FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[346]"Sir Richard Steele joined in this paper" (Tickell)[347]An account of the effects of this gentleman is given by Hughes in No. 113.[348]See Nos. 113 and 116.

[346]"Sir Richard Steele joined in this paper" (Tickell)

[347]An account of the effects of this gentleman is given by Hughes in No. 113.

[348]See Nos. 113 and 116.

FromThursday, Dec. 22, toSaturday, Dec. 24, 1709.

----Procul O! procul este, profani!—Virg., Æn. vi. 258.

The watchman, who does me particular honours, as being the chief man in the lane, gave so very great a thump at my door last night, that I awakened at the knock, and heard myself complimented with the usual salutation of "Good morrow, Mr. Bickerstaff; good morrow, my masters all." The silence and darkness of the night disposed me to be more than ordinarily serious; and as my attention was not drawn out among exterior objects by the avocations of sense, my thoughts naturally fell upon myself. I was considering, amidst the stillness of the night, what was the proper employment of a thinking being? what were the perfections it should propose to itself? and what the end it should aim at? My mind is of such a particular cast, that the falling of a shower of rain, or the whistling of wind, at such a time, is apt to fill my thoughts with something awful and solemn. I was in this disposition, when our bellman began his midnight homily (which he has been repeating to us every winter night for these twenty years) with the usual exordium:

Oh! mortal man, thou that art born in sin!

Sentiments of this nature, which are in themselves just and reasonable, however debased by the circumstances that accompany them, do not fail to produce their natural effect in a mind that is not perverted and depraved by wrong notions of gallantry, politeness, and ridicule. The temper which I now found myself in, as well as the time of the year, put me in mind of those lines in Shakespeare, wherein, according to his agreeable wildness of imagination, he has wrought a country tradition into a beautiful piece of poetry. In the tragedy of "Hamlet," where the ghost vanishes upon the cock's crowing, he takes occasion to mention its crowing all hours of the night about Christmas time, and to insinuate a kind of religious veneration for that season.

It faded on the crowing of the cock.Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comesWherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,The bird of dawning singeth all night long;And then, they say, no spirit dares walk abroad;The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,No fairy takes, no witch has power to charm;So hallowed, and so gracious is the time.[350]

This admirable author, as well as the best and greatest men of all ages, and of all nations, seems to have had his mind thoroughly seasoned with religion, as is evident by many passages in his plays, that would not be suffered by a modern audience; and are therefore certain instances, that the age he lived in had a much greater sense of virtue than the present.

It is indeed a melancholy reflection to consider, that the British nation, which is now at a greater height of glory for its counsels and conquests than it ever was before, should distinguish itself by a certain looseness of principles, and a falling off from those schemes of thinking, which conduce to the happiness and perfection of human nature. This evil comes upon us from the works of a few solemn blockheads, that meet together with the zeal and seriousness of apostles, to extirpate common-sense, and propagate infidelity. These are the wretches, who, without any show of wit, learning, or reason, publish their crude conceptions with an ambition of appearing more wise than the rest of mankind, upon no other pretence than that of dissenting from them. One gets by heart a catalogue of title-pages and editions; and immediately to become conspicuous, declares that he is an unbeliever. Another knows how to write a receipt, or cut up a dog, and forthwith argues against the immortality of the soul. I have known many a little wit, in the ostentation of his parts, rally the truth of the Scripture, who was not able to read a chapter in it. These poor wretches talk blasphemy for want of discourse, and are rather the objects of scorn or pity, than of our indignation; but the grave disputant, that reads and writes, and spends all his time in convincing himself and the world that he is no better than a brute, ought to be whipped out of a government, as a blot to a civil society, and a defamer of mankind. I love to consider an infidel, whether distinguished by the title of deist, atheist, or free-thinker, in three different lights, in his solitudes, his afflictions, and his last moments.

A wise man that lives up to the principles of reason and virtue, if one considers him in his solitude, as taking in the system of the universe, observing the mutual dependence and harmony by which the whole frame of it hangs together, beating down his passions, or swelling his thoughts with magnificent ideas of Providence, makes a nobler figure in the eye of an intelligent being, than the greatest conqueror amidst all the pomps and solemnities of a triumph. On the contrary, there is not a more ridiculous animal than an atheist in his retirement. His mind is incapable of rapture or elevation: he can only consider himself as an insignificant figure in a landscape, and wandering up and down in a field or a meadow, under the same terms as the meanest animals about him, and as subject to as total a mortality as they, with this aggravation, that he is the only one amongst them who lies under the apprehension of it.

In distresses, he must be of all creatures the most helpless and forlorn; he feels the whole pressure of a present calamity, without being relieved by the memory of anything that is passed, or the prospect of anything that is to come. Annihilation is the greatest blessing that he proposes to himself, and a halter or a pistol the only refuge he can fly to. But if you would behold one of these gloomy miscreants in his poorest figure, you must consider him under the terrors, or at the approach, of death.

About thirty years ago I was a-shipboard with one of these vermin, when there arose a brisk gale, which could frighten nobody but himself. Upon the rolling of the ship he fell upon his knees, and confessed to the chaplain, that he had been a vile atheist, and had denied a Supreme Being ever since he came to his estate. The good man was astonished, and a report immediately ran through the ship, that there was an atheist upon the upper deck. Several of the common seamen, who had never heard the word before, thought it had been some strange fish; but they were more surprised when they saw it was a man, and heard out of his own mouth, that he never believed till that day that there was a God. As he lay in the agonies of confession, one of the honest tars whispered to the boatswain, that it would be a good deed to heave him overboard. But we were now within sight of port, when of a sudden the wind fell, and the penitent relapsed,begging all of us that were present, as we were gentlemen, not to say anything of what had passed.

He had not been ashore above two days, when one of the company began to rally him upon his devotion on shipboard, which the other denied in so high terms, that it produced the lie on both sides, and ended in a duel. The atheist was run through the body, and after some loss of blood, became as good a Christian as he was at sea, till he found that his wound was not mortal. He is at present one of the free-thinkers of the age, and now writing a pamphlet against several received opinions concerning the existence of fairies.

As I have taken upon me to censure the faults of the age and country which I live in, I should have thought myself inexcusable to have passed over this crying one, which is the subject of my present discourse. I shall therefore from time to time give my countrymen particular cautions against this distemper of the mind, that is almost become fashionable, and by that means more likely to spread. I have somewhere either read or heard a very memorable sentence, that a man would be a most insupportable monster, should he have the faults that are incident to his years, constitution, profession, family, religion, age, and country; and yet every man is in danger of them all. For this reason, as I am an old man, I take particular care to avoid being covetous, and telling long stories. As I am choleric, I forbear not only swearing, but all interjections of fretting, as "Pugh!" "Pish!" and the like. As I am a layman, I resolve not to conceive an aversion for a wise and a good man, because his coat is of a different colour from mine. As I am descended of the ancient family of the Bickerstaffs, I never call a man of merit an upstart. As a Protestant, I do not suffer my zeal so far to transport me, as to name the Pope andthe devil together. As I am fallen into this degenerate age, I guard myself particularly against the folly I have been now speaking of. And as I am an Englishman, I am very cautious not to hate a stranger, or despise a poor Palatine.[351]

FOOTNOTES:[349]"Steele assisted in this paper" (Tickell).[350]"Hamlet," act i. sc. i.

[349]"Steele assisted in this paper" (Tickell).

[350]"Hamlet," act i. sc. i.

FromSaturday, Dec. 24, toTuesday, Dec. 27, 1709.

Accedat suavitas quædam oportet sermonum, atque morum, haudquaquam mediocre condimentum amicitiæ. Tristitia autem, et in omni re severitas absit. Habet illa quidem gravitatem, sed amicitia remissior esse debet, et liberior, et dulcior, et ad omnem comitatem facilitatemque proclivior.—Cicero, De Amicitia, xviii. 66.

As I was looking over my letters this morning, I chanced to cast my eye upon the following one, which came to my hands about two months ago from an old friend of mine, who, as I have since learned, was the person that wrote the agreeable epistle inserted in my paper of the third of the last month.[352]It is of the same turn with the other, and may be looked upon as a specimen of right country letters.

"Sir,"This sets out to you from my summer-house upon the terrace, where I am enjoying a few hours' sunshine, the scanty sweet remains of a fine autumn. The year is almost at the lowest; so that in all appearance, the rest of my letters between this and spring will be dated from my parlour fire, where the little fond prattle of a wife and children will so often break in upon the connection of my thoughts, that you will easily discover it in my style. If this winter should prove as severe as the last, I can tell you beforehand, that I am likely to be a very miserable man, through the perverse temper of my eldest boy. When the frost was in its extremity, you must know, that most of the blackbirds, robins, and finches of the parish (whose music had entertained me in the summer) took refuge under my roof. Upon this, my care was, to rise every morning before day to set open my windows for the reception of the cold and the hungry, whom at the same time I relieved with a very plentiful alms, by strewing corn and seeds upon the floors and shelves. But Dicky, without any regard to the laws of hospitality, considered the casements as so many traps, and used every bird as a prisoner at discretion. Never did tyrant exercise more various cruelties: some of the poor creatures he chased to death about the room; others he drove into the jaws of a bloodthirsty cat; and even in his greatest acts of mercy, either clipped the wings, or singed the tails, of his innocent captives. You will laugh, when I tell you I sympathised with every bird in its misfortunes; but I believe you will think me in the right for bewailing the child's unlucky humour. On the other hand, I am extremely pleased to see his younger brother carry a universal benevolence towards everything that has life. When he was between four and five years old, I caught him weeping over a beautiful butterfly, which he chanced to kill as he was playing with it; and I am informed, that this morning he has given his brother three halfpence (which was his whole estate) to spare the life of a tomtit. These are at present the matters ofgreatest moment within my observation, and I know are too trifling to be communicated to any but so wise a man as yourself, and from one who has the happiness to be,"Your most faithful,And most obedient Servant."

"Sir,

"This sets out to you from my summer-house upon the terrace, where I am enjoying a few hours' sunshine, the scanty sweet remains of a fine autumn. The year is almost at the lowest; so that in all appearance, the rest of my letters between this and spring will be dated from my parlour fire, where the little fond prattle of a wife and children will so often break in upon the connection of my thoughts, that you will easily discover it in my style. If this winter should prove as severe as the last, I can tell you beforehand, that I am likely to be a very miserable man, through the perverse temper of my eldest boy. When the frost was in its extremity, you must know, that most of the blackbirds, robins, and finches of the parish (whose music had entertained me in the summer) took refuge under my roof. Upon this, my care was, to rise every morning before day to set open my windows for the reception of the cold and the hungry, whom at the same time I relieved with a very plentiful alms, by strewing corn and seeds upon the floors and shelves. But Dicky, without any regard to the laws of hospitality, considered the casements as so many traps, and used every bird as a prisoner at discretion. Never did tyrant exercise more various cruelties: some of the poor creatures he chased to death about the room; others he drove into the jaws of a bloodthirsty cat; and even in his greatest acts of mercy, either clipped the wings, or singed the tails, of his innocent captives. You will laugh, when I tell you I sympathised with every bird in its misfortunes; but I believe you will think me in the right for bewailing the child's unlucky humour. On the other hand, I am extremely pleased to see his younger brother carry a universal benevolence towards everything that has life. When he was between four and five years old, I caught him weeping over a beautiful butterfly, which he chanced to kill as he was playing with it; and I am informed, that this morning he has given his brother three halfpence (which was his whole estate) to spare the life of a tomtit. These are at present the matters ofgreatest moment within my observation, and I know are too trifling to be communicated to any but so wise a man as yourself, and from one who has the happiness to be,

"Your most faithful,

And most obedient Servant."

The best critic that ever wrote, speaking of some passages in Homer which appear extravagant or frivolous, says indeed that they are dreams, but the dreams of Jupiter. My friend's letter appears to me in the same light. One sees him in an idle hour; but at the same time in the idle hour of a wise man. A great mind has something in it too severe and forbidding, that is not capable of giving itself such little relaxations, and of condescending to these agreeable ways of trifling. Tully, when he celebrates the friendship of Scipio and Lælius,[353]who were the greatest, as well as the politest, men of their age, represents it as a beautiful passage in their retirement, that they used to gather up shells on the seashore, and amuse themselves with the variety of shape and colour which they met with in those little unregarded works of nature. The great Agesilaus could be a companion to his own children, and was surprised by the ambassadors of Sparta[354]as he was riding among them upon a hobby-horse. Augustus indeed had no playfellows of his own begetting; but is said to have passed many of his hours with little Moorish boys at a game of marbles, not unlike our modern taw. There is (methinks) a pleasure in seeing great men thus fall into the rank of mankind, and entertain themselves with diversions and amusements that are agreeable to the very weakest of the species. I must frankly confess, that it is to me a beauty in Cato's character, that he would drink a cheerful bottle with a friend; and I cannot but own, that I have seen with great delight one of the most celebrated authors[355]of the last age feeding the ducks in St. James's Park. By instances of this nature, the heroes, the statesmen, the philosophers, become as it were familiar with us, and grow the more amiable the less they endeavour to appear awful. A man who always acts in the severity of wisdom, or the haughtiness of quality, seems to move in a personated part: it looks too constrained and theatrical for a man to be always in that character which distinguishes him from others. Besides that, the slackening and unbending our minds on some occasions, makes them exert themselves with greater vigour and alacrity when they return to their proper and natural state.

As this innocent way of passing a leisure hour is not only consistent with a great character, but very graceful in it, so there are two sorts of people to whom I would most earnestly recommend it. The first are those who are uneasy out of want of thought; the second are those who are so out of a turbulence of spirit. The first are the impertinent, and the second the dangerous part of mankind.

It grieves me to the very heart when I see several young gentlemen, descended of honest parents, run up and down hurrying from one end of the town to the other, calling in at every place of resort, without being able to fix a quarter of an hour in any, and in a particular haste without knowing for what. It would (methinks) be some consolation, if I could persuade these precipitate young gentlemen to compose this restlessness of mind, and apply themselves to any amusement, how trivial soever, that might give them employment, and keep them out of harm's way. They cannot imagine how great a relief it would be to them if they could grow sedate enough to play for two or three hours at a game of pushpin. But these busy, idle animals are only their own tormentors: the turbulent and dangerous are for embroiling counsels, stirring up seditions, and subverting constitutions, out of a mere restlessness of temper, and an insensibility of all the pleasures of life that are calm and innocent. It is impossible for a man to be so much employed in any scene of action as to have great and good affairs enough to fill up his whole time; there will still be chasms and empty spaces, in which a working mind will employ itself to its own prejudice, or that of others, unless it can be at ease in the exercise of such actions as are in themselves indifferent. How often have I wished, for the good of the nation, that several famous politicians could take any pleasure in feeding ducks. I look upon an able statesman out of business like a huge whale, that will endeavour to overturn the ship unless he has an empty cask to play with.

But to return to my good friend and correspondent, I am afraid we shall both be laughed at, when I confess, that we have often gone out into the field to look upon a bird's nest; and have more than once taken an evening's walk together on purpose to see the sun set. I shall conclude with my answer to his foregoing letter:

"Dear Sir,"I thank you for your obliging letter, and your kindness to the distressed, who will, doubtless, express their gratitude to you themselves the next spring. As for Dick the tyrant, I must desire you will put a stop to his proceedings; and at the same time take care, that his little brother be no loser by his mercy to the tomtit. For my own part, I am excluded all conversation with animals that delight only in a country life, and am therefore forced to entertain myself as well as I can with my little dog and cat. They both of them sit by my fire every night, expecting my coming home with impatience; and at my entrance, never fail of running up to me, and bidding me welcome, each of them in his proper language. As they have been bred up together from their infancy, and seen no other company, they have learned each other's manners, so that the dog often gives himself the airs of a cat, and the cat, in several of her motions and gestures, affects the behaviour of the little dog. When they are at play, I often make one with them; and sometimes please myself with considering, how much reason and instinct are capable of delighting each other. Thus, you see, I have communicated to you the material occurrences in my family, with the same freedom that you use to me; as I am with the same sincerity and affection,"Your most faithful,Humble Servant,Isaac Bickerstaff."

"Dear Sir,

"I thank you for your obliging letter, and your kindness to the distressed, who will, doubtless, express their gratitude to you themselves the next spring. As for Dick the tyrant, I must desire you will put a stop to his proceedings; and at the same time take care, that his little brother be no loser by his mercy to the tomtit. For my own part, I am excluded all conversation with animals that delight only in a country life, and am therefore forced to entertain myself as well as I can with my little dog and cat. They both of them sit by my fire every night, expecting my coming home with impatience; and at my entrance, never fail of running up to me, and bidding me welcome, each of them in his proper language. As they have been bred up together from their infancy, and seen no other company, they have learned each other's manners, so that the dog often gives himself the airs of a cat, and the cat, in several of her motions and gestures, affects the behaviour of the little dog. When they are at play, I often make one with them; and sometimes please myself with considering, how much reason and instinct are capable of delighting each other. Thus, you see, I have communicated to you the material occurrences in my family, with the same freedom that you use to me; as I am with the same sincerity and affection,

"Your most faithful,

Humble Servant,

Isaac Bickerstaff."

FOOTNOTES:[351]See No. 69.[352]No. 89. Nichols suggested that the old friend was Steele's fellow-collegian, Richard Parker, vicar of Embleton, in Northumberland.[353]The friendship of C. Lælius Sapiens with the younger Scipio Africanus is described in Cicero's "Lælius, sive de Amicitia."[354]A mistake for Persia. Agesilaus II., King of Sparta, reigned from 398 to 361B.C., and was, says Plutarch, "as good as thought commander and king of all Greece."[355]Probably St. Evremond, for whom the office of Governor of the Duck Island was created. Cibber ("Apology," 4th edition, i. 24) says of Charles II., "Even his indolent amusement of playing with his dogs, and feeding his ducks, in St. James Park (which I have seen him do), made the common people adore him."

[351]See No. 69.

[352]No. 89. Nichols suggested that the old friend was Steele's fellow-collegian, Richard Parker, vicar of Embleton, in Northumberland.

[353]The friendship of C. Lælius Sapiens with the younger Scipio Africanus is described in Cicero's "Lælius, sive de Amicitia."

[354]A mistake for Persia. Agesilaus II., King of Sparta, reigned from 398 to 361B.C., and was, says Plutarch, "as good as thought commander and king of all Greece."

[355]Probably St. Evremond, for whom the office of Governor of the Duck Island was created. Cibber ("Apology," 4th edition, i. 24) says of Charles II., "Even his indolent amusement of playing with his dogs, and feeding his ducks, in St. James Park (which I have seen him do), made the common people adore him."

FromTuesday, Dec. 27, toThursday, Dec. 29, 1709.

Ecce iterum Crispinus!—Juv., Sat. iv. 1.

Whereas the gentleman that behaved himself in a very disobedient and obstinate manner at his late trial in Sheer Lane on the 20th instant,[357]and was carried off dead upon the taking away of his snuff-box, remains still unburied; the Company of Upholders not knowing otherwise how they should be paid, have taken his goods in execution to defray the charge of his funeral. His said effects are to be exposed to sale by auction at their office in the Haymarket on the 4th of January next, and are as follow:

A very rich tweezer-case, containing twelve instruments for the use of each hour in the day.

Four pounds of scented snuff, with three gilt snuff-boxes; one of them with an invisible hinge, and a looking-glass in the lid.

Two more of ivory, with the portraitures on their lids of two ladies of the town; the originals to be seen every night in the side-boxes[358]of the play-house.

A sword with a steel diamond hilt, never drawn but once at May Fair.[359]

Six clean packs of cards, a quart of orange-flower water, a pair of French scissors, a toothpick case, and an eyebrow brush.

A large glass case, containing the linen and clothes of the deceased; among which are, two embroidered suits, a pocket perspective, a dozen pair of red-heeled shoes, three pair of red silk stockings, and an amber-headed cane.

The strong box of the deceased, wherein were found, five billet-doux, a Bath shilling, a crooked sixpence, a silk garter, a lock of hair, and three broken fans.

A press for books; containing on the upper shelf,

On the second shelf are several miscellaneous works; as,

On the third shelf,

On the lowest shelf,

There will be added to these goods, to make a complete auction, a collection of gold snuff-boxes and clouded canes,[361]which are to continue in fashion for three months after the sale.

The whole are to be set up and prized by Charles Bubbleboy,[362]who is to open the auction with a speech.

I find that I am so very unhappy, that while I am busy in correcting the folly and vice of one sex, several exorbitances break out in the other. I have not thoroughly examined their new-fashioned petticoats, but shall set aside one day in the next week for that purpose. The following petition on this subject was presented to me this morning:

"The humble Petition ofWilliam Jingle, Coach-maker and Chair-maker of the Liberty of Westminster."ToIsaac Bickerstaff, Esq., Censor of Great Britain:"Showeth—That upon the late invention of Mrs. Catherine Cross-stitch, mantle-maker, the petticoats of ladies were too wide for entering into any coach or chair which was in use before the said invention."That for the service of the said ladies, your petitioner has built a round chair, in the form of a lanthorn, six yards and a half in circumference, with a stool in the centre of it; the said vehicle being so contrived, as to receive the passenger by opening in two in the middle, and closing mathematically when she is seated."That your petitioner has also invented a coach for the reception of one lady only, who is to be let in at the top."That the said coach has been tried by a lady's woman in one of these full petticoats, who was let down from a balcony, and drawn up again by pulleys, to the great satisfaction of her lady and all who beheld her."Your petitioner therefore most humbly prays, that for the encouragement of ingenuity and useful inventions, he may be heard before you pass sentence upon the petticoats aforesaid."And your petitioner, &c."

"The humble Petition ofWilliam Jingle, Coach-maker and Chair-maker of the Liberty of Westminster.

"ToIsaac Bickerstaff, Esq., Censor of Great Britain:

"Showeth—That upon the late invention of Mrs. Catherine Cross-stitch, mantle-maker, the petticoats of ladies were too wide for entering into any coach or chair which was in use before the said invention.

"That for the service of the said ladies, your petitioner has built a round chair, in the form of a lanthorn, six yards and a half in circumference, with a stool in the centre of it; the said vehicle being so contrived, as to receive the passenger by opening in two in the middle, and closing mathematically when she is seated.

"That your petitioner has also invented a coach for the reception of one lady only, who is to be let in at the top.

"That the said coach has been tried by a lady's woman in one of these full petticoats, who was let down from a balcony, and drawn up again by pulleys, to the great satisfaction of her lady and all who beheld her.

"Your petitioner therefore most humbly prays, that for the encouragement of ingenuity and useful inventions, he may be heard before you pass sentence upon the petticoats aforesaid.

"And your petitioner, &c."

I have likewise received a female petition, signed by several thousands, praying, that I would not any longer defer giving judgment in the case of the petticoat, many of them having put off the making new clothes till such time as they know what verdict I will pass upon it. I do therefore hereby certify to all whom it may concern, that I do design to set apart Tuesday next for the final determination of that matter, having already ordered a jury of matrons to be impanelled, for the clearing up of any difficult points that may arise in the trial.

Being informed, that several dead men in and about this city do keep out of the way and abscond, for fear of being buried; and being willing to respite their interment, in consideration of their families, and in hopes of their amendment, I shall allow them certain privileged places, where they may appear to one another, without causing any let or molestation to the living, or receiving any in their own persons from the Company of Upholders. Between the hours of seven and nine in the morning, they may appear in safety at St. James's Coffee-house, or at White's, if they do not keep their beds, which is moreproper for men in their condition. From nine to eleven, I allow them to walk from Story's to Rosamond's Pond[363]in the Park, or in any other public walks which are not frequented by the living at that time. Between eleven and three, they are to vanish, and keep out of sight till three in the afternoon; at which time they may go to 'Change till five; and then, if they please, divert themselves at the Haymarket, or Drury Lane, till the play begins. It is further granted in favour of these persons, that they may be received at any table where there are more present than seven in number; provided, that they do not take upon them to talk, judge, commend, or find fault with any speech, action, or behaviour of the living. In which case, it shall be lawful to seize their persons at any place or hour whatsoever, and to convey their bodies to the next undertakers; anything in this advertisement to the contrary notwithstanding.

FOOTNOTES:[356]On the authority of the Rev. John Duncombe (see Hughes's "Correspondence," iii. 7).[357]See No. 110.[358]See No. 50.[359]See No. 4.[360]Published first in 1696. We are told that John Toland "was once the butt of theTatler" (Examiner, vol. iv. No. 35).[361]Cf.Pope's "Odyssey"—"The handle smooth and plain,Made of the clouded olive's easy grain."[362]Charles Mather; see No. 27.

[356]On the authority of the Rev. John Duncombe (see Hughes's "Correspondence," iii. 7).

[357]See No. 110.

[358]See No. 50.

[359]See No. 4.

[360]Published first in 1696. We are told that John Toland "was once the butt of theTatler" (Examiner, vol. iv. No. 35).

[361]Cf.Pope's "Odyssey"—"The handle smooth and plain,Made of the clouded olive's easy grain."

[361]Cf.Pope's "Odyssey"—

"The handle smooth and plain,Made of the clouded olive's easy grain."

[362]Charles Mather; see No. 27.

FromThursday, Dec. 29, toSaturday, Dec. 31, 1709.

Ut in vitâ, sic in studiis, pulcherrimum et humanissimum existimo, severitatem comitatemque miscere, ne illa in tristitiam, hæc in petulantium procedat.—Plin., Epist.

I was walking about my chamber this morning in a very gay humour, when I saw a coach stop at my door, and a youth about fifteen alighting out of it, whom I perceived to be the eldest son of my bosom friend that I gave some account of in my paper of the17th of the last month.[365]I felt a sensible pleasure rising in me at the sight of him, my acquaintance having begun with his father when he was just such a stripling, and about that very age. When he came up to me, he took me by the hand, and burst out in tears. I was extremely moved, and immediately said, "Child, how does your father do?" He began to reply, "My mother—" but could not go on for weeping. I went down with him into the coach, and gathered out of him, that his mother was then dying, and that while the holy man was doing the last offices to her, he had taken that time to come and call me to his father, who, he said, would certainly break his heart if I did not go and comfort him. The child's discretion in coming to me of his own head, and the tenderness he showed for his parents, would have quite overpowered me, had I not resolved to fortify myself for the seasonable performances of those duties which I owed to my friend. As we were going, I could not but reflect upon the character of that excellent woman, and the greatness of his grief for the loss of one who has ever been the support to him under all other afflictions. How, thought I, will he be able to bear the hour of her death, that could not, when I was lately with him, speak of a sickness, which was then past, without sorrow. We were now got pretty far into Westminster, and arrived at my friend's house. At the door of it I met Favonius,[366]not without a secret satisfaction to find he had been there. I had formerly conversed with him at this house; and as he abounds with that sort of virtue and knowledge which makes religion beautiful, and never leads the conversation into the violence and rage of party disputes, I listened to him with great pleasure. Our discourse chanced to be upon the subject of death, which he treated with such a strength of reason, and greatness of soul, that instead of being terrible, it appeared to a mind rightly cultivated, altogether to be contemned, or rather to be desired. As I met him at the door, I saw in his face a certain glowing of grief and humanity, heightened with an air of fortitude and resolution, which, as I afterwards found, had such an irresistible force, as to suspend the pains of the dying, and the lamentation of the nearest friends who attended her. I went up directly to the room where she lay, and was met at the entrance by my friend, who, notwithstanding his thoughts had been composed a little before at the sight of me, turned away his face and wept. The little family of children renewed the expressions of their sorrow according to their several ages and degrees of understanding. The eldest daughter was in tears, busied in attendance upon her mother; others were kneeling about the bedside: and what troubled me most was, to see a little boy, who was too young to know the reason, weeping only because his sisters did. The only one in the room who seemed resigned and comforted, was the dying person. At my approach to the bedside, she told me, with a low broken voice, "This is kindly done. Take care of your friend—don't go from him." She had before taken leave of her husband and children, in a manner proper for so solemn a parting, and with a gracefulness peculiar to a woman of her character. My heart was torn in pieces to see the husband on one side suppressing and keeping down the swellings of his grief, for fear of disturbing her in her last moments; and the wife even at that time concealing the pains she endured, for fear of increasing his affliction. She kept her eyes upon him for some moments after she grew speechless, and soon afterclosed them for ever. In the moment of her departure, my friend (who had thus far commanded himself) gave a deep groan, and fell into a swoon by her bedside.[367]The distraction of the children, who thought they saw both their parents expiring together, and now lying dead before them, would have melted the hardest heart; but they soon perceived their father recover, whom I helped to remove into another room, with a resolution to accompany him till the first pangs of his affliction were abated. I knew consolation would now be impertinent; and therefore contented myself to sit by him, and condole with him in silence. For I shall here use the method of an ancient author,[368]who, in one of his epistles relating the virtues and death of Macrinus's wife, expresses himself thus:[369]"I shall suspend my advice to this best of friends, till he is made capable of receiving it by those three great remedies (necessitas ipsa,dies longa,et satietas doloris) the necessity of submission, length of time, and satiety of grief."

In the meantime, I cannot but consider with much commiseration, the melancholy state of one who has had such a part of himself torn from him, and which he misses in every circumstance of life. His condition is like that of one who has lately lost his right arm, and is every moment offering to help himself with it. He does not appear to himself the same person in his house, at his table, in company, or in retirement; and loses the relish of all the pleasures and diversions that were before entertaining to him by her participation of them. The most agreeable objects recall the sorrow for her with whom he used to enjoy them. This additional satisfaction, from the taste of pleasures in the society of one we love, is admirably described in Milton, who represents Eve, though in Paradise itself, no further pleased with the beautiful objects around her than as she sees them in company with Adam, in that passage so inexpressibly charming.

"With thee conversing, I forget all time,All seasons, and their change; all please alike.Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweetWith charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun,When first on this delightful land he spreadsHis orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earthAfter soft showers, and sweet the coming onOf grateful evening mild; the silent night,With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon,And these the gems of heaven her starry train.But neither breath of morn when she ascendsWith charm of earliest birds, nor rising sunIn this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower,Glist'ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night,With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon,Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet."[370]

The variety of images in this passage is infinitely pleasing, and the recapitulation of each particular image, with a little varying of the expression, makes one of the finest turns of words that I have ever seen; which I rather mention, because Mr. Dryden has said in his preface to Juvenal, that he could meet with no turn of words in Milton.[371]

It may further be observed, that though the sweetness of these verses has something in it of a pastoral, yet it excels the ordinary kind, as much as the scene of it is above an ordinary field or meadow. I might here, since I am accidentally led into this subject, show several passages in Milton that have as excellent turns of this nature as any of our English poets whatsoever; but shall only mention that which follows, in which he describes the fallen angels engaged in the intricate disputes of predestination, free-will, and foreknowledge; and to humour the perplexity, makes a kind of labyrinth in the very words that describe it:

Others apart sat on a hill retired,In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned highOf Providence, foreknowledge, will and fate,Fixed fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute,And found no end in wandering mazes lost.[372]

FOOTNOTES:[363]Story's Gate and Rosamond's Pond were at opposite ends of Birdcage Walk (see No. 60).[364]"Steele assisted in this paper" (Tickell).[365]No. 95.[366]Dr. Smalridge (see No. 72).[367]What follows is said to have been written by Addison. "It would seem as though Steele felt himself unable to proceed, and his friend had taken the pen from his trembling hand" (Forster, "Historical and Biographical Essays," 1858, ii. 141).[368]Pliny, Book viii., Epist. 5.[369]"Says very justly" (folio).[370]"Paradise Lost," iv. 639.[371]"But as he [Milton] endeavours everywhere to express Homer, whose age had not arrived to that fineness, I found in him a true sublimity, lofty thoughts which were clothed with admirable Grecisms, and ancient words which he had been digging from the mines of Chaucer and of Spenser, and which, with all their rusticity, had somewhat of venerable in them. But I found not there neither that for which I looked ['beautiful turns']." (Dryden's" Discourse on Satire.")[372]"Paradise Lost," ii. 557.

[363]Story's Gate and Rosamond's Pond were at opposite ends of Birdcage Walk (see No. 60).

[364]"Steele assisted in this paper" (Tickell).

[365]No. 95.

[366]Dr. Smalridge (see No. 72).

[367]What follows is said to have been written by Addison. "It would seem as though Steele felt himself unable to proceed, and his friend had taken the pen from his trembling hand" (Forster, "Historical and Biographical Essays," 1858, ii. 141).

[368]Pliny, Book viii., Epist. 5.

[369]"Says very justly" (folio).

[370]"Paradise Lost," iv. 639.

[371]"But as he [Milton] endeavours everywhere to express Homer, whose age had not arrived to that fineness, I found in him a true sublimity, lofty thoughts which were clothed with admirable Grecisms, and ancient words which he had been digging from the mines of Chaucer and of Spenser, and which, with all their rusticity, had somewhat of venerable in them. But I found not there neither that for which I looked ['beautiful turns']." (Dryden's" Discourse on Satire.")

[372]"Paradise Lost," ii. 557.

THE END OF THE SECOND VOLUME

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