There is no great danger of Imitation from this Example. Men's natural Fears will be a sufficient Guard against it. I shall only observe, that what was Philosophy in this extraordinary Man, would be Frenzy in one who does not resemble him as well in the Chearfulness of his Temper, as in the Sanctity of his Life and Manners.
I shall conclude this Paper with the Instance of a Person who seems to me to have shewn more Intrepidity and Greatness of Soul in his dying Moments, than what we meet with among any of the most celebrated
Greeks
and
Romans
. I
met
with this Instance in the
History of the Revolutions in Portugal
, written by the
Abbot de Vertot
2
.
When
Don Sebastian
, King of Portugal, had invaded the Territories of
Muly Moluc
, Emperor of Morocco, in order to dethrone him, and set his Crown upon the Head of his Nephew,
Moluc
was wearing away with a Distemper which he himself knew was incurable. However, he prepared for the Reception of so formidable an Enemy. He was indeed so far spent with his Sickness, that he did not expect to live out the whole Day, when the last decisive Battel was given; but knowing the fatal Consequences that would happen to his Children and People, in case he should die before he put an end to that War, he commanded his principal Officers that if he died during the Engagement, they should conceal his Death from the Army, and that they should ride up to the Litter in which his Corpse was carried, under Pretence of receiving Orders from him as usual. Before the Battel begun, he was carried through all the Ranks of his Army in an open Litter, as they stood drawn up in Array, encouraging them to fight valiantly in defence of their Religion and Country. Finding afterwards the Battel to go against him, tho' he was very near his last Agonies, he threw himself out of his Litter, rallied his Army, and led them on to the Charge; which afterwards ended in a compleat Victory on the side of the Moors. He had no sooner brought his Men to the Engagement, but finding himself utterly spent, he was again replaced in his Litter, where laying his Finger on his Mouth, to enjoin Secrecy to his Officers, who stood about him, he died a few Moments after in that Posture.
L.
Footnote 1:
Plutarch's
Life of Epaminondas.
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2:
The Abbé Vertot—Renatus Aubert de Vertot d'Auboeuf—was born in 1655, and living in the
Spectator's
time. He died in 1735, aged 80. He had exchanged out of the severe order of the Capuchins into that of the Præmonstratenses when, at the age of 34, he produced, in 1689, his first work, the
History of the Revolutions of Portugal,
here quoted. Continuing to write history, in 1701 he was made a member, and in 1705 a paid member, of the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres.
return
ContentsContents, p.5
Ea animi elatio quæ cernitur in periculis, si Justitia vacat pugnatque pro suis commodis, in vitio est.Tull.
Captain Sentrey
was last Night at the Club, and produced a Letter from
Ipswich
, which his Correspondent desired him to communicate to his Friend the
Spectator
. It contained an Account of an Engagement between a French Privateer, commanded by one
Dominick Pottiere
, and a little Vessel of that Place laden with Corn, the Master whereof, as I remember, was one
Goodwin
. The
Englishman
defended himself with incredible Bravery, and beat off the
French
, after having been boarded three or four times. The Enemy still came on with greater Fury, and hoped by his Number of Men to carry the Prize, till at last the
Englishman
finding himself sink apace, and ready to perish, struck: But the Effect which this singular Gallantry had upon the Captain of the Privateer, was no other than an unmanly Desire of Vengeance for the Loss he had sustained in his several Attacks. He told the
Ipswich
Man in a speaking-Trumpet, that he would not take him aboard, and that he stayed to see him sink. The
Englishman
at the same time observed a Disorder in the Vessel, which he rightly judged to proceed from the Disdain which the Ship's Crew had of their Captain's Inhumanity: With this Hope he went into his Boat, and approached the Enemy. He was taken in by the Sailors in spite of their Commander; but though they received him against his Command, they treated him when he was in the Ship in the manner he directed.
Pottiere
caused his Men to hold
Goodwin
, while he beat him with a Stick till he fainted with Loss of Blood, and Rage of Heart: after which he ordered him into Irons without allowing him any Food, but such as one or two of the Men stole to him under peril of the like Usage: After having kept him several Days overwhelmed with the Misery of Stench, Hunger, and Soreness, he brought him into
Calais
. The Governour of the Place was soon acquainted with all that had passed, dismissed
Pottiere
from his Charge with Ignominy, and gave
Goodwin
all the Relief which a Man of Honour would bestow upon an Enemy barbarously treated, to recover the Imputation of Cruelty upon his Prince and Country.
When Mr.
Sentrey
had read his Letter, full of many other circumstances which aggravate the Barbarity, he fell into a sort of Criticism upon Magnanimity and Courage, and argued that they were inseparable; and that Courage, without regard to Justice and Humanity, was no other than the Fierceness of a wild Beast. A good and truly bold Spirit, continued he, is ever actuated by Reason and a Sense of Honour and Duty: The Affectation of such a Spirit exerts it self in an Impudent Aspect, an over-bearing Confidence, and a certain Negligence of giving Offence. This is visible in all the cocking Youths you see about this Town, who are noisy in Assemblies, unawed by the Presence of wise and virtuous Men; in a word, insensible of all the Honours and Decencies of human Life. A shameless Fellow takes advantage of Merit clothed with Modesty and Magnanimity, and in the Eyes of little People appears sprightly and agreeable; while the Man of Resolution and true Gallantry is overlooked and disregarded, if not despised. There is a Propriety in all things; and I believe what you Scholars call just and sublime, in opposition to turgid and bombast Expression, may give you an Idea of what I mean, when I say Modesty is the certain Indication of a great Spirit, and Impudence the Affectation of it. He that writes with Judgment, and never rises into improper Warmths, manifests the true Force of Genius; in like manner, he who is quiet and equal in all his Behaviour, is supported in that Deportment by what we may call true Courage. Alas, it is not so easy a thing to be a brave Man as the unthinking part of Mankind imagine: To dare, is not all that there is in it. The Privateer we were just now talking of, had boldness enough to attack his Enemy, but not Greatness of Mind enough to admire the same Quality exerted by that Enemy in defending himself. Thus his base and little Mind was wholly taken up in the sordid regard to the Prize, of which he failed, and the damage done to his own Vessel; and therefore he used an honest Man, who defended his own from him, in the Manner as he would a Thief that should rob him.
He was equally disappointed, and had not Spirit enough to consider that one Case would be Laudable and the other Criminal. Malice, Rancour, Hatred, Vengeance, are what tear the Breasts of mean Men in Fight; but Fame, Glory, Conquests, Desires of Opportunities to pardon and oblige their Opposers, are what glow in the Minds of the Gallant. The Captain ended his Discourse with a Specimen of his Book-Learning; and gave us to understand that he had read a French Author on the Subject of Justness in point of Gallantry. I love, said Mr. SENTREY, a Critick who mixes the Rules of Life with Annotations upon Writers. My Author, added he, in his Discourse upon Epick Poem, takes occasion to speak of the same Quality of Courage drawn in the two different Characters of
Turnus
and
Æneas
: He makes Courage the chief and greatest Ornament of ; but in
Æneas
there are many others which out-shine it, amongst the rest that of Piety.
Turnus
is therefore all along painted by the Poet full of Ostentation, his Language haughty and vain glorious, as placing his Honour in the Manifestation of his Valour;
Æneas
speaks little, is slow to Action; and shows only a sort of defensive Courage. If Equipage and Address make appear more couragious than
Æneas
, Conduct and Success prove
Æneas
more valiant than
Turnus
.
T.
ContentsContents, p.5
In te omnis domus inclinata recumbit.Virg.
If we look into the three great Heroick Poems which have appeared in the World, we may observe that they are built upon very slight Foundations.
Homer
lived near 300 Years after the
Trojan
War; and, as the writing of History was not then in use among the
Greeks
, we may very well suppose, that the Tradition of
Achilles
and
Ulysses
had brought down but very few particulars to his Knowledge; though there is no question but he has wrought into his two Poems such of their remarkable Adventures, as were still talked of among his Contemporaries.
The Story of
Æneas
, on which
Virgil
founded his Poem, was likewise very bare of Circumstances, and by that means afforded him an Opportunity of embellishing it with Fiction, and giving a full range to his own Invention. We find, however, that he has interwoven, in the course of his Fable, the principal Particulars, which were generally believed among the
Romans
, of
Æneas
his Voyage and Settlement in
Italy
.
The
Reader may find an Abridgment of the whole Story as collected out of the ancient Historians, and as it was received among the Romans, in
Dionysius Halicarnasseus
1
.
Since none of the Criticks have consider'd
Virgil's
Fable, with relation to this History of
Æneas
, it may not, perhaps, be amiss to examine it in this Light, so far as regards my present Purpose. Whoever looks into the Abridgment above mentioned, will find that the Character of
Æneas
is filled with Piety to the Gods, and a superstitious Observation of Prodigies, Oracles, and Predictions.
Virgil
has not only preserved this Character in the Person of
Æneas
, but has given a place in his Poem to those particular Prophecies which he found recorded of him in History and Tradition. The Poet took the matters of Fact as they came down to him, and circumstanced them after his own manner, to make them appear the more natural, agreeable, or surprizing. I believe very many Readers have been shocked at that ludicrous Prophecy, which one of the
Harpyes
pronounces to the
Trojans
in the third Book, namely, that before they had built their intended City, they should be reduced by Hunger to eat their very Tables. But, when they hear that this was one of the Circumstances that had been transmitted to the
Romans
in the History of
Æneas
, they will think the Poet did very well in taking notice of it. The Historian above mentioned acquaints us, a Prophetess had foretold
Æneas
, that he should take his Voyage
Westward
, till his Companions should eat their Tables; and that accordingly, upon his landing in
Italy
, as they were eating their Flesh upon Cakes of Bread, for want of other Conveniences, they afterwards fed on the Cakes themselves; upon which one of the Company said merrily,
We are eating our Tables
. They immediately took the Hint, says the Historian, and concluded the Prophecy to be fulfilled. As
Virgil
did not think it proper to omit so material a particular in the History of
Æneas
, it may be worth while to consider with how much Judgment he has qualified it, and taken off every thing that might have appeared improper for a Passage in an Heroick Poem. The
Prophetess
who foretells it, is an Hungry
Harpy
, as the Person who discovers it is young
Ascanius
2
.
Heus etiam mensas consumimus, inquit Inlus!
Such an observation, which is beautiful in the Mouth of a Boy, would have been ridiculous from any other of the Company. I am apt to think that the changing of the
Trojan
Fleet into Water-Nymphs which is the most violent Machine in the whole
Æneid
, and has given offence to several Criticks, may be accounted for the same way.
Virgil
himself, before he begins that Relation, premises, that what he was going to tell appeared incredible, but that it was justified by Tradition. What further confirms me that this Change of the Fleet was a celebrated Circumstance in the History of
Æneas
, is, that
Ovid
has given place to the same Metamorphosis in his Account of the heathen Mythology.
None of the Criticks I have met with having considered the Fable of the
Æneid
in this Light, and taken notice how the Tradition, on which it was founded, authorizes those Parts in it which appear the most exceptionable; I hope the length of this Reflection will not make it unacceptable to the curious Part of my Readers.
The History, which was the Basis of
Milton's
Poem, is still shorter than either that of the
Iliad
or
Æneid
. The Poet has likewise taken care to insert every Circumstance of it in the Body of his Fable. The ninth Book, which we are here to consider, is raised upon that brief Account in Scripture, wherein we are told that the Serpent was more subtle than any Beast of the Field, that he tempted the Woman to eat of the forbidden Fruit, that she was overcome by this Temptation, and that
Adam
followed her Example. From these few Particulars,
Milton
has formed one of the most Entertaining Fables that Invention ever produced. He has disposed of these several Circumstances among so many beautiful and natural Fictions of his own, that his whole Story looks only like a Comment upon sacred Writ, or rather seems to be a full and compleat Relation of what the other is only an Epitome. I have insisted the longer on this Consideration, as I look upon the Disposition and Contrivance of the Fable to be the principal Beauty of the ninth Book, which has more Story in it, and is fuller of Incidents, than any other in the whole Poem.
Satan's
traversing the Globe, and still keeping within the Shadow of the Night, as fearing to be discovered by the Angel of the Sun, who had before detected him, is one of those beautiful Imaginations with which he introduces this his second Series of Adventures. Having
examined
the Nature of every Creature, and found out one which was the most proper for his Purpose, he again returns to Paradise; and, to avoid Discovery, sinks by Night with a River that ran under the Garden, and rises up again through a Fountain that
issued
3
from it by the Tree of Life. The Poet, who, as we have before taken notice, speaks as little as possible in his own Person, and, after the Example of
Homer
, fills every Part of his Work with Manners and Characters, introduces a Soliloquy of this infernal Agent, who was thus restless in the Destruction of Man. He is then describ'd as gliding through the Garden, under the resemblance of a Mist, in order to find out that Creature in which he design'd to tempt our first Parents. This Description has something in it very Poetical and Surprizing.
So saying, through each Thicket Dank or Dry,Like a black Mist, low creeping, he held onHis Midnight Search, where soonest he might findThe Serpent: him fast sleeping soon he foundIn Labyrinth of many a Round self-roll'd,His Head the midst, well stor'd with subtle Wiles.
The Author afterwards gives us a Description of the Morning, which is wonderfully suitable to a Divine Poem, and peculiar to that first Season of Nature: He represents the Earth, before it was curst, as a great Altar, breathing out its Incense from all Parts, and sending up a pleasant Savour to the Nostrils of its Creator; to which he adds a noble Idea of
Adam
and
Eve
, as offering their Morning Worship, and filling up the Universal Consort of Praise and Adoration.
Now when as sacred Light began to dawnInEdenon the humid Flowers, that breathedTheir Morning Incense, when all things that breatheFrom th' Earth's great Altar send up silent PraiseTo the Creator, and his Nostrils fillWith grateful Smell; forth came the human Pair,And join'd their vocal Worship to the ChoirOf Creatures wanting Voice—
The
Dispute
which follows between our two first Parents, is represented with great Art: It
proceeds
4
from a Difference of Judgment, not of Passion, and is managed with Reason, not with Heat: It is such a Dispute as we may suppose might have happened in Paradise, had Man continued Happy and Innocent. There is a great Delicacy in the Moralities which are interspersed in
Adam's
Discourse, and which the most ordinary Reader cannot but take notice of. That Force of Love which the Father of Mankind so finely describes in the eighth Book, and which is inserted in my last Saturday's Paper, shews it self here in many fine Instances: As in those fond Regards he cast towards
Eve
at her parting from him.
Her long with ardent Look his Eye pursuedDelighted, but desiring more her stay:Oft he to her his Charge of quick returnRepeated; she to him as oft engagedTo be return'd by noon amid the Bower.
In his Impatience and Amusement during her Absence
—Adamthe while,Waiting desirous her return, had woveOf choicest Flowers a Garland, to adornHer Tresses, and her rural Labours crown:As Reapers oft are wont their Harvest Queen.Great Joy he promised to his thoughts, and newSolace in her return, so long delay'd.
But particularly in that passionate Speech, where seeing her irrecoverably lost, he resolves to perish with her rather than to live without her.
—Some cursed FraudOr Enemy hath beguil'd thee, yet unknown,And me with thee hath ruin'd; for with theeCertain my Resolution is to die!How can I live without thee; how foregoThy sweet Converse and Love so dearly join'd,To live again in these wild Woods forlorn?Should God create anotherEve,and IAnother Rib afford, yet loss of theeWould never from my Heart! no, no! I feelThe Link of Nature draw me: Flesh of Flesh,Bone of my Bone thou art, and from thy StateMine never shall be parted, Bliss or Woe!
The Beginning of this Speech, and the Preparation to it, are animated with the same Spirit as the Conclusion, which I have here quoted.
The several Wiles which are put in practice by the Tempter, when he found
Eve
separated from her Husband, the many pleasing Images of Nature which are intermix'd in this part of the Story, with its gradual and regular Progress to the fatal Catastrophe, are so very remarkable that it would be superfluous to point out their respective Beauties.
I have avoided mentioning any particular Similitudes in my Remarks on this great Work, because I have given a general Account of them in my Paper on the first Book. There is one, however, in this part of the Poem, which I shall here quote as it is not only very beautiful, but the closest of any in the whole Poem. I mean that where the Serpent is describ'd as rolling forward in all his Pride, animated by the evil Spirit, and conducting
Eve
to her Destruction, while
Adam
was at too great a distance from her to give her his Assistance. These several Particulars are all of them wrought into the following Similitude.
—Hope elevates, and JoyBrightens his Crest; as when a wandering Fire,Compact of unctuous Vapour, which the NightCondenses, and the Cold invirons round,Kindled through Agitation to a Flame,(Which oft, they say, some evil Spirit attends)Hovering and blazing with delusive Light,Misleads th' amaz'd Night-wanderer from his WayTo Bogs and Mires, and oft through Pond or Pool,There swallowed up and lost, from succour far.
That
secret
Intoxication of Pleasure, with all those transient flushings of Guilt and Joy, which the Poet represents in our first Parents upon their eating the forbidden Fruit, to
those
5
flaggings of Spirits, damps of Sorrow, and mutual Accusations which succeed it, are conceiv'd with a wonderful Imagination, and described in very natural Sentiments.
When
Dido
in the fourth
Æneid
yielded to that fatal Temptation which ruined her,
Virgil
tells us the Earth trembled, the Heavens were filled with Flashes of Lightning, and the Nymphs howled upon the Mountain-Tops.
Milton
, in the same poetical Spirit, has described all Nature as disturbed upon
Eve's
eating the forbidden Fruit.
So saying, her rash Hand in evil hourForth reaching to the Fruit, she pluckt, she eat:Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her SeatSighing, through all her Works gave signs of WoeThat all was lost—
Upon Adam's falling into the same Guilt, the whole Creation appears a second time in Convulsions.
—He scrupled not to eatAgainst his better knowledge; not deceiv'd,But fondly overcome with female Charm.Earth trembled from her Entrails, as againIn Pangs, and Nature gave a second Groan,Sky lowred, and muttering Thunder, some sad DropsWept at compleating of the mortal Sin—
As all Nature suffer'd by the Guilt of our first Parents, these Symptoms of Trouble and Consternation are wonderfully imagined, not only as Prodigies, but as Marks of her Sympathizing in the Fall of Man.
Adam's
Converse with
Eve
, after having eaten the forbidden Fruit, is an exact Copy of that between
Jupiter
and
Juno
in the fourteenth
Iliad
.
Juno
there
approaches
Jupiter
with the Girdle which she had received from
Venus
; upon which he tells her, that she appeared more charming and desirable than she
6
done before, even when their Loves were at the highest. The Poet afterwards describes them as reposing on a Summet of Mount
Ida
, which produced under them a Bed of Flowers, the Lotos, the Crocus, and the Hyacinth; and concludes his Description with their falling asleep.
Let the Reader compare this with the following Passage in
Milton
, which begins with
Adam's
Speech to
Eve
.
For never did thy Beauty, since the DayI saw thee first and wedded thee, adorn'dWith all Perfections, so enflame my SenseWith ardor to enjoy thee, fairer nowThan ever, Bounty of this virtuous Tree.So said he, and forbore not Glance or ToyOf amorous Intent, well understoodOf Eve, whose Eye darted contagious Fire.Her hand he seiz'd, and to a shady BankThick over-head with verdant Roof embower'd,He led her nothing loth: Flow'rs were the Couch,Pansies, and Violets, and Asphodel,And Hyacinth, Earth's freshest softest Lap.There they their fill of Love, and Love's disport,Took largely, of their mutual Guilt the Seal,The Solace of their Sin, till dewy SleepOppress'd them—
As no Poet seems ever to have studied
Homer
more, or to have more resembled him in the Greatness of Genius than
Milton
, I think I should have given but a very imperfect Account of his Beauties, if I had not observed the most remarkable Passages which look like Parallels in these two great Authors. I might, in the course of these criticisms, have taken notice of many particular Lines and Expressions which are translated from the
Greek
Poet; but as I thought this would have appeared too minute and over-curious, I have purposely omitted them. The greater Incidents, however, are not only set off by being shewn in the same Light with several of the same nature in