Chapter LXXXIX: Book I: of his Epistles; showing how it would read in the customary (4)

[Footnote 2: Jacques Vallée Seigneur des Barreaux, born in Paris in 1602, was Counsellor of the Parliament of Paris, and gave up his charge to devote himself to pleasure. He was famous for his songs and verses, for his affability and generosity and irreligion. A few years before his death he was converted, and wrote the pious sonnet given above, which had been very widely praised and quoted. In his religious days he lived secluded at Châlon sur Saône, where he died, in 1673.]

* * * * *

No. 514. Monday, October 20, [1] 1712. Steele.

'Me Parnassi deserta per ardua, dulcis
Raptat Amor; juvat ire jugis qua nulla priorum
Castaliam molle divertitur Orbita Clivo.'

Virg.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I came home a little later than usual the other Night, and not
finding my self inclined to sleep, I took up _Virgil_ to divert me
till I should be more disposed to Rest. He is the Author whom I always
chuse on such Occasions, no one writing in so divine, so harmonious,
nor so equal a Strain, which leaves the Mind composed, and softened
into an agreeable Melancholy; the Temper in which, of all others, I
chuse to close the Day. The Passages I turned to were those beautiful
Raptures in his _Georgicks_, where he professes himself entirely given
up to the Muses, and smit with the Love of Poetry, passionately
wishing to be transported to the cool Shades and Retirements of the
Mountain _Hæmus_. I clos'd the Book and went to Bed. What I had just
before been reading made so strong an Impression on my Mind, that
Fancy seemed almost to fulfil to me the Wish of _Virgil_, in
presenting to me the following Vision.

'Methought I was on a sudden plac'd in the Plains of _Boeotia_, where
at the end of the Horizon I saw the Mountain _Parnassus_ rising before
me. The Prospect was of so large an Extent, that I had long wander'd
about to find a Path which should directly lead me to it, had I not
seen at some distance a Grove of Trees, which in a Plain that had
nothing else remarkable enough in it to fix my Sight, immediately
determined me to go thither. When I arrived at it, I found it parted
out into a great Number of Walks and Alleys, which often widened into
beautiful Openings, as Circles or Ovals, set round with Yews and
Cypresses, with Niches, Grotto's, and Caves placed on the Sides,
encompassed with Ivy. There was no Sound to be heard in the whole
Place, but only that of a gentle Breeze passing over the Leaves of the
Forest, every thing beside was buried in a profound Silence. I was
captivated with the Beauty and Retirement of the Place, and never so
much, before that Hour, was pleased with the Enjoyment of my self. I
indulged the Humour, and suffered my self to wander without Choice or
Design. At length, at the end of a Range of Trees, I saw three Figures
seated on a Bank of Moss, with a silent Brook creeping at their Feet.
I ador'd them as the tutelar Divinities of the Place, and stood still
to take a particular View of each of them. The Middlemost, whose Name
was _Solitude_, sat with her Arms across each other, and seemed rather
pensive and wholly taken up with her own Thoughts, than any ways
grieved or displeased. The only Companions which she admitted into
that Retirement, was the Goddess _Silence_, who sat on her right Hand
with her Finger on her Mouth, and on her left _Contemplation_, with
her Eyes fixed upon the Heavens. Before her lay a celestial Globe,
with several Schemes of Mathematical Theorems. She prevented my Speech
with the greatest Affability in the World: Fear not, said she, I know
your Request before you speak it; you would be led to the Mountain of
the Muses; the only way to it lies thro' this Place, and no one is so
often employ'd in conducting Persons thither as my self. When she had
thus spoken, she rose from her Seat, and I immediately placed my self
under her Direction; but whilst I passed through the Grove, I could
not help enquiring of her who were the Persons admitted into that
sweet Retirement. Surely, said I, there can nothing enter here but
Virtue and virtuous Thoughts: The whole Wood seems design'd for the
Reception and Reward of such Persons as have spent their Lives
according to the Dictates of their Conscience and the Commands of the
Gods. You imagine right, said she; assure your self this Place was at
first designed for no other: Such it continued to be in the Reign of
_Saturn_, when none entered here but holy Priests, Deliverers of their
Country from Oppression and Tyranny, who repos'd themselves here after
their Labours, and those whom the Study and Love of Wisdom had fitted
for divine Conversation. But now it is become no less dangerous than
it was before desirable: Vice has learned so to mimick Virtue, that it
often creeps in hither under its Disguise. See there! just before you,
_Revenge_ stalking by, habited in the Robe of _Honour_. Observe not
far from him _Ambition_ standing alone; if you ask him his Name, he
will tell you it is _Emulation_ or _Glory_. But the most frequent
Intruder we have is _Lust_, who succeeds now the Deity to whom in
better Days this Grove was entirely devoted. _Virtuous Love_, with
_Hymen_, and the Graces attending him, once reign'd over this happy
Place; a whole Train of Virtues waited on him, and no dishonourable
Thought durst presume for Admittance: But now! how is the whole
Prospect changed? and how seldom renewed by some few who dare despise
sordid Wealth, and imagine themselves fit Companions for so charming a
Divinity?

'The Goddess had no sooner said thus, but we were arriv'd at the
utmost Boundaries of the Wood, which lay contiguous to a Plain that
ended at the Foot of the Mountain. Here I kept close to my Guide,
being sollicited by several Phantomes, who assured me they would shew
me a nearer Way to the Mountain of the Muses. Among the rest _Vanity_
was extremely importunate, having deluded infinite Numbers, whom I saw
wandering at the Foot of the Hill. I turned away from this despicable
Troop with Disdain, and addressing my self to my Guide, told her, that
as I had some Hopes I should be able to reach up part of the Ascent,
so I despaired of having Strength enough to attain the Plain on the
Top. But being informed by her that it was impossible to stand upon
the Sides, and that if I did not proceed onwards, I should
irrecoverably fall down to the lowest Verge, I resolved to hazard any
Labour and Hardship in the Attempt: So great a desire had I of
enjoying the Satisfaction I hoped to meet with at the End of my
Enterprize!

'There were two Paths, which led up by different Ways to the Summit of
the Mountain; the one was guarded by the Genius which presides over
the Moment of our Births. He had it in charge to examine the several
Pretensions of those who desired a Pass that Way, but to admit none
excepting those only on whom _Melpomene_ had look'd with a propitious
Eye at the Hour of their Nativity. The other Way was guarded by
_Diligence_, to whom many of those Persons apply'd who had met with a
Denial the other Way; but he was so tedious in granting their Request,
and indeed after Admittance the Way was so very intricate and
laborious, that many after they had made some Progress, chose rather
to return back than proceed, and very few persisted so long as to
arrive at the End they proposed. Besides these two Paths, which at
length severally led to the Top of the Mountain, there was a third
made up of these two, which a little after the Entrance joined in one.
This carried those happy Few, whose good Fortune it was to find it,
directly to the Throne of _Apollo_. I don't know whether I should even
now have had the Resolution to have demanded Entrance at either of
these Doors, had I not seen a Peasant-like Man (followed by a numerous
and lovely Train of Youths of both Sexes) insist upon Entrance for all
whom he led up. He put me in mind of the Country Clown who is painted
in the Map for leading Prince _Eugene_ over the _Alps_. He had a
Bundle of Papers in his Hand, and producing several, which he said,
were given to him by Hands which he knew _Apollo_ would allow as
Passes; among which, methoughts, I saw some of my own Writing; the
whole Assembly was admitted, and gave, by their Presence, a new Beauty
and Pleasure to these happy Mansions. I found the Man did not pretend
to enter himself, but served as a kind of Forester in the Lawns to
direct Passengers, who by their own Merit, or Instructions he procured
for them, had Virtue enough to travel that way. I looked very
attentively upon this kind homely Benefactor, and forgive me, _Mr._
SPECTATOR, if I own to you I took him for your self. We were no sooner
entered, but we were sprinkled three times with the Water of the
Fountain _Aganippe_, which had Power to deliver us from all Harms, but
only Envy, which reached even to the End of our Journey. We had not
proceeded far in the middle Path when we arrived at the Summit of the
Hill, where there immediately appeared to us two Figures, which
extremely engaged my Attention: the one was a young Nymph in the Prime
of her Youth and Beauty; she had Wings on her Shoulders and Feet, and
was able to transport herself to the most distant Regions in the
smallest Space of Time. She was continually varying her Dress,
sometimes into the most natural and becoming Habits in the World, and
at others into the most wild and freakish Garb that can be imagined.
There stood by her a Man full-aged, and of great Gravity, who
corrected her Inconsistences, by shewing them in his Mirror, and still
flung her affected and unbecoming Ornaments down the Mountain, which
fell in the Plain below, and were gathered up and wore with great
Satisfaction by those that inhabited it. The Name of the Nymph was
_Fancy_, the Daughter of _Liberty_, the most beautiful of all the
Mountain-Nymphs. The other was _Judgment_, the Off-spring of _Time_,
and the only Child he acknowledged to be his. A Youth, who sat upon a
Throne just between them, was their genuine Offspring; his Name was
_Wit_, and his Seat was composed of the Works of the most celebrated
Authors. I could not but see with a secret Joy, that though the
_Greeks_ and _Romans_ made the Majority, yet our own Countrymen were
the next both in Number and Dignity. I was now at Liberty to take a
full Prospect of that delightful Region. I was inspired with new
Vigour and Life, and saw every thing in nobler and more pleasing Views
than before; I breathed a purer Æther in a Sky which was a continued
Azure, gilded with perpetual Sunshine. The two Summits of the Mountain
rose on each Side, and formed in the midst a most delicious Vale, the
Habitation of the Muses, and of such as had composed Works worthy of
Immortality. _Apollo_ was seated upon a Throne of Gold, and for a
Canopy an aged Laurel spread its Boughs and its Shade over his Head.
His Bow and Quiver lay at his Feet. He held his Harp in his Hand,
whilst the Muses round about him celebrated with Hymns his Victory
over the Serpent _Python_, and sometimes sung in softer Notes the
Loves of _Leucothoe_ and _Daphnis_. _Homer_, _Virgil_, and _Milton_
were seated the next to them. Behind were a great Number of others,
among whom I was surprized to see some in the Habit of _Laplanders_,
who, notwithstanding the Uncouthness of their Dress, had lately
obtained a Place upon the Mountain. I saw _Pindar_ walking all alone,
no one daring to accost him, till _Cowley_ join'd himself to him; but
growing weary of one who almost walked him out of breath, he left him
for _Horace_ and _Anacreon_, with whom he seemed infinitely delighted.

'A little further I saw another Groupe of Figures; I made up to them,
and found it was _Socrates_ dictating to _Xenophon_, and the Spirit of
_Plato_; but most of all, _Musoeus_ had the greatest Audience about
him. I was at too great a Distance to hear what he said, or to
discover the Faces of his Hearers; only I thought I now perceived
_Virgil_, who had joined them, and stood in a Posture full of
Admiration at the Harmony of his Words.

'Lastly, At the very Brink of the Hill I saw _Boccalini_ sending
Dispatches to the World below of what happened upon _Parnassus_; but I
perceived he did it without leave of the Muses, and by stealth, and
was unwilling to have them revised by _Apollo_. I could now from this
Height and serene Sky behold the infinite Cares and Anxieties with
which Mortals below sought out their way through the Maze of Life. I
saw the Path of Virtue lie strait before them, whilst Interest, or
some malicious Demon, still hurry'd them out of the Way. I was at once
touched with Pleasure at my own Happiness, and Compassion at the sight
of their inextricable Errors. Here the two contending Passions rose so
high, that they were inconsistent with the sweet Repose I enjoy'd, and
awaking with a sudden start, the only Consolation I could admit of for
my Loss, was the Hopes that this Relation of my Dream will not
displease you.' [2]

T.

[Footnote 1: Room is made for this paper, in the original issue, by printing it in smaller type.]

[Footnote 2: This Advertisement follows:

_A Letter written_ October 14, _dated_ Middle Temple, _has been
overlooked, by reason it was not directed to the_ SPECTATOR _at the
usual Places; and the Letter of the 18th, dated from the same Place,
is groundless, the Author of the Paper of_ Friday _last not having
ever seen the Letter of the 14th. In all circumstances except the
Place of Birth of the Person to whom the Letters were written, the
Writer of them is misinformed_.]

* * * * *

No. 515. Tuesday, October 21, 1712. Steele.

'Pudet me et miseret qui harum mores contabat mihi
Monuisse frustra--'

Ter.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'I am obliged to you for printing the Account I lately sent you of a
Coquet who disturbed a sober Congregation in the City of _London_.
That Intelligence ended at her taking Coach, and bidding the Driver go
where he knew. I could not leave her so, but dogged her, as hard as
she drove, to _Paul's_ Church-Yard, where there was a Stop of Coaches
attending Company coming out of the Cathedral. This gave me
opportunity to hold up a Crown to her Coachman, who gave me the
Signal, that he would hurry on, and make no Haste, as you know the Way
is when they favour a Chase. By his many kind Blunders, driving
against other Coaches, and slipping off some of his Tackle, I could
keep up with him, and lodged my fine Lady in the Parish of St.
_James's_. As I guessed when I first saw her at Church, her Business
is to win Hearts and throw 'em away, regarding nothing but the
Triumph. I have had the Happiness, by tracing her through all with
whom I heard she was acquainted, to find one who was intimate with a
Friend of mine, and to be introduced to her Notice. I have made so
good use of my Time, as to procure from that Intimate of hers one of
her Letters, which she writ to her when in the Country. This Epistle
of her own may serve to alarm the World against her in ordinary Life,
as mine, I hope, did those, who shall behold her at Church. The Letter
was written last Winter to the Lady who gave it me; and I doubt not
but you will find it the Soul of an happy self-loving Dame, that takes
all the Admiration she can meet with, and returns none of it in Love
to her Admirers.'

_Dear Jenny_,

"I am glad to find you are likely to be dispos'd of in Marriage so
much to your Approbation as you tell me. You say you are afraid only
of me, for I shall laugh at your Spouse's Airs. I beg of you not to
fear it, for I am too nice a Discerner to laugh at any, but whom
most other People think fine Fellows; so that your Dear may bring
you hither as soon as his Horses are in Case enough to appear in
Town, and you be very safe against any Raillery you may apprehend
from me; for I am surrounded with Coxcombs of my own making, who are
all ridiculous in a manner: your Good-man, I presume, can't exert
himself. As Men who cannot raise their Fortunes, and are uneasy
under the Incapacity of shining in Courts, rail at Ambition; so do
[awkard [1]] and insipid Women, who cannot warm the Hearts and charm
the Eyes of Men, rail at Affectation: But she that has the Joy of
seeing a Man's Heart leap into his Eyes at beholding her, is in no
Pain for want of Esteem among a Crew of that Part of her own Sex,
who have no Spirit but that of Envy, and no Language but that of
Malice. I do not in this, I hope, express my self insensible of the
Merit of _Leodacia_, who lowers her Beauty to all but her Husband,
and never spreads her Charms but to gladden him who has a Right in
them: I say, I do Honour to those who can be Coquets, and are not
such; but I despise all who would be so, and in Despair of arriving
at it themselves, hate and vilify all those who can. But, be that as
it will, in Answer to your Desire of knowing my History: One of my
chief present Pleasures is in Country-Dances: and, in Obedience to
me, as well as the Pleasure of coming up to me with a good Grace,
shewing themselves in their Address to others in my Presence, and
the like Opportunities, they are all Proficients that Way: And I had
the Happiness of being the other Night where we made six Couple, and
every Woman's Partner a profess'd Lover of mine. The wildest
Imagination cannot form to it self on any Occasion, higher Delight
than I acknowledge my self to have been in all that Evening. I chose
out of my Admirers a Set of Men who most love me, and gave them
Partners of such of my own Sex who most envy'd me.

"My way is, when any Man who is my Admirer pretends to give himself
Airs of Merit, as at this Time a certain Gentleman you know did, to
mortify him by favouring in his Presence the most insignificant
Creature I can find. At this Ball I was led into the Company by
pretty Mr. _Fanfly_, who, you know, is the most obsequious,
well-shaped, well-bred Woman's Man in Town. I at first Entrance
declared him my Partner if I danced at all; which put the whole
Assembly into a Grin, as forming no Terrours from such a Rival. But
we had not been long in the Room, before I overheard the meritorious
Gentleman above-mention'd say with an Oath, There is no Raillery in
the Thing, she certainly loves the Puppy. My Gentleman, when we were
dancing, took an Occasion to be very soft in his Oglings upon a Lady
he danced with, and whom he knew of all Women I love most to
outshine. The Contest began who should plague the other most. I, who
do not care a Farthing for him, had no hard Task to out-vex him. I
made _Fanfly_, with a very little Encouragement, cut Capers
_Coupee_, and then sink with all the Air and Tenderness imaginable.
When he perform'd this, I observed the Gentleman you know of fall
into the same way, and imitate as well as he could the despised
_Fanfly_. I cannot well give you, who are so grave a Country Lady,
the Idea of the Joy we have when we see a stubborn Heart breaking,
or a Man of Sense turning Fool for our sakes; but this happened to
our Friend, and I expect his Attendance whenever I go to Church, to
Court, to the Play, or the Park. This is a Sacrifice due to us Women
of Genius, who have the Eloquence of Beauty, an easie Mein. I mean
by an easie Mein, one which can be on Occasion easily affected: For
I must tell you, dear _Jenny_, I hold one Maxim, which is an
uncommon one, to wit, That our greatest Charms are owing to
Affectation. 'Tis to That that our Arms can lodge so quietly just
over our Hips, and the Fan can play without any Force or Motion but
just of the Wrist. 'Tis to Affectation we owe the pensive Attention
of _Deidamia_ at a Tragedy, the scornful Approbation of _Dulciamara_
at a Comedy, and the lowly Aspect of _Lanquicelsa_ at a Sermon.

"To tell you the plain Truth, I know no Pleasure but in being
admir'd, and have yet never failed of attaining the Approbation of
the Man whose Regard I had a Mind to. You see all the Men who make a
Figure in the World (as wise a Look as they are pleased to put upon
the Matter) are moved by the same Vanity as I am. What is there in
Ambition, but to make other People's Wills depend upon yours? This
indeed is not to be aim'd at by one who has a Genius no higher than
to think of being a very good Housewife in a Country Gentleman's
Family. The Care of Poultrey and Piggs are great Enemies to the
Countenance: The vacant Look of a fine Lady is not to be preserved,
if she admits any thing to take up her Thoughts but her own dear
Person. But I interrupt you too long from your Cares, and my self
from my Conquests."

_I am, Madam, Your most humble Servant_.

'Give me leave, Mr. SPECTATOR, to add her Friend's Answer to this
Epistle, who is a very discreet ingenious Woman.'

_Dear Gatty_,

"I take your Raillery in very good Part, and am obliged to you for
the free Air with which you speak of your own Gayeties. But this is
but a barren superficial Pleasure; [indeed, [2]] _Gatty_, we are
made for Man, and in serious Sadness I must tell you, whether you
yourself know it or no, all these Gallantries tend to no other End
but to be a Wife and Mother as fast as you can."

_I am, Madam, Your most [humble [3]] Servant_.

T.

[Footnote 1: Spelt generally in the first issue _awkard_, in the first reprint aukward.]

[Footnote 2: [for indeed,]]

[Footnote 3: obedient]

* * * * *

No. 516. Wednesday, October 22, 1712. Steele.

'Immortale odium et nunquam sanabile vulnus.
Inde furor vulgo, quod Numina vicinorum
Odit uterque locus, quum solos credit habendos
Esse Deos quos ipse colat.'

Juv.

Of all the monstrous Passions and Opinions which have crept into the World, there is none so wonderful as that those who profess the common Name of _Christians_, should pursue each other with Rancour and Hatred for Differences in their Way of following the Example of their Saviour. It seems so natural that all who pursue the Steps of any Leader should form themselves after his Manners, that it is impossible to account for Effects so different from what we might expect from those who profess themselves Followers of the highest Pattern of Meekness and Charity, but by ascribing such Effects to the Ambition and Corruption of those who are so audacious, with Souls full of Fury, to serve at the Altars of the God of Peace.

The Massacres to which the Church of _Rome_ has animated the ordinary People, are dreadful Instances of the Truth of this Observation; and whoever reads the History of the _Irish_ Rebellion, and the Cruelties which ensued thereupon, will be sufficiently convinced to what Rage poor Ignorants may be worked up by those who profess Holiness, and become Incendiaries, and under the Dispensation of Grace, promote Evils abhorrent to Nature.

This Subject and Catastrophe, which deserve so well to be remarked by the Protestant World, will, I doubt not, be considered by the Reverend and Learned Prelate that Preaches to-morrow before many of the Descendants, of those who perished on that lamentable Day, in a manner suitable to the Occasion, and worthy his own great Virtue and Eloquence.

I shall not dwell upon it any further, but only transcribe out of a little Tract, called, _The Christian Hero_, published in 1701, what I find there in Honour of the renowned Hero _William_ III. who rescued that Nation from the Repetition of the same Disasters. His late Majesty, of glorious Memory, and the most Christian King, are considered at the Conclusion of that Treatise as Heads of the Protestant and Roman Catholick World in the following Manner.

'There were not ever, before the Entrance of the Christian Name into
the World, Men who have maintained a more renowned Carriage, than the
two great Rivals who possess the full Fame of the present Age, and
will be the Theme and Examination of the future. They are exactly
form'd by Nature for those Ends to which Heaven seems to have sent
them amongst us: Both animated with a restless Desire of Glory, but
pursue it by different Means, and with different Motives. To one it
consists in an extensive undisputed Empire over his Subjects, to the
other in their rational and voluntary Obedience: One's Happiness is
founded in their want of Power, the other's in their want of Desire to
oppose him. The one enjoys the Summit of Fortune with the Luxury of a
_Persian_, the other with the Moderation of a _Spartan_: One is made
to oppress, the other to relieve the Oppressed: The one is satisfy'd
with the Pomp and Ostentation of Power to prefer and debase his
Inferiours, the other delighted only with the Cause and Foundation of
it to cherish and protect 'em. To one therefore Religion is but a
convenient Disguise, to the other a vigorous Motive of Action.

'For without such Ties of real and solid Honour, there is no way of
forming a Monarch, but after the Machiavillian Scheme, by which a
Prince must ever seem to have all Virtues, but really to be Master of
none, but is to be liberal, merciful and just, only as they serve his
Interests; while, with the noble Art of Hypocrisy, Empire would be to
be extended, and new Conquests be made by new Devices, by which prompt
Address his Creatures might insensibly give Law in the Business of
Life, by leading Men in the Entertainment of it. [1]

'Thus when Words and Show are apt to pass for the substantial things
they are only to express, there would need no more to enslave a
Country but to adorn a Court; for while every Man's Vanity makes him
believe himself capable of becoming Luxury, Enjoyments are a ready
Bait for Sufferings, and the Hopes of Preferment Invitations to
Servitude; which Slavery would be colour'd with all the Agreements, as
they call it, imaginable. The noblest Arts and Artists, the finest
Pens and most elegant Minds, jointly employ'd to set it off, with the
various Embellishments of sumptuous Entertainments, charming
Assemblies, and polished Discourses; and those apostate Abilities of
Men, the adored Monarch might profusely and skilfully encourage, while
they flatter his Virtue, and gild his Vice at so high a rate, that he,
without Scorn of the one, or Love of the other, would alternately and
occasionally use both: So that his Bounty should support him in his
Rapines, his Mercy in his Cruelties.

'Nor is it to give things a more severe Look than is natural, to
suppose such must be the Consequences of a Prince's having no other
Pursuit than that of his own Glory; for, if we consider an Infant born
into the World, and beholding it self the mightiest thing in it, it
self the present Admiration and future Prospect of a fawning People,
who profess themselves great or mean, according to the Figure he is to
make amongst them, what Fancy would not be debauched to believe they
were but what they professed themselves, his mere Creatures, and use
them as such by purchasing with their Lives a boundless Renown, which
he, for want of a more just Prospect, would place in the Number of his
Slaves, and the Extent of his Territories? Such undoubtedly would be
the tragical Effects of a Prince's living with no Religion, which are
not to be surpassed but by his having a false one.

'If Ambition were spirited with Zeal, what would follow, but that his
People should be converted into an Army, whose Swords can make Right
in Power, and solve Controversy in Belief? And if Men should be
stiff-neck'd to the Doctrine of that visible Church, let them be
contented with an Oar and a Chain, in the midst of Stripes and
Anguish, to contemplate on him, _whose Yoke is easy, and whose Burthen
is light_.

'With a Tyranny begun on his own Subjects, and Indignation that others
draw their Breath independent of his Frown or Smile, why should he not
proceed to the Seizure of the World? And if nothing but the Thirst of
Sway were the Motive of his Actions, why should Treaties be other than
mere Words, or solemn national Compacts be any thing but an Halt in
the March of that Army, who are never to lay down their Arms, till all
Men are reduc'd to the necessity of hanging their Lives on his wayward
Will; who might supinely, and at leisure, expiate his own Sins by
other Mens Sufferings, while he daily meditates new Slaughter, and new
Conquest?

'For mere Man, when giddy with unbridled Power, is an insatiate Idol,
not to be appeased with Myriads offer'd to his Pride, which may be
puffed up by the Adulation of a base and prostrate World, into an
Opinion that he is something more than human, by being something less:
And, alas, what is there that mortal Man will not believe of himself,
when complimented with the Attributes of God? Can he then conceive
Thoughts of a Power as _Omnipresent_ as his! But should there be such
a Foe of Mankind now upon Earth, have our Sins so far provoked Heaven,
that we are left utterly naked to his Fury? Is there no Power, no
Leader, no Genius, that can conduct and animate us to our Death or our
Defence? Yes; our great God never gave one to feign by his Permission,
but he gave to another also to reign by his Grace.

'All the Circumstances of the illustrious Life of our Prince, seem to
have conspired to make him the Check and Bridle of Tyranny; for his
Mind has been strengthened and confirmed by one continual Struggle,
and Heaven has educated him by Adversity to a quick Sense of the
Distresses and Miseries of Mankind, which he was born to redress: In
just scorn of the trivial Glories and light Ostentations of Power,
that glorious Instrument of Providence moves, like that, in a steddy,
calm, and silent Course, independent either of Applause or Calumny;
which renders him, if not in a political, yet in a moral, a
philosophick, an heroick, and a Christian Sense, an absolute Monarch;
who satisfy'd with this unchangeable, just, and ample Glory, must
needs turn all his Regards from himself to the Service of others; for
he begins his Enterprize with his own Share in the Success of them;
for Integrity bears in it self its Reward, nor can that which depends
not on Event ever know Disappointment.

'With the undoubted Character of a glorious Captain, and (what he much
more values than the most splendid Titles) that of a sincere and
honest Man, he is the Hope and Stay of _Europe_, an universal Good not
to be engrossed by us only, for distant Potentates implore his
Friendship, and injur'd Empires court his Assistance. He rules the
World, not by an Invasion of the People of the Earth, but the Address
of its Princes; and if that World should be again rous'd from the
Repose which his prevailing Arms had given it, why should we not hope
that there is an Almighty, by whose Influence the terrible Enemy that
thinks himself prepar'd for Battel, may find he is but ripe for
Destruction? and that there may be in the Womb of Time great
Incidents, which may make the Catastrophe of a prosperous Life as
unfortunate as the particular Scenes of it were successful? For there
does not want a skilful Eye and resolute Arm to observe and grasp the
Occasion: A Prince, who from [2]

'--Fuit Ilium et ingens
Gloria--'

Virg.

T.

[Footnote 1: The extract is from very near the close of Steele's _Christian Hero_. At this part a few lines have been omitted. In the original the paragraph closed thus:

'... the Entertainment of it, and making their great Monarch the
Fountain of all that's delicate and refined, and his Court the Model
for Opinions in Pleasure, as well as the Pattern in Dress; which might
prevail so far upon an undiscerning world as (to accomplish it or its
approaching Slavery) to make it receive a superfluous Babble for an
Universal Language.']

[Footnote 2: Here Steele abruptly breaks with 'Fuit Ilium'--the glory has departed--on the sentence:

'A Prince who from just Notion of his Duty to that Being to whom he
must be accountable, has in the Service of his Fellow Creatures a
noble Contempt of Pleasures, and Patience of Labours, to whom 'tis
Hereditary to be the Guardian and Asserter of the native Rights and
Liberties of Mankind;'

A few more clauses to the sentence formed the summary of William's character before the book closed with a prayer that Heaven would guard his important life.]

* * * * *

No. 517. Thursday, October 23, 1712. Addison.

'Heu Pietas! heu prisca Fides!'

Virg.

We last night received a Piece of ill News at our Club, which very sensibly afflicted every one of us. I question not but my Readers themselves will be troubled at the hearing of it. To keep them no longer in Suspence, Sir ROGER DE COVERLY _is dead_. [1] He departed this Life at his House in the Country, after a few Weeks Sickness. Sir ANDREW FREEPORT has a Letter from one of his Correspondents in those Parts, that informs him the old Man caught a Cold at the County-Sessions, as he was very warmly promoting an Address of his own penning, in which he succeeded according to his Wishes, But this Particular comes from a Whig-Justice of Peace, who was always Sir ROGER'S Enemy and Antagonist. I have Letters both from the Chaplain and Captain _Sentry_ which mention nothing of it, but are filled with many Particulars to the Honour of the good old Man. I have likewise a Letter from the Butler, who took so much care of me last Summer when I was at the Knight's House. As my Friend the Butler mentions, in the Simplicity of his Heart, several Circumstances the others have passed over in Silence, I shall give my Reader a Copy of his Letter, without any Alteration or Diminution.

_Honoured Sir_,

'Knowing that you was my old Master's good Friend, I could not forbear
sending you the melancholy News of his Death, which has afflicted the
whole Country, as well as his poor Servants, who loved him, I may say,
better than we did our Lives. I am afraid he caught his Death the last
County Sessions, where he would go to see Justice done to a poor Widow
Woman, and her Fatherless Children, that had been wronged by a
neighbouring Gentleman; for you know, Sir, my good Master was always
the poor Man's Friend. Upon his coming home, the first Complaint he
made was, that he had lost his Roast-Beef Stomach, not being able to
touch a Sirloin, which was served up according to Custom; and you know
he used to take great Delight in it. From that time forward he grew
worse and worse, but still kept a good Heart to the last. Indeed we
were once in great [Hope [2]] of his Recovery, upon a kind Message
that was sent him from the Widow Lady whom he had made love to the
Forty last Years of his Life; but this only proved a Light'ning before
Death. He has bequeathed to this Lady, as a token of his Love, a great
Pearl Necklace, and a Couple of Silver Bracelets set with Jewels,
which belonged to my good old Lady his Mother: He has bequeathed the
fine white Gelding, that he used to ride a hunting upon, to his
Chaplain, because he thought he would be kind to him, and has left you
all his Books. He has, moreover, bequeathed to the Chaplain a very
pretty Tenement with good Lands about it. It being a very cold Day
when he made his Will, he left for Mourning, to every Man in the
Parish, a great Frize-Coat, and to every Woman a black Riding-hood. It
was a most moving Sight to see him take leave of his poor Servants,
commending us all for our Fidelity, whilst we were not able to speak a
Word for weeping. As we most of us are grown Gray-headed in our Dear
Master's Service, he has left us Pensions and Legacies, which we may
live very comfortably upon, the remaining part of our Days.

He has bequeath'd a great deal more in Charity, which is not yet come
to my Knowledge, and it is peremptorily said in the Parish, that he
has left Mony to build a Steeple to the Church; for he was heard to
say some time ago, that if he lived two Years longer, _Coverly_ Church
should have a Steeple to it. The Chaplain tells every body that he
made a very good End, and never speaks of him without Tears. He was
buried according to his own Directions, among the Family of the
_Coverly's_, on the Left Hand of his Father Sir _Arthur_. The Coffin
was carried by Six of his Tenants, and the Pall held up by Six of the
_Quorum_: The whole Parish follow'd the Corps with heavy Hearts, and
in their Mourning Suits, the Men in Frize, and the Women in
Riding-Hoods. Captain SENTRY, my Master's Nephew, has taken Possession
of the Hall-House, and the whole Estate. When my old Master saw him a
little before his Death, he shook him by the Hand, and wished him Joy
of the Estate which was falling to him, desiring him only to make good
Use of it, and to pay the several Legacies, and the Gifts of Charity
which he told him he had left as Quitrents upon the Estate. The
Captain truly seems a courteous Man, though he says but little. He
makes much of those whom my Master loved, and shews great Kindness to
the old House-dog, that you know my poor Master was so fond of. It
would have gone to your Heart to have heard the Moans the dumb
Creature made on the Day of my Master's Death. He has ne'er joyed
himself since; no more has any of us. 'Twas the melancholiest Day for
the poor People that ever happened in _Worcestershire_. This being all
from,

_Honoured Sir,

Your most Sorrowful Servant_,

Edward Biscuit.

_P. S._ 'My Master desired, some Weeks before he died, that a Book
which comes up to you by the Carrier should be given to Sir _Andrew
Freeport_, in his Name.'

This Letter, notwithstanding the poor Butler's Manner of writing it, gave us such an Idea of our good old Friend, that upon the reading of it there was not a dry Eye in the Club. Sir _Andrew_ opening the Book, found it to be a Collection of Acts of Parliament. There was in particular the Act of Uniformity, with some Passages in it marked by Sir _Roger's_ own Hand. Sir _Andrew_ found that they related to two or three Points, which he had disputed with Sir _Roger_ the last time he appeared at the Club. Sir _Andrew_, who would have been merry at such an Incident on another Occasion, at the sight of the old Man's Hand-writing burst into Tears, and put the Book into his Pocket. Captain _Sentry_ informs me, that the Knight has left Rings and Mourning for every one in the Club.

O.

[Footnote 1: In No. 1 of the _Bee_ (for February, 1733) Eustace Budgell, who set up that publication, and who probably was the intimate friend of Addison's to whom he there refers, said of Sir Roger de Coverley,

'Mr. Addison was so fond of this character that a little before he
laid down the _Spectator_ (foreseeing that some nimble gentleman would
catch up his pen the moment he quitted it) he said to an intimate
friend, with a certain warmth in his expression which he was not often
guilty of, By God, I'll kill Sir Roger, that nobody else may murder
him.'

Accordingly the whole _Spectator_ No. 517 consists of nothing but an account of the old knight's death, and some moving circumstances which attended it. Steele had by this date resolved on bringing his Spectator to a close, and Addison's paper on the death of Sir Roger, the first of several which are to dispose of all members of the Spectator's Club and break up the Club itself, was the first clear warning to the public that he had such an intention.]

[Footnote 2: [Hopes]]

* * * * *

No. 518. Friday, October 24, 1712. Steele [1]

'--Miserum est alienæ incumbere famæ,
Ne collapsa ruant subductis tecta columnis.'

Juv.

This being a Day of Business with me, I must make the present Entertainment like a Treat at an House-warming, out of such Presents as have been sent me by my Guests. The first Dish which I serve up is a Letter come fresh to my Hand.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

It is with inexpressible Sorrow that I hear of the Death of good Sir
_Roger_, and do heartily condole with you upon so melancholy an
Occasion. I think you ought to have blacken'd the Edges of a Paper
which brought us so ill News, and to have had it stamped likewise in
Black. It is expected of you that you should write his Epitaph, and,
if possible, fill his Place in the Club with as worthy and diverting a
Member. I question not but you will receive many Recommendations from
the publick of such as will appear Candidates for that Post.

Since I am talking of Death, and have mentioned an Epitaph, I must
tell you, Sir, that I have made discovery of a Church-Yard in which I
believe you might spend an Afternoon, with great Pleasure to your self
and to the Publick: It. belongs to the Church of _Stebon-Heath_,
commonly called _Stepney_. Whether or no it be that the People of that
Parish have a particular Genius for an Epitaph, or that there be some
Poet among them who undertakes that Work by the Great, I can't tell;
but there are more remarkable Inscriptions in that place than in any
other I have met with, and I may say without Vanity, that there is not
a Gentleman in _England_ better read in Tomb-stones than my self, my
Studies having laid very much in Church-yards. I shall beg leave to
send you a Couple of Epitaphs, for a Sample of those I have just now
mentioned. They are written in a different manner; the first being in
the diffused and luxuriant, the second in the close contracted Style.
The first has much of the Simple and Pathetick; the second is
something Light, but Nervous. The first is thus:

'Here Thomas Sapper lyes interred. Ah why!
Born in New England, did in London dye;
Was the third Son of Eight, begot upon
His Mother Martha by his Father John.
Much favoured by his Prince he 'gan to be,
But nipt by Death at th' Age of Twenty Three.
Fatal to him was that we Small-pox name,
By which his Mother and two Brethren came
Also to breathe their last nine Years before,
And now have left their Father to deplore
The loss of all his Children, with his Wife,
Who was the Joy and Comfort of his Life.'

The Second is as follows:

'Here lies the Body of Daniel Saul,
Spittle-fields Weaver, and that's all.'

'I will not dismiss you, whilst I am upon this Subject, without
sending a short Epitaph which I once met with, though I cannot
possibly recollect the Place. The Thought of it is serious, and in my
Opinion, the finest that I ever met with upon this Occasion. You know,
Sir, it is usual, after having told us the Name of the Person who lies
interr'd to lanch out into his Praises. This Epitaph takes a quite
contrary Turn, having been made by the Person himself some time before
his Death.

'Hic jacet_ R. C. _in expectatione diei supremi. Qualis erat dies
iste indicabit.' [2]

Here lieth _R. C_. in expectation of the last Day. What sort of a
Man he was, that Day will discover.

_I am, SIR, &c_.

The following Letter is dated from _Cambridge_. [3]

_SIR_,

'Having lately read among your Speculations, an Essay upon
Phisiognomy, I cannot but think that if you made a Visit to this
ancient University, you might receive very considerable Lights upon
that Subject, there being scarce a young Fellow in it who does not
give certain Indications of his particular Humour and Disposition
conformable to the Rules of that Art. In Courts and Cities every body
lays a Constraint upon his Countenance, and endeavours to look like
the rest of the World; but the Youth of this Place, having not yet
formed themselves by Conversation, and the Knowledge of the World,
give their Limbs and Features their full Play.

'As you have considered Human Nature in all its Lights, you must be
extremely well apprized, that there is a very close Correspondence
between the outward and the inward Man; that scarce the least Dawning,
the least Parturiency towards a Thought can be stirring in the Mind of
Man, without producing a suitable Revolution in his Exteriors, which
will easily discover it self to an Adept in the Theory of the Phiz.
Hence it is, that the intrinsick Worth and Merit of a Son of _Alma
Mater_ is ordinarily calculated from the Cast of his Visage, the
Contour of his Person, the Mechanism of his Dress, the Disposition of
his Limbs, the Manner of his Gate and Air, with a number of
Circumstances of equal Consequence and Information: The Practitioners
in this Art often make use of a Gentleman's Eyes to give 'em Light
into the Posture of his Brains; take a Handle from his Nose, to judge
of the Size of his Intellects; and interpret the over-much Visibility
and Pertness of one Ear, as an infallible mark of Reprobation, and a
Sign the Owner of so saucy a Member fears neither God nor Man. In
conformity to this Scheme, a contracted Brow, a lumpish down-cast
Look, a sober sedate Pace, with both Hands dangling quiet and steddy
in Lines exactly parallel to each Lateral Pocket of the Galligaskins,
is Logick, Metaphysicks and Mathematicks in Perfection. So likewise
the _Belles Lettres_ are typified by a Saunter in the Gate; a Fall of
one Wing of the Peruke backward, an Insertion of one Hand in the Fobb,
and a negligent Swing of the other, with a Pinch of right and fine
_Barcelona_ between Finger and Thumb, a due Quantity of the same upon
the upper Lip, and a Noddle-Case loaden with Pulvil. Again, a grave
solemn stalking Pace is Heroick Poetry, and Politicks; an Unequal one,
a Genius for the Ode, and the modern Ballad: and an open Breast, with
an audacious Display of the Holland Shirt, is construed a fatal
Tendency to the Art Military.

'I might be much larger upon these Hints, but I know whom I write to.
If you can graft any Speculation upon them, or turn them to the
Advantage of the Persons concerned in them, you will do a Work very
becoming the _British Spectator_, and oblige'

_Your very Humble Servant_,

Tom. Tweer.

[Footnote 1: Of the two letters which form this number the second is by John Henley, known afterwards as 'Orator Henley,' of whom see a note to No. 396.]

[Footnote 2: The European Magazine for July, 1787, says that the exact copy of this Epitaph, which is on a Thomas Crouch, who died in 1679, runs thus:

_Aperiet Deus tumulos et educet nos de sepulchris
Qualis eram, dies isti haec cum venerit, scies._.]

[Footnote 3: By John Henley.]

* * * * *

No. 519. Saturday, October 25, 1712. Addison.

'Inde Hominum pecudumque genus, vitæque volantum,
Et quæ marmoreo fert Monstra sub æquore pontus.'

Virg.

Though there is a great deal of Pleasure in contemplating the material World, by which I mean that System of Bodies into which Nature has so curiously wrought the Mass of dead Matter, with the several Relations which those Bodies bear to one another; there is still, methinks, something more wonderful and surprizing in Contemplations on the World of Life, by which I mean all those Animals with which every Part of the Universe is furnished. The Material World is only the Shell of the Universe: The World of Life are its Inhabitants.

If we consider those parts of the Material World which lie the nearest to us, and are therefore subject to our Observations and Enquiries, it is amazing to consider the Infinity of Animals with which it is stocked. Every part of Matter is peopled: Every green Leaf swarms with Inhabitants. There is scarce a single Humour in the Body of a Man, or of any other Animal, in which our Glasses do not discover Myriads of living Creatures. The Surface of Animals is also covered with other Animals, which are in the same manner the Basis of other Animals, that live upon it; nay, we find in the most solid Bodies, as in Marble it self, innumerable Cells and Cavities that are crouded with such imperceptible Inhabitants, as are too little for the naked Eye to discover. On the other hand, if we look into the more bulky parts of Nature, we see the Seas, Lakes and Rivers teeming with numberless kinds of living Creatures: We find every Mountain and Marsh, Wilderness and Wood, plentifully stocked with Birds and Beasts, and every part of Matter affording proper Necessaries and Conveniencies for the Livelihood of Multitudes which inhabit it.

The Author of the _Plurality of Worlds_ [1] draws a very good Argument from this Consideration, for the _peopling_ of every Planet; as indeed it seems very probable from the Analogy of Reason, that if no Part of Matter, which we are acquainted with, lies waste and useless, those great Bodies which are at such a Distance from us should not be desart and unpeopled, but rather that they should be furnished with Beings adapted to their respective Situations.

Existence is a Blessing to those Beings only which are endowed with Perception, and is in a manner thrown away upon dead Matter, any further than as it is subservient to Beings which are conscious of their Existence. Accordingly we find, from the Bodies which lie under our Observation, that Matter is only made as the Basis and Support of Animals, and that there is no more of the one, than what is necessary for the Existence of the other.

Infinite Goodness is of so communicative a nature, that it seems to delight in the conferring of Existence upon every Degree of [Perceptive [2]] Being. As this is a Speculation, which I have often pursued with great Pleasure to my self, I shall enlarge farther upon it, by considering that part of the Scale of Beings which comes within our Knowledge.