Chapter LXXIV: Introduction (74)

Of that kind of Poetry which Mr. Dryden calls the Fairy Way of
Writing. How a Poet should be Qualified for it. The Pleasures of the
Imagination that arise from it. In this respect why the Moderns excell
the Ancients. Why the English excell the Moderns. Who the Best among
the English. Of Emblematical Persons.

PAPER X. [No. 420, Volume 3.]

What Authors please the Imagination who have nothing to do with
Fiction. How History pleases the Imagination. How the Authors of the
new Philosophy please the Imagination. The Bounds and Defects of the
Imagination. Whether these Defects are Essential to the Imagination.

PAPER XI. [No. 421, Volume 3.]

How those please the Imagination who treat of Subjects abstracted from
Matter, by Allusions taken from it. What Allusions most pleasing to
the Imagination. Great Writers how Faulty in this Respect. Of the Art
of Imagining in General. The Imagination capable of Pain as well as
Pleasure. In what Degree the Imagination is capable either of Pain or
Pleasure.

O.

* * * * *

No. 422. Friday, July 4, 1712. Steele.

'Hæc scripsi non otii abundantia sed amoris erga te.'

Tull. Epis.

I do not know any thing which gives greater Disturbance to Conversation, than the false Notion some People have of Raillery. It ought certainly to be the first Point to be aimed at in Society, to gain the good Will of those with whom you converse. The Way to that, is to shew you are well inclined towards them: What then can be more absurd, than to set up for being extremely sharp and biting, as the Term is, in your Expressions to your Familiars? A Man who has no good Quality but Courage, is in a very ill way towards making an agreeable Figure in the World, because that which he has superior to other People cannot be exerted, without raising himself an _Enemy_. Your Gentleman of a Satyrical Vein is in the like Condition. To say a Thing which perplexes the Heart of him you speak to, or brings Blushes into his Face, is a degree of Murder; and it is, I think, an unpardonable Offence to shew a Man you do not care, whether he is pleased or displeased. But won't you then take a Jest? Yes: but pray let it be a Jest. It is no Jest to put me, who am so unhappy as to have an utter Aversion to speaking to more than one Man at a time, under a Necessity to explain my self in much Company, and reducing me to Shame and Derision, except I perform what my Infirmity of Silence disables me to do.

_Callisthenes_ has great Wit accompanied with that Quality (without which a Man can have no Wit at all) a Sound Judgment. This Gentleman rallies the best of any Man I know, for he forms his Ridicule upon a Circumstance which you are in your Heart not unwilling to grant him, to wit, that you are Guilty of an Excess in something which is in it self laudable. He very well understands what you would be, and needs not fear your Anger for declaring you are a little too much that Thing. The Generous will bear being reproached as Lavish, and the Valiant, Rash, without being provoked to Resentment against their Monitor. What has been said to be a Mark of a good Writer, will fall in with the Character of a good Companion. The good Writer makes his Reader better pleased with himself, and the agreeable Man makes his Friends enjoy themselves, rather than him, while he is in their Company. _Callisthenes_ does this with inimitable Pleasantry. He whispered a Friend the other Day, so as to be overheard by a young Officer, who gave Symptoms of Cocking upon the Company, That Gentleman has very much of the Air of a General Officer. The Youth immediately put on a Composed Behaviour, and behaved himself suitably to the Conceptions he believed the Company had of him. It is to be allowed that _Callisthenes_ will make a Man run into impertinent Relations, to his own Advantage, and express the Satisfaction he has in his own dear self till he is very ridiculous, but in this case the Man is made a Fool by his own Consent, and not exposed as such whether he will or no. I take it therefore that to make Raillery agreeable, a Man must either not know he is rallied, or think never the worse of himself if he sees he is.

_Acetus_ is of a quite contrary Genius, and is more generally admired than _Callisthenes_, but not with Justice. _Acetus_ has no regard to the Modesty or Weakness of the Person he rallies; but if his Quality or Humility gives him any Superiority to the Man he would fall upon, he has no Mercy in making the Onset. He can be pleased to see his best Friend out of Countenance, while the Laugh is loud in his own Applause. His Raillery always puts the Company into little Divisions and separate Interests, while that of _Callisthenes_ cements it, and makes every Man not only better pleased with himself, but also with all the rest in the Conversation.

To rally well, it is absolutely necessary that Kindness must run thro' all you say, and you must ever preserve the Character of a Friend to support your Pretensions to be free with a Man. _Acetus_ ought to be banished human Society, because he raises his Mirth upon giving Pain to the Person upon whom he is pleasant. Nothing but the Malevolence, which is too general towards those who excell, could make his Company tolerated; but they with whom he converses, are sure to see some Man sacrificed where-ever he is admitted, and all the Credit he has for Wit is owing to the Gratification it gives to other Men's Ill-nature.

_Minutius_ has a Wit that conciliates a Man's Love at the same time that it is exerted against his Faults. He has an Art of keeping the Person he rallies in Countenance, by insinuating that he himself is guilty of the same Imperfection. This he does with so much Address, that he seems rather to bewail himself, than fall upon his Friend.

It is really monstrous to see how unaccountably it prevails among Men, to take the Liberty of displeasing each other. One would think sometimes that the Contention is, who shall be most disagreeable, Allusions to past Follies, Hints which revive what a Man has a Mind to forget for ever, and deserves that all the rest of the World should, are commonly brought forth even in Company of Men of Distinction. They do not thrust with the Skill of Fencers, but cut up with the Barbarity of Butchers. It is, methinks, below the Character of Men of Humanity and Good-manners, to be capable of Mirth while there is any one of the Company in Pain and Disorder. They who have the true Taste of Conversation, enjoy themselves in a Communication of each other's Excellencies, and not in a Triumph over their Imperfections. _Fortius_ would have been reckoned a Wit, if there had never been a Fool in the World: He wants not Foils to be a Beauty, but has that natural Pleasure in observing Perfection in others, that his own Faults are overlooked out of Gratitude by all his Acquaintance.

After these several Characters of Men who succeed or fail in Raillery, it may not be amiss to reflect a little further what one takes to be the most agreeable Kind of it; and that to me appears when the Satyr is directed against Vice, with an Air of Contempt of the Fault, but no Ill-will to the Criminal. Mr. _Congreve's Doris_ is a Master-piece in this Kind. It is the Character of a Woman utterly abandoned, but her Impudence by the finest Piece of Raillery is made only Generosity.

'Peculiar therefore is her Way,
Whether by Nature taught,
I shall not undertake to say,
Or by experience bought;

For who o'er Night obtain'd her Grace,
She can next Day disown,
And stare upon the strange Man's Face,
As one she ne'er had known,

So well she can the Truth disguise,
Such artful Wonder frame,
The Lover or distrusts his Eyes,
Or thinks 'twas all a Dream.

Some censure this as lewd or low,
Who are to Bounty blind;
For to forget what we bestow,
Bespeaks a noble Mind.'

T.

* * * * *

No. 423. Saturday, July 5, 1712. Steele.

'--Nuper Idoneus.'

Hor.

I look upon my self as a Kind of Guardian to the Fair, and am always watchful to observe any thing which concerns their Interest. The present Paper shall be employed in the Service of a very fine young Woman; and the Admonitions I give her, may not be unuseful to the rest of the Sex. _Gloriana_ shall be the Name of the Heroine in To-day's Entertainment; and when I have told you that she is rich, witty, young and beautiful, you will believe she does not want Admirers. She has had since she came to Town about twenty five of those Lovers, who make their Addresses by way of Jointure and Settlement. These come and go, with great Indifference on both Sides; and as beauteous as she is, a Line in a Deed has had Exception enough against it, to outweigh the Lustre of her Eyes, the Readiness of her Understanding, and the Merit of her general Character. But among the Crowd of such cool Adorers, she has two who are very assiduous in their Attendance. There is something so extraordinary and artful in their Manner of Application, that I think it but common Justice to alarm her in it. I have done it in the following Letter.

Madam,

'I have for some time taken Notice of two Gentlemen who attend you in
all publick Places, both of whom have also easie Access to you at your
own House: But the Matter is adjusted between them, and _Damon_, who
so passionately addresses you, has no Design upon you; but _Strephon_,
who seems to be indifferent to you, is the Man, who is, as they have
settled it, to have you. The Plot was laid over a Bottle of Wine; and
_Strephon_, when he first thought of you, proposed to _Damon_ to be
his Rival. The manner of his breaking of it to him, I was so placed at
a Tavern, that I could not avoid hearing. _Damon_, said he with a deep
Sigh, I have long languished for that Miracle of Beauty _Gloriana_,
and if you will be very stedfastly my Rival, I shall certainly obtain
her. Do not, continued he, be offended at this Overture; for I go upon
the Knowledge of the Temper of the Woman, rather than any Vanity that
I should profit by an Opposition of your Pretensions to those of your
humble Servant. _Gloriana_ has very good Sense, a quick Relish of the
Satisfactions of Life, and will not give her self, as the Crowd of
Women do, to the Arms of a Man to whom she is indifferent. As she is a
sensible Woman, Expressions of Rapture and Adoration will not move her
neither; but he that has her must be the Object of her Desire, not her
Pity. The Way to this End I take to be, that a Man's general Conduct
should be agreeable, without addressing in particular to the Woman he
loves. Now, Sir, if you will be so kind as to sigh and die for
_Gloriana_, I will carry it with great Respect towards her, but seem
void of any Thoughts as a Lover. By this Means I shall be in the most
amiable Light of which I am capable; I shall be received with Freedom,
you with Reserve. _Damon_, who has himself no Designs of Marriage at
all, easily fell into the Scheme; and you may observe, that where-ever
you are _Damon_ appears also. You see he carries on an unaffecting
Exactness in his Dress and Manner, and strives always to be the very
Contrary of _Strephon_. They have already succeeded so far, that your
Eyes are ever in Search of _Strephon_, and turn themselves of Course
from _Damon_. They meet and compare Notes upon your Carriage; and the
Letter which, was brought to you the other Day, was a Contrivance to
remark your Resentment. When you saw the Billet subscribed _Damon_,
and turned away with a scornful Air, and cried Impertinence! you gave
Hopes to him that shuns you, without mortifying him that languishes
for you. What I am concerned for, Madam, is, that in the disposal of
your Heart, you should know what you are doing, and examine it before
it is lost. _Strephon_ contradicts you in Discourse with the Civility
of one who has a Value for you, but gives up nothing like one that
loves you. This seeming Unconcern gives this Behaviour the advantage
of Sincerity, and insensibly obtains your good Opinion, by appearing
disinterested in the purchase of it. If you watch these Correspondents
hereafter, you will find that _Strephon_ makes his Visit of Civility
immediately after _Damon_ has tired you with one of Love. Tho' you are
very discreet, you will find it no easie matter to escape the Toils so
well laid, as when one studies to be disagreeable in Passion, the
other to be pleasing without it. All the Turns of your Temper are
carefully watched, and their quick and faithful Intelligence gives
your Lovers irresistible Advantage. You will please, Madam, to be upon
your guard, and take all the necessary Precautions against one who is
amiable to you before you know he is enamoured.

_I am, Madam,
Your most Obedient Servant._

_Strephon_ makes great Progress in this Lady's good Graces, for most Women being actuated by some little Spirit of Pride and Contradiction, he has the good effects of both those Motives by this Covert-Way of Courtship. He received a Message Yesterday from _Damon_ in the following Words, superscribed _With Speed_.

'All goes well; she is very angry at me, and I dare say hates me in
earnest. It is a good time to Visit.
_Yours_.'

The Comparison of _Strephon's_ Gayety to _Damon's_ Languishment, strikes her Imagination with a Prospect of very agreeable Hours with such a Man as the former, and Abhorrence of the insipid Prospect with one like the latter. To know when a Lady is displeased with another, is to know the best time of advancing your self. This method of two Persons playing into each other's Hand is so dangerous, that I cannot tell how a Woman could be able to withstand such a Siege. The Condition of _Gloriana_, I am afraid, is irretrievable, for _Strephon_ has had so many Opportunities of pleasing without suspicion, that all which is left for her to do is to bring him, now she is advised, to an Explanation of his Passion, and beginning again, if she can conquer the kind Sentiments she has already conceived for him. When one shews himself a Creature to be avoided, the other proper to be fled to for Succour, they have the whole Woman between them, and can occasionally rebound her Love and Hatred from one to the other, in such a manner as to keep her at a distance from all the rest of the World, and cast Lots for the Conquest.

N. B. _I have many other Secrets which concern the Empire of Love, but I consider that while I alarm my Women, I instruct my Men_.

T.

* * * * *

No. 424. Monday, July 7, 1712. Steele

'Est Ulubris, animus si te non deficit--'

Hor.

London, June 24.

Mr. Spectator,

'A man who has it in his Power to chuse his own Company, would
certainly be much to blame should he not, to the best of his Judgment,
take such as are of a Temper most suitable to his own; and where that
Choice is wanting, or where a Man is mistaken in his Choice, and yet
under a Necessity of continuing in the same Company, it will certainly
be to his Interest to carry himself as easily as possible.

'In this I am sensible I do but repeat what has been said a thousand
times, at which however I think no Body has any Title to take
Exception, but they who never failed to put this in Practice--Not to
use any longer Preface, this being the Season of the Year in which
great Numbers of all sorts of People retire from this Place of
Business and Pleasure to Country Solitude, I think it not improper to
advise them to take with them as great a Stock of Good-humour as they
can; for tho' a Country-Life is described as the most pleasant of all
others, and though it may in Truth be so, yet it is so only to those
who know how to enjoy Leisure and Retirement.

'As for those who can't live without the constant helps of Business or
Company, let them consider, that in the Country there is no
_Exchange_, there are no Play-houses, no Variety of Coffee-houses, nor
many of those other Amusements which serve here as so many Reliefs
from the repeated Occurrences in their own Families; but that there
the greatest Part of their Time must be spent within themselves, and
consequently it behoves them to consider how agreeable it will be to
them before they leave this dear Town.

'I remember, Mr. SPECTATOR, we were very well entertained last Year,
with the Advices you gave us from Sir ROGER'S Country Seat; which I
the rather mention, because 'tis almost impossible not to live
pleasantly, where the Master of a Family is such a one as you there
describe your Friend, who cannot therefore (I mean as to his domestick
Character) be too often recommended to the Imitation of others. How
amiable is that Affability and Benevolence with which he treats his
Neighbours, and every one, even the meanest of his own Family! And yet
how seldom imitated? instead of which we commonly meet with
ill-natured Expostulations, Noise, and Chidings--And this I hinted,
because the Humour and Disposition of the Head, is what chiefly
influences all the other Parts of a Family.

'An Agreement and kind Correspondence between Friends and
Acquaintance, is the greatest Pleasure of Life. This is an undoubted
Truth, and yet any Man who judges from the Practice of the World, will
be almost persuaded to believe the contrary; for how can we suppose
People should be so industrious to make themselves uneasie? What can
engage them to entertain and foment Jealousies of one another upon
every the least Occasion? Yet so it is, there are People who (as it
should seem) delight in being troublesome and vexatious, who (as
_Tully_ speaks) _Mira sunt alacritate ad litigandum, Have a certain
Chearfulness in wrangling_. And thus it happens, that there are very
few Families in which there are not Feuds and Animosities, tho' 'tis
every one's Interest, there more particularly, to avoid 'em, because
there (as I would willingly hope) no one gives another Uneasiness,
without feeling some share of it--But I am gone beyond what I
designed, and had almost forgot what I chiefly proposed; which was,
barely to tell you, how hardly we who pass most of our Time in Town
dispense with a long Vacation in the Country, how uneasie we grow to
our selves and to one another when our Conversation is confined,
insomuch that by _Michaelmas_ 'tis odds but we come to downright
squabbling, and make as free with one another to our Faces, as we do
with the rest of the World behind their Backs. After I have told you
this, I am to desire that you would now and then give us a Lesson of
Good-humour, a Family-Piece; which, since we are all very fond of you,
I hope may have some Influence upon us--

'After these plain Observations give me leave to give you an Hint of
what a Set of Company of my Acquaintance, who are now gone into the
Country, and have the Use of an absent Nobleman's Seat, have settled
among themselves, to avoid the Inconveniencies above mentioned. They
are a Collection of ten or twelve, of the same good Inclination
towards each other, but of very different Talents and Inclinations:
From hence they hope, that the Variety of their Tempers will only
create Variety of Pleasures. But as there always will arise, among the
same People, either for want of Diversity of Objects, or the like
Causes, a certain Satiety, which may grow into ill Humour or
Discontent, there is a large Wing of the House which they design to
employ in the Nature of an Infirmary. Whoever says a peevish thing, or
acts any thing which betrays a Sowerness or Indisposition to Company,
is immediately to be conveyed to his Chambers in the Infirmary; from
whence he is not to be relieved, till by his Manner of Submission, and
the Sentiments expressed in his Petition for that Purpose, he appears
to the Majority of the Company to be again fit for Society. You are to
understand, that all ill-natured Words or uneasie Gestures are
sufficient Cause for Banishment; speaking impatiently to Servants,
making a Man repeat what he says, or any thing that betrays
Inattention or Dishumour, are also criminal without Reprieve: But it
is provided, that whoever observes the ill-natured Fit coming upon
himself, and voluntarily retires, shall be received at his return from
the Infirmary with the highest Marks of Esteem. By these and other
wholesome Methods it is expected that if they cannot cure one another,
yet at least they have taken Care that the ill Humour of one shall not
be troublesome to the rest of the Company. There are many other Rules
which the Society have established for the Preservation of their Ease
and Tranquility, the Effects of which, with the Incidents that arise
among them, shall be communicated to you from Time to Time for the
publick Good, by,

SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
R. O.

T.

* * * * *

No. 425. Tuesday, July 8, 1712. Budgell.

'Frigora mitescunt Zephyris, Ver proterit Æstas
Interitura, simul
Pomifer Autumnus fruges effuderit, et mox
Bruma recurrit iners.'

Hor.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'There is hardly any thing gives me a more sensible Delight, than the
Enjoyment of a cool still Evening after the Uneasiness of a hot sultry
Day. Such a one I passed not long ago, which made me rejoice when the
Hour as come for the Sun to set, that I might enjoy the Freshness of
the Evening in my Garden, which then affords me the pleasantest Hours
I pass in the whole Four and twenty. I immediately rose from my Couch,
and went down into it. You descend at first by twelve Stone Steps into
a large Square divided into four Grass-plots, in each of which is a
Statue of white Marble. This is separated from a large Parterre by a
low Wall, and from thence, thro' a Pair of Iron Gates, you are led
into a long broad Walk of the finest Turf, set on each Side with tall
Yews, and on either Hand bordered by a Canal, which on the Right
divides the Walk from a Wilderness parted into Variety of Allies and
Arbours, and on the Left from a kind of Amphitheatre, which is the
Receptacle of a great Number of Oranges and Myrtles. The Moon shone
bright, and seemed then most agreeably to supply the Place of the Sun,
obliging me with as much Light as was necessary to discover a thousand
pleasing Objects, and at the same time divested of all Power of Heat.
The Reflection of it in the Water, the Fanning of the Wind rustling on
the Leaves, the Singing of the Thrush and Nightingale, and the
Coolness of the Walks, all conspired to make me lay aside all
displeasing Thoughts, and brought me into such a Tranquility of Mind,
as is I believe the next Happiness to that of hereafter. In this sweet
Retirement I naturally fell into the Repetition of some Lines out of a
Poem of _Milton's_, which he entitles _Il Penseroso_, the Ideas of
which were exquisitely suited to my present Wandrings of Thought.

'Sweet Bird! that shun'st the Noise of Folly,
Most musical! most melancholy!
Thee Chauntress, oft the Woods among,
I wooe to hear thy Evening Song:
And missing thee, I walk unseen
On the dry smooth-shaven Green,
To behold the wandring Moon,
Riding near her highest Noon,
Like one that hath been led astray,
Thro' the Heavn's wide pathless Way,
And oft, as if her Head she bow'd,
Stooping thro' a fleecy Cloud.

Then let some strange mysterious Dream
Wave with his Wings in airy Stream,
Of lively Portraiture displaid,
Softly on my Eyelids laid;
And as I wake, sweet Musick breathe
Above, about, or underneath,
Sent by Spirits to Mortals Good,
Or th' unseen Genius of the Wood.'

I reflected then upon the sweet Vicissitudes of Night and Day, on the
charming Disposition of the Seasons, and their Return again in a
perpetual Circle; and oh! said I, that I could from these my declining
Years return again to my first Spring of Youth and Vigour; but that,
alas! is impossible: All that remains within my Power, is to soften
the Inconveniences I feel, with an easie contented Mind, and the
Enjoyment of such Delights as this Solitude affords me. In this
Thought I sate me down on a Bank of Flowers and dropt into a Slumber,
which whether it were the Effect of Fumes and Vapours, or my present
Thoughts, I know not; but methought the Genius of the Garden stood
before me, and introduced into the Walk where I lay this Drama and
different Scenes of the Revolution of the Year, which whilst I then
saw, even in my Dream, I resolved to write down, and send to the
SPECTATOR.

The first Person whom I saw advancing towards me was a Youth of a most
beautiful Air and Shape, tho' he seemed not yet arrived at that exact
Proportion and Symmetry of Parts which a little more time would have
given him; but however, there was such a Bloom in his Countenance,
such Satisfaction and Joy, that I thought it the most desirable Form
that I had ever seen. He was cloathed in a flowing Mantle of green
Silk, interwoven with Flowers: He had a Chaplet of Roses on his Head,
and a _Narcissus_ in his Hand; Primroses and Violets sprang up under
his Feet, and all Nature was cheer'd at his Approach. _Flora_ was on
one Hand and _Vertumnus_ on the other in a Robe of changeable Silk.
After this I was surprized to see the Moon-beams reflected with a
sudden Glare from Armour, and to see a Man compleatly armed advancing
with his Sword drawn. I was soon informed by the Genius it was _Mars_,
who had long usurp'd a Place among the Attendants of the _Spring_. He
made Way for a softer Appearance, it was _Venus_, without any Ornament
but her own Beauties, not so much as her own Cestus, with which she
had incompass'd a Globe, which she held in her right Hand, and in her
left she had a Sceptre of Gold. After her followed the Graces with
their Arms intwined within one another, their Girdles were loosed, and
they moved to the Sound of soft Musick, striking the Ground
alternately with their Feet: Then came up the three Months which
belong to this Season. As _March_ advanced towards me, there was
methought in his Look a louring Roughness, which ill befitted a Month
which was ranked in so soft a Season; but as he came forwards his
Features became insensibly more mild and gentle: He smooth'd his Brow,
and looked with so sweet a Countenance that I could not but lament his
Departure, though he made way for _April_. He appeared in the greatest
Gaiety imaginable, and had a thousand Pleasures to attend him: His
Look was frequently clouded, but immediately return'd to its first
Composure, and remained fixed in a Smile. Then came _May_ attended by
_Cupid_, with his Bow strung, and in a Posture to let fly an Arrow: As
he passed by methought I heard a confused Noise of soft Complaints,
gentle Ecstacies, and tender Sighs of Lovers; Vows of Constancy, and
as many Complainings of Perfidiousness; all which the Winds wafted
away as soon as they had reached my Hearing. After these I saw a Man
advance in the full Prime and Vigour of his Age, his Complexion was
sanguine and ruddy, his Hair black, and fell down in beautiful
Ringlets not beneath his Shoulders, a Mantle of Hair-colour'd Silk
hung loosely upon him: He advanced with a hasty Step after the
_Spring_, and sought out the Shade and cool Fountains which plaid in
the Garden. He was particularly well pleased when a Troop of _Zephyrs_
fanned him with their Wings: He had two Companions who walked on each
Side that made him appear the most agreeable, the one was _Aurora_
with Fingers of Roses, and her Feet dewy, attired in grey: The other
was _Vesper_ in a Robe of Azure beset with Drops of Gold, whose Breath
he caught whilst it passed over a Bundle of Honey-Suckles and
Tuberoses which he held in his Hand. _Pan_ and _Ceres_ followed them
with four Reapers, who danced a Morrice to the Sound of Oaten Pipes
and Cymbals. Then came the Attendant Months. _June_ retained still
some small Likeness of the _Spring_; but the other two seemed to step
with a less vigorous Tread, especially _August_, who seem'd almost to
faint whilst for half the Steps he took the Dog-Star levelled his Rays
full at his Head: They passed on and made Way for a Person that seemed
to bend a little under the Weight of Years; his Beard and Hair, which
were full grown, were composed of an equal Number of black and grey;
he wore a Robe which he had girt round him of a yellowish Cast, not
unlike the Colour of fallen Leaves, which he walked upon. I thought he
hardly made Amends for expelling the foregoing Scene by the large
Quantity of Fruits which he bore in his Hands. _Plenty_ walked by his
Side with an healthy fresh Countenance, pouring out from an Horn all
the various Product of the Year. _Pomona_ followed with a Glass of
Cyder in her Hand, with _Bacchus_ in a Chariot drawn by Tygers,
accompanied by a whole Troop of Satyrs, Fauns, and Sylvans.
_September_, who came next, seem'd in his Looks to promise a new
_Spring_, and wore the Livery of those Months. The succeeding Month
was all soiled with the Juice of Grapes, as if he had just come from
the Wine-Press. _November_, though he was in this Division, yet, by
the many Stops he made seemed rather inclined to the _Winter_, which
followed close at his Heels. He advanced in the Shape of an old Man in
the Extremity of Age: The Hair he had was so very white it seem'd a
real Snow; his Eyes were red and piercing, and his Beard hung with a
great Quantity of Icicles: He was wrapt up in Furrs, but yet so
pinched with Excess of Cold that his Limbs were all contracted and his
Body bent to the Ground, so that he could not have supported himself
had it not been for _Comus_ the God of Revels, and _Necessity_ the
Mother of Fate, who sustained him on each side. The Shape and Mantle
of _Comus_ was one of the things that most surprized me; as he
advanced towards me, his Countenance seemed the most desirable I had
ever seen: On the fore Part of his Mantle was pictured Joy, Delight,
and Satisfaction, with a thousand Emblems of Merriment, and Jests with
Faces looking two Ways at once; but as he passed from me I was amazed
at a Shape so little correspondent to his Face: His Head was bald, and
all the rest of his Limbs appeared old and deformed. On the hinder
Part of his Mantle was represented Murder with dishevelled Hair and a
Dagger all bloody, Anger in a Robe of Scarlet, and Suspicion squinting
with both Eyes; but above all the most conspicuous was the Battel of
the _Lapithæ_ and the _Centaurs_. I detested so hideous a Shape, and
turned my Eyes upon _Saturn_, who was stealing away behind him with a
Scythe in one Hand, and an Hour-glass in t'other unobserved. Behind
_Necessity_ was _Vesta_ the Goddess of Fire with a Lamp which was
perpetually supply'd with Oyl; and whose Flame was eternal. She
cheered the rugged Brow of _Necessity_, and warmed her so far as
almost to make her assume the Features and Likeness of _Choice.
December, January,_ and _February_, passed on after the rest all in
Furrs; there was little Distinction to be made amongst them, and they
were only more or less displeasing as they discovered more or less
Haste towards the grateful Return of _Spring._

Z.

* * * * *

No. 426. Wednesday, July 9, 1712. Steele.

'--Quid non mortalia Pectora cogis
Auri sacra fames'

Virg.

A very agreeable Friend of mine, the other Day, carrying me in his Coach into the Country to Dinner, fell into Discourse concerning the Care of Parents due to their Children, and the Piety of Children towards their Parents. He was reflecting upon the Succession of particular Virtues and Qualities there might be preserved from one Generation to another, if these Regards were reciprocally held in Veneration: But as he never fails to mix an Air of Mirth and good Humour with his good Sense and Reasoning, he entered into the following Relation.

I will not be confident in what Century, or under what Reign it happened, that this Want of mutual Confidence and right Understanding between Father and Son was fatal to the Family of the _Valentines_ in _Germany_. _Basilius Valentinus_ was a Person who had arrived at the utmost Perfection in the Hermetick Art, and initiated his Son _Alexandrinus_ in the same Mysteries: But as you know they are not to be attained but by the Painful, the Pious, the Chaste, and Pure of Heart, _Basilius_ did not open to him, because of his Youth, and the Deviations too natural to it, the greatest Secrets of which he was Master, as well knowing that the Operation would fail in the Hands of a Man so liable to Errors in Life as _Alexandrinus_. But believing, from a certain Indisposition of Mind as well as Body, his Dissolution was drawing nigh, he called _Alexandrinus_ to him, and as he lay on a Couch, over-against which his Son was seated, and prepared by sending out Servants one after another, and Admonition to examine that no one over-heard them, he revealed the most important of his Secrets with the Solemnity and Language of an Adept. My Son, said he, many have been the Watchings, long the Lucubrations, constant the Labours of thy Father, not only to gain a great and plentiful Estate to his Posterity, but also to take Care that he should have no Posterity. Be not amazed, my Child; I do not mean that thou shalt be taken from me, but that I will never leave thee, and consequently cannot be said to have Posterity. Behold, my dearest _Alexandrinus_, the Effect of what was propagated in nine Months: We are not to contradict Nature but to follow and to help her; just as long as an Infant is in the Womb of its Parent, so long are these Medicines of Revification in preparing. Observe this small Phial and this little Gallipot, in this an Unguent, in the other a Liquor. In these, my child, are collected such Powers, as shall revive the Springs of Life when they are yet but just ceased, and give new Strength, new Spirits, and, in a Word, wholly restore all the Organs and Senses of the human Body to as great a Duration, as it had before enjoyed from its Birth to the Day of the Application of these my Medicines. But, my beloved Son, Care must be taken to apply them within ten Hours after the Breath is out of the Body, while yet the Clay is warm with its late Life, and yet capable of Resuscitation. I find my Frame grown crasie with perpetual Toil and Meditation; and I conjure you, as soon as I am dead, to anoint me with this Unguent; and when you see me begin to move, pour into my Lips this inestimable Liquor, else the Force of the Ointment will be ineffectual. By this Means you will give me Life as I have you, and we will from that Hour mutually lay aside the Authority of having bestowed Life on each other, but live as Brethren, and prepare new Medicines against such another Period of Time as will demand another Application of the same Restoratives. In a few Days after these wonderful Ingredients were delivered to _Alexandrinus_, _Basilius_ departed this Life. But such was the pious Sorrow of the Son at the Loss of so excellent a Father, and the first Transports of Grief had so wholly disabled him from all manner of Business, that he never thought of the Medicines till the Time to which his Father had limited their Efficacy was expired. To tell the Truth, _Alexandrinus_ was a Man of Wit and Pleasure, and considered his Father had lived out his natural Time, his Life was long and uniform, suitable to the Regularity of it; but that he himself, poor Sinner, wanted a new Life, to repent of a very bad one hitherto; and in the Examination of his Heart, resolved to go on as he did with this natural Being of his, but repent very faithfully and spend very piously the Life to which he should be restored by Application of these Rarities, when Time should come, to his own Person.

It has been observed, that Providence frequently punishes the Self-love of Men who would do immoderately for their own Off-spring, with Children very much below their Characters and Qualifications, insomuch that they only transmit their Names to be born by those who give daily Proofs of the Vanity of the Labour and Ambition of their Progenitors.

It happened thus in the Family of _Basilius_; for _Alexandrinus_ began to enjoy his ample Fortune in all the Extremities of Houshold Expence, Furniture, and insolent Equipage; and this he pursued till the Day of his own Departure began, as he grew sensible, to approach. As _Basilius_ was punished with a Son very unlike him, _Alexandrinus_ was visited with one of his own Disposition. It is natural that ill Men should be suspicious, and _Alexandrinus_, besides that Jealousie, had Proofs of the vitious Disposition of his Son _Renatus_, for that was his Name.

_Alexandrinus_, as I observed, having very good Reasons for thinking it unsafe to trust the real Secret of his Phial and Gallypot to any Man living, projected to make sure Work, and hope for his Success depending from the Avarice, not the Bounty of his Benefactor.

With this Thought he called _Renatus_ to his Bed-side, and bespoke him in the most pathetick Gesture and Accent. As much, my Son, as you have been addicted to Vanity and Pleasure, as I also have been before you, you nor I could escape the Fame, or the good Effects of the profound Knowledge of our Progenitor, the Renowned _Basilius_. His Symbol is very well known in the Philosophick World, and I shall never forget the venerable Air of his Countenance, when he let me into the profound Mysteries of _the Smaragdine Table of_ Hermes. _It is true_, said he, _and far removed from all Colour of Deceit, That which is Inferior is like that which is Superior, by which are acquired and perfected all the Miracles of a certain Work. The Father is the Sun, the Mother the Moon: the Wind is the Womb, the Earth is the Nurse of it, and Mother of all Perfection. All this must be received with Modesty and Wisdom._ The Chymical People carry in all their Jargon a whimsical sort of Piety, which is ordinary with great Lovers of Money, and is no more but deceiving themselves, that their Regularity and Strictness of Manners for the Ends of this World, has some Affinity to the Innocence of Heart which must recommend them to the next. _Renatus_ wondered to hear his Father talk so like an Adept, and with such a Mixture of Piety, while _Alexandrinus_ observing his Attention fixed, proceeded: This Phial, Child, and this little Earthen-Pot will add to thy Estate so much, as to make thee the richest Man in the _German_ Empire. I am going to my Long Home, but shall not return to common Dust. Then he resumed a Countenance of Alacrity, and told him, That if within an Hour after his Death he anointed his whole Body, and poured down his Throat that Liquor which he had from old _Basilius_, the Corps would be converted into pure Gold. I will not pretend to express to you the unfeigned Tendernesses that passed between these two extraordinary Persons; but if the Father recommended the Care of his Remains with Vehemence and Affection, the Son was not behind-hand in professing that he would not cut the least Bit off him, but upon the utmost Extremity, or to provide for his younger Brothers and Sisters.

Well, _Alexandrinus_ died, and the Heir of his Body (as our Term is) could not forbear in the Wantonness of his Heart, to measure the Length and Breadth of his beloved Father, and cast up the ensuing Value of him before he proceeded to Operation. When he knew the immense Reward of his Pains, he began the Work: But lo! when he had anointed the Corps all over, and began to apply the Liquor, the Body stirred, and _Renatus_, in a Fright, broke the Phial. [1]

[Footnote 1: This tale is from the Description of the memorable Sea and Land Travels through Persia to the East Indies, by Johann Albrecht von Mandelslo, translated from the German of Olearius, by J. B. B. Bk v. p. 189. Basil Valentine, whom it makes the hero of a story after the manner of the romances of Virgil the Enchanter, was an able chemist (in those days an alchemist) of the sixteenth century, who is believed to have been a Benedictine monk of Erfurth, and is not known to have had any children. He was the author of the Currus Triumphalis Antimonii, mentioned in a former note. His name was familiar through several books in French, especially 'L'Azoth des Philosophes, avec les 12 Clefs de Philosophie' (Paris, 1660), and a 'Testament de Basile Valentine' (London, 1671).]

* * * * *

No. 427. Thursday, July 10, 1712. Steele.

'Quartum a rerum turpitudine abes, tantum Te a verborum libertate
sejungas.'

Tull.

It is a certain Sign of an ill Heart to be inclined to Defamation. They who are harmless and innocent, can have no Gratification that way; but it ever arises from a Neglect of what is laudable in a Man's self, and an Impatience of seeing it in another. Else why should Virtue provoke? Why should Beauty displease in such a Degree, that a Man given to Scandal never lets the Mention of either pass by him without offering something to the Diminution of it? A Lady the other Day at a Visit being attacked somewhat rudely by one, whose own Character has been very roughly treated, answered a great deal of Heat and Intemperance very calmly, 'Good Madam spare me, who am none of your Match; I speak Ill of no Body, and it is a new Thing to me to be spoken ill of.' Little Minds think Fame consists in the Number of Votes they have on their Side among the Multitude, whereas it is really the inseparable Follower of good and worthy Actions. Fame is as natural a Follower of Merit, as a Shadow is of a Body. It is true, when Crowds press upon you, this Shadow cannot be seen, but when they separate from around you, it will again appear. The Lazy, the Idle, and the Froward, are the Persons who are most pleas'd with the little Tales which pass about the Town to the Disadvantage of the rest of the World. Were it not for the Pleasure of speaking Ill, there are Numbers of People who are too lazy to go out of their own Houses, and too ill-natur'd to open their Lips in Conversation. It was not a little diverting the other Day to observe a Lady reading a Post-Letter, and at these Words, 'After all her Airs, he has heard some Story or other, and the Match is broke off', give Orders in the midst of her Reading, 'Put to the Horses.' That a young Woman of Merit has missed an advantagious Settlement, was News not to be delayed, lest some Body else should have given her malicious Acquaintance that Satisfaction before her. The Unwillingness to receive good Tidings is a Quality as inseparable from a Scandal-Bearer, as the Readiness to divulge bad. But, alas, how wretchedly low and contemptible is that State of Mind, that cannot be pleased but by what is the Subject of Lamentation. This Temper has ever been in the highest Degree odious to gallant Spirits. The _Persian_ Soldier, who was heard reviling _Alexander_ the Great, was well admonished by his Officer; _Sir, you are paid to fight against_ Alexander, _and not to rail at him_.

_Cicero_ in one of his Pleadings, [1] defending his Client from general Scandal, says very handsomely, and with much Reason, _There are many who have particular Engagements to the Prosecutor: There are many who are known to have ill-will to him for whom I appear; there are many who are naturally addicted to Defamation, and envious of any Good to any Man, who may have contributed to spread Reports of this kind: For nothing is so swift as Scandal, nothing is more easily sent abroad, nothing received with more Welcome, nothing diffuses it self so universally. I shall not desire, that if any Report to our Disadvantage has any Ground for it, you would overlook or extenuate it: But if there be any thing advanced without a Person who can say whence he had it, or which is attested by one who forgot who told him it, or who had it from one of so little Consideration that he did not then think it worth his Notice, all such Testimonies as these, I know, you will think too slight to have any Credit against the Innocence and Honour of your Fellow-Citizen_. When an ill Report is traced, it very often vanishes among such as the Orator has here recited. And how despicable a Creature must that be, who is in Pain for what passes among so frivolous a People? There is a Town in _Warwickshire_ of good Note, and formerly pretty famous for much Animosity and Dissension, the chief Families of which have now turned all their Whispers, Backbitings, Envies, and private Malices, into Mirth and Entertainment, by means of a peevish old Gentlewoman, known by the Title of the Lady _Bluemantle_. This Heroine had for many Years together out-done the whole Sisterhood of Gossips in Invention, quick Utterance, and unprovoked Malice. This good Body is of a lasting Constitution, though extremely decayed in her Eyes, and decrepid in her Feet. The two Circumstances of being always at Home from her Lameness, and very attentive from her Blindness, make her Lodgings the Receptacle of all that passes in Town, Good or Bad; but for the latter, she seems to have the better Memory. There is another Thing to be noted of her, which is, That as it is usual with old People, she has a livelier Memory of Things which passed when she was very young, than of late Years. Add to all this, that she does not only not love any Body, but she hates every Body. The Statue in Rome does not serve to vent Malice half so well, as this old Lady does to disappoint it. She does not know the Author of any thing that is told her, but can readily repeat the Matter it self; therefore, though she exposes all the whole Town, she offends no one Body in it. She is so exquisitely restless and peevish, that she quarrels with all about her, and sometimes in a Freak will instantly change her Habitation. To indulge this Humour, she is led about the Grounds belonging to the same House she is in, and the Persons to whom she is to remove, being in the Plot, are ready to receive her at her own Chamber again. At stated Times, the Gentlewoman at whose House she supposes she is at the Time, is sent for to quarrel with, according to her common Custom: When they have a Mind to drive the Jest, she is immediately urged to that Degree, that she will board in a Family with which she has never yet been; and away she will go this Instant, and tell them all that the rest have been saying of them. By this means she has been an Inhabitant of every House in the Place without stirring from the same Habitation; and the many Stories which every body furnishes her with to favour that Deceit, make her the general Intelligencer of the Town of all that can be said by one Woman against another. Thus groundless Stories die away, and sometimes Truths are smothered under the general Word: When they have a Mind to discountenance a thing, Oh! that is in my Lady _Bluemantle's_ Memoirs.

Whoever receives Impressions to the Disadvantage of others without Examination, is to be had in no other Credit for Intelligence than this good Lady _Bluemantle_, who is subjected to have her Ears imposed upon for want of other Helps to better Information. Add to this, that other Scandal-Bearers suspend the Use of these Faculties which she has lost, rather than apply them to do Justice to their Neighbours; and I think, for the Service of my fair Readers, to acquaint them, that there is a voluntary Lady _Bluemantle_ at every Visit in Town.

T.

[Footnote 1: Orat. pro Cu. Plancio. A little beyond the middle.]

* * * * *

No. 428. Friday, July 11, 1712. Steele.

'Occupet extremum Scabies--'

Hor.