he can into the mouths of those who are his | of the angels eating, and several other pas principal actors. Aristotle has given no sages in his poem, are liable to the same reason for this precept: but I presume it is exception, though I must confess there is because the mind of the reader is more so great a beauty in these very digressions, awed and elevated, when he hears Æneas that I would not wish them out of his poem. or Achilles speak, than when Virgil or I have in a former paper spoken of the Homer talk in their own persons. Besides characters of Milton's Paradise Lost, and that assuming the character of an eminent declared my opinion, as to the allegorical man is apt to fire the imagination, and raise persons who were introduced in it. the ideas of the author. Tully tells us, mentioning his dialogue of old age, in which Cato is the chief speaker, that upon a review of it he was agreeably imposed upon, and fancied that it was Cato, and not he himself, who uttered his thoughts on that subject. If the reader would be at the pains to see how the story of the Iliad and the Æneid is delivered by those persons who act in it, he will be surprised to find how little either of these poems proceeds from the authors. Milton has, in the general disposition of his fable, very finely observed this great rule; insomuch that there is scarce a tenth part of it which comes from the poet; the rest is spoken either by Adam or Eve, or by some good or evil spirit who is engaged either in their destruction or defence. If we look into the sentiments, I think they are sometimes defective under the following heads; first, as there are several of them too much pointed, and some that degenerate even into puns. Of this last kind I am afraid is that in the first book, where, speaking of the pygmies, he calls them, The small infantry Another blemish that appears in some of his thoughts, is his frequent allusion to heathen fables, which are not certainly of a piece with the divine subject of which he treats. I do not find fault with these allusions where the poet himself represents them as fabulous, as he does in some places, but where he mentions them as truths and matters of fact. The limits of my paper will not give me leave to be particular in instances of this kind; the reader will easily remark them in his perusal of the poem. A third fault in his sentiments is an unnecessary ostentation of learning, which likewise occurs very frequently. It is certain that both Homer and Virgil were masters of all the learning of their times, but it shows itself in their works after an indirect and concealed manner. Milton seems ambitious of letting us know, by his excursions on free-will and predestination, and his many glances upon history, astronomy, geography, and the like, as well as by the terms and phrases he sometimes makes use of, that he was acquainted with the whole circle of arts and sciences. From what has been here observed it appears, that digressions are by no means to be allowed of in an epic poem. If the poet, even in the ordinary course of his narration, should speak as little as possible, he should certainly never let his narration sleep for the sake of any reflections of his own. I have often observed, with a secret admiration, that the longest reflection in the Æneid is in that passage of the tenth book, where Turnus is represented as dressing himself in the spoils of Pallas, whom he had slain. Virgil here lets his fable stand still, for the sake of the following remark. 'How is the mind of man ignorant of futurity, and unable to bear prosperous fortune with moderation! The time will come when Turnus shall wish that he had left the body of Pallas untouched, and curse the day on which he dressed himself in If in the last place we consider the lanthese spoils.' As the great event of the guage of this great poet, we must allow Eneid, and the death of Turnus, whom what I have hinted in a former paper, that Eneas slew because he saw him adorned it is often too much laboured, and somewith the spoils of Pallas, turns upon this times obscured by old words, transposiincident, Virgil went out of his way to tions, and foreign idioms. Seneca's objecmake this reflection upon it, without which tion to the style of a great author, Riget so small a circumstance might possibly ejus oratio, nihil in ea placidum, nihil lene,' have slipped out of his reader's memory. is what many critics make to Milton. As Lucan, who was an injudicious poet, lets I cannot wholly refute it, so I have already drop his story very frequently for the sake apologized for it in another paper: to which of his unnecessary digressions, or his diver- I may further add, that Milton's sentiments ticula, as Scaliger calls them. If he gives and ideas were so wonderfully sublime, that it us an account of the prodigies which pre- would have been impossible for him to have ceded the civil war, he declaims upon the represented them in their full strength and occasion, and shows how much happier it beauty, without having recourse to these would be for man, if he did not feel his evil foreign assistances. Our language sunk fortune before it comes to pass; and suffer under him, and was unequal to that greatnot only by its real weight, but by the ap-ness of soul which furnished him with such prehension of it. Milton's complaint for glorious conceptions. his blindness, his panegyric on marriage, his reflections on Adam and Eve going naked, ས A second fault in his language is, that he often affects a kind of jingle in his words, as in the following passages, and many others: And brought into the world a world of woe. Beseeching or besieging. This tempted our attempt At one slight bound high overleapt all bound. I know there are figures for this kind of speech; that some of the greatest ancients ave been guilty of it, and that Aristotle himself has given it a place in his rhetoric among the beauties of that art. But as it is in itself poor and trifling, it is, I think, at present universally exploded by all the masters of polite writing. The last fault which I shall take notice of in Milton's style, is the frequent use of what the learned call technical words, or terms of art. It is one of the greatest beauties of poetry, to make hard things intelligible, and to deliver what is abstruse of itself in such easy language as may be understood by ordinary readers: besides that the knowledge of a poet should rather seem born with him, or inspired, than drawn from books and systems. I have often wondered how Mr. Dryden could translate a passage out of Virgil after the following 'London, Feb. 9, 1711-12. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am a virgin, and in no case despicable; but yet such as I am I must remain, or else become, it is to be feared, less happy; for I find not the least good effect from the just correction you some time since gave that too free, that looser part of our sex which spoils the men; the same connivance at the vices, the same easy admittance of addresses, the same vitiated relish of the conversation of the great est rakes (or, in a more fashionable way of expressing one's self, of such as have seen the world most) still abounds, increases, multiplies. "The humble petition, therefore, of many of the most strictly virtue as, and of myself, is, that you will once more exert your au thority; and that, according to your late promise, your full, your impartial authority, on this sillier branch of our kind; for why should they be the uncontrollable mistresses of our fate? Why should they with impunity indulge the males in licentiousness whilst single, and we have the dismal hazard and plague of reforming them when married? Strike home, sir, then, and spare not, or all our maiden hopes, our gilded hopes of nuptial felicity are frustrated, are vanished, and you yourself, as well as Mr. Courtly, will, by smoothing over immodest practices with the gloss of soft and harmless names, for ever forfeit our esteem. Nor think that I am herein more severe than need be: if I have not reason more than enough, do you and the world judge from this ensuing account, which I think will prove the evil to be universal. 'You must know, then, that since your reprehension of this female degeneracy came out, I have had a tender of respects from no less than five persons, of tolerable figure, too, as times go: but the misfortune is, that four of the five are professed followers of the mode. They would face me down, that all women of good sense ever were, and ever will be, latitudinarians in wedlock: and always did, and will, give and take, what they profanely term conjugal liberty of conscience. The two first of them, a captain and a merchant, to strengthen their arguments, pretend to repeat after a couple of ladies kind to Mars; and what soul that has the of quality and wit, that Venus was always least spark of generosity can deny a man of bravery any thing? And how pitiful a trader that, whom no woman but his own wife will have correspondence and dealings with? Thus these: whilst the third, the country 'squire, confessed, that indeed he was surprised into good breeding, and entered into the knowledge of the world unawares: that dining the other day at a gentleman's house, the person who entertained was obliged to leave him with his wife and nieces; where they spoke with so much contempt of an absent gentleman for being so slow at a hint, that he resolved never to be drowsy, unmannerly, or stupid, for the future, at a friend's house; and on a hunting morning not to pursue the game either with the husband abroad, or with the wife at home. The next that came was a tradesman, no less full of the age than the former; for he had the gallantry to tell me, that at a late junket which he was invited to, the motion being made, and the question being put, it was by maid, wife, and widow, resolved nemine contradicente, that a young sprightly journeyman is absolutely necessary in their way of business; to which they had the assent and concurrence of their husbands present. I dropped him a courtesy, and gave him to understand that was his audience of leave. or keeping it offending against Him whom they cannot deceive. Your assistance and labours of this sort would be of great bene fit, and your speedy thoughts on this subject would be very seasonable to, sir, your most humble servant, ́CHASTITY LOVEWORTH.’ Malo Venusinam, quam te, Cornelia, mater 'I am reckoned pretty, and have had very many advances besides these; but have been very averse to hear any of them, from my observation on those above-mentioned, until I hoped some good from the character of my present admirer, a clergy- No. 299.] Tuesday, February 12, 1711-12. man. But I find even among them there are indirect practices in relation to love, and our treaty is at present a little in suspense, until some circumstances are cleared. There is a charge against him among the women, and the case is this: It is alleged, that a certain endowed female would have appropriated herself to, and consolidated herself with a church which my divine now enjoys (or, which is the same thing, did prostitute herself to her friend's doing this for her:) that my ecclesiastic, to obtain the one, did engage himself to take Dryden. off the other that lay on hand; but that on more by reading the story of a person emiIT is observed, that a man improves his success in the spiritual, he again re-nent for prudence and virtue, than by the nounced the carnal. Juv. Sat. vi. 166 Some country girl, scarce to a courtesy bred, 'I put this closely to him, and taxed him the same manner a representation of those finest rules and precepts of morality. In with disingenuity. He to clear himself calamities and misfortunes which a weak made the subsequent defence, and that in man suffers from wrong measures, and illthe most solemn manner possible:-that he concerted schemes of life, is apt to make a was applied to, and instigated to accept of deeper impression upon our minds, than a benefice:-that a conditional offer there- the wisest maxims and instructions that of was indeed made him at first, but with can be given us, for avoiding the like follies disdain by him rejected:-that when no- and indiscretions in our own private conthing (as they easily perceived) of this duct. It is for this reason that I lay before nature could bring him to their purpose, my reader the following letter, and leave it assurance of his being entirely unengaged with him to make his own use of it, withbeforehand, and safe from all their after-out adding any reflections of my own upon expectations, (the only stratagem left to the subject-matter. draw him in,) was given him:-that pursuant to this the donation itself was, without 'MR. SPECTATOR,- Having carefully delay, before several reputable witnesses, perused a letter sent you by Josiah Fribble, tendered to him gratis, with the open profes- Esq. with your subsequent discourse upon sion of not the least reserve, or most minute pin-money, I do presume to trouble you with condition; but that yet, immediately after an account of my own case, which I look induction, his insidious introducer (or her upon to be no less deplorable than that of crafty procurer, which you will) indus-squire Fribble. I am a person of no extriously spread the report which had reached my ears, not only in the neighbourhood of that said church, but in London, in the university, in mine and his own country, and wherever else it might probably obviate his application to any other woman, and so confine him to this alone: and in a word, that as he never did make any previous offer of his service, or the least step to her affection; so on his discovery of these designs thus laid to trick him, he could not but afterwards, in justice to himself, vindicate both his innocence and freedom, by keeping his proper distance. This is his apology, and I think I shall be satisfied with it. But I cannot conclude my tedious epistle without recommending to you not only to resume your former chastisement, but to add to your criminals the simoniacal ladies, who seduce the sacred order into the difficulty of either breaking a mercenary troth made to them, whom they ought not to deceive, or by breaking traction, having begun the world with a small parcel of rusty iron, and was for some years commonly known by the name of Jack Anvil. I have naturally a very happy genius for getting money, insomuch that by the age of five and twenty, I had scraped together four thousand two hundred pounds, five shillings, and a few odd pence. I then launched out into considerable business, and became a bold trader both by sea and land, which in a few years raised me a very great fortune. For these my good services I was knighted in the thirty-fifth year of my age, and lived with great dignity among my city neighbours by the name of Sir John Anvil. Being in my temper very ambitious, I was now bent upon making a family, and ac luded to Gore, of Tring, and Lady Mary Compton : * It is said by some, that the author of this letter albut others, with more probability, that it referred to Sir Ambrose Crowley and his lady. See Tat. ed. 1786, ci. Crawley, the folly of which seems to be ridiculed above, 8vo. The latter changed his name from Crowley to by the change of Anvil into Envil. with a frown, that I did not seem to know who she was. I was surprised to be treated thus, after such familiarities as had passed between us, But she has since given me to know, that whatever freedoms she may sometimes indulge me in, she expects in general to be treated with the respect that is due to her birth and quality. Our chil infancy with so many accounts of their mother's family, that they know the stories of all the great men and women it has produced. Their mother tells them, that such an one commanded in such a sea-engagement, that their great-grandfather had a horse shot under him at Edge-hill, that their uncle was at the siege of Buda, and that her mother danced in a ball at court with the Duke of Monmouth; with abundance of fiddle-faddle of the same nature. I was the other day a little out of countenance at a question of my little daughter Harriot, who asked me, with a great deal of innocence, why I never told them of the generals and admirals that had been in my family? As for my eldest son, Oddly, he has been so spirited up by his mother, that if he does not mend his manners I shall go near to disinherit him. He drew his sword upon me before he was nine years old, and told me that he expected to be used like a gentleman: upon my offering to correct him for his insolence, my Lady Mary stepped in between us, and told me that I ought to consider there was some difference between his mother and mine. She is perpetually finding out the features of her own relations in every one of my children, though by the way, I have a little chubfaced boy as like me as he can stare, if I durst say so: but what most angers me, when she sees me playing with any of them upon my knee, she has begged me more than once to converse with the children as little as possible, that they may not learn any of my awkward tricks. cordingly resolved that my descendants | John Anvil, but as her husband; and added, should have a dash of good blood in their veins. In order to this, I made love to the Lady Mary Oddly, an indigent young woman of quality. To cut short the marriage-treaty, I threw her a carte blanche, | as our newspapers call it, desiring her to write upon it her own terms. She was very concise in her demands, insisting only that the disposal of my fortune, and the regula-dren have been trained up from their tion of my family, should be entirely in her hands. Her father and brothers appeared exceedingly averse to this match, and would not see me for some time; but at present are so well reconciled, that they dine with me almost every day, and have borrowed considerable sums of me; which my Lady Mary very often twits me with, when she would show me how kind her relations are to me. She had no portion, as I told you before; but what she wanted in fortune she makes up in spirit. She at first changed my name to Sir John Envil, and at present writes herself Mary Enville. I have had some children by her, whom she has christened with the surnames of her family, in order, as she tells me, to wear out the homeliness of their parentage by the father's side. Our eldest son is the Honourable Oddly Enville, Esq. and our eldest daughter Harriot Enville. Upon her first coming into my family, she turned off a parcel of very careful servants, who had been long with me, and introduced in their stead a couple of black-a-moors, and three or four very genteel fellows in laced liveries, besides her French woman, who is perpetually making a noise in the house, in a language which nobody understands, except my Lady Mary. She next set herself to reform every room of my house, having glazed all my chimney-pieces with looking-glasses, and planted every corner with such heaps of china, that I am obliged to move about my own house with the greatest caution and circumspection, for fear of hurting some of our brittle furniture. She makes an illumination once a week with wax candles in one of the largest rooms, in order, as she phrases it, to see company: at which time she always desires me to be abroad, or to confine myself to the cockloft, that I may not disgrace her among her visitants of quality. Her footmen, as I told you before, are such beaus that I do not much care for asking them questions; when I do, they answer me with a saucy frown, and say that every thing which I find fault with, was done by my Lady Mary's order. She tells me, that she in- To complete my sufferings, she has tends they shall wear swords with their teased me for this quarter of a year last next liveries, having lately observed the past to remove into one of the squares at footmen of two or three persons of quality the other end of the town, promising, for hanging behind the coach with swords by my encouragement, that I shall have as their sides. As soon as the first honeymoon good a cock-loft as any gentleman in the was over, I represented to her the unrea-square; to which the Honourable Oddly sonableness of those daily innovations which Enville, Esq. always adds, like a jack-ashe made in my family; but she told me, I napes as he is, that he hopes it will be as was no longer to consider myself as Sir near the court as possible. You must further know, since I am opening my heart to you, that she thinks herself my superior in sense, as much as she is in quality, and therefore treats me like a plain well-meaning man, who does not know the world. She dictates to me in my own business, sets me right in points of trade, and if I disagree with her about any of my ships at sea, wonders that I will dispute with her, when I know very well that her great-grandfather was a flagofficer. In short, Mr. Spectator I am so much | pleasantry; and hope you will show these out of my natural element, that, to recover people that at least they are not witty: in my old way of life, I would be content to which you will save from many a blush a begin the world again, and be plain Jack daily sufferer, who is very much your most Anvil; but, alas! I am in for life, and am humble servant, bound to subscribe myself, with great sorrow of heart, your humble servant, L. JOHN ENVILLE, KNT.’ 'SUSANNA LOVEWORTH.' 'MR. SPECTATOR,-In yours of Wednesday the 30th past, you and your correspondents are very severe on a sort of men, No. 300.] Wednesday, Feb. 13, 1711-12. whom you call male coquettes; but without at. -Diversum vitio vitium prope majus. any other reason, in my apprehension, than that of paying a shallow compliment to the Another failing of the mind, fair sex, by accusing some men of imagiGreater than this, of a quite different kind.-Pooley. nary faults, that the women may not seem 'MR. SPECTATOR,-When you talk of to be the more faulty sex; though at the the subject of love, and the relations arising same time you suppose there are some so from it, methinks you should take care to weak as to be imposed upon by fine things leave no fault unobserved which concerns and false addresses. I cannot persuade the state of marriage. The great vexation myself that your design is to debar the sexes that I have observed in it is, that the wed-the benefit of each other's conversation ded couple seem to want opportunities of within the rules of honour; nor will you, being often enough alone together, and are I dare say, recommend to them, or enforced to quarrel and be fond before com-courage the common tea-table talk, much pany. Mr. Hotspur and his lady, in a less that of politics and matters of state: room full of their friends, are ever saying and if these are forbidden subjects of dissomething so smart to each other, and course, then, as long as there are any that but just within rules, that the whole women in the world who take a pleasure company stand in the utmost anxiety and in hearing themselves praised, and can suspense, for fear of their falling into ex-bear the sight of a man prostrate at their tremities which they could not be present feet, so long I shall make no wonder, that On the other side, Tom Faddle and there are those of the other sex who will his pretty spouse, wherever they come, pay them those impertinent humiliations. are billing at such a rate, as they think We should have few people such fools as must do our hearts good to behold them. to practise flattery, if all were so wise as Cannot you possibly propose a mean be- to despise it. I do not deny but you would tween being wasps and doves in public? do a meritorious act, if you could prevent I should think, if you advised to hate or all impositions on the simplicity of young love sincerely, it would be better: for if they women; but I must confess, I do not apprewould be so discreet as to hate from the hend you have laid the fault on the proper very bottom of their hearts, their aversion persons; and if I trouble you with my would be too strong for little gibes every thoughts upon it, I promise myself your moment; and if they loved with that calm pardon. Such of the sex as are raw and and noble valour which dwells in the heart, innocent, and most exposed to these atwith a warmth like that of life-blood, they tacks, have, or their parents are much to would not be so impatient of their pas-blame if they have not, one to advise and sions as to fall into observable fondness. guard them, and are obliged themselves This method, in each case, would save ap- to take care of them; but if these, who pearances: but as those who offend on the ought to hinder men from all opportunities fond side are by much the fewer, I would of this sort of conversation, instead of that have you begin with them, and go on to encourage and promote it, the suspicion is take notice of a most impertinent licence very just that there are some private reasons married women take, not only to be very for it; and I will leave it to you to determine loving to their spouses in public, but also on which side a part is then acted. Some make nauseous allusions to private fami- women there are who are arrived at years of liarities and the like. Lucina is a lady of discretion, I mean are got out of the hands the greatest discretion, you must know, in of their parents and governors, and are set the world; and withal very much a physi-up for themselves, who are yet liable to cian. Upon the strength of those two qualities there is nothing she will not speak of vefore us virgins; and she every day talks with a very grave air in such a manner as is very improper so much as to be hinted at, but to obviate the greatest extremity. Those whom they call good bodies, notable people, hearty neighbours, and the purest goodest company in the world, are the great offenders in this kind. Here I think I have laid before you an open field for these attempts; but if these are prevailed upon, you must excuse me if I lay the fault upon them, that their wisdom is not grown with their years. My client, Mr. Strephon, whom you summoned to declare himself, gives you thanks, however, for your warning, and begs the favour only to enlarge his time for a week, or to the last day of the term, and then he will appear gratis, and pray no day over. Yours, PHILANTHROPOS.' |