The Spectator Volume Ii Part 44

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

The Occasion of this Letter is of so great Importance, and the Circ.u.mstances of it such, that I know you will but think it just to insert it, in Preference of all other Matters that can present themselves to your Consideration. I need not, after I have said this, tell you that I am in Love. The Circ.u.mstances of my Pa.s.sion I shall let you understand as well as a disordered Mind will admit. That cursed Pickthank Mrs. _Jane!_ Alas, I am railing at one to you by her Name as familiarly as if you were acquainted with her as well as my self: But I will tell you all, as fast as the alternate Interruptions of Love and Anger will give me Leave. There is a most agreeable young Woman in the World whom I am pa.s.sionately in Love with, and from whom I have for some s.p.a.ce of Time received as great Marks of Favour as were fit for her to give, or me to desire. The successful Progress of the Affair of all others the most essential towards a Man's Happiness, gave a new Life and Spirit not only to my Behaviour and Discourse, but also a certain Grace to all my Actions in the Commerce of Life in all Things tho never so remote from Love. You know the predominant Pa.s.sion spreads its self thro all a Man's Transactions, and exalts or depresses [him [2]] according to the Nature of such Pa.s.sion. But alas, I have not yet begun my Story, and what is making Sentences and Observations when a Man is pleading for his Life? To begin then: This Lady has corresponded with me under the Names of Love, she my _Belinda_, I her _Cleanthes_. Tho I am thus well got into the Account of my Affair, I cannot keep in the Thread of it so much as to give you the Character of Mrs. _Jane_, whom I will not hide under a borrowed Name; but let you know that this Creature has been since I knew her very handsome, (tho I will not allow her even she _has been_ for the future) and during the Time of her Bloom and Beauty was so great a Tyrant to her Lovers, so over-valued her self and under-rated all her Pretenders, that they have deserted her to a Man; and she knows no Comfort but that common one to all in her Condition, the Pleasure of interrupting the Amours of others. It is impossible but you must have seen several of these Volunteers in Malice, who pa.s.s their whole Time in the most labourous Way of Life in getting Intelligence, running from Place to Place with new Whispers, without reaping any other Benefit but the Hopes of making others as unhappy as themselves. Mrs.

_Jane_ happened to be at a Place where I, with many others well acquainted with my Pa.s.sion for _Belinda_, pa.s.sed a _Christmas_ Evening. There was among the rest a young Lady so free in Mirth, so amiable in a just Reserve that accompanied it; I wrong her to call it a Reserve, but there appeared in her a Mirth or Chearfulness which was not a Forbearance of more immoderate Joy, but the natural Appearance of all which could flow from a Mind possessed of an Habit of Innocence and Purity. I must have utterly forgot _Belinda_ to have taken no Notice of one who was growing up to the same womanly Virtues which shine to Perfection in her, had I not distinguished one who seemed to promise to the World the same Life and Conduct with my faithful and lovely _Belinda_. When the Company broke up, the fine young Thing permitted me to take Care of her Home. Mrs. _Jane_ saw my particular Regard to her, and was informed of my attending her to her Fathers House. She came early to _Belinda_ the next Morning, and asked her if Mrs. _Such-a-one_ had been with her? No. If Mr. _Such-a-ones_ Lady?

No. Nor your Cousin _Such-a-one_? No. Lord, says Mrs. _Jane_, what is the Friendship of Woman?--Nay, they may laugh at it. And did no one tell you any thing of the Behaviour of your Lover Mr. _What dye call_ last Night? But perhaps it is nothing to you that he is to be married to young Mrs.--on _Tuesday_ next? _Belinda_ was here ready to die with Rage and Jealousy. Then Mrs. _Jane_ goes on: I have a young Kinsman who is Clerk to a Great Conveyancer, who shall shew you the rough Draught of the Marriage Settlement. The World says her Father gives him Two Thousand Pounds more than he could have with you. I went innocently to wait on _Belinda_ as usual, but was not admitted; I writ to her, and my Letter was sent back unopened. Poor _Betty_ her Maid, who is on my Side, has been here just now blubbering, and told me the whole Matter. She says she did not think I could be so base; and that she is now odious to her Mistress for having so often spoke well of me, that she dare not mention me more. All our Hopes are placed in having these Circ.u.mstances fairly represented in the SPECTATOR, which _Betty_ says she dare not but bring up as soon as it is brought in; and has promised when you have broke the Ice to own this was laid between us: And when I can come to an Hearing, the young Lady will support what we say by her Testimony, that I never saw her but that once in my whole Life. Dear Sir, do not omit this true Relation, nor think it too particular; for there are Crowds of forlorn Coquets who intermingle themselves with other Ladies, and contract Familiarities out of Malice, and with no other Design but to blast the Hopes of Lovers, the Expectation of Parents, and the Benevolence of Kindred. I doubt not but I shall be, _SIR, Your most obliged humble Servant_, CLEANTHES.

_Wills_ Coffee-house, _Jan_. 10.

_SIR_, The other Day entering a Room adorned with the Fair s.e.x, I offered, after the usual Manner, to each of them a Kiss; but one, more scornful than the rest, turned her Cheek. I did not think it proper to take any Notice of it till I had asked your Advice.

_Your humble Servant_, E. S.

The Correspondent is desir'd to say which Cheek the Offender turned to him.

[Footnote 1:

Ubi visus eris nostra medicabilis arte Fac monitis fugias otia prima meis.

Ovid. Rem. Am.]

[Footnote 2: [it]]

_ADVERTIs.e.m.e.nT_.

From the Parish-Vestry, _January_ 9.

_All Ladies who come to Church in the New-fashioned Hoods, are desired to be there before Divine Service begins, lest they divert the Attention of the Congregation._

RALPH.

No. 273. Sat.u.r.day, January 12, 1712. Addison.

Notandi sunt tibi Mores.

Hor.

Having examined the Action of _Paradise Lost_, let us in the next place consider the Actors. [This is _Aristotle's_ Method of considering, first the Fable, and secondly [1]] the Manners; or, as we generally call them in _English_, the Fable and the Characters.

_Homer_ has excelled all the Heroic Poets that ever wrote, in the Mult.i.tude and Variety of his Characters. Every G.o.d that is admitted into this Poem, acts a Part which would have been suitable to no other Deity.

His Princes are as much distinguished by their Manners, as by their Dominions; and even those among them, whose Characters seem wholly made up of Courage, differ from one another as to the particular kinds of Courage in which they excel. In short, there is scarce a Speech or Action in the _Iliad_, which the Reader may not ascribe to the Person that speaks or acts, without seeing his Name at the Head of it.

_Homer_ does not only outshine all other Poets in the Variety, but also in the Novelty of his Characters. He has introduced among his _Grecian_ Princes a Person who had lived thrice the Age of Man, and conversed with _Theseus, Hercules, Polyphemus_, and the first Race of Heroes. His princ.i.p.al Actor is the [Son [2]] of a G.o.ddess, not to mention the [Offspring of other Deities, who have [3]] likewise a Place in his Poem, and the venerable _Trojan_ Prince, who was the Father of so many Kings and Heroes. There is in these several Characters of _Homer_, a certain Dignity as well as Novelty, which adapts them in a more peculiar manner to the Nature of an Heroic Poem. Tho at the same time, to give them the greater Variety, he has described a _Vulcan_, that is a Buffoon among his G.o.ds, and a _Thersites_ among his Mortals.

_Virgil_ falls infinitely short of _Homer_ in the Characters of his Poem, both as to their Variety and Novelty. _aeneas_ is indeed a perfect Character, but as for _Achates_, tho he is stiled the Heros Friend, he does nothing in the whole Poem which may deserve that t.i.tle. _Gyas_, _Mnesteus_, _Sergestus_ and _Cloanthus_, are all of them Men of the same Stamp and Character.

--_Fortemque Gyan, fortemque Cloanthum._

There are indeed several very Natural Incidents on the Part of _Ascanius_; as that of _Dido_ cannot be sufficiently admired. I do not see any thing new or particular in _Turnus_. _Pallas_ and _Evander_ are [remote] Copies of _Hector_ and _Priam_, as _Lausus_ and _Mezentius_ are almost Parallels to _Pallas_ and _Evander_. The Characters of _Nisus_ and _Eurialus_ are beautiful, but common. [We must not forget the Parts of _Sinon_, _Camilla_, and some few others, which are fine Improvements on the _Greek_ Poet.] In short, there is neither that Variety nor Novelty in the Persons of the _aeneid_, which we meet with in those of the _Iliad_.

If we look into the Characters of _Milton_, we shall find that he has introduced all the Variety [his Fable [4]] was capable of receiving. The whole Species of Mankind was in two Persons at the Time to which the Subject of his Poem is confined. We have, however, four distinct Characters in these two Persons. We see Man and Woman in the highest Innocence and Perfection, and in the most abject State of Guilt and Infirmity. The two last Characters are, indeed, very common and obvious, but the two first are not only more magnificent, but more new [5] than any Characters either in _Virgil_ or _Homer_, or indeed in the whole Circle of Nature.

_Milton_ was so sensible of this Defect in the Subject of his Poem, and of the few Characters it would afford him, that he has brought into it two Actors of a Shadowy and Fict.i.tious Nature, in the Persons of _Sin_ and _Death_, [6] by which means he has [wrought into [7]] the Body of his Fable a very beautiful and well-invented Allegory. But notwithstanding the Fineness of this Allegory may attone for it in some measure; I cannot think that Persons of such a Chymerical Existence are proper Actors in an Epic Poem; because there is not that measure of Probability annexed to them, which is requisite in Writings of this kind, [as I shall shew more at large hereafter].

_Virgil_ has, indeed, admitted Fame as an Actress in the _aeneid_, but the Part she acts is very short, and none of the most admired Circ.u.mstances in that Divine Work. We find in Mock-Heroic Poems, particularly in the _Dispensary_ and the _Lutrin_ [8] several Allegorical Persons of this Nature which are very beautiful in those Compositions, and may, perhaps, be used as an Argument, that the Authors of them were of Opinion, [such [9]] Characters might have a Place in an Epic Work. For my own part, I should be glad the Reader would think so, for the sake of the Poem I am now examining, and must further add, that if such empty unsubstantial Beings may be ever made use of on this Occasion, never were any more nicely imagined, and employed in more proper Actions, than those of which I am now speaking.

Another Princ.i.p.al Actor in this Poem is the great Enemy of Mankind. The Part of _Ulysses_ in _Homers Odyssey_ is very much admired by _Aristotle_, [10] as perplexing that Fable with very agreeable Plots and Intricacies, not only by the many Adventures in his Voyage, and the Subtility of his Behaviour, but by the various Concealments and Discoveries of his Person in several Parts of that Poem. But the Crafty Being I have now mentioned, makes a much longer Voyage than _Ulysses_, puts in practice many more Wiles and Stratagems, and hides himself under a greater Variety of Shapes and Appearances, all of which are severally detected, to the great Delight and Surprize of the Reader.

We may likewise observe with how much Art the Poet has varied several Characters of the Persons that speak to his infernal a.s.sembly. On the contrary, how has he represented the whole G.o.dhead exerting it self towards Man in its full Benevolence under the Three-fold Distinction of a Creator, a Redeemer and a Comforter!

Nor must we omit the Person of _Raphael_, who amidst his Tenderness and Friendship for Man, shews such a Dignity and Condescension in all his Speech and Behaviour, as are suitable to a Superior Nature. [The Angels are indeed as much diversified in _Milton_, and distinguished by their proper Parts, as the G.o.ds are in _Homer_ or _Virgil_. The Reader will find nothing ascribed to _Uriel, Gabriel, Michael,_ or _Raphael_, which is not in a particular manner suitable to their respective Characters.]

There is another Circ.u.mstance in the princ.i.p.al Actors of the _Iliad_ and _aeneid_, which gives a [peculiar [11]] Beauty to those two Poems, and was therefore contrived with very great Judgment. I mean the Authors having chosen for their Heroes, Persons who were so nearly related to the People for whom they wrote. _Achilles_ was a Greek, and _aeneas_ the remote Founder of _Rome_. By this means their Countrymen (whom they princ.i.p.ally proposed to themselves for their Readers) were particularly attentive to all the Parts of their Story, and sympathized with their Heroes in all their Adventures. A _Roman_ could not but rejoice in the Escapes, Successes and Victories of _aeneas_, and be grieved at any Defeats, Misfortunes or Disappointments that befel him; as a Greek_ must have had the same Regard for Achilles_. And it is plain, that each of those Poems have lost this great Advantage, among those Readers to whom their Heroes are as Strangers, or indifferent Persons.

_Milton's_ Poem is admirable in this respect, since it is impossible for any of its Readers, whatever Nation, Country or People he may belong to, not to be related to the Persons who are the princ.i.p.al Actors in it; but what is still infinitely more to its Advantage, the princ.i.p.al Actors in this Poem are not only our Progenitors, but our Representatives. We have an actual Interest in every thing they do, and no less than our utmost Happiness is concerned, and lies at Stake in all their Behaviour.

I shall subjoin as a Corollary to the foregoing Remark, an admirable Observation out of _Aristotle_, which hath been very much misrepresented in the Quotations of some Modern Criticks.

If a Man of perfect and consummate Virtue falls into a Misfortune, it raises our Pity, but not our Terror, because we do not fear that it may be our own Case, who do not resemble the Suffering Person. But as that great Philosopher adds, If we see a Man of Virtue mixt with Infirmities, fall into any Misfortune, it does not only raise our Pity but our Terror; because we are afraid that the like Misfortunes may happen to our selves, who resemble the Character of the Suffering Person.

I shall take another Opportunity to observe, that a Person of an absolute and consummate Virtue should never be introduced in Tragedy, and shall only remark in this Place, that the foregoing Observation of _Aristotle_ [12] tho it may be true in other Occasions, does not hold in this; because in the present Case, though the Persons who fall into Misfortune are of the most perfect and consummate Virtue, it is not to be considered as what may possibly be, but what actually is our own Case; since we are embarked with them on the same Bottom, and must be Partakers of their Happiness or Misery.