Chapter XC: Book I: of his Epistles; showing how it would read in the customary (5)

There are some living Creatures which are raised but just above dead Matter. To mention only that Species of Shell-fish, which are form'd in the Fashion of a Cone, that grow to the Surface of several Rocks, and immediately die upon their being sever'd from the Place where they grow. There are many other Creatures but one Remove from these, which have no other Sense besides that of Feeling and Taste. Others have still an additional one of Hearing; others of Smell, and others of Sight. It is wonderful to observe, by what a gradual Progress the World of Life advances through a prodigious Variety of Species, before a Creature is form'd that is compleat in all its Senses; and even among these there is such a different Degree of Perfection in the Sense which one Animal enjoys beyond what appears in another, that though the Sense in different Animals be distinguished by the same common Denomination, it seems almost of a different Nature. If after this we look into the several inward Perfections of Cunning and Sagacity, or what we generally call Instinct, we find them rising after the same Manner, imperceptibly one above another, and receiving additional Improvements, according to the Species in which they are implanted. This Progress in Nature is so very gradual, that the most perfect of an inferior Species comes very near to the most imperfect of that which is immediately above it.

The exuberant and overflowing Goodness of the Supreme Being, whose Mercy extends to all his Works, is plainly seen, as I have before hinted, from his having made so very little Matter, at least what falls within our Knowledge, that does not swarm with Life: Nor is his Goodness less seen in the Diversity, than in the Multitude of living Creatures. Had he only made one Species of Animals, none of the rest would have enjoyed the Happiness of Existence; he has, therefore, _specified_ in his Creation every degree of Life, every Capacity of Being. The whole Chasm in Nature, from a Plant to a Man, is filled up with diverse Kinds of Creatures, rising one over another, by such a gentle and easy Ascent, that the little Transitions and Deviations from one Species to another, are almost insensible. This intermediate Space is so well husbanded and managed, that there is scarce a degree of Perception which does not appear in some one part of the World of Life. Is the Goodness, or Wisdom of the divine Being, more manifested in this his Proceeding?

There is a Consequence, besides those I have already mentioned, which seems very naturally deducible from the foregoing Considerations. If the Scale of Being rises by such a regular Progress, so high as Man, we may by a parity of Reason suppose that it still proceeds gradually through those Beings which are of a Superior Nature to him; since there is an infinitely greater space and room for different Degrees of Perfection, between the Supreme Being and Man, than between Man and the most despicable Insect. This Consequence of so great a variety of Beings which are superior to us, from that variety which is inferior to us, is made by Mr. _Lock_, in a Passage which I shall here set down, after having premised, that notwithstanding there is such infinite room between Man and his Maker for the Creative Power to exert it self in, it is impossible that it should ever be filled up, since there will be still an infinite Gap or Distance between the highest created Being, and the Power which produced him.

_That there should be more_ Species _of intelligent Creatures above
us, than there are of sensible and material below us, is probable to
me from hence; That in all the visible corporeal World, we see no
Chasms, or no Gaps. All quite down from us, the descent is by easy
steps, and a continued Series of things, that in each remove differ
very little one from the other. There are Fishes that have Wings, and
are not Strangers to the airy Region: and there are some Birds, that
are Inhabitants of the Water; whose Blood is cold as Fishes, and their
Flesh so like in taste, that the Scrupulous are allowed them on
Fish-days. There are Animals so near of kin both to Birds and Beasts,
that they are in the middle between both: Amphibious Animals link the
Terrestrial and Aquatick together; Seals live at Land and at Sea, and
Porpoises have the warm Blood and Entrails of a Hog; not to mention
what is confidently reported of Mermaids or Sea-Men. There are some
Brutes, that seem to have as much Knowledge and Reason, as some that
are called Men; and the Animal and Vegetable Kingdoms are so nearly
join'd, that if you will take the lowest of one, and the highest of
the other, there will scarce be perceived any great difference between
them: and so on till we come to the lowest and the most inorganical
parts of Matter, we shall find every where that the several Species
are linked together, and differ but in almost insensible degrees. And
when we consider the infinite Power and Wisdom of the Maker, we have
reason to think that it is suitable to the magnificent Harmony of the
Universe, and the great Design and infinite Goodness of the Architect,
that the_ Species _of Creatures should also, by gentle degrees, ascend
upward from us towards his infinite Perfection, as we see they
gradually descend from us downwards: Which if it be probable, we have
reason then to be persuaded, that there are far more_ Species _of
Creatures above us, than there are beneath; we being in degrees of
Perfection much more remote from the infinite Being of God, than we
are from the lowest State of Being, and that which approaches nearest
to nothing. And yet of all those distinct Species, we have no clear
distinct_ Ideas. [3]

In this System of Being, there is no Creature so wonderful in its Nature, and which so much deserves our particular Attention, as Man, who fills up the middle Space between the Animal and Intellectual Nature, the visible and invisible World, and is that Link in the Chain of Beings, which has been often termed the _nexus utriusque Mundi_. So that he who in one respect is associated with Angels and Arch-Angels, may look upon a Being of infinitei Perfection as his Father, and the highest Order of Spirits as his Brethren, may in another respect say to _Corruption, thou art my Father, and to the Worm, thou art my Mother and my Sister_. [4]

[Footnote 1: Fontenelle, _Entretiens sur la Pluralité des Mondes_. Troisième Soir.]

[Footnote 2: [Preceptive] and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 3: Essay concerning Human Understanding, Bk. III. ch. vi. § 12.]

[Footnote 4: Job. xvii. 14.]

* * * * *

No. 520. Monday, October 27, 1712. Francham. [1]

'Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus
Tant chari capitis!'

Hor.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

'The just Value you have expressed for the Matrimonial State, is the
Reason that I now venture to write to you, without Fear of being
ridiculous; and confess to you, that though it is three Months since I
lost a very agreeable Woman, who was my Wife, my Sorrow is still
fresh; and I am often, in the midst of Company, upon any Circumstance
that revives her Memory, with a Reflection what she would say or do on
such an Occasion: I say, upon any Occurrence of that Nature, which I
can give you a Sense of, though I cannot express it wholly, I am all
over Softness, and am obliged to retire, and give Way to a few Sighs
and Tears, before I can be easy. I cannot but recommend the Subject of
Male Widowhood to you, and beg of you to touch upon it by the first
Opportunity. To those who have not lived like Husbands during the
Lives of their Spouses, this would be a tasteless Jumble of Words; but
to such (of whom there are not a few) who have enjoyed that State with
the Sentiments proper for it, you will have every Line, which hits the
Sorrow, attended with a Tear of Pity and Consolation. For I know not
by what Goodness of Providence it is, that every Gush of Passion is a
step towards the Relief of it; and there is a certain Comfort in the
very Act of Sorrowing, which, I suppose, arises from a secret
Consciousness in the Mind, that the Affliction it is under flows from
a virtuous Cause. My Concern is not indeed so outragious as at the
first Transport; for I think it has subsided rather into a soberer
State of Mind, than any actual Perturbation of Spirit. There might be
Rules formed for Men's Behaviour on this great Incident, to bring them
from that Misfortune into the Condition I am at present; which is, I
think, that my Sorrow has converted all Roughness of Temper into
Meekness, Good-nature, and Complacency: But indeed, when in a serious
and lonely Hour I present my departed Consort to my Imagination, with
that Air of Perswasion in her Countenance when I have been in Passion,
that sweet Affability when I have been in good Humour, that tender
Compassion when I have had any thing which gave me Uneasiness; I
confess to you I am inconsolable, and my Eyes gush with Grief as if I
had seen her but just then expire. In this Condition I am broken in
upon by a charming young Woman, my Daughter, who is the Picture of
what her Mother was on her Wedding-Day. The good Girl strives to
comfort me; but how shall I let you know that all the Comfort she
gives me is to make my Tears flow more easily? The Child knows she
quickens my Sorrows, and rejoices my Heart at the same Time. Oh, ye
Learned! tell me by what Word to speak a Motion of the Soul, for which
there is no name. When she kneels and bids me be comforted, she is my
Child; when I take her in my Arms, and bid her say no more, she is my
very Wife, and is the very Comforter I lament the Loss of. I banish
her the Room, and weep aloud that I have lost her Mother, and that I
have her.

'_Mr._ SPECTATOR, I wish it were possible for you to have a Sense of
these pleasing Perplexities; you might communicate to the guilty part
of Mankind, that they are incapable of the Happiness which is in the
very Sorrows of the Virtuous.

'But pray spare me a little longer; give me Leave to tell you the
Manner of her Death. She took leave of all her Family, and bore the
vain Application of Medicines with the greatest Patience imaginable.
When the Physician told her she must certainly die, she desired, as
well as she could, that all who were present, except my self, might
depart the Room. She said she had nothing to say, for she was
resigned, and I knew all she knew that concerned us in this World; but
she desired to be alone, that in the presence of God only she might,
without Interruption, do her last Duty to me, of thanking me for all
my Kindness to her; adding, that she hoped in my last Moments I should
feel the same Comfort for my Goodness to her, as she did in that she
had acquitted herself with Honour, Truth and Virtue to me.

'I curb my self, and will not tell you that this Kindness cut my Heart
in twain, when I expected an Accusation for some passionate Starts of
mine, in some Parts of our Time together, to say nothing, but thank me
for the Good, if there was any Good suitable to her own Excellence!
All that I had ever said to her, all the Circumstances of Sorrow and
Joy between us, crowded upon my Mind in the same Instant; and when
immediately after I saw the Pangs of Death come upon that dear Body
which I had often embraced with Transport, when I saw those cherishing
Eyes begin to be ghastly, and their last Struggle to be to fix
themselves on me, how did I lose all patience? She expired in my Arms,
and in my Distraction I thought I saw her Bosom still heave. There was
certainly Life yet still left; I cried she just now spoke to me: But
alas! I grew giddy, and all things moved about me from the Distemper
of my own Head; for the best of Women was breathless, and gone for
ever.

'Now the Doctrine I would, methinks, have you raise from this Account
I have given you is, That there is a certain Equanimity in those who
are good and just, which runs into their very Sorrow, and disappoints
the Force of it. Though they must pass through Afflictions in common
with all who are in human Nature, yet their conscious Integrity shall
undermine their Affliction; nay, that very Affliction shall add Force
to their Integrity, from a Reflection of the Use of Virtue in the Hour
of Affliction. I sat down with a Design to put you upon giving us
Rules how to overcome such Griefs as these, but I should rather advise
you to teach Men to be capable of them.

'You Men of Letters have what you call the fine Taste in their
Apprehensions of what is properly done or said: There is something
like this deeply grafted in the Soul of him who is honest and faithful
in all his Thoughts and Actions. Every thing which is false, vicious
or unworthy, is despicable to him, though all the World should approve
it. At the same time he has the most lively Sensibility in all
Enjoyments and Sufferings which it is proper for him to have, where
any Duty of Life is concerned. To want Sorrow when you in Decency and
Truth should be afflicted, is, I should think, a greater Instance of a
Man's being a Blockhead, than not to know the Beauty of any Passage in
_Virgil_. You have not yet observed, _Mr._ SPECTATOR, that the fine
Gentlemen of this Age set up for Hardness of Heart, and Humanity has
very little share in their Pretences. He is a brave Fellow who is
always ready to kill a Man he hates, but he does not stand in the same
Degree of Esteem who laments for the Woman he loves. I should fancy
you might work up a thousand pretty Thoughts, by reflecting upon the
Persons most susceptible of the sort of Sorrow I have spoken of; and I
dare say you will find upon Examination, that they are the wisest and
the bravest of Mankind who are most capable of it.

_I am,

SIR,

Your most humble Servant,

F. J.

Norwich,

7° Octobris,

1712.

T.

[Footnote 1: The Mr. Francham who wrote this letter was of Norwich, whence it is dated.]

* * * * *

No. 521. Tuesday, October 28, 1712. Steele.

'Vera redit facies, dissimulata perit.'

P. Arb.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

I have been for many Years loud in this Assertion, That there are very
few that can see or hear, I mean that can report what they have seen
or heard; and this thro' Incapacity or Prejudice, one of which
disables almost every Man who talks to you from representing things as
he ought. For which Reason I am come to a Resolution of believing
nothing I hear; and I contemn the Men given to Narration under the
Appellation of a Matter of Fact Man: And according to me, a Matter of
Fact Man is one whose Life and Conversation is spent in the Report of
what is not Matter of Fact.

I remember when Prince _Eugene_ was here, there was no knowing his
Height or Figure, till you, _Mr._ SPECTATOR, gave the Publick
Satisfaction in that Matter. In Relations, the Force of the Expression
lies very often more in the Look, the Tone of Voice, or the Gesture,
than the Words themselves; which being repeated in any other Manner by
the Undiscerning, bear a very different Interpretation from their
original Meaning. I must confess, I formerly have turn'd this Humour
of mine to very good Account; for whenever I heard any Narration
utter'd with extraordinary vehemence, and grounded upon considerable
Authority, I was always ready to lay any Wager that it was not so.
Indeed I never pretended to be so rash, as to fix the Matter in any
particular Way in Opposition to theirs; but as there are a hundred
Ways of any thing happening, besides that it has happen'd, I only
controverted its falling out in that one Manner as they settled it,
and left it to the Ninety nine other Ways, and consequently had more
Probability of Success. I had arrived at a particular skill in warming
a Man so far in his Narration, as to make him throw in a little of the
Marvelous, and then, if he has much Fire, the next Degree is the
Impossible. Now this is always the Time for fixing the Wager. But this
requires the nicest Management, otherwise very probably the Dispute
may arise to the old Determination by Battle. In these Conceits I have
been very fortunate, and have won some Wagers of those who have
professedly valued themselves upon Intelligence, and have put
themselves to great Charge and Expence to be misinformed considerably
sooner than the Rest of the World.

Having got a comfortable Sum by this my Opposition to publick Report,
I have brought my self now to so great a Perfection in Inattention,
more especially to Party Relations, that at the same time I seem with
greedy Ears to devour up the Discourse, I certainly don't know one
Word of it, but pursue my own Course of Thought, whether upon Business
or Amusement, with much Tranquility: I say Inattention, because a late
Act of Parliament has secur'd all Party-Lyars from the Penalty of a
Wager, [1] and consequently made it unprofitable to attend them.
However, good Breeding obliges a Man to maintain the Figure of the
keenest Attention, the true Posture of which in a Coffee-house I take
to consist in leaning over a Table, with the Edge of it pressing hard
upon your Stomach; for the more Pain the Narration is received with,
the more gracious is your bending over: Besides that the Narrator
thinks you forget your Pain by the Pleasure of hearing him.

Fort _Knock_ has occasioned several very perplexed and inelegant Heats
and Animosities; and there was one t'other day in a Coffee-house where
I was, that took upon him to clear that Business to me, for he said he
was there. I knew him to be that sort of Man that had not strength of
Capacity to be inform'd of any thing that depended merely upon his
being an Eye-Witness, and therefore was fully satisfied he could give
me no Information, for the very same Reason he believed he could, for
he was there. However, I heard him with the same Greediness as
_Shakespear_ describes in the following Lines:

'I saw a Smith stand on his Hammer, thus,
With open Mouth swallowing a Taylor's News.'

I confess of late I have not been so much amazed at the Declaimers in
Coffee-houses as I formerly was, being satisfied that they expect to
be rewarded for their Vociferations. Of these Liars there are two
Sorts. The Genius of the first consists in much Impudence and a strong
Memory; the others have added to these Qualifications a good
Understanding and smooth Language. These therefore have only certain
Heads, which they are as eloquent upon as they can, and may be call'd
Embellishers; the others repeat only what they hear from others as
literally as their Parts or Zeal will permit, and are called Reciters.
Here was a Fellow in Town some Years ago, who used to divert himself
by telling a Lie at _Charing-Cross_ in the Morning at eight of [the]
Clock, and then following it through all Parts of the Town till eight
at Night; at which time he came to a Club of his Friends, and diverted
them with an Account what Censure it had at _Will's_ in
_Covent-Garden_, how dangerous it was believed to be at _Child's_, and
what Inference they drew from it with Relation to Stocks at
_Jonathan's_. I have had the Honour to travel with this Gentleman I
speak of in Search of one of his Falshoods; and have been present when
they have described the very Man they have spoken to, as him who first
reported it, tall or short, black or fair, a Gentleman or a
Raggamuffin, according as they liked the Intelligence. I have heard
one of our ingenious Writers of News say, that when he has had a
Customer come with an Advertisement of an Apprentice or a Wife run
away, he has desired the Advertiser to compose himself a little,
before he dictated the Description of the Offender: For when a Person
is put into a publick Paper by a Man who is angry with him, the real
Description of such Person is hid in the Deformity with which the
angry Man described him; therefore this Fellow always made his
Customers describe him as he would the Day before he offended, or else
he was sure he would never find him out. These and many other Hints I
could suggest to you for the Elucidation of all Fictions; but I leave
it to your own Sagacity to improve or neglect this Speculation.

_I am, SIR,

Your most obedient,

Humble Servant._

Postscript _to the_ Spectator, _Number 502_.

N. B. _There are in the Play of the_ Self-Tormentor _of_ Terence's, _which is allowed a most excellent Comedy, several Incidents which would draw Tears from any Man of Sense, and not one which would move his Laughter._

T.

[Footnote 1: By 7 Anne, cap. 17, all wagers laid upon a contingency relating to the war with France were declared void.]

* * * * *

No. 522. Wednesday, October 29, 1712. Steele.

'--Adjuro nunquam eam me deserturum,
Non, si capiundos mihi sciam esse inimicos omneis homines.
Hanc mihi expetivi, contigit: conveniunt mores: valeant
Qui inter nos dissidium volunt: hanc, nisi mors,
Mi adimet nemo.'

Ter.

I should esteem my self a very happy Man, if my Speculations could in the least contribute to the rectifying the Conduct of my Readers in one of the most important Affairs of Life, to wit their Choice in Marriage. This State is the Foundation of Community, and the chief Band of Society; and I do not think I can be too frequent on Subjects which may give Light to my unmarried Readers, in a particular which is so essential to their following Happiness or Misery. A virtuous Disposition, a good Understanding, an agreeable Person, and an easy Fortune, are the things which should be chiefly regarded on this Occasion. Because my present View is to direct a young Lady, who, I think, is now in doubt whom to take of many Lovers, I shall talk at this time to my female Reader. The Advantages, as I was going to say, of Sense, Beauty and Riches, are what are certainly the chief Motives to a prudent young Woman of Fortune for changing her Condition; but as she is to have her Eye upon each of these, she is to ask herself whether the Man who has most of these Recommendations in the Lump is not the most desirable. He that has excellent Talents, with a moderate Estate, and an agreeable Person, is preferable to him who is only rich, if it were only that good Faculties may purchase Riches, but Riches cannot purchase worthy Endowments. I do not mean that Wit, and a Capacity to entertain, is what should be highly valued, except it is founded upon Good-nature and Humanity. There are many ingenious Men, whose Abilities do little else but make themselves and those about them uneasy: Such are those who are far gone in the Pleasures of the Town, who cannot support Life without quick Sensations and gay Reflections, and are Strangers to Tranquility, to right Reason, and a calm Motion of Spirits without Transport or Dejection. These ingenious Men, of all Men living, are most to be avoided by her who would be happy in [a [1]] Husband. They are immediately sated with Possession, and must necessarily fly to new Acquisitions of Beauty, to pass away the whiling Moments and Intervals of Life; for with them every Hour is heavy that is not joyful. But there is a sort of Man of Wit and Sense, that can reflect upon his own Make, and that of his Partner, with the Eyes of Reason and Honour, and who believes he offends against both these, if he does not look upon the Woman (who chose him to be under his Protection in Sickness and Health) with the utmost Gratitude, whether from that Moment she is shining or defective in Person or Mind: I say, there are those who think themselves bound to supply with Good-nature the Failings of those who love them, and who always think those the Objects of Love and Pity, who came to their Arms the Objects of Joy and Admiration.

Of this latter sort is _Lysander_, a Man of Wit, Learning, Sobriety and Good-nature, of Birth and Estate below no Woman to accept, and of whom it might be said, should he succeed in his present Wishes, his Mistress rais'd his Fortune, but not that she made it. When a Woman is deliberating with herself whom she shall chuse of many near each other in other Pretensions, certainly he of best Understanding is to be preferr'd. Life hangs heavily in the repeated Conversation of one who has no Imagination to be fired at the several Occasions and Objects which come before him, or who cannot Strike out of his Reflections new Paths of pleasing Discourse. Honest _Will Thrash_ and his Wife, tho' not married above four Months, have scarce had a Word to say to each other this six weeks; and one cannot form to one's self a sillier Picture, than these two Creatures in solemn Pomp and Plenty unable to enjoy their Fortunes, and at a full stop among a Crowd of Servants, to whose Taste of Life they are beholden for the little Satisfactions by which they can be understood to be so much as barely in Being. The Hours of the Day, the Distinctions of Noon and Night, Dinner and Supper, are the greatest Notices they are capable of. This is perhaps representing the Life of a very modest Woman, joined to a dull Fellow, more insipid than it really deserves; but I am sure it is not to exalt the Commerce with an ingenious Companion too high, to say that every new Accident or Object which comes into such a Gentleman's way, gives his Wife new Pleasures and Satisfactions. The Approbation of his Words and Actions is a continual new Feast to her, nor can she enough applaud her good Fortune in having her Life varied every hour, her Mind more improv'd, and her Heart more glad from every Circumstance which they meet with. He will lay out his Invention in forming new Pleasures and Amusements, and make the Fortune she has brought him subservient to the Honour and Reputation of her and hers. A Man of Sense who is thus oblig'd, is ever contriving the Happiness of her who did him so great a Distinction; while the Fool is ungrateful without Vice, and never returns a Favour because he is not sensible of it. I would, methinks, have so much to say for my self, that if I fell into the hands of him who treated me ill, he should be sensible when he did so: His Conscience should be of my side, whatever became of his Inclination. I do not know but it is the insipid Choice which has been made by those who have the Care of young Women, that the Marriage State it self has been liable to so much Ridicule. But a well-chosen Love, mov'd by Passion on both sides, and perfected by the Generosity of one Party, must be adorn'd with so many handsome Incidents on the other side, that every particular Couple would be an example in many Circumstances to all the rest of the Species. I shall end the Chat upon this Subject with a couple of Letters, one from a Lover who is very well acquainted with the way of Bargaining on these Occasions; and the other from his Rival, who has a less Estate, but great Gallantry of Temper. As for my Man of Prudence, he makes love, as he says, as if he were already a Father, and laying aside the Passion, comes to the Reason of the Thing.

_Madam,_

My Counsel [2] has perused the Inventory of your Estate, and
consider'd what Estate you have, which it seems is only yours, and to
the Male-Heirs of your Body; but, in Default of such Issue, to the
right Heirs of your Uncle _Edward_ for ever. Thus, Madam, I am advis'd
you cannot (the Remainder not being in you) dock the Entail; by which
means my Estate, which is Fee-Simple, will come by the Settlement
propos'd to your Children begotten by me, whether they are Males or
Females; but my Children begotten upon you will not inherit your
Lands, except I beget a Son. Now, Madam, since things are so, you are
a Woman of that Prudence, and understand the World so well, as not to
expect I should give you more than you can give me.

_I am, Madam,

(with great Respect)

Your most obedient humble Servant,_ T. W.

The other Lover's Estate is less than this Gentleman's, but he express'd himself as follows.

_Madam,_

I have given in my Estate to your Counsel, [3] and desired my own
Lawyer to insist upon no Terms which your Friends can propose for your
certain Ease and Advantage: For indeed I have no notion of making
Difficulties of presenting you with what cannot make me happy without
you.

_I am, Madam,

Your most devoted humble Servant,_ B. T.

You must know the Relations have met upon this, and the Girl being mightily taken with the latter Epistle, she is laugh'd out, and Uncle _Edward_ is to be dealt with to make her a suitable Match to the worthy Gentleman who has told her he does not care a farthing for her. All I hope for is, that the Lady _Fair_ will make use of the first light Night to show _B. T._ she understands a Marriage is not to be considered as a common Bargain.

T.

[Footnote 1: [an] and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 2: Spelt Council in the first issue and first reprint.]

[Footnote 3: Spelt Council in the first issue and first reprint.]

* * * * *

No. 523. Thursday, October 30, 1712. Addison.

'--Nunc augur Apollo,
Nunc Lyciæ sortes, nunc et Jove missus ab ipso
Interpres Divûm fert horrida jussa per auras.
Scilicet is superis labor--'

Virg.

I am always highly delighted with the discovery of any rising Genius among my Countrymen. For this reason I have read over, with great pleasure, the late Miscellany published by Mr. _Pope_, [1] in which there are many excellent Compositions of that ingenious Gentleman. I have had a pleasure of the same kind, in perusing a Poem that is just publish'd _on the Prospect of Peace_, and which, I hope, will meet with such a Reward from its Patrons, as so noble a Performance deserves. I was particularly well pleased to find that the Author had not amused himself with Fables out of the Pagan Theology, and that when he hints at any thing of [this [2]] nature, he alludes to it only as to a Fable.

Many of our Modern Authors, whose Learning very often extends no farther than _Ovid's Metamorphosis_, do not know how to celebrate a Great Man, without mixing a parcel of School-Boy Tales with the Recital of his Actions. If you read a Poem on a fine Woman, among the Authors of this Class, you shall see that it turns more upon _Venus_ or _Helen_, that on the Party concerned. I have known a Copy of Verses on a great Hero highly commended; but upon asking to hear some of the beautiful Passages, the Admirer of it has repeated to me a Speech of _Apollo_, or a Description of _Polypheme_. At other times when I have search'd for the Actions of a great Man, who gave a Subject to the Writer, I have been entertained with the Exploits of a River-God, or have been forced to attend a Fury in her mischievous Progress, from one end of the Poem to the other. When we are at School it is necessary for us to be acquainted with the System of Pagan Theology, and may be allowed to enliven a Theme, or point an Epigram with an Heathen God; but when we would write a manly Panegyrick, that should carry in it all the Colours of Truth, nothing can be more ridiculous than to have recourse to our _Jupiters_ and _Junos_.

No Thought is beautiful which is not just, and no Thought can be just which is not founded in Truth, or at least in that which passes for such.

In Mock-Heroick Poems, the Use of the Heathen Mythology is not only excusable but graceful, because it is the Design of such Compositions to divert, by adapting the fabulous Machines of the Ancients to low Subjects, and at the same time by ridiculing such kinds of Machinery in modern Writers. If any are of opinion, that there is a Necessity of admitting these Classical Legends into our serious Compositions, in order to give them a more Poetical Turn; I would recommend to their Consideration the Pastorals of Mr. _Philips_. One would have thought it impossible for this Kind of Poetry to have subsisted without Fawns and Satyrs, Wood Nymphs, and Water Nymphs, with all the Tribe of rural Deities. But we see he has given a new Life, and a more natural Beauty to this way of Writing by substituting in the place of these Antiquated Fables, the superstitious Mythology which prevails among the Shepherds of our own Country.

_Virgil_ and _Homer_ might compliment their Heroes, by interweaving the Actions of Deities with their Atchievements; but for a Christian Author to write in the Pagan Creed, to make Prince _Eugene_ a Favourite of _Mars_, or to carry on a Correspondence between _Bellona_ and the Marshal _de Villars_, would be downright Puerility, and unpardonable in a Poet that is past Sixteen. It is want of sufficient Elevation in a Genius to describe Realities, and place them in a shining Light, that makes him have recourse to such trifling antiquated Fables; as a Man may write a fine Description of _Bacchus_ or _Apollo_, that does not know how to draw the Character of any of his Contemporaries.

In order therefore to put a stop to this absurd Practice, I shall publish the following Edict, by virtue of that Spectatorial Authority with which I stand invested.

'Whereas the Time of a General Peace is, in all appearance, drawing near, being inform'd that there are several ingenious Persons who intend to shew their Talents on so happy an Occasion, and being willing, as much as in me lies, to prevent that Effusion of Nonsense, which we have good Cause to apprehend; I do hereby strictly require every Person, who shall write on this Subject, to remember that he is a Christian, and not to Sacrifice his Catechism to his Poetry. In order to it, I do expect of him in the first place, to make his own Poem, without depending upon _Phoebus_ for any part of it, or calling out for Aid upon any one of the Muses by Name. I do likewise positively forbid the sending of _Mercury_ with any particular Message or Dispatch relating to the Peace, and shall by no means suffer _Minerva_ to take upon her the Shape of any Plenipotentiary concerned in this Great Work. I do further declare, that I shall not allow the Destinies to have had an hand in the Deaths of the several thousands who have been slain in the late War, being of opinion that all such Deaths may be very well accounted for by the Christian System of Powder and Ball. I do therefore strictly forbid the Fates to cut the Thread of Man's Life upon any pretence whatsoever, unless it be for the sake of the Rhyme. And whereas I have good Reason to fear, that _Neptune_ will have a great deal of Business on his Hands, in several Poems which we may now suppose are upon the Anvil, I do also prohibit his Appearance, unless it be done in Metaphor, Simile, or any very short Allusion, and that even here he be not permitted to enter, but with great Caution and Circumspection. I desire that the same Rule may be extended to his whole Fraternity of Heathen Gods, it being my design to condemn every Poem to the Flames in which _Jupiter_ Thunders, or exercises any other Act of Authority which does not belong to him: In short, I expect that no Pagan Agent shall be introduc'd, or any Fact related which a Man cannot give Credit to with a good Conscience. Provided always, that nothing herein contained shall extend, or be construed to extend, to several of the Female Poets in this Nation, who shall be still left in full Possession of their Gods and Goddesses, in the same manner as if this Paper had never been written.

O.

[Footnote 1: In this year, 1712, Bernard Lintot, having observed the success of Tonson's volumes of Miscellanies, produced a Miscellany edited by Pope (now 24 years old), and containing the first sketch of his 'Rape of the Lock,' translations from Statius and Ovid, and other pieces. Addison's delight with the discovery of rising genius leads him to dispose in a sentence of 'that ingenious gentleman' who had just published a 'Rape of the Lock,' and proceed to warm praise of his personal friends, Thomas Tickell and Ambrose Philips. In his Poem to his Excellency the Lord Privy Seal on the Prospect of Peace, Tickell invites Strafford to 'One hour, oh! listen while the Muses sing.']

[Footnote 2: [that]]

* * * * *

No. 524. Friday, October 31, 1712. [1]

'Nos populo damus--'

Sen.

When I first of all took it in my Head to write Dreams and Visions, I determin'd to Print nothing of that nature, which was not of my own Invention. But several laborious Dreamers have of late communicated to me Works of this Nature, which, for their Reputations and my own, I have hitherto suppressed. Had I printed every one that came to my Hands, my Book of Speculations would have been little else but a Book of Visions. Some of my Correspondents have indeed been so very modest, as to offer at an Excuse for their not being in a Capacity to dream better. I have by me, for example, the Dream of a young Gentleman not past Fifteen. I have likewise by me the Dream of a Person of Quality, and another called the Lady's Dream. In these, and other Pieces of the same nature, it is suppos'd the usual Allowances will be made to the Age, Condition and Sex of the Dreamer. To prevent this Inundation of Dreams, which daily flows in upon me, I shall apply to all Dreamers of Dreams, the Advice which _Epictetus_ has couched, after his manner, in a very simple and concise Precept. _Never tell thy Dreams_, says that Philosopher, _for tho' thou thy self may'st take a Pleasure in telling thy Dream, another will take no Pleasure in hearing it_. After this short Preface, I must do Justice to two or three Visions which I have lately publish'd, and which I have owned to have been written by other Hands. I shall add a Dream to these, which comes to me from _Scotland_, by one who declares himself of that Country, and for all I know may be second-sighted. There is, indeed, something in it of the Spirit of _John Bunyan_; but at the same time a certain Sublime, which that Author was never master of. I shall publish it, because I question not but it will fall in with the Taste of all my popular Readers, and amuse the Imaginations of those who are more profound; declaring at the same time, that this is the last Dream which I intend to publish this Season.

_SIR_,

'I was last _Sunday_ in the Evening led into a serious Reflection on
the Reasonableness of Virtue, and great Folly of Vice, from an
excellent Sermon I had heard that Afternoon in my Parish-Church. Among
other Observations, the Preacher shew'd us that the Temptations which
the Tempter propos'd, were all on a Supposition, that we are either
Madmen or Fools, or with an Intention to render us such; that in no
other Affair we would suffer ourselves to be thus imposed upon, in a
Case so plainly and clearly against our visible Interest. His
illustrations and Arguments carried so much Persuasion and Conviction
with them, that they remained a considerable while fresh, and working
in my Memory; till at last the Mind, fatigued with Thought, gave way
to the forcible Oppressions of Slumber and Sleep, whilst Fancy,
unwilling yet to drop the Subject, presented me with the following
Vision.

'Methought I was just awoke out of a Sleep, that I could never
remember the beginning of; the Place where I found my self to be, was
a wide and spacious Plain, full of People that wandered up and down
through several beaten Paths, whereof some few were strait, and in
direct lines, but most of them winding and turning like a Labyrinth;
but yet it appear'd to me afterwards, that these last all met in one
Issue, so that many that seemed to steer quite contrary Courses, did
at length meet and face one another, to the no little Amazement of
many of them.

'In the midst of the Plain there was a great Fountain: They called it
the Spring of _Self-Love_; out of it issued two Rivulets to the
Eastward and Westward, the Name of the first was _Heavenly-Wisdom_,
its Water was wonderfully clear, but of a yet more wonderful Effect;
the other's Name was _Worldly-Wisdom_, its Water was thick, and yet
far from dormant or stagnating, for it was in a continual violent
Agitation; which kept the Travellers whom I shall mention by and by,
from being sensible of the Foulness and Thickness of the Water; which
had this Effect, that it intoxicated those who drunk it, and made 'em
mistake every Object that lay before them: both Rivulets were parted
near their Springs into so many others, as there were strait and
crooked Paths, which they attended all along to their respective
Issues.

'I observ'd from the several Paths many now and then diverting, to
refresh and otherwise qualify themselves for their Journey, to the
respective Rivulets that ran near them; they contracted a very
observable Courage and Steadiness in what they were about, by drinking
these Waters. At the end of the Perspective of every strait Path, all
which did end in one Issue and Point, appeared a high Pillar, all of
Diamond, casting Rays as bright as those of the Sun into the Paths;
which Rays had also certain sympathizing and alluring Virtues in them,
so that whosoever had made some considerable progress in his Journey
onwards towards the Pillar, by the repeated impression of these Rays
upon him, was wrought into an habitual Inclination and Conversion of
his Sight towards it, so that it grew at last in a matter natural to
him to look and gaze upon it, whereby he was kept steddy in the strait
Paths, which alone led to that radiant Body, the beholding of which
was now grown a Gratification to his Nature.

'At the Issue of the crooked Paths there was a great black Tower, out
of the Centre of which streamed a long Succession of Flames, which did
rise even above the Clouds; it gave a very great Light to the whole
Plain, which did sometimes outshine the Light, and opprest the Beams
of the Adamantine Pillar; tho' by the Observation I made afterwards,
it appeared that it was not for any Diminution of Light, but that this
lay in the Travellers, who would sometimes step out of the strait
Paths, where they lost the full Prospect of the Radiant Pillar, and
saw it but side-ways: but the great Light from the black Tower, which
was somewhat particularly scorching to them, would generally light and
hasten them to their proper Climate again.

'Round about the black Tower there were, methoughts, many thousands of
huge mis-shapen ugly Monsters; these had great Nets, which they were
perpetually plying and casting towards the crooked Paths, and they
would now and then catch up those that were nearest to them: these
they took up streight, and whirled over the Walls into the flaming
Tower, and they were no more seen nor heard of.

'They would sometimes cast their Nets towards the right Paths to catch
the Stragglers, whose Eyes for want of frequent drinking at the Brook
that ran by them grew dim, whereby they lost their way; these would
sometimes very narrowly miss being catched away, but I could not hear
whether any of these had ever been so unfortunate, that had been
before very hearty in the strait Paths.

'I considered all these strange Sights with great Attention, till at
last I was interrupted by a Cluster of the Travellers in the crooked
Paths, who came up to me, bid me go along with them, and presently
fell to singing and dancing; they took me by the Hand, and so carried
me away along with them. After I had follow'd them a considerable
while, I perceiv'd I had lost the black Tower of Light, at which I
greatly wonder'd; but as I looked and gazed round about me, and saw
nothing, I begun to fancy my first Vision had been but a Dream, and
there was no such thing in reality: but then I consider'd, that if I
could fancy to see what was not, I might as well have an Illusion
wrought on me at present, and not see what was really before me. I was
very much confirmed in this Thought, by the Effect I then just
observ'd the Water of _Worldly-Wisdom_ had upon me; for as I had drunk
a little of it again, I felt a very sensible Effect in my Head;
methought it distracted and disorder'd all there: this made me stop of
a sudden, suspecting some Charm or Inchantment. As I was casting about
within my self what I should do, and whom to apply to in this Case; I
spy'd at some distance off me a Man beckning, and making signs to me
to come over to him. I cry'd to him, _I did not know the Way_. He then
called to me audibly, to step at least out of the Path I was in; for
if I staid there any longer I was in danger to be catched in a great
Net that was just hanging over me, and ready to catch me up; that he
wonder'd I was so blind, or so distracted, as not to see so imminent
and visible a Danger; assuring me, that as soon as I was out of that
Way, he would come to me to lead me into a more secure Path. This I
did, and he brought me his Palm full of the Water of
_Heavenly-Wisdom_, which was of very great use to me, for my Eyes were
streight cleared, and I saw the great black Tower just before me; but
the great Net which I spy'd so near me, cast me in such a Terror, that
I ran back as far as I could in one Breath, without looking behind me:
then my Benefactor thus bespoke me, You have made the wonderful'st
Escape in the World, the Water you used to drink is of a bewitching
Nature, you would else have been mightily shocked at the Deformities
and Meanness of the Place; for beside the Set of blind Fools, in whose
Company you was, you may now observe many others who are only
bewitched after another no less dangerous manner. Look a little that
way, there goes a Crowd of Passengers, they have indeed so good a
Head, as not to suffer themselves to be blinded by this bewitching
Water; the black Tower is not vanished out of their sight, they see it
whenever they look up to it; but see how they go side-ways, and with
their Eyes downwards, as if they were mad, that they may thus rush
into the Net, without being beforehand troubled at the Thought of so
miserable a Destruction. Their Wills are so perverse, and their Hearts
so fond of the Pleasures of the Place, that rather than forgo them
they will run all Hazards, and venture upon all the Miseries and Woes
before them.

'See there that other Company, tho' they should drink none of the
bewitching Water, yet they take a Course bewitching and deluding; see
how they chuse the crookedest Paths, whereby they have often the black
Tower behind them, and sometimes see the radiant Column side-ways,
which gives them some weak Glimpse of it. These Fools content
themselves with that, not knowing whether any other have any more of
its Influence and Light than themselves: this Road is called that of
_Superstition_ or _Human Invention_; they grossly over-look that which
the Rules and Laws of the Place prescribe to them, and contrive some
other Scheme and Set of Directions and Prescriptions for themselves,
which they hope will serve their turn. He shewed me many other kind of
Fools, which put me quite out of humour with the Place. At last he
carried me to the right Paths, where I found true and solid Pleasure,
which entertained me all the way, till we came in closer sight of the
Pillar, where the Satisfaction increased to that measure that my
Faculties were not able to contain it; in the straining of them I was
violently waked, not a little grieved at the vanishing of so pleasing
a Dream.

_Glascow, Sept. 29._

[Footnote 1: The dream in this Paper is taken to have been the joint production of Alexander Dunlop, Professor of Greek in Glasgow University, and a Mr. Montgomery, who traded to Sweden, and of whom it is hinted that he disordered his wits by falling in love with Queen Christina. Alexander Dunlop, born (1684) in America, where his father was an exile till the Revolution, as Greek Professor at Glasgow, published a Grammar, which was used for many years in Scottish Universities. He died in 1742.]

* * * * *

No. 525. Saturday, November 1, 1712. John Hughes.

[Greek: Hod' eís tò sôphron ep' aretàen t' ágôn érôs,
Zaelôtos ánthrôpoisin]

Eurip.

It is my Custom to take [frequent] Opportunities of enquiring from time to time, what Success my Speculations meet with in the Town. I am glad to find in particular, that my Discourses on Marriage have been well received. A Friend of mine gives me to understand, from _Doctors-Commons_, that more Licences have been taken out there of late than usual. I am likewise informed of several pretty Fellows, who have resolved to commence Heads of Families by the first favourable Opportunity: One of them writes me word, that he is ready to enter into the Bonds of Matrimony, provided I will give it him under my Hand (as I now do) that a Man may shew his Face in good Company after he is married, and that he need not be ashamed to treat a Woman with Kindness, who puts herself into his Power for Life.

I have other Letters on this Subject, which say that I am attempting to make a Revolution in the World of Gallantry, and that the Consequence of it will be, that a great deal of the sprightliest Wit and Satyr of the last Age will be lost. That a bashful Fellow, upon changing his Condition, will be no longer puzzled how to stand the Raillery of his facetious Companions; that he need not own he married only to plunder an Heiress of her Fortune, nor pretend that he uses her ill, to avoid the [ridiculous [1]] Name of a fond Husband.