Chapter LIII: Introduction (53)

I was some time since in Company with a young Officer, who entertained
us with the Conquest he had made over a Female Neighbour of his; when
a Gentleman who stood by, as I suppose, envying the Captains good
Fortune, asked him what Reason he had to believe the Lady admired him?
Why, says he, my Lodgings are opposite to hers, and she is continually
at her Window either at Work, Reading, taking Snuff, or putting her
self in some toying Posture on purpose to draw my Eyes that Way. The
Confession of this vain Soldier made me reflect on some of my own
Actions; for you must know, Sir, I am often at a Window which fronts
the Apartments of several Gentlemen, who I doubt not have the same
Opinion of me. I must own I love to look at them all, one for being
well dressed, a second for his fine Eye, and one particular one,
because he is the least Man I ever saw; but there is something so
easie and pleasant in the Manner of my little Man, that I observe he
is a Favourite of all his Acquaintance. I could go on to tell you of
many others that I believe think I have encouraged them from my
Window: But pray let me have your Opinion of the Use of the Window in
a beautiful Lady: and how often she may look out at the same Man,
without being supposed to have a Mind to jump out to him. Yours,
Aurelia Careless.

Twice.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I have for some Time made Love to a Lady, who received it with all
the kind Returns I ought to expect. But without any Provocation, that
I know of, she has of late shunned me with the utmost Abhorrence,
insomuch that she went out of Church last Sunday in the midst of
Divine Service, upon my coming into the same Pew. Pray, Sir, what must
I do in this Business?
Your Servant,
Euphues.

Let her alone Ten Days.

York, Jan. 20, 1711-12.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

We have in this Town a sort of People who pretend to Wit and write
Lampoons: I have lately been the Subject of one of them. The Scribler
had not Genius enough in Verse to turn my Age, as indeed I am an old
Maid, into Raillery, for affecting a youthier Turn than is consistent
with my Time of Day; and therefore he makes the Title to his Madrigal,
The Character of Mrs. Judith Lovebane, born in the Year [1680. [1]]
What I desire of you is, That you disallow that a Coxcomb who pretends
to write Verse, should put the most malicious Thing he can say in
Prose. This I humbly conceive will disable our Country Wits, who
indeed take a great deal of Pains to say any thing in Rhyme, tho they
say it very ill.
I am, SIR,
Your Humble Servant,
Susanna Lovebane.

Mr. SPECTATOR,
We are several of us, Gentlemen and Ladies, who Board in the same
House, and after Dinner one of our Company (an agreeable Man enough
otherwise) stands up and reads your Paper to us all. We are the
civillest People in the World to one another, and therefore I am
forced to this way of desiring our Reader, when he is doing this
Office, not to stand afore the Fire. This will be a general Good to
our Family this cold Weather. He will, I know, take it to be our
common Request when he comes to these Words, Pray, Sir, sit down;
which I desire you to insert, and you will particularly oblige
Your Daily Reader,
Charity Frost.

SIR,

I am a great Lover of Dancing, but cannot perform so well as some
others; however, by my Out-of-the-Way Capers, and some original
Grimaces, I don't fail to divert the Company, particularly the Ladies,
who laugh immoderately all the Time. Some, who pretend to be my
Friends, tell me they do it in Derision, and would advise me to leave
it off, withal that I make my self ridiculous. I don't know what to do
in this Affair, but I am resolved not to give over upon any
Account, till I have the Opinion of the SPECTATOR.
Your humble Servant,
John Trott.

If Mr. Trott is not awkward out of Time, he has a Right to Dance let who will Laugh: But if he has no Ear he will interrupt others; and I am of Opinion he should sit still.

Given under my Hand this Fifth of February, 1711-12.

The SPECTATOR.

T.

[Footnote 1: 1750]

* * * * *

No. 297. Saturday, February 9, 1712. Addison

--velut si
Egregio inspersos reprendas corpore nævos.

Hor.

After what I have said in my last Saturdays Paper, I shall enter on the Subject of this without further Preface, and remark the several Defects which appear in the Fable, the Characters, the Sentiments, and the Language of Milton's Paradise Lost; not doubting but the Reader will pardon me, if I alledge at the same time whatever may be said for the Extenuation of such Defects. The first Imperfection which I shall observe in the Fable is that the Event of it is unhappy.

The Fable of every Poem is, according to Aristotle's Division, either Simple or Implex [1]. It is called Simple when there is no change of Fortune in it: Implex, when the Fortune of the chief Actor changes from Bad to Good, or from Good to Bad. The Implex Fable is thought the most perfect; I suppose, because it is more proper to stir up the Passions of the Reader, and to surprize him with a greater Variety of Accidents.

The Implex Fable is therefore of two kinds: In the first the chief Actor makes his Way through a long Series of Dangers and Difficulties, till he arrives at Honour and Prosperity, as we see in the [Story of Ulysses. [2]] In the second, the chief Actor in the Poem falls from some eminent Pitch of Honour and Prosperity, into Misery and Disgrace. Thus we see Adam and Eve sinking from a State of Innocence and Happiness, into the most abject Condition of Sin and Sorrow.

The most taking Tragedies among the Ancients were built on this last sort of Implex Fable, particularly the Tragedy of Oedipus, which proceeds upon a Story, if we may believe Aristotle, the most proper for Tragedy that could be invented by the Wit of Man. [3] I have taken some Pains in a former Paper to shew, that this kind of Implex Fable, wherein the Event is unhappy, is more apt to affect an Audience than that of the first kind; notwithstanding many excellent Pieces among the Ancients, as well as most of those which have been written of late Years in our own Country, are raised upon contrary Plans. I must however own, that I think this kind of Fable, which is the most perfect in Tragedy, is not so proper for an Heroic Poem.

Milton seems to have been sensible of this Imperfection in his Fable, and has therefore endeavoured to cure it by several Expedients; particularly by the Mortification which the great Adversary of Mankind meets with upon his Return to the Assembly of Infernal Spirits, as it is described in [a, [4]] beautiful Passage of the Tenth Book; and likewise by the Vision wherein Adam at the close of the Poem sees his Off-spring triumphing over his great Enemy, and himself restored to a happier Paradise than that from which he fell.

There is another Objection against Milton's Fable, which is indeed almost the same with the former, tho placed in a different Light, namely, That the Hero in the Paradise Lost is unsuccessful, and by no means a Match for his Enemies. This gave Occasion to Mr. Dryden's Reflection, that the Devil was in reality Milton's Hero. [5]

I think I have obviated this Objection in my first Paper. The Paradise Lost is an Epic [or a] Narrative Poem, [and] he that looks for an Hero in it, searches for that which Milton never intended; [but [6]] if he will needs fix the Name of an Hero upon any Person in it, tis certainly the Messiah who is the Hero, both in the Principal Action, and in the [chief Episodes.] [7] Paganism could not furnish out a real Action for a Fable greater than that of the Iliad or Æneid, and therefore an Heathen could not form a higher Notion of a Poem than one of that kind, which they call an Heroic. Whether Milton's is not of a [sublimer [8]] Nature I will not presume to determine: It is sufficient that I shew there is in the Paradise Lost all the Greatness of Plan, Regularity of Design, and masterly Beauties which we discover in Homer and Virgil.

I must in the next Place observe, that Milton has interwoven in the Texture of his Fable some Particulars which do not seem to have Probability enough for an Epic Poem, particularly in the Actions which he ascribes to Sin and Death, and the Picture which he draws of the Limbo of Vanity, with other Passages in the second Book. Such Allegories rather savour of the Spirit of Spenser and Ariosto, than of Homer and Virgil.

In the Structure of his Poem he has likewise admitted of too many Digressions. It is finely observed by Aristotle, that the Author of an Heroic Poem should seldom speak himself, but throw as much of his Work as he can into the Mouths of those who are his Principal Actors. [9]

Aristotle has given no reason for this Precept; but I presume it is because the Mind of the Reader is more awed and elevated when he hears Æneas or Achilles speak, than when Virgil or Homer talk in their own Persons. Besides that assuming the Character of an eminent Man is apt to fire the Imagination, and raise the Ideas of the Author. Tully tells us [10], mentioning his Dialogue of Old Age, in which Cato is the chief Speaker, that upon a Review of it he was agreeably imposed upon, and fancied that it was Cato, and not he himself, who uttered his Thoughts on that Subject.

If the Reader would be at the Pains to see how the Story of the Iliad and the Æneid is delivered by those Persons who act in it, he will be surprized to find how little in either of these Poems proceeds from the Authors. Milton has, in the general disposition of his Fable, very finely observed this great Rule; insomuch that there is scarce a third Part of it which comes from the Poet; the rest is spoken either by Adam and Eve, or by some Good or Evil Spirit who is engaged either in their Destruction or Defence.

From what has been here observed it appears, that Digressions are by no means to be allowed of in an Epic Poem. If the Poet, even in the ordinary course of his Narration, should speak as little as possible, he should certainly never let his Narration sleep for the sake of any Reflections of his own. I have often observed, with a secret Admiration, that the longest Reflection in the Æneid is in that Passage of the Tenth Book, where Turnus is represented as dressing himself in the Spoils of Pallas, whom he had slain. Virgil here lets his Fable stand still for the-sake of the following Remark. How is the Mind of Man ignorant of Futurity, and unable to bear prosperous Fortune with Moderation? The Time will come when Turnus shall wish that he had left the Body of Pallas untouched, and curse the Day on which he dressed himself in these Spoils. As the great Event of the Æneid, and the Death of Turnus, whom Æneas slew because he saw him adorned with the Spoils of Pallas, turns upon this Incident, Virgil went out of his way to make this Reflection upon it, without which so small a Circumstance might possibly have slipped out of his Readers Memory. Lucan, who was an Injudicious Poet, lets drop his Story very frequently for the sake of his unnecessary Digressions, or his Diverticula, as Scaliger calls them. [11] If he gives us an Account of the Prodigies which preceded the Civil War, he declaims upon the Occasion, and shews how much happier it would be for Man, if he did not feel his Evil Fortune before it comes to pass; and suffer not only by its real Weight, but by the Apprehension of it. Milton's Complaint [for [12]] his Blindness, his Panegyrick on Marriage, his Reflections on Adam and Eves going naked, of the Angels eating, and several other Passages in his Poem, are liable to the same Exception, tho I must confess there is so great a Beauty in these very Digressions, that I would not wish them out of his Poem.

I have, in a former Paper, spoken of the Characters of Milton's Paradise Lost, and declared my Opinion, as to the Allegorical Persons who are introduced in it.

If we look into the Sentiments, I think they are sometimes defective under the following Heads: First, as there are several of them too much pointed, and some that degenerate even into Punns. Of this last kind I am afraid is that in the First Book, where speaking of the Pigmies, he calls them,

--The small Infantry
Warrdon by Cranes--

Another Blemish [that [13]] appears in some of his Thoughts, is his frequent Allusion to Heathen Fables, which are not certainly of a Piece with the Divine Subject, of which he treats. I do not find fault with these Allusions, where the Poet himself represents them as fabulous, as he does in some Places, but where he mentions them as Truths and Matters of Fact. The Limits of my Paper will not give me leave to be particular in Instances of this kind; the Reader will easily remark them in his Perusal of the Poem.

A third fault in his Sentiments, is an unnecessary Ostentation of Learning, which likewise occurs very frequently. It is certain that both Homer and Virgil were Masters of all the Learning of their Times, but it shews it self in their Works after an indirect and concealed manner. Milton seems ambitious of letting us know, by his Excursions on Free-Will and Predestination, and his many Glances upon History, Astronomy, Geography, and the like, as well as by the Terms and Phrases he sometimes makes use of, that he was acquainted with the whole Circle of Arts and Sciences.

If, in the last place, we consider the Language of this great Poet, we must allow what I have hinted in a former Paper, that it is often too much laboured, and sometimes obscured by old Words, Transpositions, and Foreign Idioms. Senecas Objection to the Style of a great Author, Riget ejus oratio, nihil in eâ placidum nihil lene, is what many Criticks make to Milton: As I cannot wholly refuse it, so I have already apologized for it in another Paper; to which I may further add, that Milton's Sentiments and Ideas were so wonderfully Sublime, that it would have been impossible for him to have represented them in their full Strength and Beauty, without having recourse to these Foreign Assistances. Our Language sunk under him, and was unequal to that Greatness of Soul, which furnished him with such glorious Conceptions.

A second Fault in his Language is, that he often affects a kind of Jingle in his Words, as in the following Passages, and many others:

And brought into the World a World of Woe.

--Begirt th' Almighty throne
Beseeching or besieging--

This tempted our attempt--

At one slight bound high overleapt all bound.

I know there are Figures for this kind of Speech, that some of the greatest Ancients have been guilty of it, and that Aristotle himself has given it a place in his Rhetorick among the Beauties of that Art. [14] But as it is in its self poor and trifling, it is I think at present universally exploded by all the Masters of Polite Writing.

The last Fault which I shall take notice of in Milton's Style, is the frequent use of what the Learned call Technical Words, or Terms of Art. It is one of the great Beauties of Poetry, to make hard things intelligible, and to deliver what is abstruse [of [15]] it self in such easy Language as may be understood by ordinary Readers: Besides, that the Knowledge of a Poet should rather seem born with him, or inspired, than drawn from Books and Systems. I have often wondered how Mr. Dryden could translate a Passage out of Virgil after the following manner.

Tack to the Larboard, and stand off to Sea.
Veer Star-board Sea and Land.

Milton makes use of Larboard in the same manner. When he is upon Building he mentions Doric Pillars, Pilasters, Cornice, Freeze, Architrave. When he talks of Heavenly Bodies, you meet with Eccliptic and Eccentric, the trepidation, Stars dropping from the Zenith, Rays culminating from the Equator. To which might be added many Instances of the like kind in several other Arts and Sciences.

I shall in my next [Papers [16]] give an Account of the many particular Beauties in Milton, which would have been too long to insert under those general Heads I have already treated of, and with which I intend to conclude this Piece of Criticism.

L.

[Footnote 1: Poetics, cap. x. Addison got his affected word implex by reading Aristotle through the translation and notes of André Dacier. Implex was the word used by the French, but the natural English translation of Aristotle's [Greek: haploì] and [Greek: peplegménoi] is into simple and complicated.]

[Footnote 2: [Stories of Achilles, Ulysses, and Æneas.]]

[Footnote 3: Poetics, cap. xi.]

[Footnote 4: that]

[Footnote 5: Dediction of the Æneid; where, after speaking of small claimants of the honours of the Epic, he says,

Spencer has a better for his "Fairy Queen" had his action been
finished, or been one; and Milton if the Devil had not been his hero,
instead of Adam; if the giant had not foiled the knight, and driven
him out of his stronghold, to wander through the world with his
lady-errant; and if there had not been more machining persons that
human in his poem.]

[Footnote 6: [or]]

[Footnote 7: [Episode]]

[Footnote 8: [greater]]

[Footnote 9: Poetics, cap. xxv. The reason he gives is that when the Poet speaks in his own person he is not then the Imitator. Other Poets than Homer, Aristotle adds,

ambitious to figure throughout themselves, imitate but little and
seldom. Homer, after a few preparatory lines, immediately introduces a
man or woman or some other character, for all have their character.

Of Lucan, as an example of the contrary practice, Hobbes said in his Discourse concerning the Virtues of an Heroic Poem:

No Heroic Poem raises such admiration of the Poet, as his hath done,
though not so great admiration of the persons he introduceth.]

[Footnote 10: Letters to Atticus, Bk. xiii., Ep. 44.]

[Footnote 11: Poetices, Lib. iii. cap. 25.]

[Footnote 12: [of]]

[Footnote 13: [which]]

[Footnote 14: Rhetoric, iii. ch. II, where he cites such verbal jokes as, You wish him [Greek: pérsai] (i.e. to side with Persia--to ruin him), and the saying of Isocrates concerning Athens, that its sovereignty [Greek: archàe] was to the city a beginning [Greek: archàe] of evils. As this closes Addison's comparison of Milton's practice with Aristotle's doctrine (the following papers being expressions of his personal appreciation of the several books of Paradise Lost), we may note here that Milton would have been quite ready to have his work tried by the test Addison has been applying. In his letter to Samuel Hartlib, sketching his ideal of a good Education, he assigns to advanced pupils logic and then

rhetoric taught out of the rules of Plato, Aristotle, Phalereus,
Cicero, Hermogenes, Longinus. To which poetry would be made
subsequent, or, indeed, rather precedent, as being less subtile and
fine, but more simple, sensuous, and passionate. I mean not here the
prosody of a verse, which they could not but have hit on before among
the rudiments of grammar; but that sublime art which in Aristotle's
Poetics, in Horace, and the Italian commentaries of Castelvetro,
Tasso, Mazzoni, and others, teaches what the laws are of a true epic
poem, what of a dramatic, what of a lyric, what decorum is, which is
the grand masterpiece to observe. This would make them soon perceive
what despicable creatures our common rhymers and play-writers be; and
show them what religious, what glorious and magnificent use might be
made of poetry, both in divine and human things.]

[Footnote 15: [in]]

[Footnote 16: [Saturdays Paper]]

* * * * *

No. 298. Monday, February 11, 1712. Steele.

Nusquam Tuta fides.

Virg.

London, Feb. 9, 1711-12.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am a Virgin, and in no Case despicable; but yet such as I am I must
remain, or else become, tis to be feared, less happy: for I find not
the least good Effect from the just Correction you some time since
gave, that too free, that looser Part of our Sex which spoils the Men;
the same Connivance at the Vices, the same easie Admittance of
Addresses, the same vitiated Relish of the Conversation of the
greatest of Rakes (or in a more fashionable Way of expressing ones
self, of such as have seen the World most) still abounds, increases,
multiplies.

The humble Petition therefore of many of the most strictly virtuous,
and of my self, is, That you'll once more exert your Authority, and
that according to your late Promise, your full, your impartial
Authority, on this sillier Branch of our Kind: For why should they be
the uncontroulable Mistresses of our Fate? Why should they with
Impunity indulge the Males in Licentiousness whilst single, and we
have the dismal Hazard and Plague of reforming them when married?
Strike home, Sir, then, and spare not, or all our maiden Hopes, our
gilded Hopes of nuptial Felicity are frustrated, are vanished, and you
your self, as well as Mr. Courtly, will, by smoothing over immodest
Practices with the Gloss of soft and harmless Names, for ever forfeit
our Esteem. Nor think that I'm herein more severe than need be: If I
have not reason more than enough, do you and the World judge from this
ensuing Account, which, I think, will prove the Evil to be universal.

You must know then, that since your Reprehension of this Female
Degeneracy came out, I've had a Tender of Respects from no less than
five Persons, of tolerable Figure too as Times go: But the Misfortune
is, that four of the five are professed Followers of the Mode. They
would face me down, that all Women of good Sense ever were, and ever
will be, Latitudinarians in Wedlock; and always did, and will, give
and take what they profanely term Conjugal Liberty of Conscience.

The two first of them, a Captain and a Merchant, to strengthen their
Argument, pretend to repeat after a Couple, a Brace of Ladies of
Quality and Wit, That Venus was always kind to Mars; and what Soul
that has the least spark of Generosity, can deny a Man of Bravery any
thing? And how pitiful a Trader that, whom no Woman but his own Wife
will have Correspondence and Dealings with? Thus these; whilst the
third, the Country Squire, confessed, That indeed he was surprized
into good Breeding, and entered into the Knowledge of the World
unawares. That dining tother Day at a Gentleman's House, the Person
who entertained was obliged to leave him with his Wife and Nieces;
where they spoke with so much Contempt of an absent Gentleman for
being slow at a Hint, that he had resolved never to be drowsy,
unmannerly, or stupid for the future at a Friends House; and on a
hunting Morning, not to pursue the Game either with the Husband
abroad, or with the Wife at home.

The next that came was a Tradesman, [no [1]] less full of the Age
than the former; for he had the Gallantry to tell me, that at a late
Junket which he was invited to, the Motion being made, and the
Question being put, twas by Maid, Wife and Widow resolved nemine
contradicente, That a young sprightly Journeyman is absolutely
necessary in their Way of Business: To which they had the Assent and
Concurrence of the Husbands present. I dropped him a Curtsy, and gave
him to understand that was his Audience of Leave.

I am reckoned pretty, and have had very many Advances besides these;
but have been very averse to hear any of them, from my Observation on
these above-mentioned, till I hoped some Good from the Character of
my present Admirer, a Clergyman. But I find even amongst them there
are indirect Practices in relation to Love, and our Treaty is at
present a little in Suspence, till some Circumstances are cleared.
There is a Charge against him among the Women, and the Case is this:
It is alledged, That a certain endowed Female would have appropriated
her self to and consolidated her self with a Church, which my Divine
now enjoys; (or, which is the same thing, did prostitute her self to
her Friends doing this for her): That my Ecclesiastick, to obtain the
one, did engage himself to take off the other that lay on Hand; but
that on his Success in the Spiritual, he again renounced the Carnal.

I put this closely to him, and taxed him with Disingenuity. He to
clear himself made the subsequent Defence, and that in the most solemn
Manner possible: That he was applied to and instigated to accept of a
Benefice: That a conditional Offer thereof was indeed made him at
first, but with Disdain by him rejected: That when nothing (as they
easily perceived) of this Nature could bring him to their Purpose,
Assurance of his being entirely unengaged before-hand, and safe from
all their After-Expectations (the only Stratagem left to draw him in)
was given him: That pursuant to this the Donation it self was without
Delay, before several reputable Witnesses, tendered to him gratis,
with the open Profession of not the least Reserve, or most minute
Condition; but that yet immediately after Induction, his insidious
Introducer (or her crafty Procurer, which you will) industriously
spread the Report, which had reached my Ears, not only in the
Neighbourhood of that said Church, but in London, in the University,
in mine and his own County, and where-ever else it might probably
obviate his Application to any other Woman, and so confine him to this
alone: And, in a Word, That as he never did make any previous Offer of
his Service, or the least Step to her Affection; so on his Discovery
of these Designs thus laid to trick him, he could not but afterwards,
in Justice to himself, vindicate both his Innocence and Freedom by
keeping his proper Distance.

This is his Apology, and I think I shall be satisfied with it. But I
cannot conclude my tedious Epistle, without recommending to you not
only to resume your former Chastisement, but to add to your Criminals
the Simoniacal Ladies, who seduce the sacred Order into the Difficulty
of either breaking a mercenary Troth made to them whom they ought not
to deceive, or by breaking or keeping it offending against him whom
they cannot deceive. Your Assistance and Labours of this sort would be
of great Benefit, and your speedy Thoughts on this Subject would be
very seasonable to,

SIR, Your most obedient Servant,
Chastity Loveworth.

T.

[Footnote 1: [nor]]

* * * * *

No. 299. Tuesday, February 12, 1712. Addison.

Malo Venusinam, quam te, Cornelia, Mater
Gracchorum, si cum magnis virtutibus affers
Grande supercilium, et numeras in dote triumphos.
Tolle tuum precor Annibalem victumque Syphacem
In castris, et cum totâ Carthagine migra.

Juv.

It is observed, that a Man improves more by reading the Story of a Person eminent for Prudence and Virtue, than by the finest Rules and Precepts of Morality. In the same manner a Representation of those Calamities and Misfortunes which a weak Man suffers from wrong Measures, and ill-concerted Schemes of Life, is apt to make a deeper Impression upon our Minds, than the wisest Maxims and Instructions that can be given us, for avoiding the like Follies and Indiscretions on our own private Conduct. It is for this Reason that I lay before my Reader the following Letter, and leave it with him to make his own use of it, without adding any Reflections of my own upon the Subject Matter.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

Having carefully perused a Letter sent you by Josiah Fribble, Esq.,
with your subsequent Discourse upon Pin-Money, I do presume to trouble
you with an Account of my own Case, which I look upon to be no less
deplorable than that of Squire Fribble. I am a Person of no
Extraction, having begun the World with a small parcel of Rusty Iron,
and was for some Years commonly known by the Name of Jack Anvil. [1] I
have naturally a very happy Genius for getting Money, insomuch that by
the Age of Five and twenty I had scraped together Four thousand two
hundred Pounds Five Shillings, and a few odd Pence. I then launched
out into considerable Business, and became a bold Trader both by Sea
and Land, which in a few Years raised me a very [great [2]] Fortune.
For these my Good Services I was Knighted in the thirty fifth Year of
my Age, and lived with great Dignity among my City-Neighbours by the
Name of Sir John Anvil. Being in my Temper very Ambitious, I was now
bent upon making a Family, and accordingly resolved that my
Descendants should have a Dash of Good Blood in their Veins. In order
to this, I made Love to the Lady Mary Oddly, an Indigent young Woman
of Quality. To cut short the Marriage Treaty, I threw her a Charte
Blanche, as our News Papers call it, desiring her to write upon it her
own Terms. She was very concise in her Demands, insisting only that
the Disposal of my Fortune, and the Regulation of my Family, should be
entirely in her Hands. Her Father and Brothers appeared exceedingly
averse to this Match, and would not see me for some time; but at
present are so well reconciled, that they Dine with me almost every
Day, and have borrowed considerable Sums of me; which my Lady Mary
very often twits me with, when she would shew me how kind her
Relations are to me. She had no Portion, as I told you before, but
what she wanted in Fortune, she makes up in Spirit. She at first
changed my Name to Sir John Envil, and at present writes her self Mary
Enville. I have had some Children by her, whom she has Christened with
the Sirnames of her Family, in order, as she tells me, to wear out the
Homeliness of their Parentage by the Fathers Side. Our eldest Son is
the Honourable Oddly Enville, Esq., and our eldest Daughter Harriot
Enville. Upon her first coming into my Family, she turned off a parcel
of very careful Servants, who had been long with me, and introduced in
their stead a couple of Black-a-moors, and three or four very genteel
Fellows in Laced Liveries, besides her French woman, who is
perpetually making a Noise in the House in a Language which no body
understands, except my Lady Mary. She next set her self to reform
every Room of my House, having glazed all my Chimney-pieces with
Looking-glass, and planted every Corner with such heaps of China, that
I am obliged to move about my own House with the greatest Caution and
Circumspection, for fear of hurting some of our Brittle Furniture. She
makes an Illumination once a Week with Wax-Candles in one of the
largest Rooms, in order, as she phrases it, to see Company. At which
time she always desires me to be Abroad, or to confine my self to the
Cock-loft, that I may not disgrace her among her Visitants of Quality.
Her Footmen, as I told you before, are such Beaus that I do not much
care for asking them Questions; when I do, they answer me with a sawcy
Frown, and say that every thing, which I find Fault with, was done by
my Lady Marys Order. She tells me that she intends they shall wear
Swords with their next Liveries, having lately observed the Footmen of
two or three Persons of Quality hanging behind the Coach with Swords
by their Sides. As soon as the first Honey-Moon was over, I
represented to her the Unreasonableness of those daily Innovations
which she made in my Family, but she told me I was no longer to
consider my self as Sir John Anvil, but as her Husband; and added,
with a Frown, that I did not seem to know who she was. I was surprized
to be treated thus, after such Familiarities as had passed between us.
But she has since given me to know, that whatever Freedoms she may
sometimes indulge me in, she expects in general to be treated with the
Respect that is due to her Birth and Quality. Our Children have been
trained up from their Infancy with so many Accounts of their Mothers
Family, that they know the Stories of all the great Men and Women it
has produced. Their Mother tells them, that such an one commanded in
such a Sea Engagement, that their Great Grandfather had a Horse shot
under him at Edge-hill, that their Uncle was at the Siege of Buda, and
that her Mother danced in a Ball at Court with the Duke of Monmouth;
with abundance of Fiddle-faddle of the same Nature. I was, the other
Day, a little out of Countenance at a Question of my little Daughter
Harriot, who asked me, with a great deal of Innocence, why I never
told them of the Generals and Admirals that had been in my Family. As
for my Eldest Son Oddly, he has been so spirited up by his Mother,
that if he does not mend his Manners I shall go near to disinherit
him. He drew his Sword upon me before he was nine years old, and told
me, that he expected to be used like a Gentleman; upon my offering to
correct him for his Insolence, my Lady Mary stept in between us, and
told me, that I ought to consider there was some Difference between
his Mother and mine. She is perpetually finding out the Features of
her own Relations in every one of my Children, tho, by the way, I
have a little Chubfaced Boy as like me as he can stare, if I durst say
so; but what most angers me, when she sees me playing with any of them
upon my Knee, she has begged me more than once to converse with the
Children as little as possibly, that they may not learn any of my
awkward Tricks.

You must farther know, since I am opening my Heart to you, that she
thinks her self my Superior in Sense, as much as she is in Quality,
and therefore treats me like a plain well-meaning Man, who does not
know the World. She dictates to me in my own Business, sets me right
in Point of Trade, and if I disagree with her about any of my Ships at
Sea, wonders that I will dispute with her, when I know very well that
her Great Grandfather was a Flag Officer.

To compleat my Sufferings, she has teazed me for this Quarter of [a
[3]] Year last past, to remove into one of the Squares at the other
End of the Town, promising for my Encouragement, that I shall have as
good a Cock-loft as any Gentleman in the Square; to which the
Honourable Oddly Enville, Esq., always adds, like a Jack-a-napes as he
is, that he hopes twill be as near the Court as possible.

In short, Mr. SPECTATOR, I am so much out of my natural Element, that
to recover my old Way of Life I would be content to begin the World
again, and be plain Jack Anvil; but alas! I am in for Life, and am
bound to subscribe my self, with great Sorrow of Heart,

Your humble Servant,

John Enville, Knt.

L.

[Footnote 1: This has been said to refer to a Sir Ambrose Crowley, who changed his name to Crawley.]

[Footnote 2: [considerable] corrected by an erratum in No. 301.]

[Footnote 3: [an]]

* * * * *

No. 300. Wednesday, February 13, 1712. Steele.

Diversum vitio vitium prope majus.

Hor.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

When you talk of the Subject of Love, and the Relations arising from
it, methinks you should take Care to leave no Fault unobserved which
concerns the State of Marriage. The great Vexation that I have
observed in it, is, that the wedded Couple seem to want Opportunities
of being often enough alone together, and are forced to quarrel and be
fond before Company. Mr. Hotspur and his Lady, in a Room full of their
Friends, are ever saying something so smart to each other, and that
but just within Rules, that the whole Company stand in the utmost
Anxiety and Suspence for fear of their falling into Extremities which
they could not be present at. On the other Side, Tom Faddle and his
pretty Spouse where-ever they come are billing at such a Rate, as they
think must do our Hearts good who behold em. Cannot you possibly
propose a Mean between being Wasps and Doves in Publick? I should
think if you advised to hate or love sincerely it would be better: For
if they would be so discreet as to hate from the very Bottom of their
Hearts, their Aversion would be too strong for little Gibes every
Moment; and if they loved with that calm and noble Value which dwells
in the Heart, with a Warmth like that of Life-Blood, they would not be
so impatient of their Passion as to fall into observable Fondness.
This Method, in each Case, would save Appearances; but as those who
offend on the fond Side are by much the fewer, I would have you begin
with them, and go on to take Notice of a most impertinent Licence
married Women take, not only to be very loving to their Spouses in
Publick, but also make nauseous Allusions to private Familiarities,
and the like. Lucina is a Lady of the greatest Discretion, you must
know, in the World; and withal very much a Physician: Upon the
Strength of these two Qualities there is nothing she will not speak of
before us Virgins; and she every Day talks with a very grave Air in
such a Manner, as is very improper so much as to be hinted at but to
obviate the greatest Extremity. Those whom they call good Bodies,
notable People, hearty Neighbours, and the purest goodest Company in
the World, are the great Offenders in this Kind. Here I think I have
laid before you an open Field for Pleasantry; and hope you will shew
these People that at least they are not witty: In which you will save
from many a Blush a daily Sufferer, who is very much

Your most humble Servant,
Susanna Loveworth.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

In yours of Wednesday the 30th past, you and your Correspondent are
very severe on a sort of Men, whom you call Male Coquets; but without
any other Reason, in my Apprehension, than that of paying a shallow
Compliment to the fair Sex, by accusing some Men of imaginary Faults,
that the Women may not seem to be the more faulty Sex; though at the
same time you suppose there are some so weak as to be imposed upon by
fine Things and false Addresses. I cant persuade my self that your
Design is to debar the Sexes the Benefit of each others Conversation
within the Rules of Honour; nor will you, I dare say, recommend to
em, or encourage the common Tea-Table Talk, much less that of
Politicks and Matters of State: And if these are forbidden Subjects of
Discourse, then, as long as there are any Women in the World who take
a Pleasure in hearing themselves praised, and can bear the Sight of a
Man prostrate at their Feet, so long I shall make no Wonder that there
are those of the other Sex who will pay them those impertinent
Humiliations. We should have few People such Fools as to practise
Flattery, if all were so wise as to despise it. I don't deny but you
would do a meritorious Act, if you could prevent all Impositions on
the Simplicity of young Women; but I must confess I don't apprehend
you have laid the Fault on the proper Person, and if I trouble you
with my Thoughts upon it I promise my self your Pardon. Such of the
Sex as are raw and innocent, and most exposed to these Attacks, have,
or their Parents are much to blame if they have not, one to advise and
guard em, and are obliged themselves to take Care of em: but if
these, who ought to hinder Men from all Opportunities of this sort of
Conversation, instead of that encourage and promote it, the Suspicion
is very just that there are some private Reasons for it; and Ill
leave it to you to determine on which Side a Part is then acted. Some
Women there are who are arrived at Years of Discretion, I mean are got
out of the Hands of their Parents and Governours, and are set up for
themselves, who yet are liable to these Attempts; but if these are
prevailed upon, you must excuse me if I lay the Fault upon them, that
their Wisdom is not grown with their Years. My Client, Mr. Strephon,
whom you summoned to declare himself, gives you Thanks however for
your Warning, and begs the Favour only to inlarge his Time for a Week,
or to the last Day of the Term, and then hell appear gratis, and pray
no Day over.
Yours,
Philanthropes.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I was last Night to visit a Lady who I much esteem, and always took
for my Friend; but met with so very different a Reception from what I
expected, that I cannot help applying my self to you on this Occasion.
In the room of that Civility and Familiarity I used to be treated with
by her, an affected Strangeness in her Looks, and Coldness in her
Behaviour, plainly told me I was not the welcome Guest which the
Regard and Tenderness she has often expressed for me gave me Reason to
flatter my self to think I was. Sir, this is certainly a great Fault,
and I assure you a very common one; therefore I hope you will think it
a fit Subject for some Part of a Spectator. Be pleased to acquaint us
how we must behave our selves towards this valetudinary Friendship,
subject to so many Heats and Colds, and you will oblige,
SIR, Your humble Servant,
Miranda.

SIR,

I cannot forbear acknowledging the Delight your late Spectators on
Saturdays have given me; for it is writ in the honest Spirit of
Criticism, and called to my Mind the following four Lines I had read
long since in a Prologue to a Play called Julius Cæsar [1] which has
deserved a better Fate. The Verses are addressed to the little
Criticks.

Shew your small Talent, and let that suffice ye;
But grow not vain upon it, I advise ye.
For every Fop can find out Faults in Plays:
You'll ne'er arrive at Knowing when to praise.

Yours, D. G.

T.

[Footnote 1: By William Alexander, Earl of Stirling (who died in 1640); one of his four Monarchicke Tragedies. He received a grant of Nova Scotia to colonize, and was secretary of state for Scotland.]

* * * * *

No. 301. Thursday, February 14, 1712. Budgell.

Possint ut Juvenes visere fervidi
Multo non sine risu,
Dilapsam in cineres facem.

Hor.

We are generally so much pleased with any little Accomplishments, either of Body or Mind, which have once made us remarkable in the World, that we endeavour to perswade our selves it is not in the Power of Time to rob us of them. We are eternally pursuing the same Methods which first procured us the Applauses of Mankind. It is from this Notion that an Author writes on, tho he is come to Dotage; without ever considering that his Memory is impaired, and that he has lost that Life, and those Spirits, which formerly raised his Fancy, and fired his Imagination. The same Folly hinders a Man from submitting his Behaviour to his Age, and makes Clodius, who was a celebrated Dancer at five and twenty, still love to hobble in a Minuet, tho he is past Threescore. It is this, in a Word, which fills the Town with elderly Fops, and superannuated Coquets.

Canidia, a Lady of this latter Species, passed by me Yesterday in her Coach. Canidia was an haughty Beauty of the last Age, and was followed by Crowds of Adorers, whose Passions only pleased her, as they gave her Opportunities of playing the Tyrant. She then contracted that awful Cast of the Eye and forbidding Frown, which she has not yet laid aside, and has still all the Insolence of Beauty without its Charms. If she now attracts the Eyes of any Beholders, it is only by being remarkably ridiculous; even her own Sex laugh at her Affectation; and the Men, who always enjoy an ill-natured Pleasure in seeing an imperious Beauty humbled and neglected, regard her with the same Satisfaction that a free Nation sees a Tyrant in Disgrace.

WILL. HONEYCOMB, who is a great Admirer of the Gallantries in King Charles the Seconds Reign, lately communicated to me a Letter written by a Wit of that Age to his Mistress, who it seems was a Lady of Canidia's Humour; and tho I do not always approve of my Friend WILLS Taste, I liked this Letter so well, that I took a Copy of it, with which I shall here present my Reader.

To CLOE.
MADAM,

Since my waking Thoughts have never been able to influence you in my
Favour, I am resolved to try whether my Dreams can make any Impression
on you. To this end I shall give you an Account of a very odd one
which my Fancy presented to me last Night, within a few Hours after I
left you.

Methought I was unaccountably conveyed into the most delicious Place
mine Eyes ever beheld, it was a large Valley divided by a River of the
purest Water I had ever seen. The Ground on each Side of it rose by an
easie Ascent, and was covered with Flowers of an infinite Variety,
which as they were reflected in the Water doubled the Beauties of the
Place, or rather formed an Imaginary Scene more beautiful than the
real. On each Side of the River was a Range of lofty Trees, whose
Boughs were loaden with almost as many Birds as Leaves. Every Tree was
full of Harmony.

I had not gone far in this pleasant Valley, when I perceived that it
was terminated by a most magnificent Temple. The Structure was
ancient, and regular. On the Top of it was figured the God Saturn, in
the same Shape and Dress that the Poets usually represent Time.

As I was advancing to satisfie my Curiosity by a nearer View, I was
stopped by an Object far more beautiful than any I had before
discovered in the whole Place. I fancy, Madam, you will easily guess
that this could hardly be any thing but your self; in reality it was
so; you lay extended on the Flowers by the side of the River, so that
your Hands which were thrown in a negligent Posture, almost touched
the Water. Your Eyes were closed; but if your Sleep deprived me of the
Satisfaction of seeing them, it left me at leisure to contemplate
several other Charms, which disappear when your Eyes are open. I could
not but admire the Tranquility you slept in, especially when I
considered the Uneasiness you produce in so many others.

While I was wholly taken up in these Reflections, the Doors of the
Temple flew open, with a very great Noise; and lifting up my Eyes, I
saw two Figures, in human Shape, coming into the Valley. Upon a nearer
Survey, I found them to be YOUTH and LOVE. The first was encircled
with a kind of Purple Light, that spread a Glory over all the Place;
the other held a flaming Torch in his Hand. I could observe, that all
the way as they came towards us, the Colours of the Flowers appeared
more lively, the Trees shot out in Blossoms, the Birds threw
themselves into Pairs, and Serenaded them as they passed: The whole
Face of Nature glowed with new Beauties. They were no sooner arrived
at the Place where you lay, when they seated themselves on each Side
of you. On their Approach, methought I saw a new Bloom arise in your
Face, and new Charms diffuse themselves over your whole Person. You
appeared more than Mortal; but, to my great Surprise, continued fast
asleep, tho the two Deities made several gentle Efforts to awaken
you.

After a short Time, YOUTH (displaying a Pair of Wings, which I had
not before taken notice of) flew off. LOVE still remained, and holding
the Torch which he had in his Hand before your Face, you still
appeared as beautiful as ever. The glaring of the Light in your Eyes
at length awakened you; when, to my great Surprise, instead of
acknowledging the Favour of the Deity, you frowned upon him, and
struck the Torch out of his Hand into the River. The God after having
regarded you with a Look that spoke at [once [1]] his Pity and
Displeasure, flew away. Immediately a kind of Gloom overspread the
whole Place. At the same time I saw an hideous Spectre enter at one
end of the Valley. His Eyes were sunk into his Head, his Face was pale
and withered, and his Skin puckered up in Wrinkles. As he walked on
the sides of the Bank the River froze, the Flowers faded, the Trees
shed their Blossoms, the Birds dropped from off the Boughs, and fell
dead at his Feet. By these Marks I knew him to be OLD-AGE. You were
seized with the utmost Horror and Amazement at his Approach. You
endeavoured to have fled, but the Phantome caught you in his Arms. You
may easily guess at the Change you suffered in this Embrace. For my
own Part, though I am still too full of the [frightful [2]] Idea, I
will not shock you with a Description of it. I was so startled at the
Sight that my Sleep immediately left me, and I found my self awake, at
leisure to consider of a Dream which seems too extraordinary to be
without a Meaning. I am, Madam, with the greatest Passion,
Your most Obedient,
most Humble Servant, &c.

X.

[Footnote 1: [the same time]]

[Footnote 2: [dreadful]]

* * * * *

No. 302. Friday, February 15, 1712. Steele.

Lachrymæque decoræ,
Gratior et pulchro veniens in corpore Virtus.

Vir. Æn. 5.

I read what I give for the Entertainment of this Day with a great deal of Pleasure, and publish it just as it came to my Hands. I shall be very glad to find there are many guessed at for Emilia.

Mr. SPECTATOR, [1]

If this Paper has the good Fortune to be honoured with a Place in your
Writings, I shall be the more pleased, because the Character of Emilia
is not an imaginary but a real one. I have industriously obscured the
whole by the Addition of one or two Circumstances of no Consequence,
that the Person it is drawn from might still be concealed; and that
the Writer of it might not be in the least suspected, and for [other
[2]] Reasons, I chuse not to give it the Form of a Letter: But if,
besides the Faults of the Composition, there be any thing in it more
proper for a Correspondent than the SPECTATOR himself to write, I
submit it to your better Judgment, to receive any other Model you
think fit.
I am, SIR,
Your very humble Servant.

There is nothing which gives one so pleasing a Prospect of human
Nature, as the Contemplation of Wisdom and Beauty: The latter is the
peculiar Portion of that Sex which is therefore called Fair; but the
happy Concurrence of both these Excellencies in the same Person, is
a Character too celestial to be frequently met with. Beauty is an
over-weaning self-sufficient thing, careless of providing it self
any more substantial Ornaments; nay so little does it consult its
own Interests, that it too often defeats it self by betraying that
Innocence which renders it lovely and desirable. As therefore Virtue
makes a beautiful Woman appear more beautiful, so Beauty makes a
virtuous Woman really more virtuous. Whilst I am considering these
two Perfections gloriously united in one Person, I cannot help
representing to my Mind the Image of Emilia.