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hending the dust of the earth in a measure, the fifth and sixth days, in which he has drawn weighing the mountains in scales, and the hills out to our view the whole animal creation, in a balance. Another of them describing the from the reptile to the behemoth. As the lion Supreme Being in this great work of creation, and the leviathan are two of the noblest represents him as laying the foundations of productions in the world of living creatures, the earth, and stretching a line upon it; and, the reader will find a most exquisite spirit in another place, as garnishing the heavens, of poetry in the account which our author stretching out the north over the empty place, gives us of them. The sixth day concludes and hanging the earth upon nothing. This with the formation of man, upon which the last poble thought Milton has expressed in the angel takes occasion, as he did after the following verse :
battle in heaven, to reinind Adam of his obe.
dience, which was the principal design of this And earth self balanced on her centre hung, visit. The beauties of description in this book lie
The poet afterwards represents the Messiah so very thick, that it is impossible to enume.
returning into heaven, and taking a survey of rate them in this paper. The poet has em
his great work. There is something inexpresployed on them the whole energy of our
sibly sublime in this part of the poem, where tongue. The several great scenes of the
he the author describes the great period of time, creation rise up to view one after another, in
in filled with so many glorious circumstances ; such a manner, that the reader seems pre
when the heavens and earth were finished ; sent at this wonderful work, and to assist a
when the Messiah ascended up in triumph mong the choirs of angels who are the specta."
through the everlasting gates ; when he looktors of it. How glorious is the conclusion of
ed down with pleasure upon his new crea- , the first day!
tion ; when every part of nature seemed to re
joice in its existence, when the morning-stars Thus was the first day even and morn
sang together, and all the sons of God shouted Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung
Yet not till the Creator from his work
Desisting, though unwearied, up return'd, We have the same elevation of thought in
Up to the heaven of heavens, his high abode,
Thence to behold his new created world the third day, when the mountains were Th' addition of his empire, how it show'd brought forth, and the deep was made:
In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair,
Answering his great idea. Up he rode, Immediately the mountains huge appear
Follow'd with acclamation and the sound Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave
Symphonious of ten thousand harps, that tun'd Into the clouds, their tops ascend the sky:
Angelie harmonies, the earth, the air So high as hear'n the tumid hills, so low
Resounded, (thou rememberest, for thou heard'st) Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep,
The heavens and all the constellations rung, Capacious bed of waters
The planets in their station list'ning stood,
While the bright pomp ascended jubilant. We have also the rising of the whole vege
“Open, ye everlasting gates!” they sung,
“ Open, ye heavens, your living doors ! Jet in table world, described in this day's work,
The great Creator from his work return'd which is filled with all the graces that other Magnificent, his six days work-a world!" poets have lavished on their description of the spring, and leads the reader's imagina. I cannot conclude this book upon the crea. tion into a theatre equally surprising and tion without mentioning a poem which has beautiful.
lately appeared under that title.* The work The several glories of the heavens make their
was undertaken with so good an intention, and appearance on the fourth day :
is executed with so great a mastery, that it
deserves to be looked upon as one of the most First in his east the glorious lamp was seen,
useful and noble productions in our English Regent of day, and all the horizon round Invested with bright rays, jocund to run
verse. The reader cannot but be pleased to His longitude through heavn's high road ; the gray find the depths of philosophy enlivened with Dawn, and the Pleiades before him danc'd,
all the charms of poetry, and to see so great a Shedding sweet influence. Less bright the moon, But opposite in levellid west was set
strength of reason, amidst so beautiful a reHis mirror, with full face borrowing her light dundancy of the imagination. The author has From him, for other lights she needed none
shown us that design in all the works of nature In that aspect, and still the distance keeps
which pecessarily leads us to the knowledge Till night; then in the cast he turn she shines, Revolv'd on heavy's great axle, and her reign
of its first cause. In short, he has illusWith thousand lesser lights dividual holds,
trated, by numberless and incontestable inWith thousand thousand stars, that then appear'd stances, that divine wisdom which the son of Sparkling the hemisphere
Sirach has so nobly ascribed to the Supreme
Being in bis formation of the world, when he One would wonder how the poet could be tells us, that He created her, and saw her, so concise in his description of the six days' and numbered her, and poured her out upon works, as to comprehend them within the bounds all his works.' of an episode, and, at the same time, so particular, as to give us a lively idea of them. This is still more remarkable in his account of
* By Sir Richard Blackmore.
No. 340.] Monday, March 31, 1712. racter. I have waited for his arrival in HolQuis novus hic nostris successit sedibus hospes?
land, before I would let my correspondents Quem sese ore fercns! quam forti pectore et armnis! know that I have not been so uncurious a
Virg. Æn. iv. 10. Spectator as not to have seen privce Eugene.*
It would be very difficult, as I said just now, What chief is this that visits us from far, Whoso gallant mien bespeaks him traim'd to war! to answer every expectation of those who have
written to me on that head ; nor is it possible I TAKE it to be the highest instance of a no- for me to find words to let one know what an ble mind, to bear great qualities without dis. artful glance there is in his countenance who covering in a man's behaviour and conscious- surprised Cremona; how daring he appears ness that he is superior to the rest of the world. who forced the trenches at Turin: but in geOr, to say it otherwise, it is the duty of a great neral I can say, that he who beholds him will person so to demean himself, as that, whatever easily expect from him any thing that is to be endowments he may have, he may appear imagined, or executed. by the wit or force of to value hiinself upon no qualities but such as man. The prince is of that stature which any man may arrive at. He ought to think makes a man most easily become all parts of exno man valuable but for his public spirit, jug-ercise; has height to be gracefulon occasions of tice, and integrity; and all other endowments state and ceremony, and no less adapted for to be esteemed only as they contribute to the agility and despatch: his aspect is erect and exerting those virtues. Such a man, if he is composed; his eye lively and thoughtful, yet wise or valiant, knows it is of'no consideration rather vigilant than sparkling ; his action and to other men that he is so, but as he employs address the most easy imaginable, and his bethose high talents for their use and service. haviour in an assembly peculiarly graceful in He who affects the applauses and addresses of a certain art of mixing insensibly with the a multitude, or assumes to himself a pre-emi- rest, and becoming one of the company, innence upon any other consideration, must soon stead of receiving the courtship of it. The turn admiration into contempt. It is certain shape of his person, and composure of his that there can be no merit in any man who is limbs, are remarkably exact and beautiful. not conscious of it; but the sense that it is There is in his looks something sublime, which valuable only according to the application of does not seem to arise from his quality or it, makes that superiority amiable, which would character, but the innate disposition of his otherwise be invidious. In this light it is con- mind. It is apparent that he suffers the presidered as a thing in which every man bears a sence of much company, instead of taking share. It annexes the ideas of dignity, pow. delight in it; and he appeared in public, er, and fame, in an agreeable and familiar while with us, rather to return good-will, or manner, to him who is possessor of it; and satisfy curiosity, than to gratify any taste he all men who are strangers to him are natu- himself had of being popular. As his thoughts rally incited to indulge a curiosity in be- are never tumultuous in danger, they are as holding the person, behaviour, feature, and little discomposed on occasions of pomp and shape of him in whose character, perhaps, magnificence. A great soul is affected, in each man had formed something in common either case, no further than in considering the with himself.
properest methods to extricate itself from Whether such, or any other, are the causes, them. If this hero has the strong incentives all men have a yearning curiosity to behold a to uncommon enterprises that were remarkaman of heroic worth. I have had many letters blc in Alexander, he prosecutes and enjoys the from all parts of this kingdom, that request fame of them with the justness propriety, and I would give them an exact account of the good sense of Cæsar. It is easy to observe stature, the mien, the aspect of the prince in him a mind as capable of being entertainwho lately visited England, and has done such ed with contemplation as enterprise; a mind wonders for the liberty of Europe. It would ready for great exploits, but not impatient puzzle the most curious to form to himself the for occasions to exert itself. The prince has sort of man my several correspondents expect wisdom, and valour in as high perfection as to hear of by the action mentioned, when they man can enjoy it; which noble faculties, in desire a description of him. There is always conjunction, banish all vain-glory, ostenta. . something that concerns themselves, and grow- tion, ambition, and all other vices which ing out of their own circumstances, in all their might intrude upon his mind, to make it un. inquiries. A friend of mine in Wales beseech- equal. These babits and qualities of soul and es me to be very exact in my account of that body render this personage so extraordinary, wonderful man, who had marched an army and that he appears to have nothing in him but all its baggage over the Alps ; and, if possible, what every man should have in him, the exerto learn whether the peasant who showed him ition of his very self, abstracted from the cirthe way, and is drawn in the map, be yet liv. cumstances in which fortune has placed him. ing. A gentleman from the university, who is Thus. were you to see prince Eugene, and deeply intent on the study of humanity, desires were told he was a private gentleman, you me to be as particular, if I had opportunity., would say he is a man of modesty and merit. in observing the whole interview between his Should you be told that was prince Eugene, highness and our late general. Thus do men's, he would be diminished no otherwise, than fancies work according to their several educations and circumstances; but all pay a respect, + He stood godfather to Steele's second son, who was mixed with admiration, to this illustrious cha-named Eugene after this prince.
that part of your distant admiration would at the same time thought a very good epiturn into a fainiliar good-will.
llogue: This I thought fit to entertain my reader with, concerning an hero who never was!
Hold! are you mad? you darun'd confounded dog,
I am to rise and speak the cpilogue.' equalled but by one map.* over whom also he has this advantage, that he has had an « This diverting manner was always prac. opportunity to manifest an estcem for him in tised by Mr. Dryden, who, if he was not the his adversity.
T. best writer of tragedies in his time, was allow
ed by every one to have the happiest turn for No. 341.] Tuesday, April 1, 1712.
la prologue, or an epilogue. The epilogues to
Cleomenes, Don Sebastian, The duke of Guise, - Revocate animos, mestumque timorem Aureng zebe, and Love Triumphani, are all Mittite
Virg. n. 1. 206
precedents of this nature. Resume your courage, and dismiss your fear.
I night further justify this practice by that
Dryden. excellent epilogue which was spoken, a few HAVING, to oblige my correspondent Physi
lycars since, after the tragedy of Pliædra and bulus, printed his letter last Friday, in rela
Hippolytus ;* with a great many others, in tion to the new epilogue, he cannot take in which the authors have endeavoured to make amiss if I now publish another, which I have
the audience merry. If they have not all suc. just received from a gentleman who does not
ceeded so well as the writer of this, they have
however shown that it was not for want of agree with him in his sentiments upon that
• I must further observe, that the gayety of SIR,
fit may be still the more proper, as it is at the I am amazed to find an epilogue attacked in end of a Freneh play ; since every one knows your last Friday's paper, which has been so that nation, who are generally esteemed to generally applauded by the town, and receiv-Thave as polite a taste as any in Europe, always ed such hovours as were never before given close their tragic entertainment, with what to any in an English theatre.
they call a petite piece, which is purposely de"The audience would not permit Mrs. Old-signed to raise mirth, and send away the audifield to go off the stage the first night till she ence well pleased. The same person who has had repeated it twice; the second night the supported the chief character in the tragedy noise of ancora was as loud as before, and she very often plays the principal part in the was obliged again to speak it twice; the third pelile piece; so that I have myself seen, at night it was still called for a second time; and. Paris, Orestes and Lubin acted the same night in short, contrary to all other epilogues, which by the same man. are dropped after the third representation of 'Tragi-comedy, indeed, you have yourself the play. this has already been repeated wine in a former speculation, found fault with very times.
justly, because it breaks the tide of the pasI must own, I am the more surprised to sions while they are yet flowing ; but this is find this censure in opposition to the whole nothing at all to the present case, where they town, in a paper which has hitherto been fa-Ihave had already their full course. . mous for the candour of its criticisms.
'As the new epilogue is written conformably I can by no means allow your melancholy to the practice of our best poets, so it is not correspondent, that the new epilogue is unnatu- such a one, which, as the duke of Buckingham ral because it is gay. If I had a mind to be says in his Rehearsal, night serve for any learned. I could tell him that the prologue and other play ; but wholly rises out of the occurepilogue were real parts of the ancient trage.frences of the piece it was composed for. dy; but every one knows, that, on the British 'The only reason your mournful correspon. stage, they are distinct performances by them-dent gives against this facetious epilogue, as selves, pieces entirely detached from the play, he calls it, is, that he has a mind to go home and no way essential to it.
melancholy. I wish the gentleman may not · The moment the play ends, Mrs. Olufeld is be more grave than wise. For my own part, no more Andromache but Mrs Oldfield: and I must confess, I think it very sufficient to have though the poet had left Andromache stone-the anguish of a fictitious piece remain upon dead upon the stage, as your ingenious corre
reme while it is representing; but I love to be spondent phrases it, Mrs. Oldfield might still sent home to bed in a good humour. If Phyhave spoken a merry epilogue. We have an sib
sibulus is, however, resolved to be inconsolainstance of this in a tragedy where there is not ble, and not to have his tears dried up, he need only a death, but a martyrdom. St. Catherine only continue bis old custom, and, when he was there personated by Nell Gwin; she lies has had his phalf crown's worth of sorrow, stone-dead upon the stage, but upon those gen
proslink out before the epilogue begins. tlemen's offering to remove her body, whose
| “It is pleasant enough to hear this tragical
! business it is to carry off the slain in our Eng.genius complaining of the great mischief Anlish tragedies, she breaks out into that abruptor
Jdromache had done him. What was that? beginning of what was a very ludicrous, but
t] Why, she made bim laugh. The poor gentle
* Mr. Bdmund Neal, alias Smith, 8vo. 1707. Addison * The duke of Marlborough, who was disgraced about wrote a prologue to this play to ridicule the Italian operas, his time.
| The epilogue was written by Prior. VOL. II.
man's sufferings put me in mind of Harlequin's great deal of reflection. I cannot say but this case, who was tickled to death. He tells us arose very much from the circumstances of soon after, through a small mistake of sorrow my own life, who um a soldier, and expect for rage, that during the whole action he was every day to receive orders, which will oblige so very sorry, that he thinks he could have at- me to leave behind a wife that is very dear to tacked half a score of the fiercest Mohocks in me, and that very deservedly. She is at prethe excess of his grief. I cannot but look up sent, i am sure, no way below your Asteria on it as an unhappy accident, that a man who for conjugal affection : but I see the behaviour is so bloody-minded in his affliction was di- of some women so little suited to the circumverted from this fit of outrageous melancholy. stances wherein my wife and I shall soon be, The valour of this gentleman in his distress that it is with a reluctance, I never knew before, brings to one's memory the Knight of the I am going to my duty. What puts me to presorrowful Countenance, who lays about him sent pain is, the example of a young lady, at such an unmerciful rate in an old romance. whose story you shall have as well as I can I shall readily grant him that his soul, as he give it you. Hortensius, an officer of good himself says, would have made a very ridi- rank in his majesty's service, happened, in a culous figure, had it quitted the body, and certain part of England, to be brought to a descended to the poetical shades, in such an country gentleman's house, where he was reencounter.
ceived with that more than ordinary welcome As to his conceit of tacking a tragic head with which men of domestic lives entertain with a comic tail, in order to refresh the au- such few soldiers whom a military life, from dience, it is such a piece of jargon, that I do the varitey of adventures, has not rendered not know what to make of it.
over-bearing, but humane, easy, and agreea• The elegant writer makes a very sudden ble. Hortentius staid here some time, and had transition from the play house to the church, easy access at all hours, as well as unavoidaand from thence to the gallows.
ble conversation, at some parts of the day, *As for what relates to the church, he is of with the beautiful Sylvana, the gentleman's opinion that these epilogues have given occa- daughter. People who live in cities are wonsion to those merry jigs from the organ-loft, derfully struck with every little country abode which have dissipated those good thoughts they see when they take the air; and it is naand dispositions he has found in himself, and tural to fancy they could live in every neat the rest of the pew, upon the singing of two cottage (by which they pass) much happier staves culled out by the judicious and diligent than in their present circumstances. The turclerk.
bulent way of life which Hortensius was used • He fetches his next thought from Tyburn; to, made bini reflect with much satisfaction and seems very apprehensive lest there should on all the advantages of a sweet retreat one happen any innovations in the tragedies of day; and, among the rest, you will think it his friend Paul Lorrain.
not improbable it might enter into his thought, • In the mean time, sir, this gloomy writer. that such a woman as Sylvana would consumwho is so mightily scandalized at a gay epi-mate the happiness. The world is so debauchlogue after a serious play, speaking of the fate ed with mean considerations, that Hortensius of those unhappy wretches who are condemo- knew it would be received as an act of generoed to suffer an ignominious death by the jus-sity, if he asked for a womau of the highest tice of our laws, endeavours to make the reader merit, without further questions, of a parent merry on so improper an occasion, by who had nothing to add to her personal qualithose poor burlesque expressions of tragical fications. The wedding was celebrated at her dramas and monthly performances.
father's house. When that was over, the ge• I am, Sir, with great respect, nerous husband did not proportion his provi• Your most obedient, most humble servant, sion for her to the circumstances of her for.
PHILOMEDES.' tune, but considered his wife as his darling, his
pride, and his vanity; or, rather, that it was in the woman he had chosen that a man of
sense could show pride or vanity with an exNo. 342.] Wednesday, April 2, 1712.
cuse, and therefore adorned her with rich Justitiæ partes sunt non violare homines: verecundiæ habits and valuable jewels. He did not, how. non offendere.
Tull. ever, omit to admonish her, that he did his Justice consists in doing no injury to men: decency, in
very utmost in this ; that it was an ostentation giving them no offence.
he could not be guilty of but to a woman he
had so much pleasure in, desiring her to conAs regard to decency is a great rule of life sider it as such; and begged of her also to take in general, but more especially to be consulted these matters rightly, and believe the gems, by the female world, I cannot overlook the the gowns, the laces, would still become her following letter, which describes an egregious better, if her air and behaviour was such, that offender.
it might appear she dressed thus rather in
compliance to his humour that way, than out 'MR. SPECTATOR,
of any value she herself had for the trifles. To "I was this day looking over your papers, this lesson, too hard for a woman, Hortensius and reading, in that of December the 6th, with added, that she must be sure to stay with her great delight, the amiable grief of Asteria for friends in the country till his return. As soon the absence of her husband, it threw me into a as Hortensius departed, Sylvana saw in her
looking-glass, that the love he conceived for her lish of life, and falling into contempt of their was wholly owing to the accident of seeing own persons, or being the derision of others. her; and she was convinced it was only her But when they consider themselves as they misfortune the rest of mankind had not be- ought, no other than an additional part of the held her, or men of much greater quality and species, (for their own happiuess and comfort, merit had contended for one so genteel, thougb as well as that of those for whom they were bred in obscurity; so very witty, though never born ), their ambition to excel will be directed acquainted with court or town. She therefore accordingly; and they will in no part of their resolved not to hide so much excellence from lives want opportunities of being shining orthe world; but, without any regard to the ab- naments to their fathers, husbands, brothers, sence of the most generous man alive, she is or children.
T. now the gayest lady about this town, and has shut out the thoughts of her husband, by a constant retivue of the vainest young fellows No. 343.] Thursday, April 3, 1712. this age has produced; to entertain whom, she squanders away all Hortensius is able to ship
- Errat, ct illinc
Huc venit, hinc iilce, et quoslibet occupat artus ply her with, though that supply is purchased
Spiritus; éque feris humans in corpora transit, with no less difficulty than the hazard of his Inque foras poster lite."
Orid, Met. Lib. xx. 165., • Now, Mr. Spectator, would it not be a
All things are but alter'd; nothing dies; work becoming your office, to treat this cri.
And here and there th' ubody'd spirit tlies, minal as she deserves? You should give it the By time, or force, or sickness dispossessid, severest reflections you can. You should tell And lodges, where it lights, in man or beast.--Dryden. women, that they are more accountable for behaviour in absence. than after death. The Will HONEYCOME, who loves to show upon dead are not dishonoured by their levities; the occasion all the liule learning he has picked living may return, and be laughed at by empty up, told us yesterday at the club, that he fops, who will not fail to turn into ridicule the thonght there might be a great deal said for good man, who is so unseasonable as to be still the transmigration of souls; and that the easalive, and cone and spoil good company.
stern parts of the world believed in that docI am, Sir
trine to this day. • Sir Paul Rycaut,' says he,
I gives us an account of several well-disposed Your most obedient bumble servant. Mahometans that purchase the freedom of
any little bird they see confined to a cage, All strictness of behaviour is so unmercifully and think they merit as much by it as we laughed at in our age, that the other much should do here by ransoming any of our counworse extreme is the more common folly. trymen from their captivity at Algiers. You But let any woman consider, which of the must know,' says Will, 'the reason is, betwo offences an husband would the more easi. cause they consider every animal as a brother ly forgive, that of being less entertaining than or sister in disguise ; and therefore think themshe could to please company, or raising the selves obliged to extend their charity to them. desires of the whole room to bis disadvantage; thoughunder such meancircumstances. They'll and she will easily be able to form her con- tell you,' says Will, that the soul of a man. duct. We have indeed carried women's cla- when he dies, immediately passes into the boracters too much into public life, and you dy of another man, or of some brute, which shall see them now-a-days affect a sort of|he resembled in his humour, or his fortune. farne : but I cannot help venturing to disoblige when he was one of us.' . them for their service, by telling them, that the As I was wondering what this profusion of utmost of a woman's character is contained in learning would end in, Will told us, that Jack doroestic life; she is blameable or praisewor- Freelove, who was a fellow of whim, made thy according as her carriage affects the house love to one of those ladies who throw away all of her father or her husband. All she has to their fondness on parrots, monkeys, and lap. do in this world, is contained within the dutics dogs. Upon going to pay her a visit onc of a daughter, a sister, a wife, and a moi her. morning, he writ a very pretty epistle upon All these may be well performed, though a la- this hint. Jack,' says he, was conducted indy should not be found the very finest woman to the parlour, where he diverted himself for at an opera or an assembly. They are like some time with her favourite monkey, which wisc consistent with a modest share of wit, a was chained in one of the windows ; till at plain dress, and a modest air. But when the length observing a pen and ink lie by him, very brains of the sex are turned, and thcy he writ the following letter to his mist
stress place their ambition on circumstances, where in the person of the monkey; and, upon her in to exc is no addition to what is truly com- not coming down so soon as he expected. mendable, where can this end, but as it fre- left it in the window, and went about his buquently does, in their placing all their indus-siness. try, pleasure, and ambition, on things which "The lady soon after coming into the parwill naturally make the gratifications of lifelast, lour, and seeing her monkey look upon a paat best, no longer than youth and good for- per with great earnestoess, took it up, and tune? When we consider the least ill conse- to this day is in some doubt,' says Will, quence, it can be po less than looking on their whether it was written by Jack or the monown condition, as years advance, with a disre-key.'