; but as this would hurt the Metre, we have restored it to its genuine Reading, by observing that
Synæresis
which had been neglected by ignorant Transcribers.
Ibid
.
In my Heart
.]
Scaliger
, and others,
on my Heart
.
Verse the Fourth,
I found a Dart
.] The
Vatican
Manuscript for
I
reads
it
, but this must have been the Hallucination of the Transcriber, who probably mistook the Dash of the
I
for a
T
.
Stanza the Second, Verse the Second.
The fatal Stroke
.]
Scioppius, Salmasius
and many others, for
the
read
a
, but I have stuck to the usual Reading.
Verse the Third,
Till by her Wit
.] Some Manuscripts have it
his Wit
, others
your
, others
their Wit
. But as I find
Corinna
to be the Name of a Woman in other Authors, I cannot doubt but it should be
her
.
Stanza the third, Verse the First.
A long and lasting Anguish
.] The
German
Manuscript reads
a lasting Passion
, but the Rhyme will not admit it.
Verse the Second.
For
Belvidera
I endure
.] Did not all the Manuscripts reclaim, I should change
Belvidera
into
Pelvidera; Pelvis
being used by several of the Ancient Comick Writers for a Looking-glass, by which means the Etymology of the Word is very visible, and
Pelvidera
will signifie a Lady who often looks in her Glass; as indeed she had very good reason, if she had all those Beauties which our Poet here ascribes to her.
Verse the Third.
Hourly I sigh and hourly languish
.] Some for the Word
hourly
read
daily
, and others
nightly
; the last has great Authorities of its side.
Verse the Fourth.
The wonted Cure
.] The Elder
Stevens
reads
wanted Cure
.
Stanza the Fourth, Verse the Second.
After a thousand Beauties
] In several Copies we meet with a
Hundred Beauties
by the usual Errour of the Transcribers, who probably omitted a Cypher, and had not Taste enough to know that the Word
Thousand
was ten Times a greater Compliment to the Poet's Mistress than an
Hundred
.
Verse the Fourth.
And finds Variety in one
] Most of the Ancient Manuscripts have it
in two
. Indeed so many of them concur in this last reading, that I am very much in doubt whether it ought not to take place. There are but two Reasons which incline me to the Reading as I have published it; First, because the Rhime, and, Secondly, because the Sense is preserved by it. It might likewise proceed from the Oscitancy of Transcribers, who, to dispatch their Work the sooner, use to write all Numbers in Cypher, and seeing the Figure 1 following by a little Dash of the Pen, as is customary in old Manuscripts, they perhaps mistook the Dash for a second Figure, and by casting up both together composed out of them the Figure 2. But this I shall leave to the Learned, without determining any thing in a Matter of so great Uncertainty.
C.
Footnote 1:
Song, which by the way is a beautiful Descant upon a single Thought, like the Compositions of the best Ancient Lyrick Poets, I say we will suppose this Song
return to footnote mark
Contents
Greek: 'En elpísin chràe toùs sophoùs échein bíon.—Euripid.translation
The
Time present
seldom affords sufficient Employment to the Mind of Man. Objects of Pain or Pleasure, Love or Admiration, do not lie thick enough together in Life to keep the Soul in constant Action, and supply an immediate Exercise to its Faculties. In order, therefore, to remedy this Defect, that the Mind may not want Business, but always have Materials for thinking, she is endowed with certain Powers, that can recall what is passed, and anticipate what is to come.
That wonderful Faculty, which we call the Memory, is perpetually looking back, when we have nothing present to entertain us. It is like those Repositories in several Animals, that are filled with Stores of their former Food, on which they may ruminate when their present Pasture fails.
As the Memory relieves the Mind in her vacant Moments, and prevents any Chasms of Thought by Ideas of what is
past
, we have other Faculties that agitate and employ her upon what
is to come
. These are the Passions of Hope and Fear.
By these two Passions we reach forward into Futurity, and bring up to our present Thoughts Objects that lie hid in the remotest Depths of Time. We suffer Misery, and enjoy Happiness, before they are in Being; we can set the Sun and Stars forward, or lose sight of them by wandring into those retired Parts of Eternity, when the Heavens and Earth shall be no more.
By the way, who can imagine that the Existence of a Creature is to be circumscribed by Time, whose Thoughts are not? But I shall, in this Paper, confine my self to that particular Passion which goes by the Name of Hope.
Our Actual Enjoyments are so few and transient, that Man would be a very miserable Being, were he not endowed with this Passion, which gives him a Taste of those good Things that may possibly come into his Possession.
Weshouldhope for every thing that is good
, says the old Poet
Linus, because there is nothing which may not be hoped for, and nothing but what the Gods are able to give us
1
. Hope quickens all the still Parts of Life, and keeps the Mind awake in her most Remiss and Indolent Hours. It gives habitual Serenity and good Humour. It is a kind of Vital Heat in the Soul, that cheers and gladdens her, when she does not attend to it. It makes Pain easie, and Labour pleasant.
Beside these several Advantages which rise from
Hope
, there is another which is none of the least, and that is, its great Efficacy in preserving us from setting too high a value on present Enjoyments. The saying of
Cæsar
is very well known. When he had given away all his Estate in Gratuities among his Friends, one of them asked what he had left for himself; to which that great Man replied,
Hope
. His Natural Magnanimity hindered him from prizing what he was certainly possessed of, and turned all his Thoughts upon something more valuable that be had in View. I question not but every Reader will draw a Moral from this Story, and apply it to himself without my Direction.
The old Story of
Pandora's
Box (which many of the Learned believe was formed among the Heathens upon the Tradition of the Fall of Man) shews us how deplorable a State they thought the present Life, without Hope: To set forth the utmost Condition of Misery they tell us, that our Forefather, according to the Pagan Theology, had a great Vessel presented him by
Pandora:
Upon his lifting up the Lid of it, says the Fable, there flew out all the Calamities and Distempers incident to Men, from which, till that time, they had been altogether exempt.
Hope
, who had been enclosed in the Cup with so much bad Company, instead of flying off with the rest, stuck so close to the Lid of it, that it was shut down upon her.
I shall make but two Reflections upon what I have hitherto said. First, that no kind of Life is so happy as that which is full of Hope, especially when the Hope is well grounded, and when the Object of it is of an exalted kind, and in its Nature proper to make the Person happy who enjoys it. This Proposition must be very evident to those who consider how few are the present Enjoyments of the most happy Man, and how insufficient to give him an entire Satisfaction and Acquiescence in them.
My next Observation is this, that a Religious Life is that which most abounds in a well-grounded Hope, and such an one as is fixed on Objects that are capable of making us entirely happy. This Hope in a Religious Man, is much more sure and certain than the Hope of any Temporal Blessing, as it is strengthened not only by Reason, but by Faith. It has at the same time its Eye perpetually fixed on that State, which implies in the very Notion of it the most full and the most compleat Happiness.
I have before shewn how the Influence of Hope in general sweetens Life, and makes our present Condition supportable, if not pleasing; but a Religious Hope has still greater Advantages. It does not only bear up the Mind under her Sufferings, but makes her rejoice in them, as they may be the Instruments of procuring her the great and ultimate End of all her Hope.
Religious Hope has likewise this Advantage above any other kind of Hope, that it is able to revive the
dying
Man, and to fill his Mind not only with secret Comfort and Refreshment, but sometimes with Rapture and Transport. He triumphs in his Agonies, whilst the Soul springs forward with Delight to the great Object which she has always had in view, and leaves the Body with an Expectation of being re-united to her in a glorious and joyful Resurrection.
I shall conclude
this
Essay with those emphatical Expressions of a lively Hope, which the Psalmist made use of in the midst of those Dangers and Adversities which surrounded him; for the following Passage had its present and personal, as well as its future and prophetick Sense.
I have set the Lord always before me: Because he is at my right Hand, I shall not be moved. Therefore my Heart is glad, and my Glory rejoiceth: my Flesh also shall rest in hope. For thou wilt not leave my Soul in Hell, neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see Corruption. Thou wilt shew me the Path of Life: in thy Presence is Fullness of Joy, at thy right Hand there are Pleasures for evermore2.
C.
Footnote 1:
Translation of the fragment on Hope.
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2:
Psal
. xvi. 8—ii.
return
Contents
—VoluptasSolamenque mali—Virg.translation
I received some time ago a Proposal, which had a Preface to it, wherein the Author discoursed at large of the innumerable Objects of Charity in a Nation, and admonished the Rich, who were afflicted with any Distemper of Body, particularly to regard the Poor in the same Species of Affliction, and confine their Tenderness to them, since it is impossible to assist all who are presented to them. The Proposer had been relieved from a Malady in his Eyes by an Operation performed by
Sir
William Read
, and being a Man of Condition, had taken a Resolution to maintain three poor blind Men during their Lives, in Gratitude for that great Blessing. This Misfortune is so very great and unfrequent, that one would think, an Establishment for all the Poor under it might be easily accomplished, with the Addition of a very few others to those Wealthy who are in the same Calamity. However, the Thought of the Proposer arose from a very good Motive, and the parcelling of our selves out, as called to particular Acts of Beneficence, would be a pretty Cement of Society and Virtue. It is the ordinary Foundation for Mens holding a Commerce with each other, and becoming familiar, that they agree in the same sort of Pleasure; and sure it may also be some Reason for Amity, that they are under one common Distress. If all the Rich who are lame in the Gout, from a Life of Ease, Pleasure, and Luxury, would help those few who have it without a previous Life of Pleasure, and add a few of such laborious Men, who are become lame from unhappy Blows, Falls, or other Accidents of Age or Sickness; I say, would such gouty Persons administer to the Necessities of Men disabled like themselves, the Consciousness of such a Behaviour would be the best Julep, Cordial, and Anodine in the feverish, faint and tormenting Vicissitudes of that miserable Distemper. The same may be said of all other, both bodily and intellectual Evils. These Classes of Charity would certainly bring down Blessings upon an Age and People; and if Men were not petrifyed with the Love of this World, against all Sense of the Commerce which ought to be among them, it would not be an unreasonable Bill for a poor Man in the Agony of Pain, aggravated by Want and Poverty, to draw upon a sick Alderman after this Form;
Mr. Basil Plenty,Sir,You have the Gout and Stone, with Sixty thousand Pound Sterling; I have the Gout and Stone, not worth one Farthing; I shall pray for you, and deSire you would pay the Bearer Twenty Shillings for Value received from,Sir,Your humble Servant,Lazarus Hopeful.Cripple-Gate,Aug. 29, 1712.
The Reader's own Imagination will suggest to him the Reasonableness of such Correspondence; and diversify them into a thousand Forms; but I shall close this as I began upon the Subject of Blindness. The following Letter seems to be written by a Man of Learning, who is returned to his Study after a Suspence of an Ability to do so. The Benefit he reports himself to have received, may well claim the handsomest Encomium he can give the Operator.
Mr. SPECTATOR,'Ruminating lately on your admirable Discourses on thePleasures of the Imagination, I began to consider to which of our Senses we are obliged for the greatest and most important Share of those Pleasures; and I soon concluded that it was to theSight: That is the Sovereign of the Senses, and Mother of all the Arts and Sciences, that have refined the Rudeness of the uncultivated Mind to a Politeness that distinguishes the fine Spirits from the barbarousGoûtof thegreatVulgar and thesmall. The Sight is the obliging Benefactress, that bestows on us the most transporting Sensations that we have from the various and wonderful Products of Nature. To the Sight we owe the amazing Discoveries of the Height, Magnitude, and Motion of the Planets; their several Revolutions about their common Centre of Light, Heat, and Motion, theSun. TheSighttravels yet farther to the fixed Stars, and furnishes the Understanding with solid Reasons to prove, that each of them is aSunmoving on its own Axis in the Centre of its own Vortex or Turbillion, and performing the same Offices to its dependant Planets, that our glorious Sun does to this. But the Enquiries of theSightwill not be stopped here, but make their Progress through the immense Expanse to theMilky Way, and there divide the blended Fires of theGalaxyinto infinite and different Worlds, made up of distinct Suns, and their peculiar Equipages of Planets, till unable to pursue this Track any farther, it deputes the Imagination to go on to new Discoveries, till it fill the unbounded Space with endless Worlds.TheSightinforms the Statuary's Chizel with Power to give Breath to lifeless Brass and Marble, and the Painter's Pencil to swell the flat Canvas with moving Figures actuated by imaginary Souls. Musick indeed may plead another Original, sinceJubal, by the different Falls of his Hammer on the Anvil, discovered by the Ear the first rude Musick that pleasd the Antediluvian Fathers; but then theSighthas not only reduced those wilder Sounds into artful Order and Harmony, but conveys that Harmony to the most distant Parts of the World without the Help of Sound. To theSightwe owe not only all the Discoveries of Philosophy, but all the Divine Imagery of Poetry that transports the intelligent Reader ofHomer,Milton, andVirgil.As the Sight has polished the World, so does it supply us with the most grateful and lasting Pleasure. Let Love, let Friendship, paternal Affection, filial Piety, and conjugal Duty, declare the Joys theSightbestows on a Meeting after Absence. But it would be endless to enumerate all the Pleasures and Advantages ofSight;every one that has it, every Hour he makes use of it, finds them, feels them, enjoys them.Thus as our greatest Pleasures and Knowledge are derived from the Sight, so has Providence been more curious in the Formation of its Seat, the Eye, than of the Organs of the other Senses. That stupendous Machine is compos'd in a wonderful Manner of Muscles, Membranes, and Humours. Its Motions are admirably directed by the Muscles; the Perspicuity of the Humours transmit the Rays of Light; the Rays are regularly refracted by their Figure, the black Lining of the Sclerotes effectually prevents their being confounded by Reflection. It is wonderful indeed to consider how many Objects the Eye is fitted to take in at once, and successively in an Instant, and at the same time to make a Judgment of their Position, Figure, or Colour. It watches against our Dangers, guides our Steps, and lets in all the visible Objects, whose Beauty and Variety instruct and delight.The Pleasures and Advantages of Sight being so great, the Loss must be very grievous; of whichMilton, from Experience, gives the most sensible Idea, both in the third Book of hisParadise Lost, and in hisSampson Agonistes.To Light in the former.—Thee I revisit safe,And feel thy sovereign vital Lamp; but thouRevisit'st not these Eyes, that roul in vainTo find thy piercing Ray, but find no Dawn.And a little after,Seasons return, but not to me returnsDay, or the sweet Approach of Ev'n and Morn,Or Sight of vernal Bloom, or Summer's Rose,Or Flocks or Herds, or human Face divine;But Cloud instead, and ever-during DarkSurround me: From the chearful Ways of MenCut off, and for the Book of Knowledge fair,Presented—with an universal BlankOf Nature's Works, to me expung'd and raz'd,And Wisdom at one Entrance quite shut out.Again, inSampson Agonistes.—But Chief of all,O Loss of Sight! of thee I most complain;Blind among Enemies! O worse than Chains,Dungeon, or Beggary, or decrepid Age!Light, the prime Work of God, to me extinct,And all her various Objects of DelightAnnull'd——Still as a Fool,In Power of others, never in my own,Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than Half:O dark! dark! dark! amid the Blaze of Noon:Irrecoverably dark, total Eclipse,Without all Hopes of Day!The Enjoyment of Sight then being so great a Blessing, and the Loss of it so terrible an Evil, how excellent and valuable is the Skill of that Artist which can restore the former, and redress the latter? My frequent Perusal of the Advertisements in the publick News-Papers (generally the most agreeable Entertainment they afford) has presented me with many and various Benefits of this kind done to my Countrymen by that skilful Artist Dr.Grant, Her Majesty's Oculist Extraordinary, whose happy Hand has brought and restored to Sight several Hundreds in less than Four Years. Manyhavereceived Sight by his Means, who came blind from their Mother's Womb, as in the famous Instance ofJonesofNewington1. I my self have been cured by him of a Weakness in my Eyes next to Blindness, and am ready to believe any thing that is reported of his Ability this way; and know that many, who could not purchase his Assistance with Money, have enjoy'd it from his Charity. But a List of Particulars would swell my Letter beyond its Bounds, what I have said being sufficient to comfort those who are in the like Distress, since they may conceive Hopes of being no longer miserable in this Kind, while there is yet alive so able an Oculist as Dr. Grant.I am theSpectator'shumble Servant,Philanthropus
—Thee I revisit safe,And feel thy sovereign vital Lamp; but thouRevisit'st not these Eyes, that roul in vainTo find thy piercing Ray, but find no Dawn.
Seasons return, but not to me returnsDay, or the sweet Approach of Ev'n and Morn,Or Sight of vernal Bloom, or Summer's Rose,Or Flocks or Herds, or human Face divine;But Cloud instead, and ever-during DarkSurround me: From the chearful Ways of MenCut off, and for the Book of Knowledge fair,Presented—with an universal BlankOf Nature's Works, to me expung'd and raz'd,And Wisdom at one Entrance quite shut out.
—But Chief of all,O Loss of Sight! of thee I most complain;Blind among Enemies! O worse than Chains,Dungeon, or Beggary, or decrepid Age!Light, the prime Work of God, to me extinct,And all her various Objects of DelightAnnull'd——Still as a Fool,In Power of others, never in my own,Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than Half:O dark! dark! dark! amid the Blaze of Noon:Irrecoverably dark, total Eclipse,Without all Hopes of Day!
T.
Footnote 1:
A Full and True Account of a Miraculous Cure of a young Man in Newington, &c,
was a pamphlet of 15 pages, published in 1709. William Jones was not born blind, and little benefited by the operation of the Doctor Grant, who in this pamphlet puffed himself.
return to footnote mark
Contents
Quid? si quis vultu torvo ferus et pede nudoExiguæque togæ simulet textore Catonem;Virtutemne repræsentet moresque Catonis?Hor.translationTo the SPECTATOR.Sir,I am now in the Country, and employ most of my Time in reading, or thinking upon what I have read. Your paper comes constantly down to me, and it affects me so much, that I find my Thoughts run into your Way; and I recommend to you a Subject upon which you have not yet touched, and that is the Satisfaction some Men seem to take in their Imperfections, I think one may call it glorying in their Insufficiency; a certain great Author is of Opinion it is the contrary to Envy, tho perhaps it may proceed from it. Nothing is so common, as to hear Men of this Sort, speaking of themselves, add to their own Merit (as they think) by impairing it, in praising themselves for their Defects, freely allowing they commit some few frivolous Errors, in order to be esteemed persons of uncommon Talents and great Qualifications. They are generally professing an injudicious Neglect of Dancing, Fencing and Riding, as also an unjust Contempt for Travelling and the Modern Languages; as for their Part (say they) they never valued or troubled their Head about them. This panegyrical Satyr on themselves certainly is worthy of your Animadversion. I have known one of these Gentlemen think himself obliged to forget the Day of an Appointment, and sometimes even that you spoke to him; and when you see em, they hope youll pardon 'em, for they have the worst Memory in the World. One of em started up tother Day in some Confusion, and said, Now I think on't, I'm to meet Mr.Mortmainthe Attorney about some Business, but whether it is to Day or to Morrow, faith, I can't tell. Now to my certain Knowledge he knew his Time to a Moment, and was there accordingly. These forgetful Persons have, to heighten their Crime, generally the best Memories of any People, as I have found out by their remembring sometimes through Inadvertency. Two or three of em that I know can say most of our modern Tragedies by Heart. I asked a Gentleman the other Day that is famous for a Good Carver, (at which Acquisition he is out of Countenance, imagining it may detract from some of his more essential Qualifications) to help me to something that was near him; but he excused himself, and blushing told me, Of all things he could never carve in his Life; though it can be proved upon him, that he cuts up, disjoints, and uncases with incomparable Dexterity. I would not be understood as if I thought it laudable for a Man of Quality and Fortune to rival the Aquisitions of Artificers, and endeavour to excel in little handy Qualities; No, I argue only against being ashamed at what is really Praiseworthy. As these Pretences to Ingenuity shew themselves several Ways, you'll often see a Man of this Temper ashamed to be clean, and setting up for Wit only from Negligence in his Habit. Now I am upon this Head, I can't help observing also upon a very different Folly proceeding from the same Cause. As these above-mentioned arise from affecting an Equality with Men of greater Talents from having the same Faults, there are others who would come at a Parallel with those above them, by possessing little Advantages which they want. I heard a young Man not long ago, who has sense, comfort himself in his Ignorance ofGreek,Hebrew, and theOrientals: At the same Time that he published his Aversion to those Languages, he said that the Knowledge of 'em was rather a Diminution than an Advancement of a Man's Character: tho' at the same Time I know he languishes and repines he is not Master of them himself. Whenever I take any of these fine Persons, thus detracting from what they don't understand, I tell them I will complain to you, and say I am sure you will not allow it an Exception against a thing, that he who contemns it is an Ignorant in it.I am,Sir,Your most humble Servant,S. P.Mr. SPECTATOR,I am a Man of a very good Estate, and am honourably in Love. I hope you will allow, when the ultimate Purpose is honest, there may be, without Trespass against Innocence, some Toying by the Way. People of Condition are perhaps too distant and formal on those Occasions; but, however that is, I am to confess to you, that I have writ some Verses to atone for my Offence. You profess'd Authors are a little severe upon us, who write like Gentlemen: But if you are a Friend to Love, you will insert my Poem. You cannot imagine how much Service it will do me with my Fair one, as well as Reputation with all my Friends, to have something of mine in theSpectator. My Crime was, that I snatch'd a Kiss, and my Poetical Excuse as follows:IBelinda,see from yonder FlowersThe Bee flies loaded to its Cell;Can you perceive what it devours?Are they impar'd in Show or Smell?IISo, tho' I robb'd you of a Kiss,Sweeter than their Ambrosial Dew;Why are you angry at my Bliss?Has it at all impoverish'd you?III'Tis by this Cunning I contrive,In spight of your unkind Reserve,To keep my famish'd Love alive,Which you inhumanly would starve.I am,Sir,Your humble Servant,Timothy Stanza.Aug. 23, 1712.Sir,Having a little Time upon my Hands, I could not think of bestowing it better, than in writing an Epistle to the SPECTATOR, which I now do, and am,Sir, Your humble Servant,BOB SHORT.P. S.If you approve of my Style, I am likely enough to become your Correspondent. I deSire your Opinion of it. I design it for that Way of Writing called by the Judicious theFamiliar.
Contents
ToMr Methuen1.
Sir