Reader to know what had happened to him in the taking of _Troy_, and in the preceding Parts of his Voyage, _Virgil_ makes his Hero relate it by way of Episode in the second and third Books of the _AEneid_. The Contents of both which Books come before those of the first Book in the Thread of the Story, tho for preserving of this Unity of Action they follow them in the Disposition of the Poem. _Milton_, in imitation of these two great Poets, opens his _Paradise Lost_ with an Infernal Council plotting the Fall of Man, which is the Action he proposed to celebrate; and as for those great Actions, which preceded, in point of Time, the Battle of the Angels, and the Creation of the World, (which would have entirely destroyed the Unity of his principal Action, had he related them in the same Order that they happened) he cast them into the fifth, sixth, and seventh Books, by way of Episode to this noble Poem.
_Aristotle_ himself allows, that _Homer_ has nothing to boast of as to the Unity of his Fable, [9] tho at the same time that great Critick and Philosopher endeavours to palliate this Imperfection in the _Greek_ Poet, by imputing it in some measure to the very Nature of an Epic Poem. Some have been of opinion, that the _AEneid_ [also labours [10]] in this Particular, and has Episodes which may be looked upon as Excrescencies rather than as Parts of the Action. On the contrary, the Poem, which we have now under our Consideration, hath no other Episodes than such as naturally arise from the Subject, and yet is filled with such a Multitude of astonishing [Incidents,[11]] that it gives us at the same time a Pleasure of the greatest Variety, and of the greatest [Simplicity; uniform in its Nature, tho diversified in the Execution [12]].
I must observe also, that as _Virgil_, in the Poem which was designed to celebrate the Original of the _Roman_ Empire, has described the Birth of its great Rival, the _Carthaginian_ Commonwealth: _Milton_, with the like Art, in his Poem on the _Fall of Man_, has related the Fall of those Angels who are his professed Enemies. Besides the many other Beauties in such an Episode, its running parallel with the great Action of the Poem hinders it from breaking the Unity so much as another Episode would have done, that had not so great an Affinity with the principal Subject. In short, this is the same kind of Beauty which the Criticks admire in _The Spanish Frier_, or _The Double Discovery_ [13] where the two different Plots look like Counter-parts and Copies of one another.
The second Qualification required in the Action of an Epic Poem, is, that it should be an _entire_ Action: An Action is entire when it is complete in all its Parts; or, as _Aristotle_ describes it, when it consists of a Beginning, a Middle, and an End. Nothing should go before it, be intermixed with it, or follow after it, that is not related to it. As on the contrary, no single Step should be omitted in that just and regular Progress which it must be supposed to take from its Original to its Consummation. Thus we see the Anger of _Achilles_ in its Birth, its Continuance and Effects; and _AEneas’s_ Settlement in _Italy_, carried on thro all the Oppositions in his Way to it both by Sea and Land. The Action in _Milton_ excels (I think) both the former in this Particular; we see it contrived in Hell, executed upon Earth, and punished by Heaven. The Parts of it are told in the most distinct Manner, and grow out of one another in the most natural [Order [14]].
The third Qualification of an Epic Poem is its _Greatness_. The Anger of _Achilles_ was of such Consequence, that it embroiled the Kings of _Greece_, destroyed the Heroes of _Troy_, and engaged all the Gods in Factions. _AEneas’s_ Settlement in _Italy_ produced the _Caesars_, and gave Birth to the _Roman_ Empire. _Milton’s_ Subject was still greater than either of the former; it does not determine the Fate of single Persons or Nations, but of a whole Species. The united Powers of Hell are joined together for the Destruction of Mankind, which they affected in part, and would have completed, had not Omnipotence it self interposed. The principal Actors are Man in his greatest Perfection, and Woman in her highest Beauty. Their Enemies are the fallen Angels: The Messiah their Friend, and the Almighty their Protector. In short, every thing that is great in the whole Circle of Being, whether within the Verge of Nature, or out of it, has a proper Part assigned it in this noble Poem.
In Poetry, as in Architecture, not only the Whole, but the principal Members, and every Part of them, should be Great. I will not presume to say, that the Book of Games in the _AEneid_, or that in the _Iliad_, are not of this Nature, nor to reprehend _Virgil’s_ Simile of the Top [15], and many other of the same [kind [16]] in the _Iliad_, as liable to any Censure in this Particular; but I think we may say, without [derogating from [17]] those wonderful Performances, that there is an unquestionable Magnificence in every Part of _Paradise Lost_, and indeed a much greater than could have been formed upon any Pagan System.
But _Aristotle_, by the Greatness of the Action, does not only mean that it should be great in its Nature, but also in its Duration, or in other Words that it should have a due Length in it, as well as what we properly call Greatness. The just Measure of this kind of Magnitude, he explains by the following Similitude. [18] An Animal, no bigger than a Mite, cannot appear perfect to the Eye, because the Sight takes it in at once, and has only a confused Idea of the Whole, and not a distinct Idea of all its Parts; if on the contrary you should suppose an Animal of ten thousand Furlongs in length, the Eye would be so filled with a single Part of it, that it could not give the Mind an Idea of the Whole. What these Animals are to the Eye, a very short or a very long Action would be to the Memory. The first would be, as it were, lost and swallowed up by it, and the other difficult to be contained in it. _Homer_ and _Virgil_ have shewn their principal Art in this Particular; the Action of the _Iliad_, and that of the _AEneid_, were in themselves exceeding short, but are so beautifully extended and diversified by the [Invention [19]] of _Episodes_, and the Machinery of Gods, with the like poetical Ornaments, that they make up an agreeable Story, sufficient to employ the Memory without overcharging it. _Milton’s_ Action is enriched with such a Variety of Circumstances, that I have taken as much Pleasure in reading the Contents of his Books, as in the best invented Story I ever met with. It is possible, that the Traditions, on which the _Iliad_ and _AEneid_ were built, had more Circumstances in them than the History of the _Fall of Man_, as it is related in Scripture. Besides, it was easier for _Homer_ and _Virgil_ to dash the Truth with Fiction, as they were in no danger of offending the Religion of their Country by it. But as for _Milton_, he had not only a very few Circumstances upon which to raise his Poem, but was also obliged to proceed with the greatest Caution in every thing that he added out of his own Invention. And, indeed, notwithstanding all the Restraints he was under, he has filled his Story with so many surprising Incidents, which bear so close an Analogy with what is delivered in Holy Writ, that it is capable of pleasing the most delicate Reader, without giving Offence to the most scrupulous.
The modern Criticks have collected from several Hints in the _Iliad_ and _AEneid_ the Space of Time, which is taken up by the Action of each of those Poems; but as a great Part of _Milton’s_ Story was transacted in Regions that lie out of the Reach of the Sun and the Sphere of Day, it is impossible to gratify the Reader with such a Calculation, which indeed would be more curious than instructive; none of the Criticks, either Ancient or Modern, having laid down Rules to circumscribe the Action of an Epic Poem with any determin’d Number of Years, Days or Hours.
_This Piece of Criticism on_ Milton’s Paradise Lost _shall be carried on in [the] following_ [Saturdays] _Papers_.
L.
[Footnote 1: Give place to him, Writers of Rome and Greece. This application to Milton of a line from the last elegy (25th) in the second book of Propertius is not only an example of Addison’s felicity in choice of motto for a paper, but was so bold and well-timed that it must have given a wholesome shock to the minds of many of the _Spectators_ readers. Addison was not before Steele in appreciation of Milton and diffusion of a true sense of his genius. Milton was the subject of the first piece of poetical criticism in the _Tatler_; where, in his sixth number, Steele, having said that all Milton’s thoughts are wonderfully just and natural, dwelt on the passage in which Adam tells his thoughts upon first falling asleep, soon after his creation. This passage he contrasts with the same apprehension of Annihilation ascribed to Eve in a much lower sense by Dryden in his operatic version of _Paradise Lost_. In _Tatlers_ and _Spectators_ Steele and Addison had been equal contributors to the diffusion of a sense of Milton’s genius. In Addison it had been strong, even when, at Oxford, in April, 1694, a young man trained in the taste of the day, he omitted Shakespeare from a rhymed Account of the chief English Poets, but of Milton said:
_Whate’er his pen describes I more than see, Whilst evry verse, array’d in majesty,
Bold and sublime, my whole attention draws, And seems above the critics nicer laws_.
Eighteen years older than he was when he wrote that, Addison now prepares by a series of Saturday Essays,–the Saturday Paper which reached many subscribers only in time for Sunday reading, being always set apart in the _Spectator_ for moral or religious topics, to show that, judged also by Aristotle and the “critics nicer laws,” Milton was even technically a greater epic poet than either Homer or Virgil. This nobody had conceded. Dryden, the best critic of the outgoing generation, had said in the Dedication of the Translations of _Juvenal_ and _Persius_, published in 1692,
“As for Mr. Milton, whom we all admire with so much Justice, his Subject, is not that of an Heroick Poem, properly so call’d: His Design is the Losing of our Happiness; his Event is not prosperous, like that of all other _Epique_ Works” (Dryden’s French spelling of the word Epic is suggestive. For this new critical Mode was one of the fashions that had been imported from Paris); “His Heavenly Machines are many, and his Human Persons are but two. But I will not take Mr. _Rymer’s_ work out of his Hands: He has promised the World a Critique on that Author; wherein, tho he will not allow his Poem for Heroick, I hope he will grant us, that his Thoughts are elevated, his Words sounding, and that no Man has so happily copy’d the manner of Homer; or so copiously translated his Grecisms and the Latin Elegancies of Virgil. Tis true he runs into a Flat of Thought, sometimes for a Hundred Lines together, but tis when he is got into a Track of Scripture … Neither will I justify _Milton_ for his Blank Verse, tho I may excuse him, by the Example of _Hanabal Caro_ and other _Italians_ who have used it: For whatever Causes he alledges for the abolishing of Rhime (which I have not now the leisure to examine), his own particular Reason is plainly this, that Rhime was not his Talent; he had neither the Ease of doing it, nor the Graces of it.”
So Dryden, who appreciated Milton better than most of his critical neighbours, wrote of him in 1692. The promise of Rymer to discuss Milton was made in 1678, when, on the last page of his little book, _The Tragedies of the Last Age consider’d and examined by the Practice of the Ancients and by the Common Sense of all Ages, in a letter to Fleetwold Shepheard, Esq_. (father of two ladies who contribute an occasional letter to the _Spectator_), he said: “With the remaining Tragedies I shall also send you some reflections on that _Paradise Lost_ of Milton’s, which some are pleased to call a Poem, and assert Rhime against the slender Sophistry wherewith he attaques it.” But two years after the appearance of Dryden’s _Juvenal_ and _Persius_ Rymer prefixed to his translation of Rene Rapin’s _Reflections on Aristotle’s Poesie_ some Reflections of his own on Epic Poets. Herein he speaks under the head Epic Poetry of Chaucer, in whose time language was not capable of heroic character; or Spenser, who “wanted a true Idea, and lost himself by following an unfaithful guide, besides using a stanza which is in no wise proper for our language;” of Sir William Davenant, who, in _Gondibert_, “has some strokes of an extraordinary judgment,” but “is for unbeaten tracks and new ways of thinking;” “his heroes are foreigners;” of Cowley, in whose _Davideis_ “David is the least part of the Poem,” and there is want of the “one illustrious and perfect action which properly is the subject of an Epick Poem”: all failing through ignorance or negligence of the Fundamental Rules or Laws of Aristotle. But he contemptuously passes over Milton without mention. Rene Rapin, that great French oracle of whom Dryden said, in the Preface to his own conversion of _Paradise Lost_ into an opera, that he was alone sufficient, were all other critics lost, to teach anew the Art of Writing, Rene Rapin in the work translated and introduced by Rymer, worshipped in Aristotle the one God of all orthodox critics. Of his Laws he said,
There is no arriving at Perfection but by these Rules, and they certainly go astray that take a different course…. And if a Poem made by these Rules fails of success, the fault lies not in the Art, but in the Artist; all who have writ of this Art, have followed no other Idea but that of Aristotle.
Again as to Style,
to say the truth, what is good on this subject is all taken from Aristotle, who is the only source whence good sense is to be drawn, when one goes about to write.
This was the critical temper Addison resolved to meet on its own ground and do battle with for the honour of that greatest of all Epic Poets to whom he fearlessly said that all the Greeks and Latins must give place. In so doing he might suggest here and there cautiously, and without bringing upon himself the discredit of much heresy,–indeed, without being much of a heretic,–that even the Divine Aristotle sometimes fell short of perfection. The conventional critics who believed they kept the gates of Fame would neither understand nor credit him. Nine years after these papers appeared, Charles Gildon, who passed for a critic of considerable mark, edited with copious annotation as _the Laws of Poetry_ (1721), the Duke of Buckingham’s Essay on Poetry, Roscommon’s Essay on Translated Verse, and Lord Lansdowne on Unnatural Flights in Poetry, and in the course of comment Gildon said that
Mr. Addison in the _Spectators_, in his criticisms upon Milton, seems to have mistaken the matter, in endeavouring to bring that poem to the rules of the epopoeia, which cannot be done … It is not an Heroic Poem, but a Divine one, and indeed of a new species. It is plain that the proposition of all the heroic poems of the ancients mentions some one person as the subject of their poem… But Milton begins his poem of things, and not of men.
The Gildon are all gone; and when, in the next generation after theirs, national life began, in many parts of Europe, strongly to assert itself in literature against the pedantry of the French critical lawgivers, in Germany Milton’s name was inscribed on the foremost standard of the men who represented the new spirit of the age. Gottsched, who dealt French critical law from Leipzig, by passing sentence against Milton in his Art of Poetry in 1737, raised in Bodmer an opponent who led the revolt of all that was most vigorous in German thought, and put an end to French supremacy. Bodmer, in a book published in 1740 _Vom Wunderbaren in der Poesie_, justified and exalted Milton, and brought Addison to his aid by appending to his own work a translation of these Milton papers out of the _Spectator_. Gottsched replied; Bodmer retorted. Bodmer translated Paradise Lost; and what was called the English or Milton party (but was, in that form, really a German national party) were at last left masters of the field. It was right that these papers of Addison should be brought in as aids during the contest. Careful as he was to conciliate opposing prejudices, he was yet first in the field, and this motto to the first of his series of Milton papers, Yield place to him, Writers of Greece and Rome, is as the first trumpet note of the one herald on a field from which only a quick ear can yet distinguish among stir of all that is near, the distant tramp of an advancing host.
[Footnote 2: [so irksom as]]
[Footnote 3: say]
[Footnote 4: Aristotle, _Poetics_, III. Sec. I, after a full discussion of Tragedy, begins by saying,
with respect to that species of Poetry which imitates by _Narration_ … it is obvious, that the Fable ought to be dramatically constructed, like that of Tragedy, and that it should have for its Subject one entire and perfect action, having a beginning, a middle, and an end;
forming a complete whole, like an animal, and therein differing, Aristotle says, from History, which treats not of one Action, but of one Time, and of all the events, casually connected, which happened to one person or to many during that time.]
[Footnote 5: _Poetics_, I. Sec. 9.
Epic Poetry agrees so far with Tragic as it is an imitation of great characters and actions.
Aristotle (from whose opinion, in this matter alone, his worshippers departed, right though he was) ranked a perfect tragedy above a perfect epic; for, he said,
all the parts of the Epic poem are to be found in Tragedy, not all those of Tragedy in the Epic poem.]
[Footnote 6:
Nec reditum Diomedis ab interitu Meleagri, Nec gemino bellum Trojanum orditur ab ovo, Semper ad eventum festinat, et in medias res, Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit–
De Arte Poet. II. 146-9.]
[Footnote 7: with great Art]
[Footnote 8: the Story]
[Footnote 9: _Poetics_, V. Sec. 3. In arguing the superiority of Tragic to Epic Poetry, Aristotle says,
there is less Unity in all Epic imitation; as appears from this–that any Epic Poem will furnish matter for several Tragedies … The _Iliad_, for example, and the _Odyssey_, contain many such subordinate parts, each of which has a certain Magnitude and Unity of its own; yet is the construction of those Poems as perfect, and as nearly approaching to the imitation of a single action, as possible.]
[Footnote 10: labours also]
[Footnote 11: Circumstances]
[Footnote 12: Simplicity.]
[Footnote 13: Dryden’s _Spanish Friar_ has been praised also by Johnson for the happy coincidence and coalition of the tragic and comic plots, and Sir Walter Scott said of it, in his edition of Dryden’s Works, that
the felicity does not consist in the ingenuity of his original conception, but in the minutely artificial strokes by which the reader is perpetually reminded of the dependence of the one part of the Play on the other. These are so frequent, and appear so very natural, that the comic plot, instead of diverting our attention from the tragic business, recalls it to our mind by constant and unaffected allusion. No great event happens in the higher region of the camp or court that has not some indirect influence upon the intrigues of Lorenzo and Elvira; and the part which the gallant is called upon to act in the revolution that winds up the tragic interest, while it is highly in character, serves to bring the catastrophe of both parts of the play under the eye of the spectator, at one and the same time.]
[Footnote 14: Method]
[Footnote 15: _AEneid_, Bk. VII. 11. 378-384, thus translated by Dryden:
_And as young striplings whip the top for sport, On the smooth pavement of an empty court, The wooden engine files and whirls about, Admir’d, with clamours, of the beardless rout; They lash aloud, each other they provoke, And lend their little souls at every stroke: Thus fares the Queen, and thus her fury blows Amidst the crowds, and trundles as she goes._]
[Footnote 16: [nature]]
[Footnote 17: [offence to]]
[Footnote 18: _Poetics_, II. section 4, where it is said of the magnitude of Tragedy.]
[Footnote 19: Intervention]
* * * * *
No. 268. Monday, January 7, 1712. Steele.
–Minus aptus acutis
Naribus Horum Hominum.
Hor.
It is not that I think I have been more witty than I ought of late, that at present I wholly forbear any Attempt towards it: I am of Opinion that I ought sometimes to lay before the World the plain Letters of my Correspondents in the artless Dress in which they hastily send them, that the Reader may see I am not Accuser and Judge my self, but that the Indictment is properly and fairly laid, before I proceed against the Criminal.
_Mr_. SPECTATOR, [1]
As you are _Spectator-General_, I apply myself to you in the following Case; viz. I do not wear a Sword, but I often divert my self at the Theatre, where I frequently see a Set of Fellows pull plain People, by way of Humour [and [2]] Frolick, by the Nose, upon frivolous or no Occasions. A Friend of mine the other Night applauding what a graceful Exit Mr. _Wilks_ made, one of these Nose-wringers overhearing him, pinched him by the nose. I was in the Pit the other Night, (when it was very much crowded) a Gentleman leaning upon me, and very heavily, I very civilly requested him to remove his Hand; for which he pulled me by the Nose. I would not resent it in so publick a Place, because I was unwilling to create a Disturbance; but have since reflected upon it as a thing that is unmanly and disingenuous, renders the Nose-puller odious, and makes the Person pulled by the Nose look little and contemptible. This Grievance I humbly request you would endeavour to redress.
_I am your Admirer_, &c.
James Easy.
_Mr_. SPECTATOR,
Your Discourse of the 29th of _December_ on Love and Marriage is of so useful a Kind, that I cannot forbear adding my Thoughts to yours on that Subject. Methinks it is a Misfortune, that the Marriage State, which in its own Nature is adapted to give us the compleatest Happiness this Life is capable of, should be so uncomfortable a one to so many as it daily proves. But the Mischief generally proceeds from the unwise Choice People make for themselves, and Expectation of Happiness from Things not capable of giving it. Nothing but the good Qualities of the Person beloved can be a Foundation for a Love of Judgment and Discretion; and whoever expects Happiness from any Thing but Virtue, Wisdom, Good-humour, and a Similitude of Manners, will find themselves widely mistaken. But how few are there who seek after these things, and do not rather make Riches their chief if not their only Aim? How rare is it for a Man, when he engages himself in the Thoughts of Marriage, to place his Hopes of having in such a Woman a constant, agreeable Companion? One who will divide his Cares and double his Joys? Who will manage that Share of his Estate he intrusts to her Conduct with Prudence and Frugality, govern his House with Oeconomy and Discretion, and be an Ornament to himself and Family? Where shall we find the Man who looks out for one who places her chief Happiness in the Practice of Virtue, and makes her Duty her continual Pleasure? No: Men rather seek for Money as the Complement of all their Desires; and regardless of what kind of Wives they take, they think Riches will be a Minister to all kind of Pleasures, and enable them to keep Mistresses, Horses, Hounds, to drink, feast, and game with their Companions, pay their Debts contracted by former Extravagancies, or some such vile and unworthy End; and indulge themselves in Pleasures which are a Shame and Scandal to humane Nature. Now as for the Women; how few of them are there who place the Happiness of their Marriage in the having a wise and virtuous Friend? one who will be faithful and just to all, and constant and loving to them? who with Care and Diligence will look after and improve the Estate, and without grudging allow whatever is prudent and convenient? Rather, how few are there who do not place their Happiness in outshining others in Pomp and Show? and that do not think within themselves when they have married such a rich Person, that none of their Acquaintance shall appear so fine in their Equipage, so adorned in their Persons, or so magnificent in their Furniture as themselves? Thus their Heads are filled with vain Ideas; and I heartily wish I could say that Equipage and Show were not the Chief Good of so many Women as I fear it is.
After this Manner do both Sexes deceive themselves, and bring Reflections and Disgrace upon the most happy and most honourable State of Life; whereas if they would but correct their depraved Taste, moderate their Ambition, and place their Happiness upon proper Objects, we should not find Felicity in the Marriage State such a Wonder in the World as it now is.
Sir, if you think these Thoughts worth inserting [among [3]] your own, be pleased to give them a better Dress, and let them pass abroad; and you will oblige _Your Admirer_,
A. B.
_Mr_. SPECTATOR,
As I was this Day walking in the Street, there happened to pass by on the other Side of the Way a Beauty, whose Charms were so attracting that it drew my Eyes wholly on that Side, insomuch that I neglected my own Way, and chanced to run my Nose directly against a Post; which the Lady no sooner perceived, but fell out into a Fit of Laughter, though at the same time she was sensible that her self was the Cause of my Misfortune, which in my Opinion was the greater Aggravation of her Crime. I being busy wiping off the Blood which trickled down my Face, had not Time to acquaint her with her Barbarity, as also with my Resolution, _viz_. never to look out of my Way for one of her Sex more: Therefore, that your humble Servant may be revenged, he desires you to insert this in one of your next Papers, which he hopes will be a Warning to all the rest of the Women Gazers, as well as to poor
_Anthony Gape_.
_Mr_. SPECTATOR,
I desire to know in your next, if the merry Game of _The Parson has lost his Cloak_, is not mightily in Vogue amongst the fine Ladies this _Christmas_; because I see they wear Hoods of all Colours, which I suppose is for that Purpose: If it is, and you think it proper, I will carry some of those Hoods with me to our Ladies in _Yorkshire_; because they enjoyned me to bring them something from _London_ that was very New. If you can tell any Thing in which I can obey their Commands more agreeably, be pleased to inform me, and you will extremely oblige
_Your humble Servant_
_Oxford, Dec_. 29.
_Mr_. SPECTATOR,
Since you appear inclined to be a Friend to the Distressed, I beg you would assist me in an Affair under which I have suffered very much. The reigning Toast of this Place is _Patetia_; I have pursued her with the utmost Diligence this Twelve-month, and find nothing stands in my Way but one who flatters her more than I can. Pride is her Favourite Passion; therefore if you would be so far my Friend as to make a favourable Mention of her in one of your Papers, I believe I should not fail in my Addresses. The Scholars stand in Rows, as they did to be sure in your Time, at her Pew-door: and she has all the Devotion paid to her by a Crowd of Youth[s] who are unacquainted with the Sex, and have Inexperience added to their Passion: However, if it succeeds according to my Vows, you will make me the happiest Man in the World, and the most obliged amongst all
_Your humble Servants_.
_Mr_. SPECTATOR,
I came [to [4]] my Mistresss Toilet this Morning, for I am admitted when her Face is stark naked: She frowned, and cryed Pish when I said a thing that I stole; and I will be judged by you whether it was not very pretty. Madam, said I, you [shall [5]] forbear that Part of your Dress; it may be well in others, but you cannot place a Patch where it does not hide a Beauty.
T.
[Footnote 1: This Letter was written by Mr. James Heywood, many years wholesale linen-draper on Fish-street Hill, who died in 1776, at the age of 90. His Letters and Poems were (including this letter at p.100) in a second edition, in 12mo, in 1726.]
[Footnote 2: or]
[Footnote 3: amongst]
[Footnote 4: at]
[Footnote 5: should]
* * * * *
No. 269. Tuesday, January 8, 1712. Addison.
–AEvo rarissima nostro
Simplicitas–
Ovid.
I was this Morning surprised with a great knocking at the Door, when my Landlady’s Daughter came up to me, and told me, that there was a Man below desired to speak with me. Upon my asking her who it was, she told me it was a very grave elderly Person, but that she did not know his Name. I immediately went down to him, and found him to be the Coachman of my worthy Friend Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY. He told me that his Master came to Town last Night, and would be glad to take a Turn with me in _Grays-Inn_ Walks. As I was wondring in my self what had brought Sir ROGER to Town, not having lately received any Letter from him, he told me that his Master was come up to get a Sight of Prince _Eugene_ [1] and that he desired I would immediately meet him.
I was not a little pleased with the Curiosity of the old Knight, though I did not much wonder at it, having heard him say more than once in private Discourse, that he looked upon Prince _Eugenio_ (for so the Knight always calls him) to be a greater Man than _Scanderbeg_.
I was no sooner come into _Grays-Inn Walks_, but I heard my Friend upon the Terrace hemming twice or thrice to himself with great Vigour, for he loves to clear his Pipes in good Air (to make use of his own Phrase) and is not a little pleased with any one who takes notice of the Strength which he still exerts in his Morning Hems.
I was touched with a secret Joy at the Sight of the good old Man, who before he saw me was engaged in Conversation with a Beggar-Man that had asked an Alms of him. I could hear my Friend chide him for not finding out some Work; but at the same time saw him put his Hand in his Pocket and give him Six-pence.
Our Salutations were very hearty on both Sides, consisting of many kind Shakes of the Hand, and several affectionate Looks which we cast upon one another. After which the Knight told me my good Friend his Chaplain was very well, and much at my Service, and that the _Sunday_ before he had made a most incomparable Sermon out of Dr. _Barrow_. I have left, says he, all my Affairs in his Hands, and being willing to lay an Obligation upon him, have deposited with him thirty Marks, to be distributed among his poor Parishioners.
He then proceeded to acquaint me with the Welfare of _Will Wimble_. Upon which he put his Hand into his Fob and presented me in his Name with a Tobacco-Stopper, telling me that _Will_ had been busy all the Beginning of the Winter in turning great Quantities of them; and that he [made [2]] a Present of one to every Gentleman in the Country who has good Principles, and smoaks. He added, that poor _Will_ was at present under great Tribulation, for that _Tom Touchy_ had taken the Law of him for cutting some Hazel Sticks out of one of his Hedges.
Among other Pieces of News which the Knight brought from his Country-Seat, he informed me that _Moll White_ was dead; and that about a Month after her Death the Wind was so very high, that it blew down the End of one of his Barns. But for my own part, says Sir ROGER, I do not think that the old Woman had any hand in it.
He afterwards fell into an Account of the Diversions which had passed in his House during the Holidays; for Sir ROGER, after the laudable Custom of his Ancestors, always keeps open House at _Christmas_. I learned from him that he had killed eight fat Hogs for the Season, that he had dealt about his Chines very liberally amongst his Neighbours, and that in particular he had sent a string of Hogs-puddings with a pack of Cards to every poor Family in the Parish. I have often thought, says Sir ROGER, it happens very well that _Christmas_ should fall out in the Middle of the Winter. It is the most dead uncomfortable Time of the Year, when the poor People would suffer very much from their [Poverty and Cold, [3]] if they had not good Cheer, warm Fires, and _Christmas_ Gambols to support them. I love to rejoice their poor Hearts at this season, and to see the whole Village merry in my great Hall. I allow a double Quantity of Malt to my small Beer, and set it a running for twelve Days to every one that calls for it. I have always a Piece of cold Beef and a Mince-Pye upon the Table, and am wonderfully pleased to see my Tenants pass away a whole Evening in playing their innocent Tricks, and smutting one another. Our Friend _Will Wimble_ is as merry as any of them, and shews a thousand roguish Tricks upon these Occasions.
I was very much delighted with the Reflection of my old Friend, which carried so much Goodness in it. He then launched out into the Praise of the late Act of Parliament [4] for securing the Church of _England_, and told me, with great Satisfaction, that he believed it already began to take Effect, for that a rigid Dissenter, who chanced to dine at his House on _Christmas_ Day, had been observed to eat very plentifully of his Plumb-porridge.
After having dispatched all our Country Matters, Sir ROGER made several Inquiries concerning the Club, and particularly of his old Antagonist Sir ANDREW FREEPORT. He asked me with a kind of Smile, whether Sir ANDREW had not taken Advantage of his Absence, to vent among them some of his Republican Doctrines; but soon after gathering up his Countenance into a more than ordinary Seriousness, Tell me truly, says he, don’t you think Sir ANDREW had a Hand in the Popes Procession—but without giving me time to answer him, Well, well, says he, I know you are a wary Man, and do not care to talk of publick Matters.
The Knight then asked me, if I had seen Prince _Eugenio_, and made me promise to get him a Stand in some convenient Place where he might have a full Sight of that extraordinary Man, whose Presence does so much Honour to the _British_ Nation. He dwelt very long on the Praises of this Great General, and I found that, since I was with him in the Country, he had drawn many Observations together out of his reading in _Bakers_ Chronicle, and other Authors, [who [5]] always lie in his Hall Window, which very much redound to the Honour of this Prince.
Having passed away the greatest Part of the Morning in hearing the Knights Reflections, which were partly private, and partly political, he asked me if I would smoak a Pipe with him over a Dish of Coffee at _Squires_. As I love the old Man, I take Delight in complying with every thing that is agreeable to him, and accordingly waited on him to the Coffee-house, where his venerable Figure drew upon us the Eyes of the whole Room. He had no sooner seated himself at the upper End of the high Table, but he called for a clean Pipe, a Paper of Tobacco, a Dish of Coffee, a Wax-Candle, and the _Supplement_ with such an Air of Cheerfulness and Good-humour, that all the Boys in the Coffee-room (who seemed to take pleasure in serving him) were at once employed on his several Errands, insomuch that no Body else could come at a Dish of Tea, till the Knight had got all his Conveniences about him.
L.
[Footnote 1: Prince Eugene was at this in London, and caressed by courtiers who had wished to prevent his coming, for he was careful to mark his friendship for the Duke of Marlborough, who was the subject of hostile party intrigues. During his visit he stood godfather to Steels second son, who was named, after, Eugene.]
[Footnote 2: had made]
[Footnote 3: Cold and Poverty]
[Footnote 4: The Act against Occasional Conformity, 10 Ann. cap. 2.]
[Footnote 5: [that]]
* * * * *
No. 270. Wednesday, January 9, 1712. Steele.
Discit enim citius, meminitque libentius illud, Quod quis deridet, quam quod probat.
Hor.
I do not know that I have been in greater Delight for these many Years, than in beholding the Boxes at the Play the last Time _The Scornful Lady_ [1] was acted. So great an Assembly of Ladies placed in gradual Rows in all the Ornaments of Jewels, Silk and Colours, gave so lively and gay an Impression to the Heart, that methought the Season of the Year was vanished; and I did not think it an ill Expression of a young Fellow who stood near me, that called the Boxes Those Beds of Tulips. It was a pretty Variation of the Prospect, when any one of these fine Ladies rose up and did Honour to herself and Friend at a Distance, by curtisying; and gave Opportunity to that Friend to shew her Charms to the same Advantage in returning the Salutation. Here that Action is as proper and graceful, as it is at Church unbecoming and impertinent. By the way, I must take the Liberty to observe that I did not see any one who is usually so full of Civilities at Church, offer at any such Indecorum during any Part of the Action of the Play.
Such beautiful Prospects gladden our Minds, and when considered in general, give innocent and pleasing Ideas. He that dwells upon any one Object of Beauty, may fix his Imagination to his Disquiet; but the Contemplation of a whole Assembly together, is a Defence against the Encroachment of Desire: At least to me, who have taken pains to look at Beauty abstracted from the Consideration of its being the Object of Desire; at Power, only as it sits upon another, without any Hopes of partaking any Share of it; at Wisdom and Capacity, without any Pretensions to rival or envy its Acquisitions: I say to me, who am really free from forming any Hopes by beholding the Persons of beautiful Women, or warming my self into Ambition from the Successes of other Men, this World is not only a meer Scene, but a very pleasant one. Did Mankind but know the Freedom which there is in keeping thus aloof from the World, I should have more Imitators, than the powerfullest Man in the Nation has Followers. To be no Man’s Rival in Love, or Competitor in Business, is a Character which if it does not recommend you as it ought to Benevolence among those whom you live with, yet has it certainly this Effect, that you do not stand so much in need of their Approbation, as you would if you aimed at it more, in setting your Heart on the same things which the Generality doat on. By this means, and with this easy Philosophy, I am never less at a Play than when I am at the Theatre; but indeed I am seldom so well pleased with the Action as in that Place, for most Men follow Nature no longer than while they are in their Night-Gowns, and all the busy Part of the Day are in Characters which they neither become or act in with Pleasure to themselves or their Beholders. But to return to my Ladies: I was very well pleased to see so great a Crowd of them assembled at a Play, wherein the Heroine, as the Phrase is, is so just a Picture of the Vanity of the Sex in tormenting their Admirers. The Lady who pines for the Man whom she treats with so much Impertinence and Inconstancy, is drawn with much Art and Humour. Her Resolutions to be extremely civil, but her Vanity arising just at the Instant that she resolved to express her self kindly, are described as by one who had studied the Sex. But when my Admiration is fixed upon this excellent Character, and two or three others in the Play, I must confess I was moved with the utmost Indignation at the trivial, senseless, and unnatural Representation of the Chaplain. It is possible there may be a Pedant in Holy Orders, and we have seen one or two of them in the World; but such a Driveler as Sir _Roger_, so bereft of all manner of Pride, which is the Characteristick of a Pedant, is what one would not believe could come into the Head of the same Man who drew the rest of the Play. The Meeting between _Welford_ and him shews a Wretch without any Notion of the Dignity of his Function; and it is out of all common Sense that he should give an Account of himself _as one sent four or five Miles in a Morning on Foot for Eggs._ It is not to be denied, but his Part and that of the Maid whom he makes Love to, are excellently well performed; but a Thing which is blameable in it self, grows still more so by the Success in the Execution of it. It is so mean a Thing to gratify a loose Age with a scandalous Representation of what is reputable among Men, not to say what is sacred, that no Beauty, no Excellence in an Author ought to attone for it; nay, such Excellence is an Aggravation of his Guilt, and an Argument that he errs against the Conviction of his own Understanding and Conscience. Wit should be tried by this Rule, and an Audience should rise against such a Scene, as throws down the Reputation of any thing which the Consideration of Religion or Decency should preserve from Contempt. But all this Evil arises from this one Corruption of Mind, that makes Men resent Offences against their Virtue, less than those against their Understanding. An Author shall write as if he thought there was not one Man of Honour or Woman of Chastity in the House, and come off with Applause: For an Insult upon all the Ten Commandments, with the little Criticks, is not so bad as the Breach of an Unity of Time or Place. Half Wits do not apprehend the Miseries that must necessarily flow from Degeneracy of Manners; nor do they know that Order is the Support of Society. Sir _Roger_ and his Mistress are Monsters of the Poets own forming; the Sentiments in both of them are such as do not arise in Fools of their Education. We all know that a silly Scholar, instead of being below every one he meets with, is apt to be exalted above the Rank of such as are really his Superiors: His Arrogance is always founded upon particular Notions of Distinction in his own Head, accompanied with a pedantick Scorn of all Fortune and Preheminence, when compared with his Knowledge and Learning. This very one Character of Sir _Roger_, as silly as it really is, has done more towards the Disparagement of Holy Orders, and consequently of Virtue it self, than all the Wit that Author or any other could make up for in the Conduct of the longest Life after it. I do not pretend, in saying this, to give myself Airs of more Virtue than my Neighbours, but assert it from the Principles by which Mankind must always be governed. Sallies of Imagination are to be overlooked, when they are committed out of Warmth in the Recommendation of what is Praise worthy; but a deliberate advancing of Vice, with all the Wit in the World, is as ill an Action as any that comes before the Magistrate, and ought to be received as such by the People.
T.
[Footnote 1: Beaumont and Fletchers. Vol. II.]
* * * * *
No. 271. Thursday, January 10, 1712. Addison.
Mille trahens varios adverso sole colores.
Virg.
I receive a double Advantage from the Letters of my Correspondents, first as they shew me which of my Papers are most acceptable to them; and in the next place as they furnish me with Materials for new Speculations. Sometimes indeed I do not make use of the Letter it self, but form the Hints of it into Plans of my own Invention; sometimes I take the Liberty to change the Language or Thought into my own Way of Speaking and Thinking, and always (if it can be done without Prejudice to the Sense) omit the many Compliments and Applauses which are usually bestowed upon me.
Besides the two Advantages above-mentioned which I receive from the Letters that are sent me, they give me an Opportunity of lengthning out my Paper by the skilful Management of the subscribing Part at the End of them, which perhaps does not a little conduce to the Ease, both of my self and Reader.
Some will have it, that I often write to my self, and am the only punctual Correspondent I have. This Objection would indeed be material, were the Letters I communicate to the Publick stuffed with my own Commendations: and if, instead of endeavouring to divert or instruct my Readers, I admired in them the Beauty of my own Performances. But I shall leave these wise Conjecturers to their own Imaginations, and produce the three following Letters for the Entertainment of the Day.
SIR,
I was last _Thursday_ in an Assembly of Ladies, where there were Thirteen different coloured Hoods. Your _Spectator_ of that Day lying upon the Table, they ordered me to read it to them, which I did with a very clear Voice, till I came to the _Greek_ Verse at the End of it. I must confess I was a little startled at its popping upon me so unexpectedly. However, I covered my Confusion as well as I could, and after having mutter’d two or three hard Words to my self, laugh’d heartily, and cried, _A very good Jest, Faith_. The Ladies desired me to explain it to them; but I begged their pardon for that, and told them, that if it had been proper for them to hear, they may be sure the Author would not have wrapp’d it up in _Greek_. I then let drop several Expressions, as if there was something in it that was not fit to be spoken before a Company of Ladies. Upon which the Matron of the Assembly, who was dressed in a Cherry-coloured Hood, commended the Discretion of the Writer for having thrown his filthy Thoughts into _Greek_, which was likely to corrupt but few of his Readers. At the same time she declared herself very well pleased, that he had not given a decisive Opinion upon the new-fashioned Hoods; for to tell you truly, says she, I was afraid he would have made us ashamed to shew our Heads. Now, Sir, you must know, since this unlucky Accident happened to me in a Company of Ladies, among whom I passed for a most ingenious Man, I have consulted one who is well versed in the _Greek_ Language, and he assures me upon his Word, that your late Quotation means no more, than that _Manners and not Dress are the Ornaments of a Woman_. If this comes to the Knowledge of my Female Admirers, I shall be very hard put to it to bring my self off handsomely. In the mean while I give you this Account, that you may take care hereafter not to betray any of your Well-wishers into the like Inconveniencies. It is in the Number of these that I beg leave to subscribe my self,
_Tom Trippit._
_Mr_. SPECTATOR,
Your Readers are so well pleased with your Character of Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY, that there appeared a sensible Joy in every Coffee-house, upon hearing the old Knight was come to Town. I am now with a Knot of his Admirers, who make it their joint Request to you, that you would give us publick Notice of the Window or Balcony where the Knight intends to make his Appearance. He has already given great Satisfaction to several who have seen him at _Squires_ Coffee-house. If you think fit to place your short Face at Sir ROGERS Left Elbow, we shall take the Hint, and gratefully acknowledge so great a Favour.
_I am, Sir,
Your most Devoted
Humble Servant,_
C. D.
SIR,
Knowing that you are very Inquisitive after every thing that is Curious in Nature, I will wait on you if you please in the Dusk of the Evening, with my _Show_ upon my Back, which I carry about with me in a Box, as only consisting of a Man, a Woman, and an Horse. The two first are married, in which State the little Cavalier has so well acquitted himself, that his Lady is with Child. The big-bellied Woman, and her Husband, with their whimsical Palfry, are so very light, that when they are put together into a Scale, an ordinary Man may weigh down the whole Family. The little Man is a Bully in his Nature; but when he grows cholerick I confine him to his Box till his Wrath is over, by which Means I have hitherto prevented him from doing Mischief. His Horse is likewise very vicious, for which Reason I am forced to tie him close to his Manger with a Pack-thread. The Woman is a Coquet. She struts as much as it is possible for a Lady of two Foot high, and would ruin me in Silks, were not the Quantity that goes to a large Pin-Cushion sufficient to make her a Gown and Petticoat. She told me the other Day, that she heard the Ladies wore coloured Hoods, and ordered me to get her one of the finest Blue. I am forced to comply with her Demands while she is in her present Condition, being very willing to have more of the same Breed. I do not know what she may produce me, but provided it be a _Show_ I shall be very well satisfied. Such Novelties should not, I think, be concealed from the _British Spectator_; for which Reason I hope you will excuse this Presumption in
_Your most Dutiful,
most Obedient,
and most Humble Servant_,
S. T.
L.
* * * * *
No. 272. Friday, January 11, 1712. Steele.
[–Longa est injuria, longae
Ambages
Virg.[1]]
_Mr_. SPECTATOR,
The Occasion of this Letter is of so great Importance, and the Circumstances of it such, that I know you will but think it just to insert it, in Preference of all other Matters that can present themselves to your Consideration. I need not, after I have said this, tell you that I am in Love. The Circumstances of my Passion I shall let you understand as well as a disordered Mind will admit. That cursed Pickthank Mrs. _Jane!_ Alas, I am railing at one to you by her Name as familiarly as if you were acquainted with her as well as my self: But I will tell you all, as fast as the alternate Interruptions of Love and Anger will give me Leave. There is a most agreeable young Woman in the World whom I am passionately in Love with, and from whom I have for some space of Time received as great Marks of Favour as were fit for her to give, or me to desire. The successful Progress of the Affair of all others the most essential towards a Man’s Happiness, gave a new Life and Spirit not only to my Behaviour and Discourse, but also a certain Grace to all my Actions in the Commerce of Life in all Things tho never so remote from Love. You know the predominant Passion spreads its self thro all a Man’s Transactions, and exalts or depresses [him [2]] according to the Nature of such Passion. But alas, I have not yet begun my Story, and what is making Sentences and Observations when a Man is pleading for his Life? To begin then: This Lady has corresponded with me under the Names of Love, she my _Belinda_, I her _Cleanthes_. Tho I am thus well got into the Account of my Affair, I cannot keep in the Thread of it so much as to give you the Character of Mrs. _Jane_, whom I will not hide under a borrowed Name; but let you know that this Creature has been since I knew her very handsome, (tho I will not allow her even she _has been_ for the future) and during the Time of her Bloom and Beauty was so great a Tyrant to her Lovers, so over-valued her self and under-rated all her Pretenders, that they have deserted her to a Man; and she knows no Comfort but that common one to all in her Condition, the Pleasure of interrupting the Amours of others. It is impossible but you must have seen several of these Volunteers in Malice, who pass their whole Time in the most labourous Way of Life in getting Intelligence, running from Place to Place with new Whispers, without reaping any other Benefit but the Hopes of making others as unhappy as themselves. Mrs. _Jane_ happened to be at a Place where I, with many others well acquainted with my Passion for _Belinda_, passed a _Christmas_ Evening. There was among the rest a young Lady so free in Mirth, so amiable in a just Reserve that accompanied it; I wrong her to call it a Reserve, but there appeared in her a Mirth or Chearfulness which was not a Forbearance of more immoderate Joy, but the natural Appearance of all which could flow from a Mind possessed of an Habit of Innocence and Purity. I must have utterly forgot _Belinda_ to have taken no Notice of one who was growing up to the same womanly Virtues which shine to Perfection in her, had I not distinguished one who seemed to promise to the World the same Life and Conduct with my faithful and lovely _Belinda_. When the Company broke up, the fine young Thing permitted me to take Care of her Home. Mrs. _Jane_ saw my particular Regard to her, and was informed of my attending her to her Fathers House. She came early to _Belinda_ the next Morning, and asked her if Mrs. _Such-a-one_ had been with her? No. If Mr. _Such-a-ones_ Lady? No. Nor your Cousin _Such-a-one_? No. Lord, says Mrs. _Jane_, what is the Friendship of Woman?–Nay, they may laugh at it. And did no one tell you any thing of the Behaviour of your Lover Mr. _What dye call_ last Night? But perhaps it is nothing to you that he is to be married to young Mrs.–on _Tuesday_ next? _Belinda_ was here ready to die with Rage and Jealousy. Then Mrs. _Jane_ goes on: I have a young Kinsman who is Clerk to a Great Conveyancer, who shall shew you the rough Draught of the Marriage Settlement. The World says her Father gives him Two Thousand Pounds more than he could have with you. I went innocently to wait on _Belinda_ as usual, but was not admitted; I writ to her, and my Letter was sent back unopened. Poor _Betty_ her Maid, who is on my Side, has been here just now blubbering, and told me the whole Matter. She says she did not think I could be so base; and that she is now odious to her Mistress for having so often spoke well of me, that she dare not mention me more. All our Hopes are placed in having these Circumstances fairly represented in the SPECTATOR, which _Betty_ says she dare not but bring up as soon as it is brought in; and has promised when you have broke the Ice to own this was laid between us: And when I can come to an Hearing, the young Lady will support what we say by her Testimony, that I never saw her but that once in my whole Life. Dear Sir, do not omit this true Relation, nor think it too particular; for there are Crowds of forlorn Coquets who intermingle themselves with other Ladies, and contract Familiarities out of Malice, and with no other Design but to blast the Hopes of Lovers, the Expectation of Parents, and the Benevolence of Kindred. I doubt not but I shall be,
_SIR,
Your most obliged
humble Servant_,
CLEANTHES.
_Wills_ Coffee-house, _Jan_. 10.
_SIR_,
The other Day entering a Room adorned with the Fair Sex, I offered, after the usual Manner, to each of them a Kiss; but one, more scornful than the rest, turned her Cheek. I did not think it proper to take any Notice of it till I had asked your Advice. _Your humble Servant_,
E. S.
The Correspondent is desir’d to say which Cheek the Offender turned to him.
[Footnote 1:
Ubi visus eris nostra medicabilis arte Fac monitis fugias otia prima meis.
Ovid. Rem. Am.]
[Footnote 2: [it]]
* * * * *
_ADVERTISEMENT_.
From the Parish-Vestry, _January_ 9.
_All Ladies who come to Church in the New-fashioned Hoods, are desired to be there before Divine Service begins, lest they divert the Attention of the Congregation._
RALPH.
* * * * *
No. 273. Saturday, January 12, 1712. Addison.
Notandi sunt tibi Mores.
Hor.
Having examined the Action of _Paradise Lost_, let us in the next place consider the Actors. [This is _Aristotle’s_ Method of considering, first the Fable, and secondly [1]] the Manners; or, as we generally call them in _English_, the Fable and the Characters.
_Homer_ has excelled all the Heroic Poets that ever wrote, in the Multitude and Variety of his Characters. Every God that is admitted into this Poem, acts a Part which would have been suitable to no other Deity. His Princes are as much distinguished by their Manners, as by their Dominions; and even those among them, whose Characters seem wholly made up of Courage, differ from one another as to the particular kinds of Courage in which they excel. In short, there is scarce a Speech or Action in the _Iliad_, which the Reader may not ascribe to the Person that speaks or acts, without seeing his Name at the Head of it.
_Homer_ does not only outshine all other Poets in the Variety, but also in the Novelty of his Characters. He has introduced among his _Grecian_ Princes a Person who had lived thrice the Age of Man, and conversed with _Theseus, Hercules, Polyphemus_, and the first Race of Heroes. His principal Actor is the [Son [2]] of a Goddess, not to mention the [Offspring of other Deities, who have [3]] likewise a Place in his Poem, and the venerable _Trojan_ Prince, who was the Father of so many Kings and Heroes. There is in these several Characters of _Homer_, a certain Dignity as well as Novelty, which adapts them in a more peculiar manner to the Nature of an Heroic Poem. Tho at the same time, to give them the greater Variety, he has described a _Vulcan_, that is a Buffoon among his Gods, and a _Thersites_ among his Mortals.
_Virgil_ falls infinitely short of _Homer_ in the Characters of his Poem, both as to their Variety and Novelty. _AEneas_ is indeed a perfect Character, but as for _Achates_, tho he is stiled the Heros Friend, he does nothing in the whole Poem which may deserve that Title. _Gyas_, _Mnesteus_, _Sergestus_ and _Cloanthus_, are all of them Men of the same Stamp and Character.
–_Fortemque Gyan, fortemque Cloanthum._
There are indeed several very Natural Incidents on the Part of _Ascanius_; as that of _Dido_ cannot be sufficiently admired. I do not see any thing new or particular in _Turnus_. _Pallas_ and _Evander_ are [remote] Copies of _Hector_ and _Priam_, as _Lausus_ and _Mezentius_ are almost Parallels to _Pallas_ and _Evander_. The Characters of _Nisus_ and _Eurialus_ are beautiful, but common. [We must not forget the Parts of _Sinon_, _Camilla_, and some few others, which are fine Improvements on the _Greek_ Poet.] In short, there is neither that Variety nor Novelty in the Persons of the _AEneid_, which we meet with in those of the _Iliad_.
If we look into the Characters of _Milton_, we shall find that he has introduced all the Variety [his Fable [4]] was capable of receiving. The whole Species of Mankind was in two Persons at the Time to which the Subject of his Poem is confined. We have, however, four distinct Characters in these two Persons. We see Man and Woman in the highest Innocence and Perfection, and in the most abject State of Guilt and Infirmity. The two last Characters are, indeed, very common and obvious, but the two first are not only more magnificent, but more new [5] than any Characters either in _Virgil_ or _Homer_, or indeed in the whole Circle of Nature.
_Milton_ was so sensible of this Defect in the Subject of his Poem, and of the few Characters it would afford him, that he has brought into it two Actors of a Shadowy and Fictitious Nature, in the Persons of _Sin_ and _Death_, [6] by which means he has [wrought into [7]] the Body of his Fable a very beautiful and well-invented Allegory. But notwithstanding the Fineness of this Allegory may attone for it in some measure; I cannot think that Persons of such a Chymerical Existence are proper Actors in an Epic Poem; because there is not that measure of Probability annexed to them, which is requisite in Writings of this kind, [as I shall shew more at large hereafter].
_Virgil_ has, indeed, admitted Fame as an Actress in the _AEneid_, but the Part she acts is very short, and none of the most admired Circumstances in that Divine Work. We find in Mock-Heroic Poems, particularly in the _Dispensary_ and the _Lutrin_ [8] several Allegorical Persons of this Nature which are very beautiful in those Compositions, and may, perhaps, be used as an Argument, that the Authors of them were of Opinion, [such [9]] Characters might have a Place in an Epic Work. For my own part, I should be glad the Reader would think so, for the sake of the Poem I am now examining, and must further add, that if such empty unsubstantial Beings may be ever made use of on this Occasion, never were any more nicely imagined, and employed in more proper Actions, than those of which I am now speaking.
Another Principal Actor in this Poem is the great Enemy of Mankind. The Part of _Ulysses_ in _Homers Odyssey_ is very much admired by _Aristotle_, [10] as perplexing that Fable with very agreeable Plots and Intricacies, not only by the many Adventures in his Voyage, and the Subtility of his Behaviour, but by the various Concealments and Discoveries of his Person in several Parts of that Poem. But the Crafty Being I have now mentioned, makes a much longer Voyage than _Ulysses_, puts in practice many more Wiles and Stratagems, and hides himself under a greater Variety of Shapes and Appearances, all of which are severally detected, to the great Delight and Surprize of the Reader.
We may likewise observe with how much Art the Poet has varied several Characters of the Persons that speak to his infernal Assembly. On the contrary, how has he represented the whole Godhead exerting it self towards Man in its full Benevolence under the Three-fold Distinction of a Creator, a Redeemer and a Comforter!
Nor must we omit the Person of _Raphael_, who amidst his Tenderness and Friendship for Man, shews such a Dignity and Condescension in all his Speech and Behaviour, as are suitable to a Superior Nature. [The Angels are indeed as much diversified in _Milton_, and distinguished by their proper Parts, as the Gods are in _Homer_ or _Virgil_. The Reader will find nothing ascribed to _Uriel, Gabriel, Michael,_ or _Raphael_, which is not in a particular manner suitable to their respective Characters.]
There is another Circumstance in the principal Actors of the _Iliad_ and _AEneid_, which gives a [peculiar [11]] Beauty to those two Poems, and was therefore contrived with very great Judgment. I mean the Authors having chosen for their Heroes, Persons who were so nearly related to the People for whom they wrote. _Achilles_ was a Greek, and _AEneas_ the remote Founder of _Rome_. By this means their Countrymen (whom they principally proposed to themselves for their Readers) were particularly attentive to all the Parts of their Story, and sympathized with their Heroes in all their Adventures. A _Roman_ could not but rejoice in the Escapes, Successes and Victories of _AEneas_, and be grieved at any Defeats, Misfortunes or Disappointments that befel him; as a Greek_ must have had the same Regard for Achilles_. And it is plain, that each of those Poems have lost this great Advantage, among those Readers to whom their Heroes are as Strangers, or indifferent Persons.
_Milton’s_ Poem is admirable in this respect, since it is impossible for any of its Readers, whatever Nation, Country or People he may belong to, not to be related to the Persons who are the principal Actors in it; but what is still infinitely more to its Advantage, the principal Actors in this Poem are not only our Progenitors, but our Representatives. We have an actual Interest in every thing they do, and no less than our utmost Happiness is concerned, and lies at Stake in all their Behaviour.
I shall subjoin as a Corollary to the foregoing Remark, an admirable Observation out of _Aristotle_, which hath been very much misrepresented in the Quotations of some Modern Criticks.
If a Man of perfect and consummate Virtue falls into a Misfortune, it raises our Pity, but not our Terror, because we do not fear that it may be our own Case, who do not resemble the Suffering Person. But as that great Philosopher adds, If we see a Man of Virtue mixt with Infirmities, fall into any Misfortune, it does not only raise our Pity but our Terror; because we are afraid that the like Misfortunes may happen to our selves, who resemble the Character of the Suffering Person.
I shall take another Opportunity to observe, that a Person of an absolute and consummate Virtue should never be introduced in Tragedy, and shall only remark in this Place, that the foregoing Observation of _Aristotle_ [12] tho it may be true in other Occasions, does not hold in this; because in the present Case, though the Persons who fall into Misfortune are of the most perfect and consummate Virtue, it is not to be considered as what may possibly be, but what actually is our own Case; since we are embarked with them on the same Bottom, and must be Partakers of their Happiness or Misery.
In this, and some other very few Instances, _Aristotle’s_ Rules for Epic Poetry (which he had drawn from his Reflections upon _Homer_) cannot be supposed to quadrate exactly with the Heroic Poems which have been made since his Time; since it is plain his Rules would [still have been [13]] more perfect, could he have perused the _AEneid_ which was made some hundred Years after his Death.
_In my next, I shall go through other Parts of_ Milton’s _Poem; and hope that what I shall there advance, as well as what I have already written, will not only serve as a Comment upon_ Milton, _but upon_ Aristotle.
L.
[Footnote 1: [These are what Aristotle means by the Fable and &c.]]
[Footnote 2: [Offspring]]
[Footnote 3: [Son of Aurora who has]]
[Footnote 4: [that his Poem]]
[Footnote 5: It was especially for the novelty of _Paradise Lost_, that John Dennis had in 1704 exalted Milton above the ancients. In putting forward a prospectus of a large projected work upon the Grounds of Criticism in Poetry, he gave as a specimen of the character of his work, the substance of what would be said in the beginning of the Criticism upon Milton. Here he gave Milton supremacy on ground precisely opposite to that chosen by Addison. He described him as
one of the greatest and most daring Genius’s that has appear’d in the World, and who has made his country a glorious present of the most lofty, but most irregular Poem, that has been produc’d by the Mind of Man. That great Man had a desire to give the World something like an Epick Poem; but he resolv’d at the same time to break thro the Rules of Aristotle. Not that he was ignorant of them, or contemned them…. Milton was the first who in the space of almost 4000 years resolv’d for his Country’s Honour and his own, to present the World with an Original Poem; that is to say, a Poem that should have his own thoughts, his own images, and his own spirit. In order to this he was resolved to write a Poem, that, by virtue of its extraordinary Subject, cannot so properly be said to be against the Rules as it may be affirmed to be above them all … We shall now shew for what Reasons the choice of Milton’s Subject, as it set him free from the obligation which he lay under to the Poetical Laws, so it necessarily threw him upon new Thoughts, new Images, and an Original Spirit. In the next place we shall shew that his Thoughts, his Images, and by consequence too, his Spirit are actually new, and different from those of Homer and Virgil. Thirdly, we shall shew, that besides their Newness, they have vastly the Advantage of _Homer and Virgil_.]
[Footnote 6: Paradise Lost, Book II.]
[Footnote 7: interwoven in]
[Footnote 8: Sir Samuel Garth in his _Dispensary_, a mock-heroic poem upon a dispute, in 1696, among doctors over the setting up of a Dispensary in a room of the College of Physicians for relief of the sick poor, houses the God of Sloth within the College, and outside, among other allegories, personifies Disease as a Fury to whom the enemies of the Dispensary offer libation. Boileau in his _Lutrin_ a mock-heroic poem written in 1673 on a dispute between two chief personages of the chapter of a church in Paris, la Sainte Chapelle, as to the position of a pulpit, had with some minor allegory, chiefly personified Discord, and made her enter into the form of an old precentor, very much as in Garths poem the Fury Disease
Shrill Colons person took,
In morals loose, but most precise in look.]
[Footnote 9: [that such]]
[Footnote 10: Poetics II. Sec. 17; III. Sec.6.]
[Footnote 11: [particular]]
[Footnote 12: 1 Poetics II. Sec. ii. But Addison misquotes the first clause. Aristotle says that when a wholly virtuous man falls from prosperity into adversity, this is neither terrible _nor piteous_, but ([Greek: miaron]) shocking. Then he adds that our pity is _excited_ by undeserved misfortune, and our terror by some resemblance between the sufferer and ourselves.]
[Footnote 13: [have been still]]
* * * * *
No. 274. Monday, January 14, 1712. Steele.
Audire est operae pretium, procedere recte Qui moechis non vultis.
Hor.
I have upon several Occasions (that have occurred since I first took into my Thoughts the present State of Fornication) weighed with my self, in behalf of guilty Females, the Impulses of Flesh and Blood, together with the Arts and Gallantries of crafty Men; and reflect with some Scorn that most Part of what we in our Youth think gay and polite, is nothing else but an Habit of indulging a Pruriency that Way. It will cost some Labour to bring People to so lively a Sense of this, as to recover the manly Modesty in the Behaviour of my Men Readers, and the bashful Grace in the Faces of my Women; but in all Cases which come into Debate, there are certain things previously to be done before we can have a true Light into the Subject Matter; therefore it will, in the first Place, be necessary to consider the impotent Wenchers and industrious Haggs, who are supplied with, and are constantly supplying new Sacrifices to the Devil of Lust. You are to know then, if you are so happy as not to know it already, that the great Havock which is made in the Habitations of Beauty and Innocence, is committed by such as can only lay waste and not enjoy the Soil. When you observe the present State of Vice and Virtue, the Offenders are such as one would think should have no Impulse to what they are pursuing; as in Business, you see sometimes Fools pretend to be Knaves, so in Pleasure, you will find old Men set up for Wenchers. This latter sort of Men are the great Basis and Fund of Iniquity in the Kind we are speaking of: You shall have an old rich Man often receive Scrawls from the several Quarters of the Town, with Descriptions of the new Wares in their Hands, if he will please to send Word when he will be waited on. This Interview is contrived, and the Innocent is brought to such Indecencies as from Time to Time banish Shame and raise Desire. With these Preparatives the Haggs break their Wards by little and little, till they are brought to lose all Apprehensions of what shall befall them in the Possession of younger Men. It is a common Postscript of an Hagg to a young Fellow whom she invites to a new Woman, _She has, I assure you, seen none but old Mr. Such-a-one_. It pleases the old Fellow that the Nymph is brought to him unadorned, and from his Bounty she is accommodated with enough to dress her for other Lovers. This is the most ordinary Method of bringing Beauty and Poverty into the Possession of the Town: But the particular Cases of kind Keepers, skilful Pimps, and all others who drive a separate Trade, and are not in the general Society or Commerce of Sin, will require distinct Consideration. At the same time that we are thus severe on the Abandoned, we are apt to represent the Case of others with that Mitigation as the Circumstances demand. Calling Names does no Good; to speak worse of any thing than it deserves, does only take off from the Credit of the Accuser, and has implicitly the Force of an Apology in the Behalf of the Person accused. We shall therefore, according as the Circumstances differ, vary our Appellations of these Criminals: Those who offend only against themselves, and are not Scandals to Society, but out of Deference to the sober Part of the World, have so much Good left in them as to be ashamed, must not be huddled in the common Word due to the worst of Women; but Regard is to be had to their Circumstances when they fell, to the uneasy Perplexity under which they lived under senseless and severe Parents, to the Importunity of Poverty, to the Violence of a Passion in its Beginning well grounded, and all other Alleviations which make unhappy Women resign the Characteristick of their Sex, Modesty. To do otherwise than thus, would be to act like a Pedantick Stoick, who thinks all Crimes alike, and not like an impartial SPECTATOR, who looks upon them with all the Circumstances that diminish or enhance the Guilt. I am in Hopes, if this Subject be well pursued, Women will hereafter from their Infancy be treated with an Eye to their future State in the World; and not have their Tempers made too untractable from an improper Sourness or Pride, or too complying from Familiarity or Forwardness contracted at their own Houses. After these Hints on this Subject, I shall end this Paper with the following genuine Letter; and desire all who think they may be concerned in future Speculations on this Subject, to send in what they have to say for themselves for some Incidents in their Lives, in order to have proper Allowances made for their Conduct.
_Mr_. SPECTATOR, _January_ 5, 1711.
The Subject of your Yesterdays Paper is of so great Importance, and the thorough handling of it may be so very useful to the Preservation of many an innocent young Creature, that I think every one is obliged to furnish you with what Lights he can, to expose the pernicious Arts and Practices of those unnatural Women called Bawds. In order to this the enclosed is sent you, which is _verbatim_ the Copy of a Letter written by a Bawd of Figure in this Town to a noble Lord. I have concealed the Names of both, my Intention being not to expose the Persons but the Thing.
_I am,
SIR,
Your humble Servant_.
_My Lord_,
I having a great Esteem for your Honour, and a better Opinion of you than of any of the Quality, makes me acquaint you of an Affair that I hope will oblige you to know. I have a Niece that came to Town about a Fortnight ago. Her Parents being lately dead she came to me, expecting to a found me in so good a Condition as to a set her up in a Milliners Shop. Her Father gave Fourscore Pounds with her for five Years: Her Time is out, and she is not Sixteen; as pretty a black Gentlewoman as ever you saw, a little Woman, which I know your Lordship likes: well shaped, and as fine a Complection for Red and White as ever I saw; I doubt not but your Lordship will be of the same Opinion. She designs to go down about a Month hence except I can provide for her, which I cannot at present. Her Father was one with whom all he had died with him, so there is four Children left destitute; so if your Lordship thinks fit to make an Appointment where I shall wait on you with my Niece, by a Line or two, I stay for your Answer; for I have no Place fitted up since I left my House, fit to entertain your Honour. I told her she should go with me to see a Gentleman a very good Friend of mine; so I desire you to take no Notice of my Letter by reason she is ignorant of the Ways of the Town. My Lord, I desire if you meet us to come alone; for upon my Word and Honour you are the first that ever I mentioned her to. So I remain,
_Your Lordships
Most humble Servant to Command._
I beg of you to burn it when you’ve read it.
T.
* * * * *
No. 275. Tuesday, January 15, 1712. Addison.
–tribus Anticyris caput insanabile–
Juv.
I was Yesterday engaged in an Assembly of Virtuosos, where one of them produced many curious Observations which he had lately made in the Anatomy of an Human Body. Another of the Company communicated to us several wonderful Discoveries, which he had also made on the same Subject, by the Help of very fine Glasses. This gave Birth to a great Variety of uncommon Remarks, and furnished Discourse for the remaining Part of the Day.
The different Opinions which were started on this Occasion, presented to my Imagination so many new Ideas, that by mixing with those which were already there, they employed my Fancy all the last Night, and composed a very wild Extravagant Dream.
I was invited, methoughts, to the Dissection of a _Beaus Head_ and of a _Coquets Heart_, which were both of them laid on a Table before us. An imaginary Operator opened the first with a great deal of Nicety, which, upon a cursory and superficial View, appeared like the Head of another Man; but upon applying our Glasses to it, we made a very odd Discovery, namely, that what we looked upon as Brains, were not such in reality, but an Heap of strange Materials wound up in that Shape and Texture, and packed together with wonderful Art in the several Cavities of the Skull. For, as _Homer_ tells us, that the Blood of the Gods is not real Blood, but only something like it; so we found that the Brain of a Beau is not real Brain, but only something like it.
The _Pineal Gland_, which many of our Modern Philosophers suppose to be the Seat of the Soul, smelt very strong of Essence and Orange-flower Water, and was encompassed with a kind of Horny Substance, cut into a thousand little Faces or Mirrours, which were imperceptible to the naked Eye, insomuch that the Soul, if there had been any here, must have been always taken up in contemplating her own Beauties.
We observed a long _Antrum_ or Cavity in the _Sinciput_, that was filled with Ribbons, Lace and Embroidery, wrought together in a most curious Piece of Network, the Parts of which were likewise imperceptible to the naked Eye. Another of these _Antrums_ or Cavities was stuffed with invisible Billetdoux, Love-Letters, pricked Dances, and other Trumpery of the same Nature. In another we found a kind of Powder, which set the whole Company a Sneezing, and by the Scent discovered it self to be right _Spanish_. The several other Cells were stored with Commodities of the same kind, of which it would be tedious to give the Reader an exact Inventory.
There was a large Cavity on each side of the Head, which I must not omit. That on the right Side was filled with Fictions, Flatteries, and Falshoods, Vows, Promises, and Protestations; that on the left with Oaths and Imprecations. There issued out a _Duct_ from each of these Cells, which ran into the Root of the Tongue, where both joined together, and passed forward in one common _Duct_ to the Tip of it. We discovered several little Roads or Canals running from the Ear into the Brain, and took particular care to trace them out through their several Passages. One of them extended itself to a Bundle of Sonnets and little musical Instruments. Others ended in several Bladders which were filled either with Wind or Froth. But the latter Canal entered into a great Cavity of the Skull, from whence there went another Canal into the Tongue. This great Cavity was filled with a kind of Spongy Substance, which the _French_ Anatomists call _Galimatias_, and the _English_, Nonsense.
The Skins of the Forehead were extremely tough and thick, and, what very much surprized us, had not in them any single Blood-Vessel that we were able to discover, either with or without our Glasses; from whence we concluded, that the Party when alive must have been entirely deprived of the Faculty of Blushing.
The _Os Cribriforme_ was exceedingly stuffed, and in some Places damaged with Snuff. We could not but take notice in particular of that small Muscle which is not often discovered in Dissections, and draws the Nose upwards, when it expresses the Contempt which the Owner of it has, upon seeing any thing he does not like, or hearing any thing he does not understand. I need not tell my learned Reader, this is that Muscle which performs the Motion so often mentioned by the _Latin_ Poets, when they talk of a Man’s cocking his Nose, or playing the Rhinoceros.
We did not find any thing very remarkable in the Eye, saving only, that the _Musculi Amatorii_, or, as we may translate it into _English_, the _Ogling Muscles_, were very much worn and decayed with use; whereas on the contrary, the _Elevator_, or the Muscle which turns the Eye towards Heaven, did not appear to have been used at all.
I have only mentioned in this Dissection such new Discoveries as we were able to make, and have not taken any notice of those Parts which are to be met with in common Heads. As for the Skull, the Face, and indeed the whole outward Shape and Figure of the Head, we could not discover any Difference from what we observe in the Heads of other Men. We were informed, that the Person to whom this Head belonged, had passed for _a Man_ above five and thirty Years; during which time he Eat and Drank like other People, dressed well, talked loud, laught frequently, and on particular Occasions had acquitted himself tolerably at a Ball or an Assembly; to which one of the Company added, that a certain Knot of Ladies took him for a Wit. He was cut off in the Flower of his Age by the Blow of a Paring-Shovel, having been surprized by an eminent Citizen, as he was tendring some Civilities to his Wife.
When we had thoroughly examined this Head with all its Apartments, and its several kinds of Furniture, we put up the Brain, such as it was, into its proper Place, and laid it aside under a broad Piece of Scarlet Cloth, in order to be _prepared_, and kept in a great Repository of Dissections; our Operator telling us that the Preparation would not be so difficult as that of another Brain, for that he had observed several of the little Pipes and Tubes which ran through the Brain were already filled with a kind of Mercurial Substance, which he looked upon to be true Quick-Silver.
He applied himself in the next Place to the _Coquets Heart_, which he likewise laid open with great Dexterity. There occurred to us many Particularities in this Dissection; but being unwilling to burden my Readers Memory too much, I shall reserve this Subject for the Speculation of another Day.
L.
* * * * *
No. 276. Wednesday, January 16, 1712. Steele.
Errori nomen virtus posuisset honestum.
Hor.
_Mr._ SPECTATOR,
I hope you have Philosophy enough to be capable of bearing the Mention of your Faults. Your Papers which regard the fallen Part of the Fair Sex, are, I think, written with an Indelicacy, which makes them unworthy to be inserted in the Writings of a Moralist who knows the World. I cannot allow that you are at Liberty to observe upon the Actions of Mankind with the Freedom which you seem to resolve upon; at least if you do, you should take along with you the Distinction of Manners of the World, according to the Quality and Way of Life of the Persons concerned. A Man of Breeding speaks of even Misfortune among Ladies without giving it the most terrible Aspect it can bear: And this Tenderness towards them, is much more to be preserved when you speak of Vices. All Mankind are so far related, that Care is to be taken, in things to which all are liable, you do not mention what concerns one in Terms which shall disgust another. Thus to tell a rich Man of the Indigence of a Kinsman of his, or abruptly inform a virtuous Woman of the Lapse of one who till then was in the same degree of Esteem with her self, is in a kind involving each of them in some Participation of those Disadvantages. It is therefore expected from every Writer, to treat his Argument in such a Manner, as is most proper to entertain the sort of Readers to whom his Discourse is directed. It is not necessary when you write to the Tea-table, that you should draw Vices which carry all the Horror of Shame and Contempt: If you paint an impertinent Self-love, an artful Glance, an assumed Complection, you say all which you ought to suppose they can possibly be guilty of. When you talk with this Limitation, you behave your self so as that you may expect others in Conversation may second your Raillery; but when you do it in a Stile which every body else forbears in Respect to their Quality, they have an easy Remedy in forbearing to read you, and hearing no more of their Faults. A Man that is now and then guilty of an Intemperance is not to be called a Drunkard; but the Rule of polite Raillery, is to speak of a Man’s Faults as if you loved him. Of this Nature is what was said by _Caesar_: When one was railing with an uncourtly Vehemence, and broke out, What must we call him who was taken in an Intrigue with another Man’s Wife? Caesar answered very gravely, _A careless Fellow_. This was at once a Reprimand for speaking of a Crime which in those Days had not the Abhorrence attending it as it ought, as well as an Intimation that all intemperate Behaviour before Superiors loses its Aim, by accusing in a Method unfit for the Audience. A Word to the Wise. All I mean here to say to you is, That the most free Person of Quality can go no further than being [a kind [1]] Woman; and you should never say of a Man of Figure worse, than that he knows the World.
I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
Francis Courtly.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
I am a Woman of an unspotted Reputation, and know nothing I have ever done which should encourage such Insolence; but here was one the other Day, and he was dressed like a Gentleman too, who took the Liberty to name the Words Lusty Fellow in my Presence. I doubt not but you will resent it in Behalf of,
SIR,
Your Humble Servant,
CELIA.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
You lately put out a dreadful Paper, wherein you promise a full Account of the State of criminal Love; and call all the Fair who have transgressed in that Kind by one very rude Name which I do not care to repeat: But 1 desire to know of you whether I am or I am not of those? My Case is as follows. I am kept by an old Batchelour, who took me so young, that I knew not how he came by me: He is a Bencher of one of the Inns of Court, a very gay healthy old Man; which is a lucky thing for him, who has been, he tells me, a Scowrer, a Scamperer, a Breaker of Windows, an Invader of Constables, in the Days of Yore when all Dominion ended with the Day, and Males and Females met helter skelter, and the Scowrers drove before them all who pretended to keep up Order or Rule to the Interruption of Love and Honour. This is his way of Talk, for he is very gay when he visits me; but as his former Knowledge of the Town has alarmed him into an invincible Jealousy, he keeps me in a pair of Slippers, neat Bodice, warm Petticoats, and my own Hair woven in Ringlets, after a Manner, he says, he remembers. I am not Mistress of one Farthing of Money, but have all Necessaries provided for me, under the Guard of one who procured for him while he had any Desires to gratify. I know nothing of a Wench’s Life, but the Reputation of it: I have a natural Voice, and a pretty untaught Step in Dancing. His Manner is to bring an old Fellow who has been his Servant from his Youth, and is gray-headed: This Man makes on the Violin a certain Jiggish Noise to which I dance, and when that is over I sing to him some loose Air, that has more Wantonness than Musick in it. You must have seen a strange window’d House near _Hide-Park,_ which is so built that no one can look out of any of the Apartments; my Rooms are after that manner, and I never see Man, Woman, or Child, but in Company with the two Persons above-mentioned. He sends me in all the Books, Pamphlets, Plays, Operas and Songs that come out; and his utmost Delight in me as a Woman, is to talk over old Amours in my Presence, to play with my Neck, say _the Time was_, give me a Kiss, and bid me be sure to follow the Directions of my Guardian (the above-mentioned Lady) and I shall never want. The Truth of my Case is, I suppose, that I was educated for a Purpose he did not know he should be unfit for when I came to Years. Now, Sir, what I ask of you, as a Casuist, is to tell me how far in these Circumstances I am innocent, though submissive; he guilty, though impotent? _I am,
SIR,
Your constant Reader,_
PUCELLA.
_To the Man called the_ SPECTATOR.
_Friend,_
Forasmuch as at the Birth of thy Labour, thou didst promise upon thy Word, that letting alone the Vanities that do abound, thou wouldst only endeavour to strengthen the crooked Morals of this our _Babylon_, I gave Credit to thy fair Speeches, and admitted one of thy Papers, every Day save _Sunday_, into my House; for the Edification of my Daughter _Tabitha_, and to the end that Susannah the Wife of my Bosom might profit thereby. But alas, my Friend, I find that thou art a Liar, and that the Truth is not in thee; else why didst thou in a Paper which thou didst lately put forth, make mention of those vain Coverings for the Heads of our Females, which thou lovest to liken unto Tulips, and which are lately sprung up amongst us? Nay why didst thou make mention of them in such a seeming, as if thou didst approve the Invention, insomuch that my Daughter _Tabitha_ beginneth to wax wanton, and to lust after these foolish Vanities? Surely thou dost see with the Eyes of the Flesh. Verily therefore, unless thou dost speedily amend and leave off following thine own Imaginations, I will leave off thee.
_Thy Friend as hereafter thou dost demean thyself,_ Hezekiah Broadbrim.
T.
[Footnote 1: [an unkind]]
* * * * *
No. 277. Thursday, January 17, 1712. Budgell.
–fas est et ab hoste doceri.
Virg.
I presume I need not inform the Polite Part of my Readers, that before our Correspondence with _France_ was unhappily interrupted by the War, our Ladies had all their Fashions from thence; which the Milliners took care to furnish them with by means of a Jointed Baby, that came regularly over, once a Month, habited after the manner of the most Eminent Toasts in _Paris_.
I am credibly informed, that even in the hottest time of the War, the Sex made several Efforts, and raised large Contributions towards the Importation of this Wooden _Madamoiselle._
Whether the Vessel they set out was lost or taken, or whether its Cargo was seized on by the Officers of the Custom-house, as a piece of Contraband Goods, I have not yet been able to learn; it is, however, certain their first Attempts were without Success, to the no small Disappointment of our whole Female World; but as their Constancy and Application, in a matter of so great Importance, can never be sufficiently commended, I am glad to find that in Spight of all Opposition, they have at length carried their Point, of which I received Advice by the two following Letters.
_Mr._ SPECTATOR,
I am so great a Lover of whatever is _French_, that I lately discarded an humble Admirer, because he neither spoke that Tongue, nor drank Claret. I have long bewailed, in secret, the Calamities of my Sex during the War, in all which time we have laboured under the insupportable Inventions of _English_ Tire-Women, who, tho they sometimes copy indifferently well, can never compose with that _Gout_ they do in _France_.
I was almost in Despair of ever more seeing a Model from that dear Country, when last Sunday I over-heard a Lady, in the next Pew to me, whisper another, that at the _Seven Stars_ in _King-street Covent-garden_, there was a _Madamoiselle_ compleatly dressed just come from _Paris_.
I was in the utmost Impatience during the remaining part of the Service, and as soon as ever it was over, having learnt the Millener’s _Addresse_, I went directly to her House in _King-street_, but was told that the _French_ Lady was at a Person of Quality’s in _Pall-mall_, and would not be back again till very late that Night. I was therefore obliged to renew my Visit very early this Morning, and had then a full View of the dear Moppet from Head to Foot.
You cannot imagine, worthy Sir, how ridiculously I find we have all been trussed up during the War, and how infinitely the _French_ Dress excels ours.
The Mantua has no Leads in the Sleeves, and I hope we are not lighter than the _French_ Ladies, so as to want that kind of Ballast; the Petticoat has no Whale-bone; but fits with an Air altogether galant and _degage_: the _Coiffeure_ is inexpressibly pretty, and in short, the whole Dress has a thousand Beauties in it, which I would not have as yet made too publick.
I thought fit, however, to give this Notice, that you may not be surprized at my appearing _a la mode de Paris_ on the next Birth-Night. _I am, SIR,
Your humble Servant,_
Teraminta.
Within an Hour after I had read this Letter, I received another from the Owner of the Puppet.
SIR,
On Saturday last, being the 12th Instant, there arrived at my House in _King-street, Covent-Garden_, a _French_ Baby for the Year 1712. I have taken the utmost Care to have her dressed by the most celebrated Tyre-women and Mantua-makers in _Paris_, and do not find that I have any Reason to be sorry for the Expence I have been at in her Cloaths and Importation: However, as I know no Person who is so good a Judge of Dress as your self, if you please to call at my House in your Way to the City, and take a View of her, I promise to amend whatever you shall disapprove in your next Paper, before I exhibit her as a Pattern to the Publick.
_I am, SIR,
Your most humble Admirer,
and most obedient Servant,_
Betty Cross-stitch.
As I am willing to do any thing in reason for the Service of my Country-women, and had much rather prevent Faults than find them, I went last Night to the House of the above-mentioned Mrs. _Cross-stitch_. As soon as I enter’d, the Maid of the Shop, who, I suppose, was prepared for my coming, without asking me any Questions, introduced me to the little Damsel, and ran away to call her Mistress.
The Puppet was dressed in a Cherry-coloured Gown and Petticoat, with a short working Apron over it, which discovered her Shape to the most Advantage. Her Hair was cut and divided very prettily, with several Ribbons stuck up and down in it. The Millener assured me, that her Complexion was such as was worn by all the Ladies of the best Fashion in _Paris_. Her Head was extreamly high, on which Subject having long since declared my Sentiments, I shall say nothing more to it at present. I was also offended at a small Patch she wore on her Breast, which I cannot suppose is placed there with any good Design.
Her Necklace was of an immoderate Length, being tied before in such a manner that the two Ends hung down to her Girdle; but whether these supply the Place of Kissing-Strings in our Enemy’s Country, and whether our _British_ Ladies have any occasion for them, I shall leave to their serious Consideration.
After having observed the Particulars of her Dress, as I was taking a view of it altogether, the Shop-maid, who is a pert Wench, told me that _Mademoiselle_ had something very Curious in the tying of her Garters; but as I pay a due Respect even to a pair of Sticks when they are in Petticoats, I did not examine into that Particular.
Upon the whole I was well enough pleased with the Appearance of this gay Lady, and the more so because she was not Talkative, a Quality very rarely to be met with in the rest of her Countrywomen.
As I was taking my leave, the Millener farther informed me, that with the Assistance of a Watchmaker, who was her Neighbour, and the ingenious Mr. _Powell_, she had also contrived another Puppet, which by the help of several little Springs to be wound up within it, could move all its