The Spectator, Volume 1 by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele (page 10)

No. 83. Tuesday, June 5, 1711. Addison.

‘… Animum pictura pascit inani.’

Virg.

When the Weather hinders me from taking my Diversions without Doors, I frequently make a little Party with two or three select Friends, to visit any thing curious that may be seen under Covert. My principal Entertainments of this Nature are Pictures, insomuch that when I have found the Weather set in to be very bad, I have taken a whole Day’s Journey to see a Gallery that is furnished by the Hands of great Masters. By this means, when the Heavens are filled with Clouds, when the Earth swims in Rain, and all Nature wears a lowering Countenance, I withdraw myself from these uncomfortable Scenes into the visionary Worlds of Art; where I meet with shining Landskips, gilded Triumphs, beautiful Faces, and all those other Objects that fill the mind with gay Ideas, and disperse that Gloominess which is apt to hang upon it in those dark disconsolate Seasons.

I was some Weeks ago in a Course of these Diversions; which had taken such an entire Possession of my Imagination, that they formed in it a short Morning’s Dream, which I shall communicate to my Reader, rather as the first Sketch and Outlines of a Vision, than as a finished Piece.

I dreamt that I was admitted into a long spacious Gallery, which had one Side covered with Pieces of all the Famous Painters who are now living, and the other with the Works of the greatest Masters that are dead.

On the side of the _Living_, I saw several Persons busy in Drawing, Colouring, and Designing; on the side of the _Dead_ Painters, I could not discover more than one Person at Work, who was exceeding slow in his Motions, and wonderfully nice in his Touches.

I was resolved to examine the several Artists that stood before me, and accordingly applied my self to the side of the _Living_. The first I observed at Work in this Part of the Gallery was VANITY, with his Hair tied behind him in a Ribbon, and dressed like a _Frenchman_. All the Faces he drew were very remarkable for their Smiles, and a certain smirking Air which he bestowed indifferently on every Age and Degree of either Sex. The _Toujours Gai_ appeared even in his Judges, Bishops, and Privy-Counsellors: In a word all his Men were _Petits Maitres_, and all his Women _Coquets_. The Drapery of his Figures was extreamly well-suited to his Faces, and was made up of all the glaring Colours that could be mixt together; every Part of the Dress was in a Flutter, and endeavoured to distinguish itself above the rest.

On the left Hand of VANITY stood a laborious Workman, who I found was his humble Admirer, and copied after him. He was dressed like a _German_, and had a very hard Name, that sounded something like STUPIDITY.

The third Artist that I looked over was FANTASQUE, dressed like a Venetian Scaramouch. He had an excellent Hand at a _Chimera_, and dealt very much in Distortions and Grimaces: He would sometimes affright himself with the Phantoms that flowed from his Pencil. In short, the most elaborate of his Pieces was at best but a terrifying Dream; and one could say nothing more of his finest Figures, than that they were agreeable Monsters.

The fourth Person I examined was very remarkable for his hasty Hand, which left his Pictures so unfinished, that the Beauty in the Picture (which was designed to continue as a monument of it to Posterity) faded sooner than in the Person after whom it was drawn. He made so much haste to dispatch his Business, that he neither gave himself time to clean his Pencils, [nor [1]] mix his Colours. The Name of this expeditious Workman was AVARICE.

Not far from this Artist I saw another of a quite different Nature, who was dressed in the Habit of a _Dutchman_, and known by the Name of INDUSTRY. His Figures were wonderfully laboured; If he drew the Portraiture of a man, he did not omit a single Hair in his Face; if the Figure of a Ship, there was not a Rope among the Tackle that escaped him. He had likewise hung a great Part of the Wall with Night-pieces, that seemed to shew themselves by the Candles which were lighted up in several Parts of them; and were so inflamed by the Sun-shine which accidentally fell upon them, that at first sight I could scarce forbear crying out, _Fire_.

The five foregoing Artists were the most considerable on this Side the Gallery; there were indeed several others whom I had not time to look into. One of them, however, I could not forbear observing, who was very busie in retouching the finest Pieces, tho’ he produced no Originals of his own. His Pencil aggravated every Feature that was before over-charged, loaded every Defect, and poisoned every Colour it touched. Though this workman did so much Mischief on the Side of the Living, he never turned his Eye towards that of the Dead. His Name was ENVY.

Having taken a cursory View of one Side of the Gallery, I turned my self to that which was filled by the Works of those great Masters that were dead; when immediately I fancied my self standing before a Multitude of Spectators, and thousands of Eyes looking upon me at once; for all before me appeared so like Men and Women, that I almost forgot they were Pictures. _Raphael’s_ Figures stood in one Row, _Titian’s_ in another, _Guido Rheni’s_ in a third. One Part of the Wall was peopled by _Hannibal Carrache_, another by _Correggio_, and another by _Rubens_. To be short, there was not a great Master among the Dead who had not contributed to the Embellishment of this Side of the Gallery. The Persons that owed their Being to these several Masters, appeared all of them to be real and alive, and differed among one another only in the Variety of their Shapes, Complexions, and Cloaths; so that they looked like different Nations of the same Species.

Observing an old Man (who was the same Person I before mentioned, as the only Artist that was at work on this Side of the Gallery) creeping up and down from one Picture to another, and retouching all the fine Pieces that stood before me, I could not but be very attentive to all his Motions. I found his Pencil was so very light, that it worked imperceptibly, and after a thousand Touches, scarce produced any visible Effect in the Picture on which he was employed. However, as he busied himself incessantly, and repeated Touch after Touch without Rest or Intermission, he wore off insensibly every little disagreeable Gloss that hung upon a Figure. He also added such a beautiful Brown to the Shades, and Mellowness to the Colours, that he made every Picture appear more perfect than when it came fresh from [the [2]] Master’s Pencil. I could not forbear looking upon the Face of this ancient Workman, and immediately, by the long Lock of Hair upon his Forehead, discovered him to be TIME.

Whether it were because the Thread of my Dream was at an End I cannot tell, but upon my taking a Survey of this imaginary old Man, my Sleep left me.

C.

[Footnote 1: or]

[Footnote 2: its]

* * * * *

No. 84. Wednesday, June 6, 1711. Steele.

‘… Quis talia fando
Myrmidonum Dolopumve aut duri miles Ulyssei Temperet a Lachrymis?’

Virg.

Looking over the old Manuscript wherein the private Actions of _Pharamond_ [1] are set down by way of Table-Book. I found many things which gave me great Delight; and as human Life turns upon the same Principles and Passions in all Ages, I thought it very proper to take Minutes of what passed in that Age, for the Instruction of this. The Antiquary, who lent me these Papers, gave me a Character of _Eucrate_, the Favourite of _Pharamond_, extracted from an Author who lived in that Court. The Account he gives both of the Prince and this his faithful Friend, will not be improper to insert here, because I may have Occasion to mention many of their Conversations, into which these Memorials of them may give Light.

‘_Pharamond_, when he had a Mind to retire for an Hour or two from the Hurry of Business and Fatigue of Ceremony, made a Signal to _Eucrate_, by putting his Hand to his Face, placing his Arm negligently on a Window, or some such Action as appeared indifferent to all the rest of the Company. Upon such Notice, unobserved by others, (for their entire Intimacy was always a Secret) _Eucrate_ repaired to his own Apartment to receive the King. There was a secret Access to this Part of the Court, at which _Eucrate_ used to admit many whose mean Appearance in the Eyes of the ordinary Waiters and Door-keepers made them be repulsed from other Parts of the Palace. Such as these were let in here by Order of _Eucrate_, and had Audiences of _Pharamond_. This Entrance _Pharamond_ called _The Gate of the Unhappy_, and the Tears of the Afflicted who came before him, he would say were Bribes received by _Eucrate_; for _Eucrate_ had the most compassionate Spirit of all Men living, except his generous Master, who was always kindled at the least Affliction which was communicated to him. In the Regard for the Miserable, _Eucrate_ took particular Care, that the common Forms of Distress, and the idle Pretenders to Sorrow, about Courts, who wanted only Supplies to Luxury, should never obtain Favour by his Means: But the Distresses which arise from the many inexplicable Occurrences that happen among Men, the unaccountable Alienation of Parents from their Children, Cruelty of Husbands to Wives, Poverty occasioned from Shipwreck or Fire, the falling out of Friends, or such other terrible Disasters, to which the Life of Man is exposed; In Cases of this Nature, _Eucrate_ was the Patron; and enjoyed this Part of the Royal Favour so much without being envied, that it was never inquired into by whose Means, what no one else cared for doing, was brought about.

‘One Evening when _Pharamond_ came into the Apartment of _Eucrate_, he found him extremely dejected; upon which he asked (with a Smile which was natural to him)

“What, is there any one too miserable to be relieved by _Pharamond_, that _Eucrate_ is melancholy?

I fear there is, answered the Favourite; a Person without, of a good Air, well Dressed, and tho’ a Man in the Strength of his Life, seems to faint under some inconsolable Calamity: All his Features seem suffused with Agony of Mind; but I can observe in him, that it is more inclined to break away in Tears than Rage. I asked him what he would have; he said he would speak to _Pharamond_. I desired his Business; he could hardly say to me, _Eucrate_, carry me to the King, my Story is not to be told twice, I fear I shall not be able to speak it at all.”

_Pharamond_ commanded _Eucrate_ to let him enter; he did so, and the Gentleman approached the King with an Air which spoke [him under the greatest Concern in what Manner to demean himself. [2]] The King, who had a quick Discerning, relieved him from the Oppression he was under; and with the most beautiful Complacency said to him,

“Sir, do not add to that Load of Sorrow I see in your Countenance, the Awe of my Presence: Think you are speaking to your Friend; if the Circumstances of your Distress will admit of it, you shall find me so.”

To whom the Stranger:

“Oh excellent _Pharamond_, name not a Friend to the unfortunate _Spinamont_. I had one, but he is dead by my own Hand; [3] but, oh _Pharamond_, tho’ it was by the Hand of _Spinamont_, it was by the Guilt of _Pharamond_. I come not, oh excellent Prince, to implore your Pardon; I come to relate my Sorrow, a Sorrow too great for human Life to support: From henceforth shall all Occurrences appear Dreams or short Intervals of Amusement, from this one Affliction which has seiz’d my very Being: Pardon me, oh _Pharamond_, if my Griefs give me Leave, that I lay before you, in the Anguish of a wounded Mind, that you, good as you are, are guilty of the generous Blood spilt this Day by this unhappy Hand: Oh that it had perished before that Instant!”

Here the Stranger paused, and recollecting his Mind, after some little Meditation, he went on in a calmer Tone and Gesture as follows.

“There is an Authority due to Distress; and as none of human Race is above the Reach of Sorrow, none should be above the Hearing the Voice of it: I am sure _Pharamond_ is not. Know then, that I have this Morning unfortunately killed in a Duel, the Man whom of all Men living I most loved. I command my self too much in your royal Presence, to say, _Pharamond_, give me my Friend! _Pharamond_ has taken him from me! I will not say, shall the merciful _Pharamond_ destroy his own Subjects? Will the Father of his Country murder his People? But, the merciful _Pharamond_ does destroy his Subjects, the Father of his Country does murder his People. Fortune is so much the Pursuit of Mankind, that all Glory and Honour is in the Power of a Prince, because he has the Distribution of their Fortunes. It is therefore the Inadvertency, Negligence, or Guilt of Princes, to let any thing grow into Custom which is against their Laws. A Court can make Fashion and Duty walk together; it can never, without the Guilt of a Court, happen, that it shall not be unfashionable to do what is unlawful. But alas! in the Dominions of _Pharamond_, by the Force of a Tyrant Custom, which is mis-named a Point of Honour, the Duellist kills his Friend whom he loves; and the Judge condemns the Duellist, while he approves his Behaviour. Shame is the greatest of all Evils; what avail Laws, when Death only attends the Breach of them, and Shame Obedience to them? As for me, oh _Pharamond_, were it possible to describe the nameless Kinds of Compunctions and Tendernesses I feel, when I reflect upon the little Accidents in our former Familiarity, my Mind swells into Sorrow which cannot be resisted enough to be silent in the Presence of _Pharamond_.”

With that he fell into a Flood of Tears, and wept aloud.

“Why should not _Pharamond_ hear the Anguish he only can relieve others from in Time to come? Let him hear from me, what they feel who have given Death by the false Mercy of his Administration, and form to himself the Vengeance call’d for by those who have perished by his Negligence.’

R.

[Footnote 1: See No. 76. Steele uses the suggestion of the Romance of ‘Pharamond’ whose

‘whole Person,’ says the romancer, ‘was of so excellent a composition, and his words so Great and so Noble that it was very difficult to deny him reverence,’

to connect with a remote king his ideas of the duty of a Court. Pharamond’s friend Eucrate, whose name means Power well used, is an invention of the Essayist, as well as the incident and dialogue here given, for an immediate good purpose of his own, which he pleasantly contrives in imitation of the style of the romance. In the original, Pharamond is said to be

‘truly and wholly charming, as well for the vivacity and delicateness of his spirit, accompanied with a perfect knowledge of all Sciences, as for a sweetness which is wholly particular to him, and a complacence which &c … All his inclinations are in such manner fixed upon virtue, that no consideration nor passion can disturb him; and in those extremities into which his ill fortune hath cast him, he hath never let pass any occasion to do good.’

That is why Steele chose Pharamond for his king in this and a preceding paper.]

[Footnote 2: the utmost sense of his Majesty without the ability to express it.]

[Footnote 3: Spinamont is Mr. Thornhill, who, on the 9th of May, 1711, killed in a duel Sir Cholmomleley Dering, Baronet, of Kent. Mr. Thornhill was tried and acquitted; but two months afterwards, assassinated by two men, who, as they stabbed him, bade him remember Sir Cholmondeley Dering. Steele wrote often and well against duelling, condemning it in the ‘Tatler’ several times, in the ‘Spectator’ several times, in the ‘Guardian’ several times, and even in one of his plays.]

* * * * *

No. 85. Thursday, June 7, 1711. Addison.

‘Interdum speciosa locis, morataque recte Fabula nullius Veneris, sine pondere et Arte, Valdius oblectat populum, meliusque moratur, Quam versus inopes rerum, nugaeque canorae.’

Hor.

It is the Custom of the _Mahometans_, if they see any printed or written Paper upon the Ground, to take it up and lay it aside carefully, as not knowing but it may contain some Piece of their _Alcoran_. I must confess I have so much of the _Mussulman_ in me, That I cannot forbear looking into every printed Paper which comes in my Way, under whatsoever despicable Circumstances it may appear; for as no mortal Author, in the ordinary Fate and Vicissitude of Things, knows to what Use his Works may, some time or other, be applied, a Man may often meet with very celebrated Names in a Paper of Tobacco. I have lighted my Pipe more than once with the Writings of a Prelate; and know a Friend of mine, who, for these several Years, has converted the Essays of a Man of Quality into a kind of Fringe for his Candlesticks. I remember in particular, after having read over a Poem of an Eminent Author on a Victory, I met with several Fragments of it upon the next rejoicing Day, which had been employ’d in Squibs and Crackers, and by that means celebrated its Subject in a double Capacity. I once met with a Page of Mr. _Baxter_ under a _Christmas_ Pye. Whether or no the Pastry-Cook had made use of it through Chance or Waggery, for the Defence of that superstitious _Viande_, I know not; but upon the Perusal of it, I conceived so good an Idea of the Author’s Piety, that I bought the whole Book. I have often profited by these accidental Readings, and have sometimes found very Curious Pieces, that are either out of Print, or not to be met with in the Shops of our _London Booksellers_. For this Reason, when my Friends take a Survey of my Library, they are very much surprised to find, upon the Shelf of Folios, two long Band-Boxes standing upright among my Books, till I let them see that they are both of them lined with deep Erudition and abstruse Literature. I might likewise mention a Paper-Kite, from which I have received great Improvement; and a Hat-Case, which I would not exchange for all the Beavers in _Great-Britain_. This my inquisitive Temper, or rather impertinent Humour of prying into all Sorts of Writing, with my natural Aversion to Loquacity, give me a good deal of Employment when I enter any House in the Country; for I cannot for my Heart leave a Room, before I have thoroughly studied the Walls of it, and examined the several printed Papers which are usually pasted upon them. The last Piece that I met with upon this Occasion gave me a most exquisite Pleasure. My Reader will think I am not serious, when I acquaint him that the Piece I am going to speak of was the old Ballad of the _Two Children in the Wood_, which is one of the darling Songs of the common People, and has been the Delight of most _Englishmen_ in some Part of their Age.

This Song is a plain simple Copy of Nature, destitute of the Helps and Ornaments of Art. The Tale of it is a pretty Tragical Story, and pleases for no other Reason but because it is a Copy of Nature. There is even a despicable Simplicity in the Verse; and yet because the Sentiments appear genuine and unaffected, they are able to move the Mind of the most polite Reader with Inward Meltings of Humanity and Compassion. The Incidents grow out of the Subject, and are such as [are the most proper to excite Pity; for [1]] which Reason the whole Narration has something in it very moving, notwithstanding the Author of it (whoever he was) has deliver’d it in such an abject Phrase and Poorness of Expression, that the quoting any part of it would look like a Design of turning it into Ridicule. But though the Language is mean, the Thoughts [, as I have before said,] from one end to the other are [natural, [2]] and therefore cannot fail to please those who are not Judges of Language, or those who, notwithstanding they are Judges of Language, have a [true [3]] and unprejudiced Taste of Nature. The Condition, Speech, and Behaviour of the dying Parents, with the Age, Innocence, and Distress of the Children, are set forth in such tender Circumstances, that it is impossible for a [Reader of common Humanity [4]] not to be affected with them. As for the Circumstance of the _Robin-red-breast_, it is indeed a little Poetical Ornament; and to shew [the Genius of the Author [5]] amidst all his Simplicity, it is just the same kind of Fiction which one of the greatest of the _Latin_ Poets has made use of upon a parallel Occasion; I mean that Passage in _Horace_, where he describes himself when he was a Child, fallen asleep in a desart Wood, and covered with Leaves by the Turtles that took pity on him.

Me fabulosa Vulture in Apulo,
Altricis extra limen Apuliae,
Ludo fatigatumque somno
Fronde nova puerum palumbes
Texere …

I have heard that the late Lord _Dorset_, who had the greatest Wit temper’d with the greatest [Candour, [6]] and was one of the finest Criticks as well as the best Poets of his Age, had a numerous collection of old _English_ Ballads, and took a particular Pleasure in the Reading of them. I can affirm the same of Mr. _Dryden_, and know several of the most refined Writers of our present Age who are of the same Humour.

I might likewise refer my Reader to _Moliere’s_ Thoughts on this Subject, as he has expressed them in the Character of the _Misanthrope_; but those only who are endowed with a true Greatness of Soul and Genius can divest themselves of the little Images of Ridicule, and admire Nature in her Simplicity and Nakedness. As for the little conceited Wits of the Age, who can only shew their Judgment by finding Fault, they cannot be supposed to admire these Productions [which [7]] have nothing to recommend them but the Beauties of Nature, when they do not know how to relish even those Compositions that, with all the Beauties of Nature, have also the additional Advantages of Art. [8]

[Footnote 1: _Virgil_ himself would have touched upon, had the like Story been told by that Divine Poet. For]

[Footnote 2: wonderfully natural]

[Footnote 3: genuine]

[Footnote 4: goodnatured Reader]

[Footnote 5: what a Genius the Author was Master of]

[Footnote 6: Humanity]

[Footnote 7: that]

[Footnote 8: Addison had incurred much ridicule from the bad taste of the time by his papers upon Chevy Chase, though he had gone some way to meet it by endeavouring to satisfy the Dennises of ‘that polite age,’ with authorities from Virgil. Among the jests was a burlesque criticism of Tom Thumb. What Addison thought of the ‘little images of Ridicule’ set up against him, the last paragraph of this Essay shows, but the collation of texts shows that he did flinch a little. We now see how he modified many expressions in the reprint of this Essay upon the ‘Babes in the Wood’.]

* * * * *

No. 86. Friday, June 8, 1711. Addison.

‘Heu quam difficile est crimen non prodere vultu!’

Ovid.

There are several Arts which [all Men are [1]] in some measure [Masters [2]] of, without having been at the Pains of learning them. Every one that speaks or reasons is a Grammarian and a Logician, tho’ he may be wholly unacquainted with the Rules of Grammar or Logick, as they are delivered in Books and Systems. In the same Manner, every one is in some Degree a Master of that Art which is generally distinguished by the Name of Physiognomy; and naturally forms to himself the Character or Fortune of a Stranger, from the Features and Lineaments of his Face. We are no sooner presented to any one we never saw before, but we are immediately struck with the Idea of a proud, a reserved, an affable, or a good-natured Man; and upon our first going into a Company of [Strangers, [3]] our Benevolence or Aversion, Awe or Contempt, rises naturally towards several particular Persons before we have heard them speak a single Word, or so much as know who they are.

Every Passion gives a particular Cast to the Countenance, and is apt to discover itself in some Feature or other. I have seen an Eye curse for half an Hour together, and an Eye-brow call a Man Scoundrel. Nothing is more common than for Lovers to complain, resent, languish, despair, and die in dumb Show. For my own part, I am so apt to frame a Notion of every Man’s Humour or Circumstances by his Looks, that I have sometimes employed my self from _Charing-Cross_ to the _Royal-Exchange_ in drawing the Characters of those who have passed by me. When I see a Man with a sour rivell’d Face, I cannot forbear pitying his Wife; and when I meet with an open ingenuous Countenance, think on the Happiness of his Friends, his Family, and Relations.

I cannot recollect the Author of a famous Saying to a Stranger who stood silent in his Company, _Speak that I may_ see thee:_ [4] But, with Submission, I think we may be better known by our Looks than by our Words; and that a Man’s Speech is much more easily disguised than his Countenance. In this Case, however, I think the Air of the whole Face is much more expressive than the Lines of it: The Truth of it is, the Air is generally nothing else but the inward Disposition of the Mind made visible.

Those who have established Physiognomy into an Art, and laid down Rules of judging Mens Tempers by their Faces, have regarded the Features much more than the Air. _Martial_ has a pretty Epigram on this Subject:

Crine ruber, niger ore, brevis pede, lumine loesus: Rem magnam proestas, Zoile, si bonus es.

(Epig. 54, 1. 12)

Thy Beard and Head are of a diff’rent Dye; Short of one Foot, distorted in an Eye: With all these Tokens of a Knave compleat, Should’st thou be honest, thou’rt a dev’lish Cheat.

I have seen a very ingenious Author on this Subject, [who [5]] founds his Speculations on the Supposition, That as a Man hath in the Mould of his Face a remote Likeness to that of an Ox, a Sheep, a Lion, an Hog, or any other Creature; he hath the same Resemblance in the Frame of his Mind, and is subject to those Passions which are predominant in the Creature that appears in his Countenance. [6] Accordingly he gives the Prints of several Faces that are of a different Mould, and by [a little] overcharging the Likeness, discovers the Figures of these several Kinds of brutal Faces in human Features. I remember, in the Life of the famous Prince of _Conde_ [7] the Writer observes, [the [8]] Face of that Prince was like the Face of an Eagle, and that the Prince was very well pleased to be told so. In this Case therefore we may be sure, that he had in his Mind some general implicit Notion of this Art of Physiognomy which I have just now mentioned; and that when his Courtiers told him his Face was made like an Eagle’s, he understood them in the same manner as if they had told him, there was something in his Looks which shewed him to be strong, active, piercing, and of a royal Descent. Whether or no the different Motions of the Animal Spirits, in different Passions, may have any Effect on the Mould of the Face when the Lineaments are pliable and tender, or whether the same kind of Souls require the same kind of Habitations, I shall leave to the Consideration of the Curious. In the mean Time I think nothing can be more glorious than for a Man to give the Lie to his Face, and to be an honest, just, good-natured Man, in spite of all those Marks and Signatures which Nature seems to have set upon him for the Contrary. This very often happens among those, who, instead of being exasperated by their own Looks, or envying the Looks of others, apply themselves entirely to the cultivating of their Minds, and getting those Beauties which are more lasting and more ornamental. I have seen many an amiable Piece of Deformity; and have observed a certain Chearfulness in as bad a System of Features as ever was clapped together, which hath appeared more lovely than all the blooming Charms of an insolent Beauty. There is a double Praise due to Virtue, when it is lodged in a Body that seems to have been prepared for the Reception of Vice; in many such Cases the Soul and the Body do not seem to be Fellows.

_Socrates_ was an extraordinary Instance of this Nature. There chanced to be a great Physiognomist in his Time at _Athens_, [9] who had made strange Discoveries of Mens Tempers and Inclinations by their outward Appearances. _Socrates’s_ Disciples, that they might put this Artist to the Trial, carried him to their Master, whom he had never seen before, and did not know [he was then in company with him. [10]] After a short Examination of his Face, the Physiognomist pronounced him the most lewd, libidinous, drunken old Fellow that he had ever [met with [11]] in his [whole] Life. Upon which the Disciples all burst out a laughing, as thinking they had detected the Falshood and Vanity of his Art. But _Socrates_ told them, that the Principles of his Art might be very true, notwithstanding his present Mistake; for that he himself was naturally inclined to those particular Vices which the Physiognomist had discovered in his Countenance, but that he had conquered the strong Dispositions he was born with by the Dictates of Philosophy.

We are indeed told by an ancient Author, that _Socrates_ very much resembled _Silenus_ in his Face; [12] which we find to have been very rightly observed from the Statues and Busts of both, [that [13]] are still extant; as well as on several antique Seals and precious Stones, which are frequently enough to be met with in the Cabinets of the Curious. But however Observations of this Nature may sometimes hold, a wise Man should be particularly cautious how he gives credit to a Man’s outward Appearance. It is an irreparable Injustice [we [14]] are guilty of towards one another, when we are prejudiced by the Looks and Features of those whom we do not know. How often do we conceive Hatred against a Person of Worth, or fancy a Man to be proud and ill-natured by his Aspect, whom we think we cannot esteem too much when we are acquainted with his real Character? Dr. _Moore_, [15] in his admirable System of Ethicks, reckons this particular Inclination to take a Prejudice against a Man for his Looks, among the smaller Vices in Morality, and, if I remember, gives it the Name of a _Prosopolepsia_.

[Footnote 1: every Man is]

[Footnote 2: Master]

[Footnote 3: unknown Persons]

[Footnote 4: Socrates. In Apul. ‘Flor’.]

[Footnote 5: that]

[Footnote 6: The idea is as old as Aristotle who, in treating of arguing from signs in general, speaks under the head of Physiognomy of conclusions drawn from natural signs, such as indications of the temper proper to each class of animals in forms resembling them. The book Addison refers to is Baptista della Porta ‘De Human, Physiognomia’]

[Footnote 7: ‘Histoire du Louis de Bourbon II. du Nom Prince de Conde,’ Englished by Nahum Tate in 1693.]

[Footnote 8: that the]

[Footnote 9: Cicero, ‘Tusc. Quaest.’ Bk. IV. near the close. Again ‘de Fato’, c. 5, he says that the physiognomist Zopyrus pronounced Socrates stupid and dull, because the outline of his throat was not concave, but full and obtuse.]

[Footnote 10: who he was.]

[Footnote 11: seen]

[Footnote 12: Plato in the ‘Symposium’; where Alcibiades is made to draw the parallel under the influence of wine and revelry. He compares the person of Socrates to the sculptured figures of the Sileni and the Mercuries in the streets of Athens, but owns the spell by which he was held, in presence of Socrates, as by the flute of the Satyr Marsyas.]

[Footnote 13: which]

[Footnote 14: that we]

[Footnote 15: Dr Henry More.]

* * * * *

No. 87. Saturday, June 9, 1711. Steel.

‘… Nimium ne crede colori.’

Virg.

It has been the Purpose of several of my Speculations to bring People to an unconcerned Behaviour, with relation to their Persons, whether beautiful or defective. As the Secrets of the _Ugly Club_ were exposed to the Publick, that Men might see there were some noble Spirits in the Age, who are not at all displeased with themselves upon Considerations which they had no Choice in: so the Discourse concerning _Idols_ tended to lessen the Value People put upon themselves from personal Advantages, and Gifts of Nature. As to the latter Species of Mankind, the Beauties, whether Male or Female, they are generally the most untractable People of all others. You are so excessively perplexed with the Particularities in their Behaviour, that, to be at Ease, one would be apt to wish there were no such Creatures. They expect so great Allowances, and give so little to others, that they who have to do with them find in the main, a Man with a better Person than ordinary, and a beautiful Woman, might be very happily changed for such to whom Nature has been less liberal. The Handsome Fellow is usually so much a Gentleman, and the Fine Woman has something so becoming, that there is no enduring either of them. It has therefore been generally my Choice to mix with chearful Ugly Creatures, rather than Gentlemen who are Graceful enough to omit or do what they please; or Beauties who have Charms enough to do and say what would be disobliging in any but themselves.

Diffidence and Presumption, upon account of our Persons, are equally Faults; and both arise from the Want of knowing, or rather endeavouring to know, our selves, and for what we ought to be valued or neglected. But indeed, I did not imagine these little Considerations and Coquetries could have the ill Consequences as I find they have by the following Letters of my Correspondents, where it seems Beauty is thrown into the Account, in Matters of Sale, to those who receive no Favour from the Charmers.

_June 4.

Mr. SPECTATOR_,

After I have assured you I am in every respect one of the Handsomest young Girls about Town–I need be particular in nothing but the make of my Face, which has the Misfortune to be exactly Oval. This I take to proceed from a Temper that naturally inclines me both to speak and hear.

With this Account you may wonder how I can have the Vanity to offer my self as a Candidate, which I now do, to a Society, where the SPECTATOR and _Hecatissa_ have been admitted with so much Applause. I don’t want to be put in mind how very Defective I am in every thing that is Ugly: I am too sensible of my own Unworthiness in this Particular, and therefore I only propose my self as a Foil to the Club.

You see how honest I have been to confess all my Imperfections, which is a great deal to come from a Woman, and what I hope you will encourage with the Favour of your Interest.

There can be no Objection made on the Side of the matchless _Hecatissa_, since it is certain I shall be in no Danger of giving her the least occasion of Jealousy: And then a Joint-Stool in the very lowest Place at the Table, is all the Honour that is coveted by

_Your most Humble and Obedient Servant_,

ROSALINDA.

P.S. I have sacrificed my Necklace to put into the Publick Lottery against the Common Enemy. And last _Saturday_, about Three a Clock in the Afternoon, I began to patch indifferently on both Sides of my Face.

_London, June 7, 1711._

Mr. SPECTATOR,

‘Upon reading your late Dissertation concerning _Idols_, I cannot but complain to you that there are, in six or seven Places of this City, Coffee-houses kept by Persons of that Sisterhood. These _Idols_ sit and receive all Day long the adoration of the Youth within such and such Districts: I know, in particular, Goods are not entered as they ought to be at the Custom-house, nor Law-Reports perused at the Temple; by reason of one Beauty who detains the young Merchants too long near _Change_, and another Fair One who keeps the Students at her House when they should be at Study. It would be worth your while to see how the Idolaters alternately offer Incense to their _Idols_, and what Heart-burnings arise in those who wait for their Turn to receive kind Aspects from those little Thrones, which all the Company, but these Lovers, call the Bars. I saw a Gentleman turn as pale as Ashes, because an _Idol_ turned the Sugar in a Tea-Dish for his Rival, and carelessly called the Boy to serve him, with a _Sirrah! Why don’t you give the Gentleman the Box to please himself?_ Certain it is, that a very hopeful young Man was taken with Leads in his Pockets below Bridge, where he intended to drown himself, because his _Idol_ would wash the Dish in which she had [but just [1]] drank Tea, before she would let him use it.

I am, Sir, a Person past being Amorous, and do not give this Information out of Envy or Jealousy, but I am a real Sufferer by it. These Lovers take any thing for Tea and Coffee; I saw one Yesterday surfeit to make his Court; and all his Rivals, at the same time, loud in the Commendation of Liquors that went against every body in the Room that was not in Love. While these young Fellows resign their Stomachs with their Hearts, and drink at the _Idol_ in this manner, we who come to do Business, or talk Politicks, are utterly poisoned: They have also Drams for those who are more enamoured than ordinary; and it is very common for such as are too low in Constitution to ogle the _Idol_ upon the Strength of Tea, to fluster themselves with warmer Liquors: Thus all Pretenders advance, as fast as they can, to a Feaver or a Diabetes. I must repeat to you, that I do not look with an evil Eye upon the Profit of the _Idols_, or the Diversion of the Lovers; what I hope from this Remonstrance, is only that we plain People may not be served as if we were Idolaters; but that from the time of publishing this in your Paper, the _Idols_ would mix Ratsbane only for their Admirers, and take more care of us who don’t love them. I am,
_SIR,
Yours_,
T.T. [2]

R.

[Footnote 1: just before]

[Footnote 2: This letter is ascribed to Laurence Eusden.]

* * * * *

_ADVERTISEMENT_.

_This to give Notice,
That the three Criticks
who last_ Sunday _settled the Characters of my Lord_ Rochester _and_ Boileau, _in the Yard of a Coffee House in_ Fuller’s Rents, _will meet this next_ Sunday _at the same Time and Place, to finish the Merits of several Dramatick Writers: And will also make an End of_ the Nature of True Sublime.

* * * * *

No. 88. Monday, June 11, 1711. Steele.

‘Quid Domini facient, audent cum tulia Fures?’

Virg.

May 30, 1711.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I have no small Value for your Endeavours to lay before the World what may escape their Observation, and yet highly conduces to their Service. You have, I think, succeeded very well on many Subjects; and seem to have been conversant in very different Scenes of Life. But in the Considerations of Mankind, as a SPECTATOR, you should not omit Circumstances which relate to the inferior Part of the World, any more than those which concern the greater. There is one thing in particular which I wonder you have not touched upon, and that is the general Corruption of Manners in the Servants of _Great Britain_. I am a Man that have travelled and seen many Nations, but have for seven Years last past resided constantly in _London_, or within twenty Miles of it: In this Time I have contracted a numerous Acquaintance among the best Sort of People, and have hardly found one of them happy in their Servants. This is matter of great Astonishment to Foreigners, and all such as have visited Foreign Countries; especially since we cannot but observe, That there is no Part of the World where Servants have those Privileges and Advantages as in _England:_ They have no where else such plentiful Diet, large Wages, or indulgent Liberty: There is no Place wherein they labour less, and yet where they are so little respectful, more wasteful, more negligent, or where they so frequently change their Masters. To this I attribute, in a great measure, the frequent Robberies and Losses which we suffer on the high Road and in our own Houses. That indeed which gives me the present Thought of this kind, is, that a careless Groom of mine has spoiled me the prettiest Pad in the World with only riding him ten Miles, and I assure you, if I were to make a Register of all the Horses I have known thus abused by Negligence of Servants, the Number would mount a Regiment. I wish you would give us your Observations, that we may know how to treat these Rogues, or that we Masters may enter into Measures to reform them. Pray give us a Speculation in general about Servants, and you make me

Pray do not omit the Mention
of Grooms in particular.

_Yours_,

Philo-Britannicus

This honest Gentleman, who is so desirous that I should write a Satyr upon Grooms, has a great deal of Reason for his Resentment; and I know no Evil which touches all Mankind so much as this of the Misbehaviour of Servants.

The Complaint of this Letter runs wholly upon Men-Servants; and I can attribute the Licentiousness which has at present prevailed among them, to nothing but what an hundred before me have ascribed it to, The Custom of giving Board-Wages: This one Instance of false Oeconomy is sufficient to debauch the whole Nation of Servants, and makes them as it were but for some part of their Time in that Quality. They are either attending in Places where they meet and run into Clubs, or else, if they wait at Taverns, they eat after their Masters, and reserve their Wages for other Occasions. From hence it arises, that they are but in a lower Degree what their Masters themselves are; and usually affect an Imitation of their Manners: And you have in Liveries, Beaux, Fops, and Coxcombs, in as high Perfection as among People that keep Equipages. It is a common Humour among the Retinue of People of Quality, when they are in their Revels, that is when they are out of their Masters Sight, to assume in a humourous Way the Names and Titles of those whose Liveries they wear. By which means Characters and Distinctions become so familiar to them, that it is to this, among other Causes, one may impute a certain Insolence among our Servants, that they take no Notice of any Gentleman though they know him ever so well, except he is an Acquaintance of their Master’s.

My Obscurity and Taciturnity leave me at Liberty, without Scandal, to dine, if I think fit, at a common Ordinary, in the meanest as well as the most sumptuous House of Entertainment. Falling in the other Day at a Victualling-House near the House of Peers, I heard the Maid come down and tell the Landlady at the Bar, That my Lord Bishop swore he would throw her out [at [1]] Window, if she did not bring up more Mild Beer, and that my Lord Duke would have a double Mug of Purle. My Surprize was encreased, in hearing loud and rustick Voices speak and answer to each other upon the publick Affairs, by the Names of the most Illustrious of our Nobility; till of a sudden one came running in, and cry’d the House was rising. Down came all the Company together, and away! The Alehouse was immediately filled with Clamour, and scoring one Mug to the Marquis of such a Place, Oyl and Vinegar to such an Earl, three Quarts to my new Lord for wetting his Title, and so forth. It is a Thing too notorious to mention the Crowds of Servants, and their Insolence, near the Courts of Justice, and the Stairs towards the Supreme Assembly, where there is an universal Mockery of all Order, such riotous Clamour and licentious Confusion, that one would think the whole Nation lived in Jest, and there were no such thing as Rule and Distinction among us.

The next Place of Resort, wherein the servile World are let loose, is at the Entrance of _Hide-Park_, while the Gentry are at the Ring. Hither People bring their Lacqueys out of State, and here it is that all they say at their Tables, and act in their Houses, is communicated to the whole Town. There are Men of Wit in all Conditions of Life; and mixing with these People at their Diversions, I have heard Coquets and Prudes as well rallied, and Insolence and Pride exposed, (allowing for their want of Education) with as much Humour and good Sense, as in the politest Companies. It is a general Observation, That all Dependants run in some measure into the Manners and Behaviour of those whom they serve: You shall frequently meet with Lovers and Men of Intrigue among the Lacqueys, as well as at _White’s_ [2] or in the Side-Boxes. I remember some Years ago an Instance of this Kind. A Footman to a Captain of the Guard used frequently, when his Master was out of the Way, to carry on Amours and make Assignations in his Master’s Cloaths. The Fellow had a very good Person, and there are very many Women that think no further than the Outside of a Gentleman: besides which, he was almost as learned a Man as the Colonel himself: I say, thus qualified, the Fellow could scrawl _Billets-doux_ so well, and furnish a Conversation on the common Topicks, that he had, as they call it, a great deal of good Business on his Hands. It happened one Day, that coming down a Tavern-Stairs in his Master’s fine Guard-Coat, with a well-dress’d Woman masked, he met the Colonel coming up with other Company; but with a ready Assurance he quitted his Lady, came up to him, and said, _Sir, I know you have too much Respect for yourself to cane me in this honourable Habit: But you see there is a Lady in the Case, and I hope on that Score also you will put off your Anger till I have told you all another time._ After a little Pause the Colonel cleared up his Countenance, and with an Air of Familiarity whispered his Man apart, _Sirrah, bring the Lady with you to ask Pardon for you;_ then aloud, _Look to it_, Will, _I’ll never forgive you else._ The Fellow went back to his Mistress, and telling her with a loud Voice and an Oath, That was the honestest Fellow in the World, convey’d her to an Hackney-Coach.

But the many Irregularities committed by Servants in the Places above-mentioned, as well as in the Theatres, of which Masters are generally the Occasions, are too various not to need being resumed on another Occasion.

R.

[Footnote 1: of the]

[Footnote 2: ‘White’s’, established as a chocolate-house in 1698, had a polite character for gambling, and was a haunt of sharpers and gay noblemen before it became a Club.]

* * * * *

No. 89. Tuesday, June 12, 1711. Addison.

‘… Petite hinc juvenesque senesque Finem animo certum, miserisque viatica canis. Cras hoc fiet. Idem eras fiet. Quid? quasi magnum Nempe diem donas? sed cum lux altera venit, Jam cras hesternum consumpsimus; ecce aliud cras Egerit hos annos, et semper paulum erit ultra. Nam quamvis prope te, quamvis temone sub uno Vertentem sese frustra sectabere canthum.’

Per.

As my Correspondents upon the Subject of Love are very numerous, it is my Design, if possible, to range them under several Heads, and address my self to them at different Times. The first Branch of them, to whose Service I shall Dedicate these Papers, are those that have to do with Women of dilatory Tempers, who are for spinning out the Time of Courtship to an immoderate Length, without being able either to close with their Lovers, or to dismiss them. I have many Letters by me filled with Complaints against, this sort of Women. In one of them no less a Man than a Brother of the Coif tells me, that he began his Suit _Vicesimo nono Caroli secundi_, before he had been a Twelvemonth at the _Temple;_ that he prosecuted it for many Years after he was called to the Bar; that at present he is a Sergeant at Law; and notwithstanding he hoped that Matters would have been long since brought to an Issue, the Fair One still _demurrs_. I am so well pleased with this Gentleman’s Phrase, that I shall distinguish this Sect of Women by the Title of _Demurrers_. I find by another Letter from one that calls himself _Thirsis_, that his Mistress has been Demurring above these seven Years. But among all my Plaintiffs of this Nature, I most pity the unfortunate _Philander_, a Man of a constant Passion and plentiful Fortune, who sets forth that the timorous and irresolute _Silvia_ has demurred till she is past Child-bearing. _Strephon_ appears by his Letter to be a very cholerick Lover, and irrevocably smitten with one that demurrs out of Self-interest. He tells me with great Passion that she has bubbled him out of his Youth; that she drilled him on to Five and Fifty, and that he verily believes she will drop him in his old Age, if she can find her Account in another. I shall conclude this Narrative with a Letter from honest Sam Hopewell, a very pleasant Fellow, who it seems has at last married a _Demurrer:_ I must only premise, that Sam, who is a very good Bottle-Companion, has been the Diversion of his Friends, upon account of his Passion, ever since the Year One thousand Six hundred and Eighty one.

_Dear SIR_,

‘You know very well my Passion for Mrs. _Martha_, and what a Dance she has led me: She took me at the Age of Two and Twenty, and dodged with me above Thirty Years. I have loved her till she is grown as Grey as a Cat, and am with much ado become the Master of her Person, such as it is at present. She is however in my Eye a very charming old Woman. We often lament that we did not marry sooner, but she has no Body to blame for it but her self: You know very well that she would never think of me whilst she had a Tooth in her Head. I have put the Date of my Passion (_Anno Amoris Trigesimo primo_) instead of a Posy, on my Wedding-Ring. I expect you should send me a Congratulatory Letter, or, if you please, an _Epithalamium_, upon this Occasion.

_Mrs_. Martha’s and
_Yours Eternally_,
SAM HOPEWELL

In order to banish an Evil out of the World, that does not only produce great Uneasiness to private Persons, but has also a very bad Influence on the Publick, I shall endeavour to shew the Folly of _Demurrage_ from two or three Reflections which I earnestly recommend to the Thoughts of my fair Readers.

First of all I would have them seriously think on the Shortness of their Time. Life is not long enough for a Coquet to play all her Tricks in. A timorous Woman drops into her Grave before she has done deliberating. Were the Age of Man the same that it was before the Flood, a Lady might sacrifice half a Century to a Scruple, and be two or three Ages in demurring. Had she Nine Hundred Years good, she might hold out to the Conversion of the _Jews_ before she thought fit to be prevailed upon. But, alas! she ought to play her Part in haste, when she considers that she is suddenly to quit the Stage, and make Room for others.

In the second Place, I would desire my Female Readers to consider, that as the Term of Life is short, that of Beauty is much shorter. The finest Skin wrinkles in a few Years, and loses the Strength of its Colourings so soon, that we have scarce Time to admire it. I might embellish this Subject with Roses and Rain-bows, and several other ingenious Conceits, which I may possibly reserve for another Opportunity.

There is a third Consideration which I would likewise recommend to a Demurrer, and that is the great Danger of her falling in Love when she is about Threescore, if she cannot satisfie her Doubts and Scruples before that Time. There is a kind of _latter Spring_, that sometimes gets into the Blood of an old Woman and turns her into a very odd sort of an Animal. I would therefore have the Demurrer consider what a strange Figure she will make, if she chances to get over all Difficulties, and comes to a final Resolution, in that unseasonable Part of her Life.

I would not however be understood, by any thing I have here said, to discourage that natural Modesty in the Sex, which renders a Retreat from the first Approaches of a Lover both fashionable and graceful: All that I intend, is, to advise them, when they are prompted by Reason and Inclination, to demurr only out of Form, and so far as Decency requires. A virtuous Woman should reject the first Offer of Marriage, as a good Man does that of a Bishoprick; but I would advise neither the one nor the other to persist in refusing what they secretly approve. I would in this Particular propose the Example of _Eve_ to all her Daughters, as _Milton_ has represented her in the following Passage, which I cannot forbear transcribing intire, tho’ only the twelve last Lines are to my present Purpose.

_The Rib he form’d and fashion’d with his Hands; Under his forming Hands a Creature grew, Man-like, but diff’rent Sex; so lovely fair! That what seem’d fair in all the World, seem’d now Mean, or in her summ’d up, in her contain’d And in her Looks; which from that time infus’d Sweetness into my Heart, unfelt before: And into all things from her Air inspir’d The Spirit of Love and amorous Delight.

She disappear’d, and left me dark! I wak’d To find her, or for ever to deplore
Her Loss, and other Pleasures [all [1]] abjure; When out of Hope, behold her, not far off, Such as I saw her in my Dream, adorn’d
With what all Earth or Heaven could bestow To make her amiable: On she came,
Led by her heav’nly Maker, though unseen, And guided by his Voice, nor uninform’d Of nuptial Sanctity and Marriage Rites: Grace was in all her Steps, Heav’n in her Eye, In every Gesture Dignity and Love.
I overjoyed, could not forbear aloud.

This Turn hath made Amends; thou hast fulfill’d Thy Words, Creator bounteous and benign! Giver of all things fair! but fairest this Of all thy Gifts, nor enviest. I now see Bone of my Bone, Flesh of my Flesh, my Self….

She heard me thus, and tho’ divinely brought, Yet Innocence and Virgin Modesty,
Her Virtue, and the Conscience of her Worth, That would be woo’d, and not unsought be won, Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retir’d The more desirable; or, to say all,
Nature her self, tho’ pure of sinful Thought, Wrought in her so, that seeing me, she [turn’d [2]] I followed her: she what was Honour knew, And with obsequious Majesty approved
My pleaded Reason. To the Nuptial Bower I led her blushing like the Morn [3]—-

[Footnote 1: to]

[Footnote 2: fled;]

[Footnote 3: P. L. Bk. VIII.]

* * * * *

No. 90. Wednesday, June 13, 1711. Addison.

‘… Magnus sine viribus Ignis
Incassum furit’

Virg.

There is not, in my Opinion, a Consideration more effectual to extinguish inordinate Desires in the Soul of Man, than the Notions of _Plato_ and his Followers [1] upon that Subject. They tell us, that every Passion which has been contracted by the Soul during her Residence in the Body, remains with her in a separate State; and that the Soul in the Body or out of the Body, differs no more than the Man does from himself when he is in his House, or in open Air. When therefore the obscene Passions in particular have once taken Root and spread themselves in the Soul, they cleave to her inseparably, and remain in her for ever, after the Body is cast off and thrown aside. As an Argument to confirm this their Doctrine they observe, that a lewd Youth who goes on in a continued Course of Voluptuousness, advances by Degrees into a libidinous old Man; and that the Passion survives in the Mind when it is altogether dead in the Body; nay, that the Desire grows more violent, and (like all other Habits) gathers Strength by Age, at the same time that it has no Power of executing its own Purposes. If, say they, the Soul is the most subject to these Passions at a time when it has the least Instigations from the Body, we may well suppose she will still retain them when she is entirely divested of it. The very Substance of the Soul is festered with them, the Gangrene is gone too far to be ever cured; the Inflammation will rage to all Eternity.

In this therefore (say the _Platonists_) consists the Punishment of a voluptuous Man after Death: He is tormented with Desires which it is impossible for him to gratify, solicited by a Passion that has neither Objects nor Organs adapted to it: He lives in a State of invincible Desire and Impotence, and always burns in the Pursuit of what he always despairs to possess. It is for this Reason (says _Plato_) that the Souls of the Dead appear frequently in Coemiteries, and hover about the Places where their Bodies are buried, as still hankering after their old brutal Pleasures, and desiring again to enter the Body that gave them an Opportunity of fulfilling them.

Some of our most eminent Divines have made use of this _Platonick_ Notion, so far as it regards the Subsistence of our Passions after Death, with great Beauty and Strength of Reason. _Plato_ indeed carries the Thought very far, when he grafts upon it his Opinion of Ghosts appearing in Places of Burial. Though, I must confess, if one did believe that the departed Souls of Men and Women wandered up and down these lower Regions, and entertained themselves with the Sight of their Species, one could not devise a more Proper Hell for an impure Spirit than that which _Plato_ has touched upon.

The Ancients seem to have drawn such a State of Torments in the Description of _Tantalus_, who was punished with the Rage of an eternal Thirst, and set up to the Chin in Water that fled from his Lips whenever he attempted to drink it.

_Virgil_, who has cast the whole System of _Platonick_ Philosophy, so far as it relates to the Soul of Man, in beautiful Allegories, in the sixth Book of his _AEneid_ gives us the Punishment of a Voluptuary after Death, not unlike that which we are here speaking of.

… _Lucent genialibus altis
Aurea fulcra toris, epulaeque ante ora paratae Regifico luxu: Furiarum maxima juxta
Accubat, et manibus prohibet contingere mensas; Exurgitque facem attollens, atque intonat ore.

They lie below on Golden Beds display’d, And genial Feasts with regal Pomp are made: The Queen of Furies by their Side is set, And snatches from their Mouths th’ untasted Meat; Which if they touch, her hissing Snakes she rears, Tossing her Torch, and thund’ring in their Ears_.

Dryd.

That I may a little alleviate the Severity of this my Speculation (which otherwise may lose me several of my polite Readers) I shall translate a Story [that [2]] has been quoted upon another Occasion by one of the most learned Men of the present Age, as I find it in the Original. The Reader will see it is not foreign to my present Subject, and I dare say will think it a lively Representation of a Person lying under the Torments of such a kind of Tantalism, or _Platonick_ Hell, as that which we have now under Consideration. Monsieur _Pontignan_ speaking of a Love-Adventure that happened to him in the Country, gives the following Account of it. [3]

‘When I was in the Country last Summer, I was often in Company with a Couple of charming Women, who had all the Wit and Beauty one could desire in Female Companions, with a Dash of Coquetry, that from time to time gave me a great many agreeable Torments. I was, after my Way, in Love with both of them, and had such frequent opportunities of pleading my Passion to them when they were asunder, that I had Reason to hope for particular Favours from each of them. As I was walking one Evening in my Chamber with nothing about me but my Night gown, they both came into my Room and told me, They had a very pleasant Trick to put upon a Gentleman that was in the same House, provided I would bear a Part in it. Upon this they told me such a plausible Story, that I laughed at their Contrivance, and agreed to do whatever they should require of me: They immediately began to swaddle me up in my Night-Gown with long Pieces of Linnen, which they folded about me till they had wrapt me in above an hundred Yards of Swathe: My Arms were pressed to my Sides, and my Legs closed together by so many Wrappers one over another, that I looked like an _AEgyptian_ Mummy. As I stood bolt upright upon one End in this antique Figure, one of the Ladies burst out a laughing, And now, _Pontignan_, says she, we intend to perform the Promise that we find you have extorted from each of us. You have often asked the Favour of us, and I dare say you are a better bred Cavalier than to refuse to go to Bed to two Ladies, that desire it of you. After having stood a Fit of Laughter, I begged them to uncase me, and do with me what they pleased. No, no, said they, we like you very well as you are; and upon that ordered me to be carried to one of their Houses, and put to Bed in all my Swaddles. The Room was lighted up on all Sides: and I was laid very decently between a [Pair [4]] of Sheets, with my Head (which was indeed the only Part I could move) upon a very high Pillow: This was no sooner done, but my two Female Friends came into Bed to me in their finest Night-Clothes. You may easily guess at the Condition of a Man that saw a Couple of the most beautiful Women in the World undrest and abed with him, without being able to stir Hand or Foot. I begged them to release me, and struggled all I could to get loose, which I did with so much Violence, that about Midnight they both leaped out of the Bed, crying out they were undone. But seeing me safe, they took their Posts again, and renewed their Raillery. Finding all my Prayers and Endeavours were lost, I composed my self as well as I could, and told them, that if they would not unbind me, I would fall asleep between them, and by that means disgrace them for ever: But alas! this was impossible; could I have been disposed to it, they would have prevented me by several little ill-natured Caresses and Endearments which they bestowed upon me. As much devoted as I am to Womankind, I would not pass such another Night to be Master of the whole Sex. My Reader will doubtless be curious to know what became of me the next Morning: Why truly my Bed-fellows left me about an Hour before Day, and told me, if I would be good and lie still, they would send somebody to take me up as soon as it was time for me to rise: Accordingly about Nine a Clock in the Morning an old Woman came to un-swathe me. I bore all this very patiently, being resolved to take my Revenge of my Tormentors, and to keep no Measures with them as soon as I was at Liberty; but upon asking my old Woman what was become of the two Ladies, she told me she believed they were by that Time within Sight of _Paris_, for that they went away in a Coach and six before five a clock in the Morning.

L.

[Footnote 1: Plato’s doctrine of the soul and of its destiny is to be found at the close of his ‘Republic’; also near the close of the ‘Phaedon’, in a passage of the ‘Philebus’, and in another of the ‘Gorgias’. In Sec. 131 of the ‘Phaedon’ is the passage here especially referred to; which was the basis also of lines 461-475 of Milton’s ‘Comus’. The last of our own Platonists was Henry More, one of whose books Addison quoted four essays back (in No. 86), and who died only four and twenty years before these essays were written, after a long contest in prose and verse, against besotting or obnubilating the soul with ‘the foul steam of earthly life.’]

[Footnote 2: which]

[Footnote 3: Paraphrased from the ‘Academe Galante’ (Ed. 1708, p. 160).]

[Footnote 4: couple]

* * * * *

No. 91. Thursday, June 14, 1711. Steele.

‘In furias ignemque ruunt, Amor omnibus Idem.’

Virg.

Tho’ the Subject I am now going upon would be much more properly the Foundation of a Comedy, I cannot forbear inserting the Circumstances which pleased me in the Account a young Lady gave me of the Loves of a Family in Town, which shall be nameless; or rather for the better Sound and Elevation of the History, instead of Mr. and Mrs. such-a-one, I shall call them by feigned Names. Without further Preface, you are to know, that within the Liberties of the City of _Westminster_ lives the Lady _Honoria_, a Widow about the Age of Forty, of a healthy Constitution, gay Temper, and elegant Person. She dresses a little too much like a Girl, affects a childish Fondness in the Tone of her Voice, sometimes a pretty Sullenness in the leaning of her Head, and now and then a Down-cast of her Eyes on her Fan: Neither her Imagination nor her Health would ever give her to know that she is turned of Twenty; but that in the midst of these pretty Softnesses, and Airs of Delicacy and Attraction, she has a tall Daughter within a Fortnight of Fifteen, who impertinently comes into the Room, and towers so much towards Woman, that her Mother is always checked by her Presence, and every Charm of _Honoria_ droops at the Entrance of _Flavia_. The agreeable _Flavia_ would be what she is not, as well as her Mother _Honoria_; but all their Beholders are more partial to an Affectation of what a Person is growing up to, than of what has been already enjoyed, and is gone for ever. It is therefore allowed to _Flavia_ to look forward, but not to _Honoria_ to look back. _Flavia_ is no way dependent on her Mother with relation to her Fortune, for which Reason they live almost upon an Equality in Conversation; and as _Honoria_ has given _Flavia_ to understand, that it is ill-bred to be always calling Mother, _Flavia_ is as well pleased never to be called Child. It happens by this means, that these Ladies are generally Rivals in all Places where they appear; and the Words Mother and Daughter never pass between them but out of Spite. _Flavia_ one Night at a Play observing _Honoria_ draw the Eyes of several in the Pit, called to a Lady who sat by her, and bid her ask her Mother to lend her her Snuff-Box for one Moment. Another Time, when a Lover of _Honoria_ was on his Knees beseeching the Favour to kiss her Hand, _Flavia_ rushing into the Room, kneeled down by him and asked Blessing. Several of these contradictory Acts of Duty have raised between them such a Coldness that they generally converse when they are in mixed Company by way of talking at one another, and not to one another. _Honoria_ is ever complaining of a certain Sufficiency in the young Women of this Age, who assume to themselves an Authority of carrying all things before them, as if they were Possessors of the Esteem of Mankind, and all, who were but a Year before them in the World, were neglected or deceased. _Flavia_, upon such a Provocation, is sure to observe, that there are People who can resign nothing, and know not how to give up what they know they cannot hold; that there are those who will not allow Youth their Follies, not because they are themselves past them, but because they love to continue in them. These Beauties Rival each other on all Occasions, not that they have always had the same Lovers but each has kept up a Vanity to shew the other the Charms of her Lover. _Dick Crastin_ and _Tom Tulip_, among many others, have of late been Pretenders in this Family: _Dick_ to _Honoria_, _Tom_ to _Flavia_. _Dick_ is the only surviving Beau of the last Age, and _Tom_ almost the only one that keeps up that Order of Men in this.

I wish I could repeat the little Circumstances of a Conversation of the four Lovers with the Spirit in which the young Lady, I had my Account from, represented it at a Visit where I had the Honour to be present; but it seems _Dick Crastin_, the admirer of _Honoria_, and _Tom Tulip_, the Pretender to _Flavia_, were purposely admitted together by the Ladies, that each might shew the other that her Lover had the Superiority in the Accomplishments of that sort of Creature whom the sillier Part of Women call a fine Gentleman. As this Age has a much more gross Taste in Courtship, as well as in every thing else, than the last had, these Gentlemen are Instances of it in their different Manner of Application. _Tulip_ is ever making Allusions to the Vigour of his Person, the sinewy Force of his Make; while _Crastin_ professes a wary Observation of the Turns of his Mistress’s Mind. _Tulip_ gives himself the Air of a restless Ravisher, _Crastin_ practises that of a skilful Lover. Poetry is the inseparable Property of every Man in Love; and as Men of Wit write Verses on those Occasions, the rest of the World repeat the Verses of others. These Servants of the Ladies were used to imitate their Manner of Conversation, and allude to one another, rather than interchange Discourse in what they said when they met. _Tulip_ the other Day seized his Mistress’s Hand, and repeated out of _Ovid’s Art of Love_,

_’Tis I can in soft Battles pass the Night, } Yet rise next Morning vigorous for the Fight, } Fresh as the Day, and active as the Light._ }

Upon hearing this, _Crastin_, with an Air of Deference, played _Honoria_’s Fan, and repeated,

Sedley _has that prevailing gentle Art, } That can with a resistless Charm impart } The loosest Wishes to the chastest Heart: } Raise such a Conflict, kindle such a Fire, Between declining Virtue and Desire,
Till the poor vanquish’d Maid dissolves away In Dreams all Night, in Sighs and Tears all Day._ [1]

When _Crastin_ had uttered these Verses with a Tenderness which at once spoke Passion and Respect, _Honoria_ cast a triumphant Glance at _Flavia_, as exulting in the Elegance of _Crastin’s_ Courtship, and upbraiding her with the Homeliness of _Tulip’s_. _Tulip_ understood the Reproach, and in Return began to applaud the Wisdom of old amorous Gentlemen, who turned their Mistress’s Imagination as far as possible from what they had long themselves forgot, and ended his Discourse with a sly Commendation of the Doctrine of _Platonick_ Love; at the same time he ran over, with a laughing Eye, _Crastin’s_ thin Legs, meagre Looks, and spare Body. The old Gentleman immediately left the Room with some Disorder, and the Conversation fell upon untimely Passion, After-Love, and unseasonable Youth. _Tulip_ sung, danced, moved before the Glass, led his Mistress half a Minuet, hummed

Celia _the Fair, in the bloom of Fifteen_;

when there came a Servant with a Letter to him, which was as follows.

SIR,

‘I understand very well what you meant by your Mention of _Platonick_ Love. I shall be glad to meet you immediately in _Hide-Park_, or behind _Montague-House_, or attend you to Barn-Elms, [2] or any other fashionable Place that’s fit for a Gentleman to die in, that you shall appoint for,

_Sir, Your most Humble Servant_,
Richard Crastin.

_Tulip’s_ Colour changed at the reading of this Epistle; for which Reason his Mistress snatched it to read the Contents. While she was doing so _Tulip_ went away, and the Ladies now agreeing in a Common Calamity, bewailed together the Danger of their Lovers. They immediately undressed to go out, and took Hackneys to prevent Mischief: but, after alarming all Parts of the Town, _Crastin_ was found by his Widow in his Pumps at _Hide-Park_, which Appointment _Tulip_ never kept, but made his Escape into the Country. _Flavia_ tears her Hair for his inglorious Safety, curses and despises her Charmer, is fallen in Love with _Crastin_: Which is the first Part of the History of the _Rival Mother_.

R.

[Footnote 1: Rochester’s ‘Imitations of Horace’, Sat. I. 10.]

[Footnote 2: A famous duelling place under elm trees, in a meadow half surrounded by the Thames.]

* * * * *

No. 92. Friday, June 15, 1711. Addison.

‘… Convivae prope dissentire videntur, Poscentes vario multum diversa palato; Quid dem? Quid non dem?’

Hor.

Looking over the late Packets of Letters which have been sent to me, I found the following one. [1]

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

‘Your Paper is a Part of my Tea-Equipage; and my Servant knows my Humour so well, that calling for my Breakfast this Morning (it being past my usual Hour) she answer’d, the SPECTATOR was not yet come in; but that the Tea-Kettle boiled, and she expected it every Moment. Having thus in part signified to you the Esteem and Veneration which I have for you, I must put you in mind of the Catalogue of Books which you have promised to recommend to our Sex; for I have deferred furnishing my Closet with Authors, ’till I receive your Advice in this Particular, being your daily Disciple and humble Servant,

LEONORA.

In Answer to my fair Disciple, whom I am very proud of, I must acquaint her and the rest of my Readers, that since I have called out for Help in my Catalogue of a Lady’s Library, I have received many Letters upon that Head, some of which I shall give an Account of.

In the first Class I shall take notice of those which come to me from eminent Booksellers, who every one of them mention with Respect the Authors they have printed, and consequently have an Eye to their own Advantage more than to that of the Ladies. One tells me, that he thinks it absolutely necessary for Women to have true Notions of Right and Equity, and that therefore they cannot peruse a better Book than _Dalton’s Country Justice_: Another thinks they cannot be without _The Compleat Jockey_. A third observing the Curiosity and Desire of prying into Secrets, which he tells me is natural to the fair Sex, is of Opinion this female Inclination, if well directed, might turn very much to their Advantage, and therefore recommends to me _Mr_. Mede _upon the Revelations_. A fourth lays it down as an unquestioned Truth, that a Lady cannot be thoroughly accomplished who has not read _The Secret Treaties and Negotiations of Marshal_ D’Estrades. Mr. _Jacob Tonson Jun._ is of Opinion, that _Bayle’s Dictionary_ might be of very great use to the Ladies, in order to make them general Scholars. Another whose Name I have forgotten, thinks it highly proper that every Woman with Child should read _Mr._ Wall’s _History of Infant Baptism_: As another is very importunate with me to recommend to all my female Readers _The finishing Stroke: Being a Vindication of the Patriarchal Scheme_, &c.

In the second Class I shall mention Books which are recommended by Husbands, if I may believe the Writers of them. Whether or no they are real Husbands or personated ones I cannot tell, but the Books they recommend are as follow. _A Paraphrase on the History of_ Susanna. _Rules to keep_ Lent. _The Christian’s Overthrow prevented. A Dissuasive from the Play-house. The Virtues of Camphire, with Directions to make Camphire Tea. The Pleasures of a Country Life. The Government of the Tongue_. A Letter dated from _Cheapside_ desires me that I would advise all young Wives to make themselves Mistresses of _Wingate’s Arithmetick_, and concludes with a Postscript, that he hopes I will not forget _The Countess of_ Kent’s _Receipts_.

I may reckon the Ladies themselves as a third Class among these my Correspondents and Privy-Counsellors. In a Letter from one of them, I am advised to place _Pharamond_ at the Head of my Catalogue, and, if I think proper, to give the second place to _Cassandra_. _Coquetilla_ begs me not to think of nailing Women upon their Knees with Manuals of Devotion, nor of scorching their Faces with Books of Housewifry. _Florella_ desires to know if there are any Books written against Prudes, and intreats me, if there are, to give them a Place in my Library. Plays of all Sorts have their several Advocates: _All for Love_ is mentioned in above fifteen Letters; _Sophonisba_, or _Hannibal’s Overthrow_, in a Dozen; _The Innocent Adultery_ is likewise highly approved of; _Mithridates King of Pontus_ has many Friends; _Alexander the Great_ and _Aurengzebe_ have the same Number of Voices; but _Theodosius_, or _The Force of Love_. carries it from all the rest. [2]

I should, in the last Place, mention such Books as have been proposed by Men of Learning, and those who appear competent Judges of this Matter; and must here take Occasion to thank _A. B_. whoever it is that conceals himself under those two Letters, for his Advice upon this Subject: But as I find the Work I have undertaken to be very difficult, I shall defer the executing of it till I am further acquainted with the Thoughts of my judicious Contemporaries, and have time to examine the several Books they offer to me; being resolved, in an Affair of this Moment, to proceed with the greatest Caution.

In the mean while, as I have taken the Ladies under my particular Care, I shall make it my Business to find out in the best Authors ancient and modern such Passages as may be for their use, and endeavour to accommodate them as well as I can to their Taste; not questioning but the valuable Part of the Sex will easily pardon me, if from Time to Time I laugh at those little Vanities and Follies which appear in the Behaviour of some of them, and which are more proper for Ridicule than a serious Censure. Most Books being calculated for Male Readers, and generally written with an Eye to Men of Learning, makes a Work of this Nature the more necessary; besides, I am the more encouraged, because I flatter myself that I see the Sex daily improving by these my Speculations. My fair Readers are already deeper Scholars than the Beaus. I could name some of them who could talk much better than several Gentlemen that make a Figure at _Will’s_; and as I frequently receive Letters from the _fine Ladies_ and _pretty Fellows_, I cannot but observe that the former are superior to the others not only in the Sense but in the Spelling. This cannot but have a good Effect upon the Female World, and keep them from being charmed by those empty Coxcombs that have hitherto been admired among the Women, tho’ laugh’d at among the Men.

I am credibly informed that _Tom Tattle_ passes for an impertinent Fellow, that _Will Trippet_ begins to be smoaked, and that _Frank Smoothly_ himself is within a Month of a Coxcomb, in case I think fit to continue this Paper. For my part, as it is my Business in some measure to detect such as would lead astray weak Minds by their false Pretences to Wit and Judgment, Humour and Gallantry, I shall not fail to lend the best Lights I am able to the fair Sex for the Continuation of these their Discoveries.

[Footnote 1: By Mrs. Perry, whose sister, Miss Shepheard, has letters in two later numbers, 140 and 163. These ladies were descended from Sir Fleetwood Shepheard.]

[Footnote 2: Michael Dalton’s ‘Country Justice’ was first published in 1618. Joseph Mede’s ‘Clavis Apocalyptica,’ published in 1627, and translated by Richard More in 1643, was as popular in the Pulpit as ‘The Country Justice’ on the Bench. The negotiations of Count d’Estrades were from 1637 to 1662. The translation of Bayle’s Dictionary had been published by Tonson in 1610. Dr. William Wall’s ‘History of Infant Baptism,’ published in 1705, was in its third edition. ‘Aurungzebe’ was by Dryden. ‘Mithridates’ and ‘Theodosius’ were by Lee.]

* * * * *

No. 93. Saturday, June 16, 1711. Addison.

‘… Spatio brevi
Spem longam reseces: dum loquimur, fugerit Invida AEtas: carpe Diem, quam minimum credula postero.’

Hor.

We all of us complain of the Shortness of Time, saith _Seneca_ [1] and yet have much more than we know what to do with. Our Lives, says he, are spent either in doing nothing at all, or in doing nothing to the Purpose, or in doing nothing that we ought to do: We are always complaining our Days are few, and acting as though there would be no End of them. That noble Philosopher has described our Inconsistency with our selves in this Particular, by all those various Turns of Expression and Thought which are peculiar to his Writings.

I often consider Mankind as wholly inconsistent with itself in a Point that bears some Affinity to the former. Though we seem grieved at the Shortness of Life in general, we are wishing every Period of it at an end. The Minor longs to be at Age, then to be a Man of Business, then to make up an Estate, then to arrive at Honours, then to retire. Thus although the whole of Life is allowed by every one to be short, the several Divisions of it appear long and tedious. We are for lengthening our Span in general, but would fain contract the Parts of which it is composed. The Usurer would be very well satisfied to have all the Time annihilated that lies between the present Moment and next Quarter-day. The Politician would be contented to lose three Years in his Life, could he place things in the Posture which he fancies they will stand in after such a Revolution of Time. The Lover would be glad to strike out of his Existence all the Moments that are to pass away before the happy Meeting. Thus, as fast as our Time runs, we should be very glad in most Parts of our Lives that it ran much faster than it does. Several Hours of the Day hang upon our Hands, nay we wish away whole Years: and travel through Time as through a Country filled with many wild and empty Wastes, which we would fain hurry over, that we may arrive at those several little Settlements or imaginary Points of Rest which are dispersed up and down in it.

If we divide the Life of most Men into twenty Parts, we shall find that at least nineteen of them are meer Gaps and Chasms, which are neither filled with Pleasure nor Business. I do not however include in this Calculation the Life of those Men who are in a perpetual Hurry of Affairs, but of those only who are not always engaged in Scenes of Action; and I hope I shall not do an unacceptable Piece of Service to these Persons, if I point out to them certain Methods for the filling up their empty Spaces of Life. The Methods I shall propose to them are as follow.

The first is the Exercise of Virtue, in the most general Acceptation of the Word. That particular Scheme which comprehends the Social Virtues, may give Employment to the most industrious Temper, and find a Man in Business more than the most active Station of Life. To advise the Ignorant, relieve the Needy, comfort the Afflicted, are Duties that fall in our way almost every Day of our Lives. A Man has frequent Opportunities of mitigating the Fierceness of a Party; of doing Justice to the Character of a deserving Man; of softning the Envious, quieting the Angry, and rectifying the Prejudiced; which are all of them Employments suited to a reasonable Nature, and bring great Satisfaction to the Person who can busy himself in them with Discretion.

There is another kind of Virtue that may find Employment for those Retired Hours in which we are altogether left to our selves, and destitute of Company and Conversation; I mean that Intercourse and Communication which every reasonable Creature ought to maintain with the great Author of his Being. The Man who lives under an habitual Sense of the Divine Presence keeps up a perpetual Chearfulness of Temper, and enjoys every Moment the Satisfaction of thinking himself in Company with his dearest and best of Friends. The Time never lies heavy upon him: It is impossible for him to be alone. His Thoughts and Passions are the most busied at such Hours when those of other Men are the most unactive: He no sooner steps out of the World but his Heart burns with Devotion, swells with Hope, and triumphs in the Consciousness of that Presence which every where surrounds him; or, on the contrary, pours out its Fears, its Sorrows, its Apprehensions, to the great Supporter of its Existence.

I have here only considered the Necessity of a Man’s being Virtuous, that he may have something to do; but if we consider further, that the Exercise of Virtue is not only an Amusement for the time it lasts, but that its Influence extends to those Parts of our Existence which lie beyond the Grave, and that our whole Eternity is to take its Colour from those Hours which we here employ in Virtue or in Vice, the Argument redoubles upon us, for putting in Practice this Method of passing away our Time.

When a Man has but a little Stock to improve, and has opportunities of turning it all to good Account, what shall we think of him if he suffers nineteen Parts of it to lie dead, and perhaps employs even the twentieth to his Ruin or Disadvantage? But because the Mind cannot be always in its Fervours, nor strained up to a Pitch of Virtue, it is necessary to find out proper Employments for it in its Relaxations.

The next Method therefore that I would propose to fill up our Time, should be useful and innocent Diversions. I must confess I think it is below reasonable Creatures to be altogether conversant in such Diversions as are meerly innocent, and have nothing else to recommend them, but that there is no Hurt in them. Whether any kind of Gaming has even thus much to say for it self, I shall not determine; but I think it is very wonderful to see Persons of the best Sense passing away a dozen Hours together in shuffling and dividing a Pack of Cards, with no other Conversation but what is made up of a few Game Phrases, and no other Ideas but those of black or red Spots ranged together in different Figures. Would not a man laugh to hear any one of this Species complaining that Life is short.

The _Stage_ might be made a perpetual Source of the most noble and useful Entertainments, were it under proper Regulations.

But the Mind never unbends itself so agreeably as in the Conversation of a well chosen Friend. There is indeed no Blessing of Life that is any way comparable to the Enjoyment of a discreet and virtuous Friend. It eases and unloads the Mind, clears and improves the Understanding, engenders Thoughts and Knowledge, animates Virtue and good Resolution, sooths and allays the Passions, and finds Employment for most of the vacant Hours of Life.

Next to such an Intimacy with a particular Person, one would endeavour after a more general Conversation with such as are able to entertain and improve those with whom they converse, which are Qualifications that seldom go asunder.

There are many other useful Amusements of Life, which one would endeavour to multiply, that one might on all Occasions have Recourse to something rather than suffer the mind to lie idle, or run adrift with any Passion that chances to rise in it.

A Man that has a Taste of Musick, Painting, or Architecture, is like one that has another Sense when compared with such as have no Relish of those Arts. The Florist, the Planter, the Gardiner, the Husbandman, when they are only as Accomplishments to the Man of Fortune, are great Reliefs to a Country Life, and many ways useful to those who are possessed of them.

But of all the Diversions of Life, there is none so proper to fill up its empty Spaces as the reading of useful and entertaining Authors. But this I shall only touch upon, because it in some Measure interferes with the third Method, which I shall propose in another Paper, for the Employment of our dead unactive Hours, and which I shall only mention in general to be the Pursuit of Knowledge.

[Footnote 1: Epist. 49, and in his De Brevitate Vita.]

* * * * *

No. 94 Monday, June 18, 1711 Addison.

‘… Hoc est
Vivere bis, vita posse priore frui.’

Mart.

The last Method which I proposed in my _Saturday’s Paper_, for filling up those empty Spaces of Life which are so tedious and burdensome to idle People, is the employing ourselves in the Pursuit of Knowledge. I remember _Mr. Boyle_ [1] speaking of a certain Mineral, tells us, That a Man may consume his whole Life in the Study of it, without arriving at the Knowledge of all its Qualities. The Truth of it is, there is not a single Science, or any Branch of it, that might not furnish a Man with Business for Life, though it were much longer than it is.

I shall not here engage on those beaten Subjects of the Usefulness of Knowledge, nor of the Pleasure and Perfection it gives the Mind, nor on the Methods of attaining it, nor recommend any particular Branch of it, all which have been the Topicks of many other Writers; but shall indulge my self in a Speculation that is more uncommon, and may therefore perhaps be more entertaining.

I have before shewn how the unemployed Parts of Life appear long and tedious, and shall here endeavour to shew how those Parts of Life which are exercised in Study, Reading, and the Pursuits of Knowledge, are long but not tedious, and by that means discover a Method of lengthening our Lives, and at the same time of turning all the Parts of them to our Advantage.

Mr. _Lock_ observes, [2]

‘That we get the Idea of Time, or Duration, by reflecting on that Train of Ideas which succeed one another in our Minds: That for this Reason, when we sleep soundly without dreaming, we have no Perception of Time, or the Length of it whilst we sleep; and that the Moment wherein we leave off to think, till the Moment we begin to think again, seems to have no distance.’

To which the Author adds,

‘And so I doubt not but it would be to a waking Man, if it were possible for him to keep only one _Idea_ in his Mind, without Variation, and the Succession of others: And we see, that one who fixes his Thoughts very intently on one thing, so as to take but little notice of the Succession of _Ideas_ that pass in his Mind whilst he is taken up with that earnest Contemplation, lets slip out of his Account a good Part of that Duration, and thinks that Time shorter than it is.’

We might carry this Thought further, and consider a Man as, on one Side, shortening his Time by thinking on nothing, or but a few things; so, on the other, as lengthening it, by employing his Thoughts on many Subjects, or by entertaining a quick and constant Succession of Ideas. Accordingly Monsieur _Mallebranche_, in his _Enquiry after Truth_, [3] (which was published several Years before Mr. _Lock’s Essay on Human Understanding_) tells us, That it is possible some Creatures may think Half an Hour as long as we do a thousand Years; or look upon that Space of Duration which we call a Minute, as an Hour, a Week, a Month, or an whole Age.

This Notion of Monsieur _Mallebranche_ is capable of some little Explanation from what I have quoted out of Mr. _Lock_; for if our Notion of Time is produced by our reflecting on the Succession of Ideas in our Mind, and this Succession may be infinitely accelerated or retarded, it will follow, that different Beings may have different Notions of the same Parts of Duration, according as their Ideas, which we suppose are equally distinct in each of them, follow one another in a greater or less Degree of Rapidity.

There is a famous Passage in the _Alcoran_, which looks as if _Mahomet_ had been possessed of the Notion we are now speaking of. It is there said, [4] That the Angel _Gabriel_ took _Mahomet_ Out of his Bed one Morning to give him a Sight of all things in the Seven Heavens, in Paradise, and in Hell, which the Prophet took a distinct View of; and after having held ninety thousand Conferences with God, was brought back again to his Bed. All this, says the _Alcoran_, was transacted in so small a space of Time, that _Mahomet_ at his Return found his Bed still warm, and took up an Earthen Pitcher, (which was thrown down at the very Instant that the Angel _Gabriel_ carried him away) before the Water was all spilt.

There is a very pretty Story in the _Turkish_ Tales which relates to this Passage of that famous Impostor, and bears some Affinity to the Subject we are now upon. A Sultan of _Egypt_, who was an Infidel, used to laugh at this Circumstance in _Mahomet’s_ Life, as what was altogether impossible and absurd: But conversing one Day with a great Doctor in the Law, who had the Gift of working Miracles, the Doctor told him he would quickly convince him of the Truth of this Passage in the History of Mahomet, if he would consent to do what he should desire of him. Upon this the Sultan was directed to place himself by an huge Tub of Water, which he did accordingly; and as he stood by the Tub amidst a Circle of his great Men, the holy Man bid him plunge his Head into the Water, and draw it up again: The King accordingly thrust his Head into the Water, and at the same time found himself at the Foot of a Mountain on a Sea-shore. The King immediately began to rage against his Doctor for this Piece of Treachery and Witchcraft; but at length, knowing it was in vain to be angry, he set himself to think on proper Methods for getting a Livelihood in this strange Country: Accordingly he applied himself to some People whom he saw at work in a Neighbouring Wood: these People conducted him to a Town that stood at a little Distance from the Wood, where, after some Adventures, he married a Woman of great Beauty and Fortune. He lived with this Woman so long till he had by her seven Sons and seven Daughters: He was afterwards reduced to great Want, and forced to think of plying in the Streets as a Porter for his Livelihood. One Day as he was walking alone by the Sea-side, being seized with many melancholy Reflections upon his former and his present State of Life, which had raised a Fit of Devotion in him, he threw off his Clothes with a Design to wash himself, according to the Custom of the _Mahometans_, before he said his Prayers.

After his first Plunge into the Sea, he no sooner raised his Head above the Water but he found himself standing by the Side of the Tub, with the great Men of his Court about him, and the holy Man at his Side. He immediately upbraided his Teacher for having sent him on such a Course of Adventures, and betrayed him into so long a State of Misery and Servitude; but was wonderfully surprised when he heard that the State he talked of was only a Dream and Delusion; that he had not stirred from the Place where he then stood; and that he had only dipped his Head into the Water, and immediately taken it out again.

The _Mahometan_ Doctor took this Occasion of instructing the Sultan, that nothing was impossible with God; and that _He_, with whom a Thousand Years are but as one Day, can, if he pleases, make a single Day, nay a single Moment, appear to any of his Creatures as a Thousand Years.

I shall leave my Reader to compare these Eastern Fables with the Notions of those two great Philosophers whom I have quoted in this Paper; and shall only, by way of Application, desire him to consider how we may extend Life beyond its natural Dimensions, by applying our selves diligently to the Pursuits of Knowledge.

The Hours of a wise Man are lengthened by his Ideas, as those of a Fool are by his Passions: The Time of the one is long, because he does not know what to do with it; so is that of the other, because he distinguishes every Moment of it with useful or amusing Thought; or in other Words, because the one is always wishing it away, and the other always enjoying it.

How different is the View of past Life, in the Man who is grown old in Knowledge and Wisdom, from that of him who is grown old in Ignorance and Folly? The latter is like the Owner of a barren Country that fills his Eye with the Prospect of naked Hills and Plains, which produce nothing either profitable or ornamental; the other beholds a beautiful and spacious Landskip divided into delightful Gardens, green Meadows, fruitful Fields, and can scarce cast his Eye on a single Spot of his Possessions, that is not covered with some beautiful Plant or Flower.

L.

[Footnote 1: Not of himself, but in ‘The Usefulness of Natural Philosophy’ (‘Works’, ed. 1772, vol. ii. p. 11), Boyle quotes from the old Alchemist, Basil Valentine, who said in his ‘Currus Trimnphalis Antimonii’

‘That the shortness of life makes it impossible for one man thoroughly to learn Antimony, in which every day something of new is discovered.’]

[Footnote 2: ‘Essay on the Human Understanding’, Bk II. ch. 14.]

[Footnote 3: Two English Translations of Malebranche’s ‘Search after Truth’ were published in 1694, one by T. Taylor of Magdalen College, Oxford. Malebranche sets out with the argument that man has no innate perception of Duration.]