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It is owing to pride, and a secret affectation of a certain self-existence, that the noblest motive for action that ever was proposed to man is not acknowledged the glory and happiness of their being. The heart is treacherous to itself, and we do not let our reflections go deep enough to receive religion as the most honourable incentive to good and worthy actions. It is our natural weakness to flatter ourselves into a belief, that if we search into our inmost thoughts, we find ourselves wholly disinterested, and divested of any views arising from self-love and vain-glory. But however spirits of superficial greatness may disdain at first sight to do any thing, but from a noble impulse in themselves, without any future regards in this, or any other being; upon stricter inquiry they will find, to act worthily, and expect to be rewarded only in another world, is as heroic a pitch of virtue as human nature can arrive at. If the tenor of our actions have any other motive than the desire to be pleasing in the eye of the Deity, it will necessarily follow that we must be more than men, if we are not too much exalted in prosperity and depressed in adversity. But the Christian world has a Leader, the contemplation of whose life and sufferings, must administer comfort in affliction, while the sense of his power and omnipotence must give them humiliation in prosperity.

for a heap of fleeting past pleasures, which are at present aching sorrows!

How pleasing is the contemplation of the lowly steps our Almighty Leader took in conducting us to his heavenly mansions! In plain and apt parable, similitude and allegory, our great Master enforced the doctrine of our salvation, but they of his acquaintance, instead of receiving what they could not oppose, were offended at the presumption of being wiser than they. They could not raise their little ideas above the consideration of him, in those circumstarces familiar to them, or conceive that he, who appeared not more terrible or pompous, should have any thing more exalted than themselves; he in that place therefore would no longer ineffectually exert a power which was incapable of conquering the prepossession of their narrow and mean conceptions.

Multitudes followed him, and brought him the dumb, the blind, the sick, and maimed; whom when their Creator had touched, with a second life they saw, spoke, leaped, and ran. In affection to him, and admiration of his actions, the crowd could not leave him, but waited near him till they were almost as faint and helpless as others they brought for succour. He had compassion on them, and by a miracle supplied their necessities. Oh, the ecstatic entertainment, when they could behold their food immediately increase to the distributor's hand, and see their God in person feeding and refreshing his creatures! Oh envied happiness! But why do I say envied? as if our God did not still preside over our temperate meals, cheerful hours, and innocent conversations.

But though the sacred story is every It is owing to the forbidding and unlovely where full of miracles, not inferior to this, constraint with which men of low concep- and though in the midst of those acts of tions act when they think they conform divinity he never gave the least hint of a themselves to religion, as well as to the design to become a secular prince, yet had more odious conduct of hypocrites, that the not hitherto the apostles themselves any word Christian does not carry with it, at other than hopes of worldly power, preferfirst view, all that is great, worthy, friend- ment, riches, and pomp; for Peter, upon ly, generous, and heroic. The man who an accident of ambition among the apostles, suspends his hopes of the reward of worthy hearing his Master explain that his kingactions till after death, who can bestow un-dom was not of this world, was so scandaseen, who can overlook hatred, do good to his slanderer, who can never be angry at his friend, never revengeful to his enemy, is certainly formed for the benefit of society. Yet these are so far from heroic virtues, that they are but the ordinary duties of a Christian.

When a man with a steady faith looks back on the great catastrophe of this day,* with what bleeding emotions of heart must he contemplate the life and sufferings of his deliverer! When his agonies occur to him, how will he weep to reflect that he has often forgot them for the glance of a wanton, for the applause of a vain world,

*Good Friday, 1712, the day of publication of this

paper.

lized that he whom he had so long followed should suffer the ignominy, shame, and death, which he foretold, that he took him aside and said, 'Be it far from thee, Lord, this shall not be unto thee:' for which he suffered a severe reprehension from his Master, as having in his view the glory of man rather than that of God.

The great change of things began to draw near, when the Lord of nature thought fit, as a saviour and deliverer, to make his public entry into Jerusalem with more than the power and joy, but none of the ostentation and pomp of a triumph; he came humble, meek, and lowly; with an unfelt new ecstasy, multitudes strewed his way with garments and olive-branches, crying, with loud gladness and acclama

No. 357.]

THE SPECTATOR.

tion, Hosannah to the Son of David! | other in the whole poem. I he author, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord!' At this great King's accession to his throne, men were not ennobled, but saved; crimes were not remitted, but sins forgiven. He did not bestow medals, honours, favours; but health, joy, sight, speech. The first object the blind ever saw was the Author of sight; while the lame ran before, and the dumb repeated the hosannah. Thus attended, he entered into his own house, the sacred temple, and by his divine authority expelled traders and worldlings that profaned it; and thus did he for a time use a great and despotic power, to let unbelievers understand that it was not want of, but superiority to, all worldly dominion, that made him not exert it. But is this then the Saviour? Is this the Deliverer? Shall this obscure Nazarene command Israel, and sit on the throne of David? Their proud and disdainful hearts, which were petrified with the love and pride of this world, were impregnable to the reception of so mean a benefactor; and were now enough exasperated with benefits to conspire his death. Our Lord was sensible of their design, and prepared his disciples for it, by recounting to them now more distinctly what should befal him; but Peter, with ant ungrounded resolution, and in a flush of temper, made a sanguine protestation, that though all men were offended in him, yet would not he be offended. It was a great article of our Saviour's business in the world to bring us to a sense of our inability, without God's assistance, to do any thing great or good; he therefore told Peter, who thought so well of his courage and fidelity, that they would both fail him, and even he should deny him thrice that very night.

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Virg. n. ii. 6.
Who can relate such woes without a tear?
THE tenth book of Paradise Lost has a
greater variety of persons in it than any

Up into heav'n from Paradise in haste
Th' angelic guards ascended, mute and sad
For man; for of his state by this they knew;
Much wond'ring how the subtle fiend had stol'n
Entrance unseen. Soon as th' unwelcome news
From earth arriv'd at heaven gate, displeas'd
All were who heard; dim sadness did not spare
That time celestial visages; yet mixt
With pity, violated not their bliss.
About the new arriv'd, in multitudes
Th' ethereal people ran to hear and know
How all befel. They tow'rds the throne supreme
Accountable made haste, to make appear
With righteous plea, their utmost vigilance,
And easily approv'd; when the Most High
Eternal Father, from his secret cloud
Amidst, in thunder utter'd thus his voice.

The same Divine Person, who in the foregoing parts of this poem interceded for our first parents before their fall, overthrew the rebel angels, and created the Paradise, and pronouncing sentence upon world, is now represented as descending to the three offenders. The cool of the evening being a circumstance with which holy writ introduces this great scene, it is poetically described by our author, who has also which the three several sentences were kept religiously to the form of words in passed upon Adam, Eve, and the serpent. He has rather chosen to neglect the numerousness of his verse, than to deviate from those speeches which are recorded on this great occasion. The guilt and confusion of our first parents, standing naked beauty. Upon the arrival of Sin and Death before their judge, is touched with great into the works of creation, the Almighty is again introduced as speaking to his angels that surrounded him."

See! with what heat these dogs of hell advance,
To waste and havoc yonder world, which I
So fair and good created,' &c.

The following passage is formed upon that glorious image in holy writ, which compares the voice of an innumerable host of angels uttering hallelujahs, to the voice of mighty thunderings, or of many waters:

He ended, and the heav'nly audience loud
Sung hallelujah, as the sound of seas,
Through multitude that sung: Just are thy ways,
Righteous are thy decrees in all thy works,
Who can extenuate thee?"

Though the author, in the whole course of his poem, and particularly in the book we are now examining, has infinite allusions to places of Scripture, I have only taken notice in my remarks of such as are of a poetical nature, and which are woven with great beauty into the body of his fable. Of this kind is that passage in the present book, where, describing Sin as marching through the works of nature, he adds,

-Behind her Death

Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet
On his pale horse-

Which alludes to that passage in Scripture so wonderfully poetical, and terrifying to the imagination: And I looked, and behold, a pale horse, and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him: and power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with sickness, and with the beasts of the earth.' Under this first head of celestial persons we must likewise take notice of the command which the angels received, to produce the several changes in nature, and sully the beauty of creation. Accordingly they are represented as infecting the stars and planets with malignant influences, weakening the light of the sun, bringing down the winter into the milder regions of nature, planting winds and storms in several quarters of the sky, storing the clouds with thunder, and, in short, perverting the whole frame of the universe to the condition of its criminal inhabitants. As this is a noble incident in the poem, the following lines, in which we see the angels heaving up the earth, and placing it in a different posture to the sun from what it had before the fall of man, is conceived with that sublime imagination which was so peculiar to this great author:

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Some say he bid his angels turn askance

The poles of earth twice ten degrees and more
From the sun's axle; they with labour push'd
Oblique the centric globe,-

We are in the second place to consider the infernal agents under the view which Milton has given us of them in this book. It is observed, by those who would set forth the greatness of Virgil's plan, that he conducts his reader through all the parts of the earth which were discovered in his time. Asia, Africa, and Europe, are the several scenes of his fable. The plan of Milton's poem is of an infinitely greater extent, and fills the mind with many more astonishing circumstances. Satan, having surrounded the earth seven times, departs at length from Paradise. We then see him steering his course among the constellations; and, after having traversed the whole creation, pursuing his voyage through the chaos, and entering into his own infernal dominions.

His first appearance in the assembly of fallen angels is worked up with circumstances which give a delightful surprise to the reader: but there is no incident in the whole poem which does this more than the transformation of the whole audience, that follows the account their leader gives them of his expedition. The gradual change of Satan himself is described after Ovid's manner, and may vie with any of those celebrated transformations which are looked upon as the most beautiful parts in that Poet's works. Milton never fails of improving his own hints, and bestowing the last finishing touches in every incident which is admitted into his poem. The unexpected hiss which arises in this episode, the dimensions and bulk of Satan so much superior to those of the infernal spirits who lay under the same transformation, with the annual change which they are supposed to suffer, are instances of this kind. The beauty of the diction is very remarkable in this whole episode, as I have observed in the sixth paper of these remarks the great judgment with which it was contrived.

The parts of Adam and Eve, or the human persons, come next under our consideration. Milton's art is no where more shown, than in his conducting the parts of these our first parents. The representation he gives of them, without falsifying the story, is wonderfully contrived to influence the reader with pity and compassion towards them. Though Adam involves the whole species in misery, his crime proceeds from a weakness which every man is inclined to pardon and commiserate, as it seems rather the frailty of human nature, than of the person who offended. Every one is apt to excuse a fault which he himself might have fallen into. It was the excess of love for Eve that ruined Adam and his posterity. I need not add, that the author is justified in this particular by many of the fathers, and the most orthodox writers. Milton has by this means filled a great part of his poem with that kind of writing which the French critics call the tendre, and which is in a particular manner engaging to all sorts of readers.

Adam and Eve, in the book we are now considering, are likewise drawn with such sentiments as do not only interest the reader in their afflictions, but raise in him the most melting passions of humanity and commiseration. When Adam sees the several changes of nature produced about him, he appears in a disorder of mind suitable to one who had forfeited both his innocence and his happiness: he is filled with horror, remorse, despair; in the anguish of his heart he expostulates with his Creator for having given him an unasked existence:

'Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay
To mould me man? Did I solicit thee
From darkness to promote me? or here place
In this delicious garden? As my will
Concurr'd not to my being, 'twere but sigba

And equal to reduce me to my dust,
Desirous to resign, and render back
All I receiv'd.'

He immediately after recovers from his presumption, owns his doom to be just, and begs that the death which is threatened him may be inflicted on him:

-Why delays

His hand to execute what his decree
Fix'd on this day? Why do I over-live?
Why am I mock'd with death, and lengthen'd out
To deathless pain? How gladly would I meet
Mortality my sentence, and be earth
Insensible! how glad would lay me down,
As in my mother's lap! There should I rest
And sleep secure; his dreadful voice no more
Would thunder in my ears: no fear of worse
To me, and to my offspring, would torment me
With cruel expectation.'-

This whole speech is full of the like emotion, and varied with all those sentiments which we may suppose natural to a mind so broken and disturbed. I must not omit that generous concern which our first father shows in it for his posterity, and which is so proper to affect the reader:

-Hide me from the face

Of God, whom to behold was then my height
Of happiness! yet well, if here would end
The misery: I deserved it, and would bear
My own deservings: but this will not serve;
All that I eat, or drink, or shall beget,
Is propagated curse. O voice once heard
Delightfully, "Increase and multiply:"
Now death to hear!-

-In me all

Posterity stands curst! Fair patrimony,
That I must leave ye, sons! O were I able
To waste it all myself, and leave you none!
So disinherited, how would you bless
Me, now your curse! Ah, why should all mankind,
For one man's fault, thus guiltless be condemn'd
If guiltless? But from me what can proceed
But all corrupt ?'.

Who can afterwards behold the father of mankind, extended upon the earth, uttering his midnight complaints, bewailing his existence, and wishing for death, without sympathizing with him in his distress?

Thus Adam to himself lamented loud
Through the still night; not now (as ere man fell)
Wholesome, and cool, and mild, but with black air,
Accompanied with damps and dreadful gloom;
Which to his evil conscience represented

All things with double terror. On the ground
Outstretch'd he lay; on the cold ground! and oft
Cars'd his creation; death as oft accus'd
Of tardy execution.'.

Unhappily deceiv'd! Thy suppliant

I beg, and clasp thy knees. Bereave me not
(Whereon I live;) thy gentle looks, thy aid,
Thy counsel in this uttermost distress,
My only strength, and stay! Forlorn of thee,
Whither shall I betake me! where subsist?
While yet we live (scarce one short hour perhaps)
Between us two let there be peace.' &c.

Adam's reconcilement to her is worked up in the same spirit of tenderness. Eve afterwards proposes to her husband, in the blindness of her despair, that to prevent their guilt from descending upon posterity, they should resolve to live childless; or, if that could not be done, they should seek their own deaths by violent methods. As these sentiments naturally engage the with more than ordinary commiseration, reader to regard the mother of mankind they likewise contain a very fine moral. The resolution of dying to end our miseries does not show such a degree of magnanimity as a resolution to bear them, and submit to the dispensations of Providence. Our author has, therefore, with great delicacy, represented Eve as entertaining this thought, and Adam as disapproving it.

We are, in the last place, to consider the imaginary persons, or Death and Sin, who act a large part in this book. Such beautiful extended allegories are certainly some of the finest compositions of genius; but, as I have before observed, are not agreeable to the nature of a heroic poem. This of Sin and Death is very exquisite in its kind, if not considered as a part of such a work. The truths contained in it are so clear and open, that I shall not lose time in explaining them; but shall only observe, that a reader, who knows the strength of the English tongue, will be amazed to think how the poet could find such apt words and phrases to describe the actions of those two imaginary persons, and particularly in that part where Death is exhibited as forming a bridge over the chaos; a work suitable to the genius of Milton.

Since the subject I am upon gives me an opportunity of speaking more at large of such shadowy and imaginary persons as may be introduced into heroic poems, I The part of Eve in this book is no less ter which is curious in its kind, and which shall beg leave to explain myself in a matpassionate, and apt to sway the reader in her favour. She is represented with great certain Homer and Virgil are full of imanone of the critics have treated of. It is tenderness as approaching Adam, but is spurned from him with a spirit of upbraid- ginary persons, who are very beautiful in ing and indignation, conformable to the na-poetry, when they are just shown without ture of man, whose passions had now gained the dominion over him. The following passage, wherein she is described as renewing her addresses to him, with the whole speech that follows it, have something in them exquisitely moving and pathetic:

He added not, and from her turn'd: but Eve,
Not so repuls'd, with tears that ceas'd not flowing,
And tresses all disorder'd, at his feet
Fell humble; and embracing them besought
His peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint:
'Forsake me not thus, Adam! Witness Heav'n
What love sincere, and rev'rence in my breast
I bear thee and unweeting have offended,

Ho

being engaged in any series of action.
and ascribes a short part to him in his Iliad;
mer, indeed, represents sleep as a person,
but we must consider, that though we now
regard such a person as entirely shadowy
and unsubstantial, the heathens made sta-
tues of him, placed him in their temples,
and looked upon him, as a real deity. When
Homer makes use of other such allegorical
persons, it is only in short expressions,
which convey an ordinary thought to the
mind in the most pleasing manner, and may
rather be looked upon as poetical phrases,

than allegorical descriptions. Instead of glaring of her eyes might have scattered telling us that men naturally fly when they infection. But I believe every reader will are terrified, he introduces the persons of think, that in such sublime writings the Flight and Fear, who he tells us, are in- mentioning of her, as it is done in Scripture, separable companions. Instead of saying has something in it more just, as well as that the time was come when Apollo ought great, than all that the most fanciful poet to have received his recompence, he tells could have bestowed upon her in the richus that the Hours brought him his reward.ness of his imagination. Instead of describing the effects which Minerva's ægis produced in battle, he tells

L.*

-Desipere in loco. Hor. Od. xii. Lib. 4. ult. "Tis joyous folly that unbends the mind.-Francis. CHARLES LILLY attended me the other

us that the brims of it were encompassed No. 358.] Monday, April 21, 1712. by Terror, Rout, Discord, Fury, Pursuit, Massacre, and Death. In the same figure of speaking, he represents Victory as following Diomedes; Discord as the mother of funerals and mourning; Venus as dressed by the Graces; Bellona as wearing Terror day, and made me a present of a large and Consternation like a garment. I might pavement in Mosaic work, lately discoversheet of paper, on which is delineated a give several other instances out of Homer, as ed at Stunsfield near Woodstock.† A person well as a great many out of Virgil. Milton who has so much the gift of speech as Mr. has likewise very often made use of the Lilly, and can carry on a discourse without same way of speaking, as where he tells us that Victory sat on the right hand of the a reply, had great opportunity on that ocMessiah, when he marched forth against antiquity. Among other things, I rememcasion to expatiate upon so fine a piece of the rebel angels; that, at the rising of the ber he gave me his opinion, which he drew sun, the Hours unbarred the gates of light; from the ornaments of the work, that this that Discord was the daughter of Sin. Of the same nature are those expressions, and Concord. Viewing this work, made was the floor of a room dedicated to Mirth where, describing the singing of the nightingale, he adds, "Silence was pleased;" and my fancy run over the many gay expresupon the Messiah's bidding peace to the sions I have read in ancient authors, which chaos, Confusion heard his voice.' I might contained invitations to lay aside care and add innumerable instances of our poet's anxiety, and give a loose to that pleasing that these I have mentioned, in which per- selves. These hours were usually passed writing in this beautiful figure. It is plain forgetfulness wherein men put off their characters of business, and enjoy their very sons of an imaginary nature are introduced, are such short allegories as are not designed in rooms adorned for that purpose, and set to be taken in the literal sense, but only around the company gladdened their hearts; out in such a manner, as the objects all to convey particular circumstances to the reader, after an unusual and entertaining which, joined to the cheerful looks of wellmanner. But when such persons are intro-chosen and agreeable friends, gave new duced as principal actors, and engaged in a vigour to the airy, produced the latent fire series of adventures, they take too much of the modest, and gave grace to the slow upon them, and are by no means proper for humour of the reserved. A judicious mixan heroic poem, which ought to appear lets of flowers, and the whole apartment ture of such company, crowned with chapcredible in its principal parts. I cannot forbear therefore thinking, that Sin and glittering with gay lights, cheered with a Death are as improper agents in a work of profusion of roses, artificial falls of water, this nature, as Strength and Necessity in and intervals of soft notes to songs of love one of the tragedies of schylus, who reand wine, suspended the cares of human presented those two persons nailing down life, and made a festival of mutual kindPrometheus to a rock; for which he has Such parties of pleasure as these, been justly censured by the greatest critics. and the reports of the agreeable passages I do not know any imaginary person made in their jollities, have in all ages awakened use of in a more sublime manner of thinking mirth and good humour, without capacity the dull part of mankind to pretend to than that in one of the prophets, who, de- for such entertainments; for if I may be scribing God as descending from heaven, and visiting the sins of mankind, adds that allowed to say so, there are a hundred men dreadful circumstance, Before him went ble of passing a night in company of the fit for any employment, to one who is capathe Pestilence.' It is certain this imaginary first taste, without shocking any member person might have been described in all of the society, over-rating his own part her purple spots. The Fever might have marched before her, Pain might have stood of the conversation, but equally receiving at her right hand, Phrensy on her left, and Death in her rear. She might have been introduced as gliding down from the tail of a comet, or darted upon the earth in a flash of lightning. She might have tainted the atmosphere with her breath. The very

ness,

that now prefixed to No. 279.
*The original motto to this paper was the same as

Reddere personæ scit convenientia cuique.
Hor. Ars Poet. v. 316,
To each character he gives what best befits.
† See Gough's British Topography, vol. ii. p. 8

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