Chapter LXXX: Introduction (80)

[Footnote 1: Thomas Parnell, the writer of this allegory, was the son of a commonwealthsman, who at the Restoration ceased to live on his hereditary lands at Congleton, in Cheshire, and bought an estate in Ireland. Born in 1679, at Dublin, where he became M.A. of Trinity College, in 1700 he was ordained after taking his degree, and in 1705 became Archdeacon of Clogher. At the same time he took a wife, who died in 1711. Parnell had been an associate of the chief Whig writers, had taste as a poet, and found pleasure in writing for the papers of the time. When the Whigs went out of power in Queen Anne's reign, Parnell connected himself with the Tories. On the warm recommendation of Swift, he obtained a prebend in 1713, and in May, 1716, a vicarage in the diocese of Dublin, worth £400 a year. He died in July, 1717, aged 38. Inheriting his father's estates in Cheshire and Ireland, Pamell was not in need. Wanting vigour and passion, he was neither formidable nor bitter as a political opponent, and in 1712 his old friends, Steele and Addison, were glad of a paper from him; though, with Swift, he had gone over to the other side in politics.]

[Footnote 2: I Corinthians xi. 10.]

* * * * *

No. 461. Tuesday, August 19, 1712. Steele

'--Non Ego credulus illis--'

Virg.

For want of Time to substitute something else in the Room of them, I am at present obliged to publish Compliments above my Desert in the following Letters. It is no small Satisfaction, to have given Occasion to ingenious Men to employ their Thoughts upon sacred Subjects, from the Approbation of such Pieces of Poetry as they have seen in my _Saturday's_ Papers. I shall never publish Verse on that Day but what is written by the same Hand; yet shall I not accompany those Writings with _Eulogiums,_ but leave them to speak for themselves.

_For the_ SPECTATOR.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'You very much promote the Interests of Virtue, while you reform the
Taste of a Prophane Age, and persuade us to be entertained with Divine
Poems, while we are distinguished by so many thousand Humours, and
split into so many different Sects and Parties; yet Persons of every
Party, Sect, and Humour are fond of conforming their Taste to yours.
You can transfuse your own Relish of a Poem into all your Readers,
according to their Capacity to receive; and when you recommend the
pious Passion that reigns in the Verse, we seem to feel the Devotion,
and grow proud and pleas'd inwardly, that we have Souls capable of
relishing what the SPECTATOR approves.

'Upon reading the Hymns that you have published in some late Papers, I
had a Mind to try Yesterday whether I could write one. The 114th
_Psalm_ appears to me an admirable Ode, and I began to turn it into
our Language. As I was describing the Journey of _Israel_ from
_Egypt_, and added the Divine Presence amongst them, I perceived a
Beauty in the _Psalm_ which was entirely new to me, and which I was
going to lose; and that is, that the Poet utterly conceals the
Presence of God in the Beginning of it, and rather lets a Possessive
Pronoun go without a Substantive, than he will so much as mention any
thing of Divinity there. _Judah was his Sanctuary, and_ Israel _his
Dominion or Kingdom_. The Reason now seems evident, and this Conduct
necessary: For if God had appeared before, there could be no wonder
why the Mountains should leap and the Sea retire; therefore that this
Convulsion of Nature may be brought in with due Surprise, his Name is
not mentioned till afterward, and then with a very agreeable Turn of
Thought God is introduced at once in all his Majesty. This is what I
have attempted to imitate in a Translation without Paraphrase, and to
preserve what I could of the Spirit of the sacred Author.

'If the following Essay be not too incorrigible, bestow upon it a few
Brightnings from your Genius, that I may learn how to write better, or
to write no more.

_Your daily Admirer, and humble Servant_, [1] &c.

PSALM CXIV.

I. When Israel, freed from Pharaoh's Hand,
Left the proud Tyrant and his Land,
The Tribes with chearful Homage own
Their King, and Judah was his Throne.

II. Across the Deep their Journey lay,
The Deep divides to make them Way;
The Streams of Jordan saw, and fed
With backward Current to their Head.

III. The Mountains shook like frighted Sheep,
Like Lambs the little Hillocks leap;
Not Sinai on her Base could stand,
Conscious of Sovereign Power at hand.

IV. What Power could make the Deep divide?
Make Jordan backward roll his Tide?
Why did ye leap, ye little Hills?
And whence the Fright that Sinai feels?

V. Let every Mountain, every Flood
Retire, and know th' approaching God,
The King of Israel: See him here;
Tremble thou Earth, adore and fear.

VI. He thunders, and all Nature mourns:
The Rock to standing Pools he turns;
Flints spring with Fountains at his Word,
And Fires and Seas confess their Lord.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

There are those who take the Advantage of your putting an Half-penny
Value upon your self above the rest of our daily Writers, to defame
you in publick Conversation, and strive to make you unpopular upon the
Account of this said Half-penny. But if I were you, I would insist
upon that small Acknowledgment for the superior Merit of yours, as
being a Work of Invention. Give me Leave therefore to do you Justice,
and say in your Behalf what you cannot your self, which is, That your
Writings have made Learning a more necessary Part of good Breeding
than it was before you appeared: That Modesty is become fashionable,
and Impudence stands in need of some Wit, since you have put them both
in their proper Lights. Prophaneness, Lewdness, and Debauchery are not
now Qualifications, and a Man may be a very fine Gentleman, tho' he is
neither a Keeper nor an Infidel.

I would have you tell the Town the Story of the _Sybills_, if they
deny giving you Two-Pence. Let them know, that those sacred Papers
were valued at the same Rate after two Thirds of them were destroyed,
as when there was the whole Set. There are so many of us who will give
you your own Price, that you may acquaint your Non-Conformist Readers,
That they shall not have it, except they come in within such a Day,
under Three-pence. I don't know, but you might bring in the _Date
Obolum Belisario_ with a good Grace. The Witlings come in Clusters to
two or three Coffee-houses which have left you off, and I hope you
will make us, who fine to your Wit, merry with their Characters who
stand out against it.

_I am your most humble Servant._

_P. S._ I have lately got the ingenious Authors of Blacking for Shoes,
Powder for colouring the Hair, Pomatum for the Hands, Cosmetick for
the Face, to be your constant Customers; so that your Advertisements
will as much adorn the outward Man, as your Paper does the inward. [2]

T.

[Footnote 1: This letter and the version of the 114th Psalm are by Dr Isaac Watts, who was at this time 38 years old, broken down by an attack of illness, and taking rest and change with his friend Sir Thomas Abney, at Theobalds. Isaac Watts, the son of a Nonconformist schoolmaster at Southampton, had injured his health by excessive study. After acting for a time as tutor to the son of Sir John Hartupp, he preached his first sermon in 1698, and three years later became pastor of the Nonconformist congregation in Mark Lane. By this office he abided, and with Sir Thomas Abney also he abided; his visit to Theobalds, in 1712, being, on all sides, so agreeable that he stayed there for the remaining 36 years of his life. There he wrote his Divine and Moral Songs for children, his Hymns, and his metrical version of the Psalms. But his _Horæ Lyricæ_, published in 1709, had already attracted much attention when he contributed this Psalm to the _Spectator_. In the Preface to that collection of 'Poems chiefly of the Lyric kind, in Three Books, sacred, I. to Devotion and Piety. II. To Virtue, Honour, and Friendship. III. To the Memory of the Dead,' he had argued that Poesy, whose original is divine, had been desecrated to the vilest purpose, enticed unthinking youth to sin, and fallen into discredit among some weaker Christians. 'They submit indeed to use it in divine psalmody, but they love the driest translation of the Psalms best.' Watts bade them look into their Bibles and observe the boldness of its poetic imagery, rejected the dictum of Boileau, that

De la foy d'un Chrétien les mystères terribles
D'ornemens egayéz ne sont point susceptibles;

and pointed to the way he had chosen for himself as a Biblical rhymer. Poesy, he reminds his readers, is, as his title indicates, not the business of his life.

'And if I seized those hours of leisure, wherein my soul was in a more
sprightly frame, to entertain them or myself with a divine or moral
song, I hope I shall find an easy pardon.'

Watts died in 1748, aged 74.]

[Footnote 2: Written in jest, but 'The Famous Spanish Blacking for Gentlemen's Shoes,' and 'The famous Bavarian Red Liquor which gives such a delightful blushing colour to the cheeks,' had long been advertised in the _Spectator_.]

* * * * *

No 462. Wednesday, August 20, 1712. Steele.

'Nil ego prætulerem Jucundo sanus amico.'

Hor.

People are not aware of the very great Force which Pleasantry in Company has upon all those with whom a Man of that Talent converses. His Faults are generally overlooked by all his Acquaintance, and a certain Carelessness that constantly attends all his Actions, carries him on with greater Success, than Diligence and Assiduity does others who have no Share of this Endowment. _Dacinthus_ breaks his Word upon all Occasions both trivial and important; and when he is sufficiently railed at for that abominable Quality, they who talk of him end with, _After all he is a very pleasant Fellow. Dacinthus_ is an ill-natured Husband, and yet the very Women end their Freedom of Discourse upon this Subject, _But after all he is very pleasant Company._ _Dacinthus_ is neither in point of Honour, Civility, good Breeding, or good Nature unexceptionable, and yet all is answered, _For he is a very pleasant Fellow._ When this Quality is conspicuous in a Man who has, to accompany it, manly and virtuous Sentiments, there cannot certainly be any thing which can give so pleasing Gratification as the Gaiety of such a Person; but when it is alone, and serves only to gild a Crowd of ill Qualities, there is no Man so much to be avoided as your pleasant Fellow. A very pleasant Fellow shall turn your good Name to a Jest, make your Character contemptible, debauch your Wife or Daughter, and yet be received by the rest of the World with Welcome where-ever he appears. It is very ordinary with those of this Character to be attentive only to their own Satisfactions, and have very little Bowels for the Concerns or Sorrows of other Men; nay, they are capable of purchasing their own Pleasures at the Expence of giving Pain to others. But they who do not consider this sort of Men thus carefully, are irresistibly exposed to his Insinuations. The Author of the following Letter carries the Matter so high, as to intimate that the Liberties of _England_ have been at the Mercy of a Prince merely as he was of this pleasant Character.

_Mr._ Spectator,

'There is no one Passion which all Mankind so naturally give into as
Pride, nor any other Passion which appears in such different
Disguises: It is to be found in all Habits and all Complexions. Is it
not a Question, whether it does more Harm or Good in the World? And if
there be not such a Thing as what we may call a virtuous and laudable
Pride?

'It is this Passion alone, when misapplyed, that lays us so open to
Flatterers; and he who can agreeably condescend to sooth our Humour or
Temper, finds always an open Avenue to our Soul; especially if the
Flatterer happen to be our Superior.

'One might give many Instances of this in a late _English_ Monarch,
under the Title of, _The Gayeties of King_ Charles II. This Prince was
by Nature extreamly familiar, of very easie Access, and much delighted
to see and be seen; and this happy Temper, which in the highest Degree
gratified his Peoples Vanity, did him more Service with his loving
Subjects than all his other Virtues, tho' it must be confessed he had
many. He delighted, tho' a mighty King, to give and take a Jest, as
they say; and a Prince of this fortunate Disposition, who were
inclined to make an ill Use of his Power, may have any thing of his
People, be it never so much to their Prejudice. But this good King
made generally a very innocent Use, as to the Publick, of this
ensnaring Temper; for, 'tis well known, he pursued Pleasure more than
Ambition: He seemed to glory in being the first Man at Cock-matches,
Horse-races, Balls, and Plays; he appeared highly delighted on those
Occasions, and never failed to warm and gladden the Heart of every
Spectator. He more than once dined with his good Citizens of _London_
on their Lord-Mayor's Day, and did so the Year that Sir _Robert Viner_
was Mayor. Sir _Robert_ was a very loyal Man, and, if you will allow
the Expression, very fond of his Sovereign; but what with the Joy he
felt at Heart for the Honour done him by his Prince, and thro' the
Warmth he was in with continual toasting Healths to the Royal Family,
his Lordship grew a little fond of his Majesty, and entered into a
Familiarity not altogether so graceful in so publick a Place. The King
understood very well how to extricate himself on all kinds of
Difficulties, and with an Hint to the Company to avoid Ceremony, stole
off and made towards his Coach, which stood ready for him in
_Guild-Hall_ Yard: But the Mayor liked his Company so well, and was
grown so intimate, that he pursued him hastily, and catching him fast
by the Hand, cryed out with a vehement Oath and Accent, _Sir, You
shall stay and take t'other Bottle_. The airy Monarch looked kindly at
him over his Shoulder, and with a Smile and graceful Air, (for I saw
him at the Time, and do now) repeated this Line of the old Song;

'He that's drunk is as great as a King.'

and immediately [turned [1]] back and complied with his Landlord.

I give you this Story, Mr. SPECTATOR, because, as I said, I saw the
Passage; and I assure you it's very true, and yet no common one; and
when I tell you the Sequel, you will say I have yet a better Reason
for't. This very Mayor afterwards erected a Statue of his merry
Monarch in _Stocks-Market_, [2] and did the Crown many and great
Services; and it was owing to this Humour of the King, that his Family
had so great a Fortune shut up in the Exchequer of their pleasant
Sovereign. The many good-natured Condescensions of this Prince are
vulgarly known: and it is excellently said of him by a great Hand
which writ his Character, _That he was not a King a Quarter of an Hour
together in his whole Reign_. [3] He would receive Visits even from
Fools and half Mad-men, and at Times I have met with People who have
Boxed, fought at Back-sword, and taken Poison before King _Charles_
II. In a Word, he was so pleasant a Man, that no one could be
sorrowful under his Government. This made him capable of baffling,
with the greatest Ease imaginable, all Suggestions of Jealousie, and
the People could not entertain Notions of any thing terrible in him,
whom they saw every way agreeable. This Scrap of the familiar Part of
that Prince's History I thought fit to send you, in compliance to the
Request you lately made to your Correspondents.

I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant.

T.

[Footnote 1: return'd]

[Footnote 2: Stocks-market, upon the site of which the Mansion House was built in 1738, received its name from a pair of stocks erected near it as early as the year 1281. Sir Robert Viner here erected, in 1675, his white marble statue of Charles II., that he bought a bargain at Leghorn. It was a statue of John Sobieski trampling on a Turk, which had been left on the sculptor's hands, but his worship the Mayor caused a few alterations to be made for the conversion of Sobieski into Charles, and the Turk (still with a turban on his head) into Oliver Cromwell. After the building of the Mansion House this statue lay as lumber in an inn yard till, in 1779, the Corporation gave it to a descendant of the Mayor, who had the reason above given for reverencing Charles II.]

[Footnote 3: Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham.]

* * * * *

No. 463. Thursday, August 21, 1712. Addison.

'Omnia quæ sensu volvuntur vota diurno
Pectore sopito reddit amica quies.
Venator defessa toro cùm membra reponit
Mens tamen ad sylvas et sua lustra redit.
Judicibus lites, aurigis somnia currus,
Vanaque nocturnis meta cavetur equis.
Me quoque Musarum studium sub nocte silenti
Artibus assuetis sollicitare solet.'

Claud.

I was lately entertaining my self with comparing _Homer's_ Ballance, in which _Jupiter_ is represented as weighing the Fates of _Hector_ and _Achilles_, with a Passage of _Virgil_, wherein that Deity is introduced as weighing the Fates of _Turnus_ and _Æneas_. I then considered how the same way of thinking prevailed in the Eastern Parts of the World, as in those noble Passages of Scripture, wherein we are told, that the great King of _Babylon_ the Day before his Death, had been weighed in the Ballance, and been found wanting. In other Places of the Holy Writings, the Almighty is described as weighing the Mountains in Scales, making the Weight for the Winds, knowing the Ballancings of the Clouds, and in others, as weighing the Actions of Men, and laying their Calamities together in a Ballance. _Milton_, as I have observed in a former Paper, had an Eye to several of these foregoing Instances, in that beautiful Description [1] wherein he represents the Arch-Angel and the Evil Spirit as addressing themselves for the Combat, but parted by the Ballance which appeared in the Heavens and weighed the Consequences of such a Battel.

'Th' Eternal to prevent such horrid fray
Hung forth in Heav'n his golden Scales, yet seen
Betwixt Astrea and the Scorpion Sign,
Wherein all things created first he weigh'd,
The pendulous round Earth with ballanc'd Air
In counterpoise, now ponders all events,
Battels and Realms; in these he puts two weights
The sequel each of parting and of fight,
The latter quick up flew, and kickt the Beam:
Which _Gabriel_ spying, thus bespake the _Fiend_.

_Satan_, I know thy Strength, and thou know'st mine,
Neither our own, but giv'n; what folly then
To boast what Arms can do, since thine no more
Than Heav'n permits; nor mine, though doubled now
To trample thee as mire: For proof look up,
And read thy Lot in yon celestial Sign
Where thou art weigh'd, and shewn how light, how weak,
If thou resist. The Fiend look'd up, and knew
His mounted Scale aloft; nor more, but fled
Murm'ring, and with him fled the Shades of Night.'

These several amusing Thoughts having taken Possession of my Mind some time before I went to sleep, and mingling themselves with my ordinary Ideas, raised in my Imagination a very odd kind of Vision. I was, methought, replaced in my Study, and seated in my Elbow Chair, where I had indulged the foregoing Speculations, with my Lamp burning by me, as usual. Whilst I was here meditating on several Subjects of Morality, and considering the Nature of many Virtues and Vices, as Materials for those Discourses with which I daily entertain the Publick; I saw, methought, a Pair of Golden Scales hanging by a Chain of the same Metal over the Table that stood before me; when on a sudden, there were great Heaps of Weights thrown down on each side of them. I found upon examining these Weights, they shewed the Value of every thing that is in Esteem among Men. I made an Essay of them, by putting the Weight of Wisdom in one Scale, and that of Riches in another, upon which the latter, to shew its comparative Lightness, immediately _flew up and kickt the Beam_.

But, before I proceed, I must inform my Reader, that these Weights did not exert their Natural Gravity, 'till they were laid in the Golden Ballance, insomuch that I could not guess which was light or heavy, whilst I held them in my Hand. This I found by several Instances; for upon my laying a Weight in one of the Scales, which was inscribed by the Word _Eternity_; tho' I threw in that of Time, Prosperity, Affliction, Wealth, Poverty, Interest, Success, with many other Weights, which in my Hand seemed very ponderous, they were not able to stir the opposite Ballance, nor could they have prevailed, though assisted with the Weight of the Sun, the Stars, and the Earth.

Upon emptying the Scales, I laid several Titles and Honours, with Pomps, Triumphs, and many Weights of the like Nature, in one of them, and seeing a little glittering Weight lie by me, I threw it accidentally into the other Scale, when, to my great Surprize, it proved so exact a Counterpoise, that it kept the Ballance in an Equilibrium. This little glittering Weight was inscribed upon the Edges of it with the Word _Vanity_. I found there were several other Weights which were equally Heavy, and exact Counterpoises to one another; a few of them I tried, as Avarice and Poverty, Riches and Content, with some others.

There were likewise several Weights that were of the same Figure, and seemed to Correspond with each other, but were entirely different when thrown into the Scales; as Religion and Hypocrisie, Pedantry and Learning, Wit and Vivacity, Superstition and Devotion, Gravity and Wisdom, with many others.

I observed one particular Weight lettered on both sides, and upon applying my self to the Reading of it, I found on one side written, _In the Dialect of Men_, and underneath it, _CALAMITIES_; on the other side was written, _In the Language of the Gods_, and underneath, _BLESSINGS_. I found the Intrinsick value of this Weight to be much greater than I imagined, for it overpowered Health, Wealth, Good Fortune, and many other Weights, which were much more ponderous in my Hand than the other.

There is a Saying among the _Scotch_, that an Ounce of Mother is worth a Pound of Clergy; I was sensible of the Truth of this Saying, when I saw the Difference between the Weight of Natural Parts, and that of Learning. The Observation which I made upon these two Weights opened to me a new Field of Discoveries, for notwithstanding the Weight of Natural Parts was much heavier than that of Learning; I observed that it weighed an hundred times heavier than it did before, when I put Learning into the same Scale with it. I made the same Observation upon Faith and Morality, for notwithstanding the latter out-weighed the former separately, it received a thousand times more additional Weight from its Conjunction with the former, than what it had by it self. This odd Phænomenon shewed it self, in other Particulars, as in Wit and Judgment, Philosophy and Religion, Justice and Humanity, Zeal and Charity, Depth of Sense and Perspicuity of Style, with innumerable other Particulars too long to be mentioned in this Paper.

As a Dream seldom fails of dashing Seriousness with Impertinence, Mirth with Gravity, methought I made several other Experiments of a more ludicrous Nature, by one of which I found that an _English_ Octavo was very often heavier than a _French_ Folio; and by another, that an old _Greek_ or _Latin_ Author weighed down a whole Library of Moderns. Seeing one of my _Spectators_ lying by me, I laid it into one of the Scales, and flung a two-penny Piece into the other. The Reader will not enquire into the Event, if he remembers the first Tryal which I have recorded in this Paper. I afterwards threw both the Sexes into the Ballance; but as it is not for my Interest to disoblige either of them, I shall desire to be excused from telling the Result of this Experiment. Having an Opportunity of this Nature in my Hands, I could not forbear throwing into one Scale the Principles of a Tory, and into the other those of a Whig; but as I have all along declared this to be a Neutral Paper, I shall likewise desire to be silent under this Head also, though upon examining one of the Weights, I saw the Word _TEKEL_ Engraven on it in Capital Letters.

I made many other Experiments, and though I have not Room for them all in this Day's Speculation, I may perhaps reserve them for another. I shall only add, that upon my awaking I was sorry to find my Golden Scales vanished, but resolved for the future to learn this Lesson from them, not to despise or value any Things for their Appearances, but to regulate my Esteem and Passions towards them according to their real and intrinsick Value.

C.

[Footnote 1: Paradise Lost, end of Book IV.]

* * * * *

No. 464. Friday, August 22, 1712. Addison.

'Auream quisquis mediocritatem
Diligit, tutus caret obsoleti
Sordibus tecti, caret invidendâ
Sobrius aulâ.'

Hor.

I am wonderfully pleased when I meet with any Passage in an old _Greek_ or _Latin_ Author, that is not blown upon, and which I have never met with in a Quotation. Of this kind is a beautiful Saying in _Theognis_; _Vice is covered by Wealth, and Virtue by Poverty_; or to give it in the Verbal Translation, _Among Men there are some who have their Vices concealed by Wealth, and others who have their Virtues concealed by Poverty._ Every Man's Observation will supply him with Instances of Rich Men, who have several Faults and Defects that are overlooked, if not entirely hidden, by means of their Riches; and, I think, we cannot find a more Natural Description of a Poor Man, whose Merits are lost in his Poverty, than that in the Words of the Wise Man. _There was a little City, and a few Men within it; and there came a great King against it, and besieged it, and built great Bulwarks against it: Now there was found in it a poor Wise Man, and he, by his Wisdom, delivered the City; yet no Man remembered that same poor Man. Then said I, Wisdom is better than Strength; nevertheless, the poor Man's Wisdom is despised, and his Words are not heard._[1]

The middle Condition seems to be the most advantageously situated for the gaining of Wisdom. Poverty turns our Thoughts too much upon the supplying of our Wants, and Riches upon enjoying our Superfluities; and, as _Cowley_ has said in another Case, _It is hard for a Man to keep a steady Eye upon Truth, who is always in a Battel or a Triumph._

If we regard Poverty and Wealth, as they are apt to produce Virtues or Vices in the Mind of Man, one may observe, that there is a Set of each of these growing out of Poverty, quite different from that which rises out of Wealth. Humility and Patience, Industry and Temperance, are very often the good Qualities of a poor Man. Humanity and Good-nature, Magnanimity, and a Sense of Honour, are as often the Qualifications of the Rich. On the contrary, Poverty is apt to betray a Man into Envy, Riches into Arrogance. Poverty is too often attended with Fraud, vicious Compliance, Repining, Murmur and Discontent; Riches expose a Man to Pride and Luxury, a foolish Elation of Heart, and too great a Fondness for the present World. In short, the middle Condition is most eligible to the Man who would improve himself in Virtue; as I have before shewn, it is the most advantageous for the gaining of Knowledge. It was upon this Consideration that _Agur_ founded his Prayer, which for the Wisdom of it is recorded in Holy Writ. _Two things have I required of thee, deny me them not before I die. Remove far from me Vanity and Lies; give me neither Poverty, nor Riches; feed me with Food convenient for me. Lest I be full and deny thee, and say, who is the Lord? or lest I be poor and steal, and take the name of my God in vain._ [2]

I shall fill the remaining Part of my Paper with a very pretty Allegory, which is wrought into a Play [3] by _Aristophanes_ the _Greek_ Comedian. It seems originally designed as a Satyr upon the Rich, though, in some Parts of it, 'tis like the foregoing Discourse, a kind of Comparison between Wealth and Poverty.

_Chremylus_, who was an old and a good Man, and withal exceeding Poor, being desirous to leave some Riches to his Son, consults the Oracle of _Apollo_ upon the Subject. The Oracle bids him follow the first Man he should see upon his going out of the Temple. The Person he chanced to see was to Appearance an old sordid blind Man, but upon his following him from Place to Place, he at last found by his own Confession, that he was _Plutus_ the God of Riches, and that he was just come out of the House of a Miser. _Plutus_ further told him, that when he was a Boy, he used to declare, that as soon as he came to Age he would distribute Wealth to none but virtuous and just Men; upon which _Jupiter_, considering the pernicious Consequences of such a Resolution, took his Sight away from him, and left him to strole about the World in the Blind Condition wherein _Chremylus_ beheld him. With much ado _Chremylus_ prevailed upon him to go to his House, where he met an old Woman in a tattered Raiment, who had been his Guest for many Years, and whose Name was _Poverty_. The old Woman refusing to turn out so easily as he would have her, he threatned to banish her not only from his own House, but out of all _Greece_, if she made any more Words upon the Matter. _Poverty_ on this Occasion pleads her Cause very notably, and represents to her old Landlord, that should she be driven out of the Country, all their Trades, Arts and Sciences would be driven out with her; and that if every one was Rich, they would never be supplied with those Pomps, Ornaments and Conveniences of Life which made Riches desirable. She likewise represented to him the several Advantages which she bestowed upon her Votaries, in regard to their Shape, their Health, and their Activity, by preserving them from Gouts, Dropsies, Unweildiness, and Intemperance. But whatever she had to say for her self, she was at last forced to troop off. _Chremylus_ immediately considered how he might restore _Plutus_ to his Sight; and in order to it conveyed him to the Temple of _Æsculapius_, who was famous for Cures and Miracles of this Nature. By this means the Deity recovered his Eyes, and begun to make a right use of them, by enriching every one that [was [4]] distinguished by Piety towards the Gods, and Justice towards [Men [5]] and at the same time by taking away his Gifts from the Impious and Undeserving. This produces several merry Incidents, till in the last Act _Mercury_ descends with great Complaints from the Gods, that since the Good Men were grown Rich they had received no Sacrifices, which is confirmed by a Priest of _Jupiter_, who enters with a Remonstrance, that since this late Innovation he was reduced to a starving Condition, and could not live upon his Office. _Chremylus_, who in the beginning of the Play was Religious in his Poverty, concludes it with a Proposal which was relished by all the Good Men who were now grown rich as well as himself, that they should carry _Plutus_ in a Solemn Procession to the Temple, and Install him in the Place of _Jupiter_. This Allegory instructed the _Athenians_ in two Points, first, as it vindicated the Conduct of Providence in its ordinary Distributions of Wealth; and in the next Place, as it shewed the great Tendency of Riches to corrupt the Morals of those who possessed them.

C.

[Footnote 1: Eccl. ix. 14-16.]

[Footnote 2: Proverbs xxx. 7-9.]

[Footnote 3: The Plutus.]

[Footnote 4: [were]]

[Footnote 5: [Man]]

* * * * *

No. 465. Saturday, August 23, 1712. Addison.

'Quâ ratione queas traducere leniter ævum:
Ne te semper inops agitet vexetque cupido;
Ne pavor et rerum mediocriter utilium Spes.'

Hor.

Having endeavoured in my last _Saturday's_ Paper to shew the great Excellency of Faith, I here consider what are proper Means of strengthning and confirming it in the Mind of Man. Those who delight in reading Books of Controversie, which are written on both sides of the Question in Points of Faith, do very seldom arrive at a fixed and settled Habit of it. They are one Day entirely convinced of its important Truths, and the next meet with something that shakes and disturbs them. The Doubt [which [1]] was laid revives again, and shews it self in new Difficulties, and that generally for this Reason, because the Mind which is perpetually tost in Controversies and Disputes, is apt to forget the Reasons which had once set it at rest, and to be disquieted with any former Perplexity, when it appears in a new Shape, or is started by a different Hand. As nothing is more laudable than an Enquiry after Truth, so nothing is more irrational than to pass away our whole Lives, without determining our selves one way or other in those Points which are of the last Importance to us. There are indeed many things from which we may with-hold our Assent; but in Cases by which we are to regulate our Lives, it is the greatest Absurdity to be wavering and unsettled, without closing with that Side which appears the most safe and [the] most probable. The first Rule therefore which I shall lay down is this, that when by Reading or Discourse we find our selves thoroughly convinced of the Truth of any Article, and of the Reasonableness of our Belief in it, we should never after suffer our selves to call it into question. We may perhaps forget the Arguments which occasioned our Conviction, but we ought to remember the Strength they had with us, and therefore still to retain the Conviction which they once produced. This is no more than what we do in every common Art or Science, nor is it possible to act otherwise, considering the Weakness and Limitation of our Intellectual Faculties. It was thus, that _Latimer_, one of the glorious Army of Martyrs who introduced the Reformation in _England_, behaved himself in that great Conference which was managed between the most learned among the Protestants and Papists in the Reign of Queen _Mary_. This venerable old Man knowing how his Abilities were impaired by Age, and that it was impossible for him to recollect all those Reasons which had directed him in the Choice of his Religion, left his Companions who were in the full Possession of their Parts and Learning, to baffle and confound their Antagonists by the Force of Reason. As for himself he only repeated to his Adversaries the Articles in which he firmly believed, and in the Profession of which he was determined to die. It is in this manner that the Mathematician proceeds upon the Propositions which he has once demonstrated; and though the Demonstration may have slipt out of his Memory, he builds upon the Truth, because he knows it was demonstrated. This Rule is absolutely necessary for weaker Minds, and in some measure for Men of the greatest Abilities; but to these last I would propose, in the second place, that they should lay up in their Memories, and always keep by them in a readiness, those Arguments which appear to them of the greatest Strength, and which cannot be got over by all the Doubts and Cavils of Infidelity.

But, in the third place, there is nothing which strengthens Faith more than Morality. Faith and Morality naturally produce each other. A Man is quickly convinced of the Truth of Religion, who finds it is not against his Interest that it should be true. The Pleasure he receives at Present, and the Happiness which he promises himself from it hereafter, will both dispose him very powerfully to give Credit to it, according to the ordinary Observation that _we are easie to believe what we wish_. It is very certain, that a Man of sound Reason cannot forbear closing with Religion upon an impartial Examination of it; but at the same time it is as certain, that Faith is kept alive in us, and gathers Strength from Practice more than from Speculation.

There is still another Method which is more Persuasive than any of the former, and that is an habitual Adoration of the Supreme Being, as well in constant Acts of mental Worship, as in outward Forms. The devout Man does not only believe but feels there is a Deity. He has actual Sensations of Him; his Experience concurs with his Reason; he sees him more and more in all his Intercourses with him, and even in this Life almost loses his Faith in Conviction.

The last Method which I shall mention for the giving Life to a Man's Faith, is frequent Retirement from the World, accompanied with religious Meditation. When a Man thinks of any thing in the Darkness of the Night, whatever deep Impressions it may make in his Mind, they are apt to vanish as soon as the Day breaks about him. The Light and Noise of the Day, which are perpetually soliciting his Senses, and calling off his Attention, wear out of his Mind the Thoughts that imprinted themselves in it, with so much Strength, during the Silence and Darkness of the Night. A Man finds the same Difference as to himself in a Crowd and in a Solitude: the Mind is stunned and dazzled amidst that Variety of Objects which press upon her in a great City: She cannot apply herself to the Consideration of these Things which are of the utmost Concern to her. The Cares or Pleasures of the World strike in with every Thought, and a Multitude of vicious Examples [give [2]] a kind of Justification [to [3]] our Folly. In our Retirements every thing disposes us to be serious. In Courts and Cities we are entertained with the Works of Men; in the Country with those of God. One is the Province of Art, the other of Nature. Faith and Devotion naturally grow in the Mind of every reasonable Man, who sees the Impressions of Divine Power and Wisdom in every Object on which he casts his Eye. The Supream Being has made the best Arguments for his own Existence, in the Formation of the Heavens and the Earth, and these are Arguments which a Man of Sense cannot forbear attending to, who is out of the Noise and Hurry of Human Affairs. _Aristotle_ says, that should a Man live under Ground, and there converse with Works of Art and Mechanism, and should afterwards be brought up into the open Day, and see the several Glories of the Heaven and Earth, he would immediately pronounce them the Works of such a Being as we define God to be. The Psalmist has very beautiful Strokes of Poetry to this Purpose, in that exalted Strain, _The Heavens declare the Glory of God: And the Firmament showeth his handy-work. One Day telleth another: And one Night certifieth another. There is neither Speech nor Language: But their Voices are heard among them. Their Sound is gone out into all Lands: And their Words into the Ends of the World._ [4] As such a bold and sublime manner of Thinking furnishes very noble Matter for an Ode, the Reader may see it wrought into the following one. [5]

I. The Spacious Firmament on high
With all the blue Etherial Sky,
And spangled Heav'ns, a Shining Frame,
Their great Original proclaim:
Th' unwearied Sun, from Day to Day,
Does his Creator's Pow'r display,
And publishes to every Land
The Work of an Almighty Hand.

II. Soon as the Evening Shades prevail,
The Moon takes up the wondrous Tale,
And nightly to the listning Earth
Repeats the Story of her Birth:
Whilst all the Stars that round her burn,
And all the Planets in their turn,
Confirm the Tidings as they rowl,
And spread the Truth from Pole to Pole.

III. What though, in solemn Silence, all
Move round the dark terrestrial Ball?
What tho' nor real Voice nor Sound
Amid their radiant Orbs be found?
In Reason's Ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious Voice,
For ever singing, as they shine,
'The Hand that made us is Divine?'

C.

[Footnote 1: [that]]

[Footnote 2: [give us]]

[Footnote 3: [in]]

[Footnote 4: Psalm xix. 1-3.]

[Footnote 5: By Addison.]

* * * * *

No. 466. Monday, August 25, 1712. Steele.

'--Vera incessu patuit Dea.'

Virg.

When _Æneas_, the Hero of _Virgil_, is lost in the Wood, and a perfect Stranger in the Place on which he is landed, he is accosted by a Lady in an Habit for the Chase. She enquires of him, Whether he has seen pass by that Way any young Woman dressed as she was? Whether she were following the Sport in the Wood, or any other Way employed, according to the Custom of Huntresses? The Hero answers with the Respect due to the beautiful Appearance she made, tells her, He saw no such Person as she enquired for: but intimates, that he knows her to be of the Deities, and desires she would conduct a Stranger. Her Form from her first Appearance manifested she was more than mortal; but tho' she was certainly a Goddess, the Poet does not make her known to be the Goddess of _Beauty_ till she moved: All the Charms of an agreeable Person are then in their highest Exertion, every Limb and Feature appears with its respective Grace. It is from this Observation, that I cannot help being so passionate an Admirer as I am of good Dancing. [1] As all Art is an Imitation of Nature, this is an Imitation of Nature in its highest Excellence, and at a Time when she is most agreeable. The Business of Dancing is to display Beauty, and for that Reason all Distortions and Mimickries, as such, are what raise Aversion instead of Pleasure: But Things that are in themselves excellent, are ever attended with Imposture and false Imitation. Thus, as in Poetry there are laborious Fools who write Anagrams and Acrosticks, there are Pretenders in Dancing, who think meerly to do what others cannot, is to excel. Such Creatures should be rewarded like him who had acquired a Knack of throwing a Grain of Corn through the Eye of a Needle, with a Bushel to keep his Hand in Use. The [Dancers [2]] on our Stages are very faulty in this Kind; and what they mean by writhing themselves into such Postures, as it would be a Pain for any of the Spectators to stand in, and yet hope to please those Spectators, is unintelligible. Mr. _Prince_ has a Genius, if he were encouraged, would prompt them to better things. In all the Dances he invents, you see he keeps close to the Characters he represents. He does not hope to please by making his Performers move in a manner in which no one else ever did, but by Motions proper to the Characters he represents. He gives to Clowns and Lubbards clumsie Graces, that is, he makes them Practise what they would think Graces: And I have seen Dances of his, which might give Hints that would be useful to a Comick Writer. These Performances have pleas'd the Taste of such as have not Reflection enough to know their Excellence, because they are in Nature; and the distorted Motions of others have offended those who could not form Reasons to themselves for their Displeasure, from their being a Contradiction to Nature.

When one considers the inexpressible Advantage there is in arriving at some Excellence in this Art, it is monstrous to behold it so much neglected. The following Letter has in it something very natural on this Subject.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I am a Widower with but one Daughter; she was by Nature much inclined
to be a Romp, and I had no way of educating her, but commanding a
young Woman, whom I entertained to take Care of her, to be very
watchful in her Care and Attendance about her. I am a Man of Business,
and obliged to be much abroad. The Neighbours have told me, that in my
Absence our Maid has let in the Spruce Servants in the Neighbourhood
to Junketings, while my Girl play'd and romped even in the Street. To
tell you the plain Truth, I catched her once, at eleven Years old, at
Chuck-Farthing among the Boys. This put me upon new Thoughts about my
Child, and I determined to place her at a Boarding-School, and at the
same Time gave a very discreet young Gentlewoman her Maintenance at
the same Place and Rate, to be her Companion. I took little Notice of
my Girl from Time to Time, but saw her now and then in good Health,
out of Harm's way, and was satisfied. But by much Importunity I was
lately prevailed with to go to one of their Balls. I cannot express to
you the anxiety my silly Heart was in, when I saw my Romp, now
fifteen, taken out: I never felt the pangs of a Father upon me so
strongly in my whole Life before; and I could not have suffered more,
had my whole Fortune been at Stake. My Girl came on with the most
becoming Modesty I had ever seen, and casting a respectful Eye, as if
she feared me more than all the Audience, I gave a Nod, which, I
think, gave her all the Spirit she assumed upon it, but she rose
properly to that Dignity of Aspect. My Romp, now the most graceful
Person of her Sex, assumed a Majesty which commanded the highest
Respect; and when she turned to me, and saw my Face in Rapture, she
fell into the prettiest Smile, and I saw in all her Motion that she
exulted in her Father's Satisfaction. You, Mr. SPECTATOR, will, better
than I can tell you, imagine to yourself all the different Beauties
and Changes of Aspect in an accomplished young Woman, setting forth
all her Beauties with a Design to please no one so much as her Father.
My Girl's Lover can never know half the Satisfaction that I did in her
that Day. I could not possibly have imagined, that so great
Improvement could have been wrought by an Art that I always held in it
self ridiculous and contemptible. There is, I am convinced, no Method
like this, to give young Women a Sense of their own Value and Dignity;
and I am sure there can be none so expeditious to communicate that
Value to others. As for the flippant insipidly Gay and wantonly
Forward, whom you behold among Dancers, that Carriage is more to be
attributed to the perverse Genius of the Performers, than imputed to
the Art it self. For my Part, my Child has danced her self into my
Esteem, and I have as great an Honour for her as ever I had for her
Mother, from whom she derived those latent good Qualities which
appeared in her Countenance when she was dancing; for my Girl, tho' I
say it my self, shewed in one Quarter of an Hour the innate Principles
of a modest Virgin, a tender Wife, a generous Friend, a kind Mother,
and an indulgent Mistress. I'll strain hard but I will purchase for
her an Husband suitable to her Merit. I am your Convert in the
Admiration of what I thought you jested when you recommended; and if
you please to be at my House on _Thursday_ next, I make a Ball for my
Daughter, and you shall see her Dance, or, if you will do her that
Honour, dance with her. _I am, SIR,

Your most humble Servant_,

PHILIPATER.

I have some time ago spoken of a Treatise written by Mr. _Weaver_ on this Subject, which is now, I understand, ready to be published. This Work sets this Matter in a very plain and advantageous Light; and I am convinced from it, that if the Art was under proper Regulations, it would be a mechanick way of implanting insensibly in Minds, not capable of receiving it so well by any other Rules, a Sense of good Breeding and Virtue.

Were any one to see _Mariamne_ Dance, let him be never so sensual a Brute, I defie him to entertain any Thoughts but of the highest Respect and Esteem towards her. I was shewed last Week a Picture in a Lady's Closet, for which she had an hundred different Dresses, that she could clap on round the Face, on purpose to demonstrate the force of Habits in the diversity of the same Countenance. Motion, and change of Posture and Aspect, has an Effect no less surprising on the Person of _Mariamne_ when she Dances.

_Chloe_ is extremely pretty, and as silly as she is pretty. This Ideot has a very good Ear, and a most agreeable Shape; but the Folly of the Thing is such, that it Smiles so impertinently, and affects to please so sillily, that while she Dances you see the Simpleton from Head to Foot. For you must know (as Trivial as this Art is thought to be) no one ever was a good Dancer, that had not a good Understanding. If this be a Truth, I shall leave the Reader to judge from that Maxim, what Esteem they ought to have for such Impertinents as fly, hop, caper, tumble, twirl, turn round, and jump over their Heads, and, in a Word, play a thousand Pranks which many Animals can do better than a Man, instead of performing to Perfection what the human Figure only is capable of Performing.

It may perhaps appear odd, that I, who set up for a mighty Lover, at least, of Virtue, should take so much Pains to recommend what the soberer Part of Mankind look upon to be a Trifle; but under Favour of the soberer Part of Mankind, I think they have not enough considered this Matter, and for that Reason only disesteem it. I must also, in my own Justification, say that I attempt to bring into the Service of Honour and Virtue every Thing in Nature that can pretend to give elegant Delight. It may possibly be proved, that Vice is in it self destructive of Pleasure, and Virtue in it self conducive to it. If the Delights of a free Fortune were under proper Regulations, this Truth would not want much Argument to support it; but it would be obvious to every Man, that there is a strict Affinity between all Things that are truly laudable and beautiful, from the highest Sentiment of the Soul, to the most indifferent Gesture of the Body.

T.

[Footnote 1: See Nos. 66, 67, 334, 370, 376.]

[Footnote 2: [Dancing]]

* * * * *

No. 467. Tuesday, August 26, 1712. John Hughes?

'Quodcunque meæ poterunt Audere Camænæ
Seu Tibi par poterunt, seu, quod spes abnuit ultra;
Sive minus; certeque canent minus; omne vovemus
Hoc tibi; ne tanto careat mihi nomine Charta.'

Tibull. ad Messalam.