No. 625.] Friday, November 26, 1714. to be good, when they find they shall lose no- difficulties to prove his patience and excite his thing by it. industry. The same, if not greater labour, is First, for avarice. The miser is more in-required in the service of vice and folly as of dustrious than the saint: the pains of getting, virtue and wisdom; and he hath this easy the fears of losing, and the inability of enjoy- choice left him-whether, with the strength ing his wealth, have been the mark of satire he is master of, he will purchase happiness or in all ages. Were his repentance upon his ne- repentance. glect of a good bargain, his sorrow for being over-reached, his hope of improving a sum, and his fear of falling into want, directed to their proper objects, they would make so many different Christian graces and virtue. He may apply to himself a great part of saint Paul's catalogue of sufferings. In journeying often; in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils among false brethren, In lowing letter of queries, with his answers to weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, each question, for my approbation. I have acin hunger and thirst, in fastings often.'At cordingly considered the several matters therehow much less expense might he lay up to in contained, and hereby confirm and ratify his himself treasures in heaven !' Or, if I may answers, and require the gentle querist to conin this place be allowed to add the sayings of form herself thereunto. a great philosopher, he may provide such possessions as fear neither arms, nor men, nor Jove himself.' amores De tenero mediatur ungui. Hor. Od. vi. Lib. 3. 23, Love, from her tender years, her thoughts employ'd. 'I was thirteen the 9th of November last, and In the second place, if we look upon the must now begin to think of settling myself in toils of ambition in the same light, as we have the world; and so I would humbly beg your considered those of avarice, we shall readily advice, what I must do with Mr. Fondle, who own that far less trouble is requisite to gain makes his addresses to me. He is a very pretty lasting glory, than the power and reputation man, and hath the blackest eyes and whitest of a few years; or, in other words, we may teeth you ever saw. Though he is but a younger with more ease deserve honour than obtain brother, he dresses like a man of quality, and it. The ambitious man should remember car-nobody comes into a room like him. I know dinal Wolsey's complaint, 'Had I served God he hath refused great offers, and if he cannot with the same application wherewith I served marry me, he will never have any body else. my king, he would not have forsaken me in But my father hath forbid him the house, bemy old age. The cardinal here softens his cause he sent me a copy of verses; for he is ambition by the specious pretence of 'serving one of the greatest wits in town. My eldest his king; whereas his words, in the proper sister, who, with her good will, would call me construction, imply, that, if instead of being miss as long as I live, must be married before acted by ambition, he had been acted by me, they say. She tells them that Mr. Fondle religion, he should now have felt the comforts makes a fool of me, and will spoil the child, of it, when the whole world turned its back as she calls me, like a confident thing as she upon him. is. In short, I am resolved to marry Mr. Thirdly, let us compare the pains of the sen- Fondle, if it be but to spite her. But because sual with those of the virtuous, and see which I would do nothing that is imprudent, I beg are heavier in the balance. It may seem of you to give me your answers to some quesstrange, at the first view, that the men of tions I will write down, and desire you to get pleasure should be advised to change their them printed in the Spectator, and I do not course, because they lead a painful life. Yet doubt but you will give such advice as, I am when we see them so active and vigilant in sure, I shall follow. quest of delight; under so many disquiets, and the sport of such various passions; let them answer, as they can, if the pains they undergo do not outweigh their enjoyments. The infidelities on the one part between the two sexes, and the caprices on the other, the debasement of reason, the pangs of expectation, the disappointments in possession, the stings of remorse, the vanities and vexations attending even the most refined delights that 'Whether I, who have been acquainted with make up this business of life, render it so him this whole year almost, am not a betsilly and uncomfortable, that no man is ter judge of his merit than my father and thought wise until he hath got over it, or hap-mother, who never heard him talk but at table?' py, but in proportion as he hath cleared him- No. self from it. 'When Mr. Fondle looks upon me for half an hour together, and calls me Angel, is he not in love?' Answer. No. 'May not I be certain he will be a kind husband, that has promised me half my portion in pin money, and to keep me a coach and six in the bargain?' • No. Whether I am not old enough to choose for No. The sum of all is this. Man is made an ac-myself?' tive being. Whether he walks in the paths of virtue or vice, he is sure to meet with many Actuated. 'Whether it would not have been rude in me to refuse a lock of his hair?" No. 'Should not I be a very barbarous creature, | I HAVE seen a little work of a learned man, if I did not pity a man who is always sighing for my sake?' No. consisting of extemporary speculations, which owed their birth to the most trifling occurrences of life. His usual method was, to write 'Whether you would not advise me to run down any sudden start of thought which arose away with the poor man?' in his mind upon the sight of any odd gesticulation in a man, any whimsical mimickry remarkable in any subject of the visible creation. He was able to moralize upon a snuff No. Whether you do not think, that if I will not of reason in a beast, or whatever appeared I have him, he will drown himself?' No. 'What shall I say to him the next time he box, would flourish eloquently upon a tuckasks me if I will marry him?' No. er or a pair of ruffles, and draw practical inferences from a full-bottomed periwig. This I thought fit to mention, by way of excuse, The following letter requires neither intro- for my ingenious correspondent, who hath duction nor answer. me. MR. SPECTATOR, introduced the following letter by an image which, I will beg leave to tell him, is too ridiculous in so serious and noble a speculation. MR. SPECTATOR, 'When I have seen young puss playing 'I wonder that, in the present situation of affairs, you can take pleasure in writing any thing but news; for, in a word, who minds any thing else? The pleasure of increasing her wanton gambols, and with a thousand in knowledge, and learning something new antic shapes express her own gaiety at the every hour of life, is the noblest entertain- same time that she moved mine, while the ment of a rational creature. I have a very old grannum hath set by with the most exgood ear for a secret, and am naturally of emplary gravity, unmoved at all that passed; a communicative temper; by which means it hath made me reflect what should be I am capable of doing you great services in the occasion of humours so opposite in two this way. In order to make my self useful, I creatures, between whom there was no visible am early in the anti-chamber, where I thrust difference but that of age and I have been my head into the thick of the press, and able to resolve it into nothing else but the catch the news at the opening of the door, force of novelty. while it is warm. Sometimes I stand by the 'In every species of creatures, those who beef-eaters, and take the buz as it passes by have been least time in the world appear best At other times I lay my ear close to the pleased with their condition: for, besides that wall, and suck in many a valuable whisper, as to a new comer the world hath a freshness on it runs in a straight line from corner to corner. it that strikes the sense after a most agreeable When I am weary with standing, I repair to manner, being itself unattended with any great one of the neighbouring coffee-houses, where I variety of enjoyments, excites a sensation of sit sometimes for a whole day, and have the pleasure: but, as age advances, every thing news as it comes from court fresh and fresh. seems to wither, the senses are disgusted with In short, sir, I spare no pains to know how their old entertainments, and existence turns the world goes. A piece of news loses its flat and insipid. We may see this exemplified flavour when it hath been an hour in the air. in mankind. The child, let him be free from I love, if I may so speak, to have it fresh pain, and gratified in his change of toys, is difrom the tree; and to convey it to my friends verted with the smallest trifle. Nothing disbefore it is faded. Accordingly, my expenses turbs the mirth of the boy but a little punishin coach-hire make no small article: which ment or confinement. The youth must have you may believe when I assure you, that I more violent pleasures to employ his time The post away from coffee-house to coffee-house, man loves the hurry of an active life, devoted and forestall the Evening Post by two hours. to the pursuits of wealth or ambition. And, There is a certain gentleman, who hath given lastly, old age, having lost its capacity for these me the slip twice or thrice, and hath been avocations, becomes its own unsupportable burbeforehand with me at Child's. But I have then. This variety may in part be accounted played him a trick. I have purchased a pair for by the vivacity and decay of the faculties; of the best coach-horses I could buy for mo- but I believe is chiefly owing to this, that the ney, and now let him out-strip me if he can. Once more, Mr. Spectator, let me advise to deal in news. You may depend upon my assistance. But I must break off abruptly, for I have twenty letters to write. 'Your's in haste, you longer we have been in possession of being, the less sensible is the gust we have of it; and the more it requires of adventitious amusements to relieve us from the satiety and weariness it brings along with it. And as novelty is of a very powerful so is it of a most extensive influence. Moralists have long since observed it to be the source of admiration, which lessens in proportion to our familiarity with objects, and upon a thorough acquaintance is utterly extinguished. But I think it hath not been so commonly remarked, that all the other passions depend considerably on the same circumstance. What is it but novelty that awakens desire, not a little to the advancement of learning; enhances delight, kindles anger, provokes for, as Cicero takes notice, that which makes envy, inspires horror? To this cause we must men willing to undergo the fatigues of philoascribe it, that love languishes with fruition. sophical disquisitions, is not so much the and friendship itself is recommended by inter-greatness of objects as their novelty. It is vals of absence: hence monsters, by use, are not enough that there is a field and game for beheld without loathing, and the most enchant- the chase, and that the understanding is ing beauty without rapture. That emotion of prompted with a restless thirst of knowledge, the spirits, in which passion consists, is usu- effectually to rouse the soul, sunk into a state ally the effect of surprise, and, as long as it of sloth and indolence; it is also necessary continues, heightens the agreeable or disa- that there be an uncommon pleasure annexed greeable qualities of its object; but as this to the first appearance of truth in the mind. emotion ceases, (and it ceases with the novel-This pleasure being exquisite for the time it ty) things appear in another light, and affect lasts, but transient, it hereby comes to pass us even less than might be expected from that the mind grows into an indifference to its their proper energy, for having moved us too former notions, and passes on after new dismuch before. coveries, in hope of repeating the delight. It 'It may not be a useless inquiry, how far is with knowledge as with wealth, the pleasure the love of novelty is the unavoidable growth of which lies more in making endless addiof nature, and in what respects it is peculiar- tions than in taking a review of our old store. ly adapted to the present state. To me it There are some inconveniencies that follow seems impossible, that a reasonable creature this temper, if not guarded against, particushould rest absolutely satisfied in any acqusi- larly this, that through too great an eagertions whatever, without endeavouring farther; ness of something new, we are many times imfor, after its highest improvements, the mind patient of staying long enough upon a queshath an idea of an infinity of things still be- tion that requires some time to resolve it; or, hind, worth knowing, to the knowledge of which is worse, persuade ourselves that we which therefore it cannot be indifferent; as are masters of the subject before we are so, by climbing up a hill in the midst of a wide only to be at the liberty of going upon a fresh plain, a man hath his prospect enlarged, and scent: in Mr. Locke's words, "We see a together with that, the bounds of his desires. little, presume a great deal, and so jump to Upon this account, I cannot think he detracts the conclusion." from the state of the blessed, who conceives 'A farther advantage of our inclination for them to be perpetually employed in fresh novelty, as at present circumstantiated, is, that searches into nature, and to eternity advanc-it annihilates all the boasted distinctions ing into the fathomless depths of the divine among mankind. Look not up with envy to perfections. In this thought there is nothing those above thee! Sounding titles, stately but what doth honour to these glorified spi- buildings, fine gardens, gilded chariots, rich rits; provided still it be remembered, that equipages, what are they? They dazzle their desire of more proceeds not from their every one but the possessor: to him that is disrelishing what they possess; and the plea- accustomed to them they are cheap and resure of a new enjoyment is not with them gardless things; they supply him not with measured by its novelty, (which is a thing brighter images, or more sublime satisfacmerely foreign and accidental) but by its tions, than the plain man may have, whose real intrinsic value. After an acquaintance small estate will just enable him to support of many thousand years with the works of the charge of a simple unencumbered life. God, the beauty and magnificence of the cre- He enters heedless into his rooms of state, ation fills them with the same pleasing won-as you or I do under our poor sheds. The der and profound awe, which Adam felt him- noble paintings and costly furniture are lost self seized with as he first opened his eyes on him; he sees them not; as how can it be upon this glorious scene. Truth captivates otherwise, when by custom a fabric infinitely with unborrowed charms, and whatever hath more grand and finished, that of the universe, once given satisfaction will always do it. In stands unobserved by the inhabitants, and the all which they have manifestly the advantage everlasting lamps of heaven are lighted up in of us, who are so much governed by sickly vain, for any notice that mortals take of them? and changeable appetites, that we can with Thanks to indulgent nature, which not only the greatest coldness behold the stupendous placed her children originally upon a level, displays of Omnipotence, and be in trans-but still, by the strength of this principle, in a ports at the puny essays of human skill; great measure preserves it, in spite of all the throw aside speculations of the sublimest na- care of man to introduce artificial distinctions. ture and vastest importance into some obscure 'To add no more-is not this fondness for corner of the mind, to make room for new novelty, which makes us out of conceit with notions of no consequence at all; are even all we already have, a convincing proof of a tired of health, because not enlivened with al-future state? Either man was made in vain, ternate pain; and prefer the first reading of or this is not the only world he was made for: an indifferent author to the second or third for there cannot be a greater instance of vaperusal of one whose merit and reputation nity than that to which man is liable, to be are established. deluded from the cradle to the grave with 'Our being thus formed serves many useful fleeting shadows of happiness. His pleasures, purposes in the present state. It contributes and those not considerable neither, die in the possession, and fresh enjoyments do not rise I have dressed up every hedge in woodbines, fast enough to fill up half his life with satis-sprinkled bowers and arbours in every corner, faction. When I see persons sick of them and made a little paradise around me: yet İ selves any longer than they are called away am still like the first man in his solitude, but by something that is of force to chain down half blessed without a partner in my happithe present thought; when I see them hurryness. I have directed one walk to be made from country to town, and then from the town for two persons, where I promise ten thousand back again into the country, continually shift- satis actions to myself in your conversation. I ing postures, and placing life in all the differ- already take my evening's turn in it, and have ent lights they can think of; "Surely," say I to myself, "life is vain, and the man beyond expression stupid, or prejudiced, who from the vanity of life cannot gather that he is designed for immortality." No. 627.] Wednesday, December 1, 1714. Virg. Ecl. ii. 3. THE following account, which came to my hands some time ago, may be no disagreeable entertainment to such of my readers as have tender hearts, and nothing to do. " MR. SPECTATOR, 'A friend of mine died of a fever last week, worn a path upon the edge of this little alley, while I soothed myself with the thought of your walking by my side. I have held many imaginary discourses with you in this retirement; and when I have been weary, have sat down with you in the midst of a row of jessamines. The many expressions of joy and rapture I use in these silent conversations have made me, for some time, the talk of the parish; but a neighbouring young fellow, who makes love to the farmer's daughter, hath found me out, and made my case known to the whole neighbourhood. "In planting of the fruit trees, I have not made a walk of elms along the river side, and forgot the peach you are so fond of. I have intend to sow all the place about with cowlips, which I hope you will like as well as that I have heard you talk of by your father's house in the country. "Oh! Zelinda, what a scheme of delight which he caught by walking too late in a dewy have I drawn up in my imagination! What evening amongst his reapers. I must inform day-dreams do I indulge myself in! When will you that his greatest pleasure was in husban- the six weeks be at an end, that lie between dry and gardening. He had some humours me and my promised happiness. which seemed inconsistent with that good "How could you break off so abruptly in sense he was otherwise master of. His unea- your last, and tell me you must go and dress siness in the company of women was very re- for the play? If you loved as I do, you would markable in a man of such perfect good-find no more company in a crowd than I have breeding; and his avoiding one particular walk in his garden, where he had used to pass the greatest part of his time, raised abundance 'On the back of this letter is written, in the of idle conjectures in the village where he liv-hand of the deceased, the following piece of ed. Upon looking over his papers we found history : in solitude. my "I am, &c." out the reason,, which he never intimated to "Mem. Having waited a whole week for an his nearest friends. He was, it seems, a pas- answer to this letter, I hurried to town, where sionate lover in his youth, of which a large I found the perfidious creature married to my parcel of letters he left behind him are a wit-rival. I will bear it as becomes a man, and ness. I send you a copy of the last he ever endeavour to find out happiness for myself in wrote upon that subject, by which you will that retirement which I had prepared in vain find that he concealed the true name of his for a false, ungrateful woman.' mistress under that of Zelinda. " I am, "A long month's absence would be insupportable to me, if the business I am employed No. 628.] Friday, December 3, 1714. &c.' Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis ævum. MR. SPECTATOR, in were not for the service of my Zelinda, and of such a nature as to place her every moment in my mind. I have furnished the house exactly according to your fancy, or, if you please, my own; for I have long since learned to like nothing but what you do. The apart- 'THERE are none of your speculations which ment designed for your use is so exact a copy please me more than those upon infinitude and of that which you live in, that I often think eternity. You have already considered that myself in your house when I step into it, but part of eternity which is past, and I wish you sigh when I find it without its proper inhabit- would give us your thoughts upon that which ant. You will have the most delicious pros-is to come. pect from your closet window that England 'Your readers will perhaps receive greater affords: I am sure I should think it so, if the pleasure from this view of eternity than the landscape that shows such variety did not at former, since we have every one of us a conthe same time suggest to me the greatness of cern in that which is to come: whereas a the space that lies between us. speculation on that which is past is rather cu "The gardens are laid out very beautifully; rious than useful. 'Besides, we can easily conceive it possible for successive duration never to have an end; though, as you have justly observed, that eternity which never had a beginning is altogether incomprehensible; that is, we can conceive an eternal duration which may be, though we cannot an eternal duration which hath been; or, if I may use the philosophical terms, we may apprehend a potential though not an actual eternity. 'This notion of a future eternity, which is natural to the mind of man, is an unanswerable argument that he is a being designed for it; especially if we consider that he is capable of being virtuous or vicious here; that he hath faculties improvable to all eternity; and, by a proper or wrong employment of them, may be happy or miserable throughout that infinite duration. Our idea indeed of this eternity is not of an adequate or fixed nature, but is perpetually growing and enlarging itself toward the object, which is too big for human comprehension. As we are now in the beginnings of existence, so shall we always appear to ourselves as if we were for ever entering upon it. After a million or two of centuries, some considerable things, already past, may slip out of our memory, which if it be not strengthed in a wonderful manner, may possibly forget that ever there was a sun or planets; and yet, notwithstanding the long race that we shall then have run, we shall still imagine ourselves just starting from the goal, and find no proportion between that space which we know had a beginning, and what we are sure will never have an end. But I shall leave this subject to your management, and question not but you will throw it into such lights as shall at ones improve and entertain your reader. 'I have, enclosed, sent you a translation* of the speech of Cato on this occasion, which hath accidentally fallen into my hands, and which, for conciseness, purity, and elegance of phrase, cannot be sufficiently admired. ACT. V. SCEN. I. CATO Solus, &c. 'Sic, sic se habere rem necesse prorsus est, 'Quæ demigrabitur alia hinc in corpora ? * This translation was by Mr. (afterwards Dr.) Bland, once schoolmaster, then provost of Eton, and dean of Durham. Si quod gubernet numen humanum genus, In utramque partem facta; quæque vim inferant, ACT V. SCENE 1. CATO alone, &c. 'It must be so-Plato, thou reason'st wellElse whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought! " Through what variety of untry'd being, Through what new scenes and changes must we pass The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me; But shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it. Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us, (And that there is all Nature cries aloud Through all her works), he must delight in virtue. And that which he delights in must be happy. But when, or where?-This world was made for Cæsar, I'm weary of conjectures-This must end them. [Laying his hand on his sword. Thus am I doubly arm'd; my death and life, My bane and antidote, are both before me. This in a moment brings me to an end; But this informs me I shall never die. The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years; But thou shalt flourish in inimortal youth, Unhurt amidst the war of elements, The wrecks of matter and the crush of worlds.' No. 629.] Monday, December 6, 1714, -Since none the living dare implead NEXT to the people who want a place, there are none to be pitied more than those who are solicited for one. A plain answer with a denial in it is looked upon as pride, and a civil answer as a promise. Nothing is more ridiculous than the pretensions of people upon these occasions. Every thing a man hath suffered, whilst his enemies were in play, was certainly brought about by the malice of the opposite party. A bad cause |