _Romans_ should do for a General after his Death) Take _Marius_. _Marius_ was then a very Boy, and had given no Instances of his Valour; but it was visible to _Scipio_ from the Manners of the Youth, that he had a Soul formed for the Attempt and Execution of great Undertakings. I must confess I have very often with much Sorrow bewailed the Misfortune of the Children of _Great Britain_, when I consider the Ignorance and Undiscerning of the Generality of Schoolmasters. The boasted Liberty we talk of is but a mean Reward for the long Servitude, the many Heart-aches and Terrors, to which our Childhood is exposed in going through a Grammar-School: Many of these stupid Tyrants exercise their Cruelty without any manner of Distinction of the Capacities of Children, or the Intention of Parents in their Behalf. There are many excellent Tempers which are worthy to be nourished and cultivated with all possible Diligence and Care, that were never designed to be acquainted with _Aristotle, Tully_, or _Virgil_; and there are as many who have Capacities for understanding every Word those great Persons have writ, and yet were not born to have any Relish of their Writings. For want of this common and obvious discerning in those who have the Care of Youth, we have so many hundred unaccountable Creatures every Age whipped up into great Scholars, that are for ever near a right Understanding, and will never arrive at it. These are the Scandal of Letters, and these are generally the Men who are to teach others. The Sense of Shame and Honour is enough to keep the World itself in Order without Corporal Punishment, much more to train the Minds of uncorrupted and innocent Children. It happens, I doubt not, more than once in a Year, that a Lad is chastised for a Blockhead, when it is good Apprehension that makes him incapable of knowing what his Teacher means: A brisk Imagination very often may suggest an Error, which a Lad could not have fallen into, if he had been as heavy in conjecturing as his Master in explaining: But there is no Mercy even towards a wrong Interpretation of his Meaning, the Sufferings of the Scholar's Body are to rectify the Mistakes of his Mind.

I am confident that no Boy who will not be allured to Letters without Blows, will ever be brought to any thing with them. A great or good Mind must necessarily be the worse for such Indignities; and it is a sad Change to lose of its Virtue for the Improvement of its Knowledge. No one who has gone through what they call a great School, but must remember to have seen Children of excellent and ingenuous Natures, (as has afterwards appeared in their Manhood) I say no Man has passed through this way of Education, but must have seen an ingenuous Creature expiring with Shame, with pale Looks, beseeching Sorrow, and silent Tears, throw up its honest Eyes, and kneel on its tender Knees to an inexorable Blockhead, to be forgiven the false Quantity of a Word in making a Latin Verse; The Child is punished, and the next Day he commits a like Crime, and so a third with the same Consequence. I would fain ask any reasonable Man whether this Lad, in the Simplicity of his native Innocence, full of Shame, and capable of any Impression from that Grace of Soul, was not fitter for any Purpose in this Life, than after that Spark of Virtue is extinguished in him, tho' he is able to write twenty Verses in an Evening?

Seneca says, after his exalted way of Talking, _As the immortal Gods never learnt any Virtue, tho they are endowed with all that is good; so there are some Men who have so natural a Propensity to what they should follow, that they learn it almost as soon as they hear it._ [1] Plants and Vegetables are cultivated into the Production of finer Fruit than they would yield without that Care; and yet we cannot entertain Hopes of producing a tender conscious Spirit into Acts of Virtue, without the same Methods as is used to cut Timber, or give new Shape to a Piece of Stone.

It is wholly to this dreadful Practice that we may attribute a certain Hardiness and Ferocity which some Men, tho' liberally educated, carry about them in all their Behaviour. To be bred like a Gentleman, and punished like a Malefactor, must, as we see it does, produce that illiberal Sauciness which we see sometimes in Men of Letters.

The _Spartan_ Boy who suffered the Fox (which he had stolen and hid under his Coat) to eat into his Bowels, I dare say had not half the Wit or Petulance which we learn at great Schools among us: But the glorious Sense of Honour, or rather Fear of Shame, which he demonstrated in that Action, was worth all the Learning in the World without it.

It is methinks a very melancholy Consideration, that a little Negligence can spoil us, but great Industry is necessary to improve us; the most excellent Natures are soon depreciated, but evil Tempers are long before they are exalted into good Habits. To help this by Punishments, is the same thing as killing a Man to cure him of a Distemper; when he comes to suffer Punishment in that one Circumstance, he is brought below the Existence of a rational Creature, and is in the State of a Brute that moves only by the Admonition of Stripes. But since this Custom of educating by the Lash is suffered by the Gentry of _Great Britain _, I would prevail only that honest heavy Lads may be dismissed from Slavery sooner than they are at present, and not whipped on to their fourteenth or fifteenth Year, whether they expect any Progress from them or not. Let the Child's Capacity be forthwith examined and [he] sent to some Mechanick Way of Life, without respect to his Birth, if Nature designed him for nothing higher: let him go before he has innocently suffered, and is debased into a Dereliction of Mind for being what it is no Guilt to be, a plain Man. I would not here be supposed to have said, that our learned Men of either Robe who have been whipped at School, are not still Men of noble and liberal Minds; but I am sure they had been much more so than they are, had they never suffered that Infamy.

But tho' there is so little Care, as I have observed, taken, or Observation made of the natural Strain of Men, it is no small Comfort to me, as a SPECTATOR, that there is any right Value set upon the _bona Indoles_ of other Animals; as appears by the following Advertisement handed about the County of _Lincoln _, and subscribed by _Enos Thomas_, a Person whom I have not the Honour to know, but suppose to be profoundly learned in Horse-flesh.

_A Chesnut Horse called_ Cæsar, _bred_ by James Darcy, _Esq., at_
Sedbury, _near_ Richmond _in the County of_ York; _his Grandam
was his old royal Mare, and got by_ Blunderbuss, _which was got by_
Hemsly Turk, _and he got Mr._ Courand's Arabian, _which got Mr._
Minshul's Jews-trump. _Mr._ Cæsar _sold him to a Nobleman
(coming five Years old, when he had but one Sweat) for three hundred
Guineas. A Guinea a Leap and Trial, and a Shilling the Man_.

T. Enos Thomas.

[Footnote 1: Epist. 95.]

* * * * *

No. 158. Friday, August 31, 1711. Steele.

'Nos hoec novimus esse nihil.'

Martial.

Out of a firm Regard to Impartiality, I print these Letters, let them make for me or not.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I have observed through the whole Course of your Rhapsodies, (as you
once very well called them) you are very industrious to overthrow all
that many your Superiors who have gone before you have made their Rule
of writing. I am now between fifty and sixty, and had the Honour to be
well with the first Men of Taste and Gallantry in the joyous Reign of
_Charles_ the Second: We then had, I humbly presume, as good
Understandings among us as any now can pretend to. As for yourself,
_Mr_. SPECTATOR, you seem with the utmost Arrogance to undermine the
very Fundamentals upon which we conducted our selves. It is monstrous
to set up for a Man of Wit, and yet deny that Honour in a Woman is any
thing else but Peevishness, that Inclination [is [1]] the best Rule of
Life, or Virtue and Vice any thing else but Health and Disease. We had
no more to do but to put a Lady into good Humour, and all we could
wish followed of Course. Then again, your _Tully_, and your Discourses
of another Life, are the very Bane of Mirth and good Humour. Pr'ythee
don't value thyself on thy Reason at that exorbitant Rate, and the
Dignity of human Nature; take my Word for it, a Setting-dog has as
good Reason as any Man in _England_. Had you (as by your Diurnals one
would think you do) set up for being in vogue in Town, you should have
fallen in with the Bent of Passion and Appetite; your Songs had then
been in every pretty Mouth in _England_, and your little Distichs had
been the Maxims of the Fair and the Witty to walk by: But alas, Sir,
what can you hope for from entertaining People with what must needs
make them like themselves worse than they did before they read you?
Had you made it your Business to describe _Corinna_ charming, though
inconstant, to find something in human Nature itself to make _Zoilus_
excuse himself for being fond of her; and to make every Man in good
Commerce with his own Reflections, you had done something worthy our
Applause; but indeed, Sir, we shall not commend you for disapproving
us. I have a great deal more to say to you, but I shall sum it up all
in this one Remark, In short, Sir, you do not write like a Gentleman.

'I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant.'

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'The other Day we were several of us at a Tea-Table, and according to
Custom and your own Advice had the _Spectator_ read among us: It was
that Paper wherein you are pleased to treat with great Freedom that
Character which you call a Woman's Man. We gave up all the Kinds you
have mentioned, except those who, you say, are our constant Visitants.
I was upon the Occasion commissioned by the Company to write to you
and tell you, That we shall not part with the Men we have at present,
'till the Men of Sense think fit to relieve them, and give us their
Company in their Stead. You cannot imagine but that we love to hear
Reason and good Sense better than the Ribaldry we are at present
entertained with, but we must have Company, and among us very
inconsiderable is better than none at all. We are made for the Cements
of Society, and came into the World to create Relations among Mankind;
and Solitude is an unnatural Being to us. If the Men of good
Understanding would forget a little of their Severity, they would find
their Account in it; and their Wisdom would have a Pleasure in it, to
which they are now Strangers. It is natural among us when Men have a
true Relish of our Company and our Value, to say every thing with a
better Grace; and there is without designing it something ornamental
in what Men utter before Women, which is lost or neglected in
Conversations of Men only. Give me leave to tell you, Sir, it would do
you no great Harm if you yourself came a little more into our Company;
it would certainly cure you of a certain positive and determining
Manner in which you talk sometimes. In hopes of your Amendment,

'I am, SIR,

'Your gentle Reader_.'

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'Your professed Regard to the Fair Sex, may perhaps make them value
your Admonitions when they will not those of other Men. I desire you,
Sir, to repeat some Lectures upon Subjects which you have now and then
in a cursory manner only just touched. I would have a _Spectator_
wholly writ upon good Breeding: and after you have asserted that Time
and Place are to be very much considered in all our Actions, it will
be proper to dwell upon Behaviour at Church. On Sunday last a grave
and reverend Man preached at our Church: There was something
particular in his Accent, but without any manner of Affectation. This
Particularity a Set of Gigglers thought the most necessary Thing to be
taken notice of in his whole Discourse, and made it an Occasion of
Mirth during the whole time of Sermon: You should see one of them
ready to burst behind a Fan, another pointing to a Companion in
another Seat, and a fourth with an arch Composure, as if she would if
possible stifle her Laughter. There were many Gentlemen who looked at
them stedfastly, but this they took for ogling and admiring them:
There was one of the merry ones in particular, that found out but just
then that she had but five Fingers, for she fell a reckoning the
pretty Pieces of Ivory over and over again, to find her self
Employment and not laugh out. Would it not be expedient, Mr.
SPECTATOR, that the Church-warden should hold up his Wand on these
Occasions, and keep the Decency of the Place as a Magistrate does the
Peace in a Tumult elsewhere?

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I am a Woman's Man, and read with a very fine Lady your Paper, wherein
you fall upon us whom you envy: What do you think I did? you must know
she was dressing, I read the _Spectator_ to her, and she laughed at
the Places where she thought I was touched; I threw away your Moral,
and taking up her Girdle cried out,

_Give me but what this Ribbon bound,
Take all the rest the [Sun [2]] goes round_. [3]

She smiled, Sir, and said you were a Pedant; so say of me what you
please, read _Seneca_ and quote him against me if you think fit.
_I am_,
_SIR,
Your humble Servant_.

[Footnote 1: is not]

[Footnote 2: _World_]

[Footnote 3: Waller, _On a Girdle_.]

* * * * *

No. 159. Saturday, September 1, 1711. Addison.

... Omnem quæ nunc obducta tuenti
Mortales hebetat visus tibi, et humida circum
Caligat, nubem eripiam ...

Virg.

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 Mirzah_, which I have read over with great Pleasure. I intend to give it to the Publick when I have noother Entertainment for them; and shall begin with the first Vision, which I have translated Word for Word as follows.

'On the fifth Day of the Moon, which according to the Custom of my
Forefathers I always keep holy, after having washed my self, and
offered up my Morning Devotions, I ascended the high Hills of
_Bagdat_, in order to pass the rest of the Day in Meditation and
Prayer. As I was here airing my self 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 little 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 any thing 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 the last Agonies, and qualify them for the
Pleasures of that happy Place. My Heart melted away in secret
Raptures.

I had been often told that the Rock before me was the Haunt of a
Genius; and that several had been entertained with Musick 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 familiarized 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, _Mirzah_, said he, I have heard thee in thy
Soliloquies; follow me.

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 an 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 thro' the
Bridge, into the great Tide that flowed underneath it; and upon
farther Examination, perceived there were innumerable Trap-doors that
lay concealed in the Bridge, which the Passengers no sooner trod upon,
but they fell thro' them into the Tide and immediately disappeared.
These hidden Pit-falls were set very thick at the Entrance of the
Bridge, so that the 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.

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.

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 every thing 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 Scymetars in their Hands, and others with Urinals, who ran
to and fro upon the Bridge, thrusting several Persons on Trap-doors
which did not seem to [lie in their Way,[1]] and which they might have
escaped had they not been forced upon them.

The Genius seeing me indulge my self in 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 any thing 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, Harpyes, Ravens,
Cormorants, and among many other feather'd 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.

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, bid 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 farther 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 Side 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, and 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 it self. 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
these 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 _Mirzah_, 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, shew
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 _Bagdat_, with Oxen,
Sheep, and Camels grazing upon the Sides of it.

_The End of the first Vision of Mirzah_.

C.

[Footnote 1: "have been laid for them", corrected by an erratum in No. 161.]

* * * * *

No. 160. Monday, September 3, 1711. Addison.

'... Cui mens divinior, atque os
Magna sonaturum, des nominis hujus honorem.'

Hor.

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 an Heroick Scribler 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_.

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.

Among great Genius's those few draw the Admiration of all the World upon them, and stand up as the Prodigies of Mankind, who by the meer Strength of natural Parts, and without any Assistance of Arts 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 Genius's, that is infinitely more beautiful than all the Turn and Polishing of what the _French_ call a _Bel Esprit_, by which they would express a Genius refined by Conversation, Reflection, and the Reading of the most polite Authors. The greatest Genius [which [1]] runs through the Arts and Sciences, takes a kind of Tincture from them, and falls unavoidably into Imitation.

Many of these great natural Genius's 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 very 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 _Libanon_ which looketh toward _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 _Bienséance_ in an Allusion, has been found out of latter Years, and in the colder Regions of the World; where we would make some Amends for our want of Force and Spirit, by a scrupulous Nicety and Exactness in our Compositions.

Our Countryman _Shakespear_ was a remarkable Instance of this first kind of great Genius's.

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 any thing 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 Pindaricks? 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_:

_... Incerta hæc si tu postules Ratione certâ facere, nihilo plus agas, Quàm si des operam, ut cum ratione insanias_.

In short a modern Pindarick Writer, compared with _Pindar_, is like a Sister among the Camisars [2] compared with _Virgil_'s Sibyl: There is the Distortion, Grimace, and outward Figure, but nothing of that divine Impulse which raises the Mind above its self, and makes the Sounds more than human.

[There is another kind of great Genius's 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 [3]] second Class of great Genius's 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_.

[4] The Genius in both these Classes of Authors may be equally great, but shews itself [after [5]] 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 Landskips, 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.

The great Danger in these latter kind of Genius's, 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.

[6] It is odd to consider what great Genius's are sometimes thrown away upon Trifles.

I once saw a Shepherd, says a famous _Italian_ Author, [who [7]] 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 my self, that the same Assiduity and Attention, had they been rightly applied, might have made him a greater Mathematician than _Archimedes_.

C.

[Footnote 1: that]

[Footnote 2: The Camisars, or French Prophets, originally from the Cevennes, came into England in 1707. With violent agitations and distortions of body they prophesied and claimed also the power to work miracles; even venturing to prophesy that Dr Ernes, a convert of theirs, should rise from the dead five months after burial.]

[Footnote 3: The]

[Footnote 4: Not a new paragraph in the first issue.]

[Footnote 5: in]

[Footnote 7: Not a new paragraph in the first issue.]

[Footnote 8: that]

* * * * *

No. 161. Tuesday, Sept. 4, 1711. Budgell.

'Ipse dies agitat festos: Fususque per herbam,
Ignis ubi in medio et Socii cratera coronant,
Te libans, Lenæe, vocat: pecorisque magistris
Velocis Jaculi certamina ponit in ulmo,
Corporaque agresti nudat prædura Palæstra.
Hanc olim veteres vitam coluere Sabini,
Hanc Remus et Frater: Sic fortis Etruria crevit,
Scilicet et rerum facta est pulcherrima Roma.'

Virg. 'G.' 2.

I am glad that my late going into the Country has encreased the Number of my Correspondents, one of whom sends me the following Letter.

_SIR_,

'Though you are pleased to retire from us so soon into the City, I
hope you will not think the Affairs of the Country altogether unworthy
of your Inspection for the future. I had the Honour of seeing your
short Face at Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY'S, and have ever since thought
your Person and Writings both extraordinary. Had you stayed there a
few Days longer you would have seen a Country _Wake_, which you know
in most Parts of _England_ is the _Eve-Feast of the Dedication of our
Churches_. I was last Week at one of these Assemblies which was held
in a neighbouring Parish; where I found their _Green_ covered with a
promiscuous Multitude of all Ages and both Sexes, who esteem one
another more or less the following Part of the Year according as they
distinguish themselves at this Time. The whole Company were in their
Holiday Cloaths, and divided into several Parties, all of them
endeavouring to shew themselves in those Exercises wherein they
excelled, and to gain the Approbation of the Lookers on.

I found a Ring of Cudgel-Players, who were breaking one another's
Heads in order to make some Impression on their Mistresses Hearts. I
observed a lusty young Fellow, who had the Misfortune of a broken
Pate; but what considerably added to the Anguish of the Wound, was his
over-hearing an old Man, who shook his Head and said, _That he
questioned now if black Kate would marry him these three Years_. I was
diverted from a farther Observation of these Combatants, by a
Foot-ball Match, which was on the other side of the _Green_; where
_Tom Short_ behaved himself so well, that most People seemed to agree
_it was impossible that he should remain a Batchelor till the next
Wake_. Having played many a Match my self, I could have looked longer
on this Sport, had I not observed a Country Girl, who was posted on an
Eminence at some Distance from me, and was making so many odd
Grimaces, and writhing and distorting her whole Body in so strange a
Manner, as made me very desirous to know the Meaning of it. Upon my
coming up to her, I found that she was overlooking a Ring of
Wrestlers, and that her Sweetheart, a Person of small Stature, was
contending with an huge brawny Fellow, who twirled him about, and
shook the little Man so violently, that by a secret Sympathy of Hearts
it produced all those Agitations in the Person of his Mistress, who I
dare say, like _Cælia_ in _Shakespear_ on the same Occasion, could
have _wished herself invisible to catch the strong Fellow by the Leg_.
The Squire of the Parish treats the whole Company every Year with a
Hogshead of Ale; and proposes a _Beaver-Hat_ as a Recompense to him
who gives most _Falls_. This has raised such a Spirit of Emulation in
the Youth of the Place, that some of them have rendered themselves
very expert at this Exercise; and I was often surmised to see a
Fellow's Heels fly up, by a Trip which was given him so smartly that I
could scarce discern it. I found that the old Wrestlers seldom entered
the Ring, till some one was grown formidable by having thrown two or
three of his Opponents; but kept themselves as it were in a reserved
Body to defend the Hat, which is always hung up by the Person who gets
it in one of the most Conspicuous Parts of the House, and looked upon
by the whole Family as something redounding much more to their Honour
than a Coat of Arms. There was a Fellow who was so busy in regulating
all the Ceremonies, and seemed to carry such an Air of Importance in
his Looks, that I could not help inquiring who he was, and was
immediately answered, _That he did not value himself upon nothing, for
that he and his Ancestors had won so many Hats, that his Parlour
looked like a Haberdashers Shop:_ However this Thirst of Glory in them
all, was the Reason that no one Man stood _Lord of the Ring_ for above
three _Falls_ while I was amongst them.

The young Maids, who were not Lookers on at these Exercises, were
themselves engaged in some Diversion; and upon my asking a Farmer's
Son of my own Parish what he was gazing at with so much Attention, he
told me, _That he was seeing_ Betty Welch, whom I knew to be his
Sweet-Heart, _pitch a Bar_.

In short, I found the men endeavoured to shew the Women they were no
Cowards, and that the whole Company strived to recommend themselves to
each other, by making it appear that they were all in a perfect State
of Health, and fit to undergo any Fatigues of bodily Labour.

Your Judgment upon this Method of _Love_ and _Gallantry_, as it is at
present practised amongst us in the Country, will very much oblige,

_SIR, Yours_, &c.'

If I would here put on the Scholar and Politician, I might inform my Readers how these bodily Exercises or Games were formerly encouraged in all the Commonwealths of _Greece_; from whence the _Romans_ afterwards borrowed their _Pentathlum_, which was composed of _Running, Wrestling, Leaping, Throwing_, and _Boxing_, tho' the Prizes were generally nothing but a Crown of Cypress or Parsley, Hats not being in fashion in those Days: That there is an old Statute, which obliges every Man in _England_, having such an Estate, to keep and exercise the long Bow; by which Means our Ancestors excelled all other Nations in the Use of that Weapon, and we had all the real Advantages, without the Inconvenience of a standing Army: And that I once met with a Book of Projects, in which the Author considering to what noble Ends that Spirit of Emulation, which so remarkably shews it self among our common People in these Wakes, might be directed, proposes that for the Improvement of all our handicraft Trades there should be annual Prizes set up for such Persons as were most excellent in their several Arts. But laying aside all these political Considerations, which might tempt me to pass the Limits of my Paper, I confess the greatest Benefit and Convenience that I can observe in these Country Festivals, is the bringing young People together, and giving them an Opportunity of shewing themselves in the most advantageous Light. A Country Fellow that throws his Rival upon his Back, has generally as good Success with their common Mistress; as nothing is more usual than for a nimble-footed Wench to get a Husband at the same time she wins a Smock. Love and Marriages are the natural Effects of these anniversary Assemblies. I must therefore very much approve the Method by which my Correspondent tells me each Sex endeavours to recommend it self to the other, since nothing seems more likely to promise a healthy Offspring or a happy Cohabitation. And I believe I may assure my Country Friend, that there has been many a Court Lady who would be contented to exchange her crazy young Husband for _Tom Short_, and several Men of Quality who would have parted with a tender Yoke-fellow for _Black Kate_.

I am the more pleased with having _Love_ made the principal End and Design of these Meetings, as it seems to be most agreeable to the Intent for which they were at first instituted, as we are informed by the learned Dr. _Kennet_, [1] with whose Words I shall conclude my present Paper.

_These Wakes_, says he, _were in Imitation of the ancient [Greek:
agápai], or Love-Feasts; and were first established in_ England _by
Pope_ Gregory _the Great, who in an Epistle to_ Melitus _the Abbot
gave Order that they should be kept in Sheds or Arbories made up with
Branches and Boughs of Trees round the Church_.

He adds,

_That this laudable Custom of Wakes prevailed for many Ages, till the
nice Puritans began to exclaim against it as a Remnant of Popery; and
by degrees the precise Humour grew so popular, that at an_ Exeter
_Assizes the Lord Chief Baron_ Walter _made an Order for the
Suppression of all Wakes; but on Bishop_ Laud's _complaining of this
innovating Humour, the King commanded the Order to be reversed_.

X.

[Footnote 1: 'Parochial Antiquities' (1795), pp. 610, 614.]

* * * * *

No. 162 Wednesday, September 5, 1711 Addison

'... Servetur ad imum,
Qualis ab incoepto processerit, et sibi constet.'

Hor.

Nothing that is not a real Crime makes a Man appear so contemptible and little in the Eyes of the World as Inconstancy, especially when it regards Religion or Party. In either of these Cases, tho' a Man perhaps does but his Duty in changing his Side, he not only makes himself hated by those he left, but is seldom heartily esteemed by those he comes over to.

In these great Articles of Life, therefore, a Man's Conviction ought to be very strong, and if possible so well timed that worldly Advantages may seem to have no Share in it, or Mankind will be ill natured enough to think he does not change Sides out of Principle, but either out of Levity of Temper or Prospects of Interest. Converts and Renegadoes of all Kinds should take particular care to let the World see they act upon honourable Motives; or whatever Approbations they may receive from themselves, and Applauses from those they converse with, they may be very well assured that they are the Scorn of all good Men, and the publick Marks of Infamy and Derision.

Irresolution on the Schemes of Life [which [1]] offer themselves to our Choice, and Inconstancy in pursuing them, are the greatest and most universal Causes of all our Disquiet and Unhappiness. When [Ambition [2]] pulls one Way, Interest another, Inclination a third, and perhaps Reason contrary to all, a Man is likely to pass his Time but ill who has so many different Parties to please. When the Mind hovers among such a Variety of Allurements, one had better settle on a Way of Life that is not the very best we might have chosen, than grow old without determining our Choice, and go out of the World as the greatest Part of Mankind do, before we have resolved how to live in it. There is but one Method of setting our selves at Rest in this Particular, and that is by adhering stedfastly to one great End as the chief and ultimate Aim of all our Pursuits. If we are firmly resolved to live up to the Dictates of Reason, without any Regard to Wealth, Reputation, or the like Considerations, any more than as they fall in with our principal Design, we may go through Life with Steadiness and Pleasure; but if we act by several broken Views, and will not only be virtuous, but wealthy, popular, and every thing that has a Value set upon it by the World, we shall live and die in Misery and Repentance.

One would take more than ordinary Care to guard ones self against this particular Imperfection, because it is that which our Nature very strongly inclines us to; for if we examine ourselves throughly, we shall find that we are the most changeable Beings in the Universe. In respect of our Understanding, we often embrace and reject the very same Opinions; whereas Beings above and beneath us have probably no Opinions at all, or at least no Wavering and Uncertainties in those they have. Our Superiors are guided by Intuition, and our Inferiors by Instinct. In respect of our Wills, we fall into Crimes and recover out of them, are amiable or odious in the Eyes of our great Judge, and pass our whole Life in offending and asking Pardon. On the contrary, the Beings underneath us are not capable of sinning, nor those above us of repenting. The one is out of the Possibilities of Duty, and the other fixed in an eternal Course of Sin, or an eternal Course of Virtue.

There is scarce a State of Life, or Stage in it which does not produce Changes and Revolutions in the Mind of Man. Our Schemes of Thought in Infancy are lost in those of Youth; these too take a different Turn in Manhood, till old Age often leads us back into our former Infancy. A new Title or an unexpected Success throws us out of ourselves, and in a manner destroys our Identity. A cloudy Day, or a little Sunshine, have as great an Influence on many Constitutions, as the most real Blessings or Misfortunes. A Dream varies our Being, and changes our Condition while it lasts; and every Passion, not to mention Health and Sickness, and the greater Alterations in Body and Mind, makes us appear almost different Creatures. If a Man is so distinguished among other Beings by this Infirmity, what can we think of such as make themselves remarkable for it even among their own Species? It is a very trifling Character to be one of the most variable Beings of the most variable Kind, especially if we consider that He who is the great Standard of Perfection has in him no Shadow of Change, but is the same Yesterday, To-day, and for ever.

As this Mutability of Temper and Inconsistency with our selves is the greatest Weakness of human Nature, so it makes the Person who is remarkable for it in a very particular Manner more ridiculous than any other Infirmity whatsoever, as it sets him in a greater Variety of foolish Lights, and distinguishes him from himself by an Opposition of party-coloured Characters. The most humourous Character in _Horace_ is founded upon this Unevenness of Temper and Irregularity of Conduct.

'... Sardus habebat
Ille Tigellius hoc: Cæsar qui cogere posset
Si peteret per amicitiam patris, atque suam, non
Quidquam proficeret: Si collibuisset, ab ovo
Usque ad mala citaret, Io Bacche, modò summâ
Voce, modò hâc, resonat quæ; chordis quatuor ima.
Nil æquale homini fuit illi: Sæpe velut qui
Currebat fugiens hostem: Persæpe velut qui
Junonis sacra ferret: Habebat sæpe ducentos,
Sæpe decem servos: Modò reges atque tetrarchas,
Omnia magna loquens: Modò sit mihi mensa tripes, et
Concha salis puri, et toga, quæ defendere frigus,
Quamvis crassa, queat. Decies centena dedisses
Huic parco paucis contento, quinque diebus
Nil erat in loculis. Noctes vigilabat ad ipsum
Manè: Diem totam stertebat. Nil fuit unquam
Sic impar sibi ...'

Hor. 'Sat. 3', Lib. 1.

Instead of translating this Passage in _Horace_, I shall entertain my _English_ Reader with the Description of a Parallel Character, that is wonderfully well finished by Mr. _Dryden_ [3], and raised upon the same Foundation.

'In the first Rank of these did_ Zimri _stand:
A Man so various, that he seem'd to be
Not one, but all Mankind's Epitome.
Stiff in Opinions, always in the wrong;
Was ev'ry thing by Starts, and nothing long;
But, in the Course of one revolving Moon,
Was Chemist, Fidler, Statesman, and Buffoon:
Then all for Women, Painting, Rhiming, Drinking:
Besides ten thousand Freaks that dy'd in thinking.
Blest Madman, who cou'd ev'ry flour employ,
With something New to wish, or to enjoy!'

C.

[Footnote 1: that]

[Footnote 2: Honour]

[Footnote 3: In his 'Absalom and Achitophel.' The character of Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.]

* * * * *

No. 163 Thursday, Sept. 6, 1711 Addison

'... Si quid ego adjuero, curamve levasso,
Quæ nunc te coquit, et versat sub pectore fixa,
Ecquid erit pretii?'

Enn. ap. Tullium.

Enquiries after Happiness, and Rules for attaining it, are not so necessary and useful to Mankind as the Arts of Consolation, and supporting [ones [1]] self under Affliction. The utmost we can hope for in this World is Contentment; if we aim at any thing higher, we shall meet with nothing but Grief and Disappointments. A Man should direct all his Studies and Endeavours at making himself easie now, and happy hereafter.

The Truth of it is, if all the Happiness that is dispersed through the whole Race of Mankind in this World were drawn together, and put into the Possession of any single Man, it would not make a very happy Being. Though on the contrary, if the Miseries of the whole Species were fixed in a single Person, they would make a very miserable one.

I am engaged in this Subject by the following Letter, which, though subscribed by a fictitious Name, I have reason to believe is not Imaginary.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR, [2]