The Spectator Volume Iii Part 69

'Tis for his sake that I have suffer'd Life, Groan'd in Captivity, and out-liv'd Hector.

Yes, my_ Astyanax, _we'll go together!

Together to the Realms of Night we'll go; } There to thy ravish'd Eyes thy Sire I'll show,} And point him out among the Shades below.' }

Fear expresses it self in a low, hesitating and abject Sound. If the Reader considers the following Speech of _Lady Macbeth_, while her husband is about the Murder of _Duncan_ and his Grooms, he will imagine her even affrighted with the Sound of her own Voice, while she is speaking it.

'Alas! I am afraid they have awak'd, And 'tis not done; th' Attempt, and not the Deed, Confounds us--Hark!--I laid the Daggers ready, He could not miss them. Had he not resembled My Father as he slept, I had done it.'

Courage a.s.sumes a louder tone, as in that Speech of Don _Sebastian_. [3]

'Here satiate all your Fury: Let Fortune empty her whole Quiver on me, I have a Soul that like an ample Shield Can take in all, and Verge enough for more.'

Pleasure dissolves into a luxurious, mild, tender, and joyous Modulation; as in the following Lines in 'Caius Marius'. [4]

'_Lavinia! _O there's Musick in the Name, That softning me to infant Tenderness, Makes my Heart spring, like the first Leaps of Life.'

And Perplexity is different from all these; grave, but not bemoaning, with an earnest uniform Sound of Voice; as in that celebrated Speech of _Hamlet_.

'To be, or not to be?--that is the Question: Whether 'tis n.o.bler in the Mind to suffer The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune, Or to take Arms against a Sea of Troubles, And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep; No more; and by a Sleep to say we end The Heart-ach, and the thousand natural Shocks That Flesh is Heir to; 'tis a Consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep-- To sleep; perchance to dream! Ay, there's the Rub.

For in that sleep of Death what Dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this Mortal Coil, Must give us pause--There's the Respect That makes Calamity of so long Life; For who would bear the Whips and Scorns of Time, Th' Oppressor's Wrongs, the proud Man's contumely, The Pangs of despis'd Love, the Law's Delay, The Insolence of Office, and the Spurns That patient Merit of th' unworthy takes, When he himself might his Quietus make With a bare Bodkin? Who would Fardles bear, To groan and sweat under a weary Life?

But that the Dread of something after Death, The undiscover'd Country, from whose Bourn No Traveller returns, puzzles the Will, And makes us rather chuse those Ills we have, Than fly to others that--we know not of.'

As all these Varieties of Voice are to be directed by the Sense, so the Action is to be directed by the Voice, and with a beautiful Propriety, as it were to enforce it. The Arm, which by a strong Figure _Tully_ calls _The Orator's Weapon_, is to be sometimes raised and extended; and the Hand, by its Motion, sometimes to lead, and sometimes to follow the Words, as they are uttered. The Stamping of the Foot too has its proper Expression in Contention, Anger, or absolute Command. But the Face is the Epitome of the whole Man, and the Eyes are as it were the Epitome of the Face; for which Reason, he says, the best Judges among the _Romans_ were not extremely pleased, even with _Roscius_ himself in his Masque.

No Part of the Body, besides the Face, is capable of as many Changes as there are different Emotions in the Mind, and of expressing them all by those Changes. Nor is this to be done without the Freedom of the Eyes; therefore _Theophrastus_ call'd one, who barely rehea.r.s.ed his Speech with his Eyes fix'd, an _absent Actor_.

As the Countenance admits of so great Variety, it requires also great Judgment to govern it. Not that the Form of the Face is to be shifted on every Occasion, lest it turn to Farce and Buffoonery; but it is certain that the Eyes have a wonderful Power of marking the Emotions of the Mind, sometimes by a stedfast Look, sometimes by a careless one, now by a sudden Regard, then by a joyful Sparkling, as the Sense of the Words is diversified: for Action is, as it were, the Speech of the Features and Limbs, and must therefore conform itself always to the Sentiments of the Soul. And it may be observed, that in all which relates to the Gesture, there is a wonderful Force implanted by Nature, since the Vulgar, the Unskilful, and even the most Barbarous are chiefly affected by this. None are moved by the Sound of Words, but those who understand the Language; and the Sense of many things is lost upon Men of a dull Apprehension: but Action is a kind of Universal Tongue; all Men are subject to the same Pa.s.sions, and consequently know the same Marks of them in others, by which they themselves express them.

Perhaps some of my Readers may be of Opinion, that the Hints I have here made use of, out of _Cicero_, are somewhat too refined for the Players on our Theatre: In answer to which, I venture to lay it down as a Maxim, that without Good Sense no one can be a good Player, and that he is very unfit to personate the Dignity of a _Roman_ Hero, who cannot enter into the Rules for p.r.o.nunciation and Gesture delivered by a _Roman_ Orator.

There is another thing which my Author does not think too minute to insist on, though it is purely mechanical: and that is the right _pitching_ of the Voice. On this occasion he tells the Story of _Gracchus_, who employed a Servant with a little Ivory Pipe to stand behind him, and give him the right Pitch, as often as he wandered too far from the proper Modulation. Every Voice, says _Tully_, [5] has its particular Medium and Compa.s.s, and the Sweetness of Speech consists in leading it through all the Variety of Tones naturally, and without touching any Extreme. Therefore, says he,

'Leave the Pipe at home, but carry the Sense of this Custom with you.'

[Footnote 1: Action_ and _p.r.o.nunciation.]

[Footnote 2: Dramatical, and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 3: Dryden's.]

[Footnote 4: Otway's.]

[Footnote 5: Near the end of the De Oratore.]

No. 542. Friday, November 21, 1712. Addison.

'Et sibi praeferri se gaudet.'

Ovid.

When I have been present in a.s.semblies where my Paper has been talked of, I have been very well pleased to hear those who would detract from the Author of it observe, that the Letters which are sent to the _Spectator_ are as good, if not better than any of his Works. Upon this Occasion many Letters of Mirth are usually mentioned, which some think the _Spectator_ writ to himself, and which others commend because they fancy he received them from his Correspondents: Such are those from the _Valetudinarian;_ the Inspector of the Sign-Posts; the Master of the Fan-Exercise: with that of the Hoop'd Petticoat; that of _Nicholas Hart_ the annual Sleeper; that from Sir _John Envill;_ that upon the _London_ Cries; with mult.i.tudes of the same nature. As I love nothing more than to mortify the Ill-natured, that I may do it effectually, I must acquaint them, they have very often praised me when they did not design it, and that they have approved my Writings when they thought they had derogated from them. I have heard several of these unhappy Gentlemen proving, by undeniable Arguments, that I was not able to pen a Letter which I had written the Day before. Nay, I have heard some of them throwing out ambiguous Expressions, and giving the Company reason to suspect that they themselves did me the Honour to send me such or such a particular Epistle, which happened to be talked of with the Esteem or Approbation of those who were present. These rigid Criticks are so afraid of allowing me any thing which does not belong to me, that they will not be positive whether the Lion, the wild Boar, and the Flower-pots in the Play-house, did not actually write those Letters which came to me in their Names. I must therefore inform these Gentlemen, that I often chuse this way of casting my Thoughts into a Letter, for the following Reasons; First, out of the Policy of those who try their Jest upon another, before they own it themselves. Secondly, because I would extort a little Praise from such who will never applaud any thing whose Author is known and certain. Thirdly, because it gave me an Opportunity of introducing a great variety of Characters into my Work, which could not have been done, had I always written in the Person of the _Spectator_. Fourthly, because the Dignity Spectatorial would have suffered, had I published as from my self those several ludicrous Compositions which I have ascribed to fict.i.tious Names and Characters.

And lastly, because they often serve to bring in, more naturally, such additional Reflections as have been placed at the End of them.

There are others who have likewise done me a very particular Honour, though undesignedly. These are such who will needs have it, that I have translated or borrowed many of my Thoughts out of Books which are written in other Languages. I have heard of a Person, who is more famous for his Library than his Learning, that has a.s.serted this more than once in his private Conversation. Were it true, I am sure he could not speak it from his own Knowledge; but had he read the Books which he has collected, he would find this Accusation to be wholly groundless. Those who are truly learned will acquit me in this Point, in which I have been so far from offending, that I have been scrupulous perhaps to a Fault in quoting the Authors of several Pa.s.sages which I might have made my own.

But as this a.s.sertion is in reality an Encomium on what I have published, I ought rather to glory in it, than endeavour to confute it.

Some are so very willing to alienate from me that small Reputation which might accrue to me from any of these my Speculations, that they attribute some of the best of them to those imaginary Ma.n.u.scripts with which I have introduced them. There are others, I must confess, whose Objections have given me a greater Concern, as they seem to reflect, under this Head, rather on my Morality than on my Invention. These are they who say an Author is guilty of Falshood, when he talks to the Publick of Ma.n.u.scripts which he never saw, or describes Scenes of Action or Discourse in which he was never engaged. But these Gentlemen would do well to consider, there is not a Fable or Parable which ever was made use of, that is not liable to this Exception; since nothing; according to this Notion, can be related innocently, which was not once Matter of Fact. Besides, I think the most ordinary Reader may be able to discover, by my way of writing, what I deliver in these Occurrences as Truth, and what as Fiction.

Since I am unawares engaged in answering the several Objections which have been made against these my Works, I must take Notice that there are some who affirm a Paper of this Nature should always turn upon diverting Subjects, and others who find Fault with every one of them that hath not an immediate Tendency to the Advancement of Religion or Learning. I shall leave these Gentlemen to dispute it out among themselves; since I see one half of my Conduct patronized by each side. Were I serious on an improper Subject, or trifling in a serious one, I should deservedly draw upon me the Censure of my Readers; or were I conscious of any thing in my Writings that is not innocent at least, or that the greatest part of them were not sincerely designed to discountenance Vice and Ignorance, and support the Interest of true Wisdom and Virtue, I should be more severe upon my self than the Publick is disposed to be. In the mean while I desire my Reader to consider every particular Paper or Discourse as a distinct Tract by itself, and independent of every thing that goes before or after it.

I shall end this Paper with the following Letter, which was really sent me, as some others have been which I have published, and for which I must own my self indebted to their respective Writers.

SIR,

I was this Morning in a Company of your Well-wishers, when we read over, with great Satisfaction, _Tully's_ Observations on Action adapted to the _British_ Theatre: Though, by the way, we were very sorry to find that you have disposed of another Member of your Club.

Poor Sir _Roger_ is dead, and the worthy Clergyman dying. Captain _Sentry_ has taken Possession of a fair Estate; _Will. Honeycomb_ has married a Farmer's Daughter; and the _Templar_ withdraws himself into the Business of his own Profession. What will all this end in? We are afraid it portends no Good to the Publick. Unless you very speedily fix a Day for the Election of new Members, we are under Apprehensions of losing the _British Spectator_. I hear of a Party of Ladies who intend to address you on this Subject, and question not, if you do not give us the Slip very suddenly, that you will receive Addresses from all Parts of the Kingdom to continue so useful a Work. Pray deliver us out of this Perplexity, and among the Mult.i.tude of your Readers you will particularly oblige

_Your most Sincere Friend and Servant,_

Philo-Spec.

O.