THE PLAIN DEALER: BEING SELECT ESSAYS ON SEVERAL CURIOUS SUBJECTS, RELATING TO
FRIENDSHIP,
LOVE, and
GALLANTRY,
MARRIAGE,
MORALITY,
MERCANTILE AFFAIRS,
PAINTING,
HISTORY,
POETRY,
AND Other
Branches
of POLITE LITERATURE.
Publish'd Originally in the YEAR 1724. And now first Collected into TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON: Printed for
S. Richardson,
and
A. Wilde:
And sold by A. BETTESWORTH, J. OSBORN and T. LONGMAN, and J. BATLEY in
Pater-Noster
Row; W. INNYS, J. KNAPTON, and C. RIVINGTON, in St.
Paul
's Church-Yard; J. CLARKE, in
Duck-Lane
; and J. LEAKE, at
Bath.
M.DCC.XXX.
THE PLAIN DEALER. No 58.
VOL. II.
Vulnus alit Venis & coeco carpitur igne.
VIRG.
Connubio jungam stabili, propriam
que
dicabo.
Ibid.
FRYDAY,
October
9. 1724.
A GREAT many are pleased, to be very rigid against Ladies, who appear
first
in the Declaration of Love, as if acting against
Custom,
was
sinning
against
Right.
As many make it their
Tenet,
that Men, if they but know a Woman loves them, will, ungratefully shun her, and play Tricks of an unnatural Disdain. I doubt not but the Gentleman, who is concerned in the following excellent Letter, will give a Refutation to these mischievous Opinions; and shew, for the
Honour
of
one
Sex, and the
Ease
of the
other,
that they ought hereafter, to sink among
vulgar Errors.
To the
PLAIN DEALER.
Octob.
8. 1724.
SIR,
I AM an unhappy Young Woman, that want a little of your
Plain Dealing,
and good
Advice,
to help me out in an Affair of the utmost Consequence to my Peace. I am in too much pain, to make a long Introduction; therefore hope you will excuse me, if I only send a short Sketch of my Misfortune, without staying to pay my grateful Thanks, for your agreeable Weekly Entertainments; which I can never enough Admire. I hope you won't think me troublesome, if I relate the exact Situation of Life, I at present am in. I live in a fine Old Seat in
Surrey,
which wants nothing to render it delightful, to a Person of my Temper. Our Family consists of my Father (who is a Widower) an old Maiden Aunt, two Sisters, and my Self. My Father is a very good Man, and employs himself mostly in his Study. My Aunt is of a reserv'd Temper, therefore suffers us to keep but little Company, especially with Gentlemen. There is only one Person allow'd that fatal Liberty! Whose Character I must make you acquainted with: But how, alas! shall I do that? Yet if there is such a Thing as Perfection in Mankind, he certainly is Master of it. He has so fine an Understanding in all Arts and Sciences (allow'd by his own Sex) so great a Knowledge in every thing that is Polite and Agreeable, and, withal, so sweet a Disposition, that I only wonder, I kept my Heart so long free from his irresistable Charms! I have been pretty intimate with him these Three Years, but did not know, 'till within these Three Months, that my Happiness or Misery, depended intirely upon him. In short, I feel so violent a Passion in my Breast, that unless I have some speedy Relief, Death will soon put a Period to my Sorrow! How often have I sate contemplating his Virtues and Charms, 'till my Soul has almost dissolv'd away in Tenderness and Love! I sigh, I die for him; while he views me with Cold Indifference, or, at best, but Luke-warm Friendship: Tyrant Custom, and innate Modesty, forbid my Tongue to utter the Tortures of my Heart. He sometimes laughs, and says, I am all Charms; Oh! what wou'd I give to have him really think so! He behaves exactly alike to my self, and Sisters, and yet I can't help being jealous, if he speaks or looks at them. I am all Madness and Despair! I han't the Vanity to think I can ever please a Man of his Sense and Judgment, and yet I go on to love! Sometimes I think my constant Passion will be rewarded, and that he will like me for my good Nature, which some People flatter me, and tell him, I have a great Share of: And as it is a Qualification he very much admires, I strive every Day, to improve it, and to command all those little Passions that are incident to our Sex. Was I suffer'd to plead for my self, I cou'd tell him, What an obedient Wife I'd make him! How my Duty and Inclinations wou'd both concur, to please him in all Actions of my Life! When he was absent, I wou'd entertain my self with his dear Idea! and when he return'd, meet him with inexpressible Raptures! I cou'd dwell for ever on the inchanting Subject: But fear I should grow tiresome. This opening of my Grief has been some Relief. I almost fear to have this published: I wish, yet dread, he should discover me. I don't know what to do: Therefore rely wholly upon your Advice. If you print it, correct the bad
English
; if you burn it, Remember and Pity
The poor
LUCINDA!
WHAT constant Companions are
Merit
and
Humility?
How does this Lady conclude a Letter that must charm
every Reader. If you print it, correct the bad English.
It is too good to be corrected. Sincerity, and everlasting Tenderness shine forth, in every Sentence. That Person who does not plainly perceive, that what
Lucinda
has written, flow'd from her Heart, must have his own Heart ill placed, and removed out of the Way of
Nature.
If Men could write thus, no Woman of Sense would be ever courted in vain: When she signifies so
plainly
that she loves him from her Heart; how cordially does she labour to make that
Plainness
still
plainer,
if possible, as she proceeds still
farther
in her Letter. These plain Phrases are the Master-touches of
Nature,
and put
Art
out of Countenance. This is the natural Simplicity, that makes the
proud
Scholar's Ornaments look
poor.
Any body, that knows what Love is, will not barely
read,
but
feel
this Lady's Letter. Old as I am, my self, how am I warm'd, when, she expresses her Tenderness. And, if every
unconcerned
Person be her
Well-wisher,
what
Emotions
must this Letter be able to raise in the Bosom of that happy Man, whom it
concerns.
Will not her Prudence, her vow'd Obedience, her Study to please, her Humility, and being unconscious of the greatest Worth in her self; her whole Pride placed in admiring him, her Adoration, almost, of his superior Merit; her desiring, and yet diffiding, to deserve him: Will not all these win over his Soul to her? Where she describes to him, how she will behave in his Presence, and how in his Absence; what a Figure must she make in the Imagination of this admired Man? Must she not be as much admired, as she admires? Does she not force him to what she so earnestly
wishes?
The God of Love lives, breathes and acts, in every Line of it, and nothing less than THAT VERY MAN, who, as she says,
If there be such a thing as Perfection in Mankind, is certainly Master of it,
can be a
suitable Prize,
for her
Merit.
IT has been reported concerning the
finest Orator,
of the present Age, that the Lady, to whom he was married, grew his
Wife,
by being his
Client.
He had long been acquainted with her Patience, Temper and Spirit, by her Manner of soliciting her own Cause: He knew her Fortune, which depended upon it; she gave him such full and elegant Instructions, as few profess'd Lawyers could have Penn'd, and as scarce needed his own powerful Assistance and Amendment. He ask'd her, who had drawn them? and being informed her self had been the Compiler, it is no wonder, that so much Wit, in so agreeable a Person, made that greatest of Orators, whose Addresses no Lady could withstand, from that Moment, her Suiter, and, consequently, her Husband.—
I HAVE often wish'd, to be fully satisfied of the Truth of this little beautiful Piece of Secret History.—But whether it be true in all its Circumstances, it was not invented by one, who meant to malign the Fame of that Lord, or the Merit of his Lady, since a more glorious Accident could not well be assigned, to have brought about the Marriage of so illustrious a Pair.
THE Letter, which now lies before me, is the most exquisite Plea that ever my Eyes beheld. I know some who understand not what Love is, will be offended at a Woman's first declaring her Passion. How sensible is the Fair One of this, when she cries out,
Tyrant Custom and innate Modesty, forbid my Tongue to utter the Tortures of my Heart.
—By
Lucinda
's Leave, she
herself,
is too rigid and severe
against herself.
Custom, indeed, does forbid it, and a Tyrannical Custom it is, because, though pretendedly grounded upon the Colours of Modesty, 'tis unjust, 'tis unnatural, and irreligious at the Bottom.—Is it not
modest,
as well as
natural,
to have an Inclination to be honourably married? She that has
not
an Inclination,
before
she is ask'd, can hardly, with Truth, declare
Inclination
: And if it was an Inclination vertuous and honourable from the Beginning; it must have been equally vertuous and honourable from the Beginning to have owned it. A dull and obstinate Concealment of the Truth, 'till it
happens
to be
extorted,
is a
Triumph
given to
Folly
over
Nature,
for the Sake of a
mistaken Modesty.
Both Sexes, if they will but reflect, must
agree
in this
Truth.
—
WHAT Batchelor of good Sense would not be overjoy'd to discover a
Lucinda,
thus opening in his own Favour? The Man who disliked a Woman for declaring her Approbation of him, would be like one, who secking for a Silver Mine, and discovering by chance, a Golden one, shou'd desert it, for no other Reason, but because good Fortune had put it in his Way.—
THERE is a vast deal of Delight in contemplating the Beauties of a Woman's Mind, who could write thus delicately. How happy would she make her Husband? She would sooth any Sorrow that could
reach
him, and
exalt
his
Pleasures
into
Raptures
; she would be his
Comfort
in
Adversity,
and
gild
and
adorn
his
Prosperity
; she would
gladden
his
Youth,
and
cherish
his
Age
; give more
Warmth
and
Joy
to the
Summer
of his
Life,
and yield
Gaity
and
Refreshment
to his
Winter
; she would give
Wings
to his
Business
Abroad, and
divert
him at Home, with her
Conversation
; she would fill up the
Vacuities
of
Solitude,
with Discourse, that was preferrable to the
Company
of
Wits
; no
Nights
could be
tedious
by her Side; and
Day-light
would be made more
chearful
by
looking
upon her.
BUT I draw towards a Conclusion as fast as I can, for fear of hindring any longer, what I would speedily unite. I fancy my self to be this Minute, with my Paper, in the Parlour of that fine Old Seat in
Surrey. Lucinda
and her Lover, have both hold of the
Plain Dealer,
who tells them his Sentiments like the Father of them both.—I hear him reading, I see her wishing, and yet dreading to be discovered.—I wish the Discovery my self—Methinks I see it, and hear him say—
You are
Lucinda;
I have often told you, You are all Charms. There wants nothing but your Consent to make us the happy Couple here described—Lucinda,
trembling, holds the Paper as she would let it drop—Now, if I could make my Paper speak, it should say,
Do, drop me from between you; join Hands over a more Sacred Writing—It is so promising a Match, that the
Plain Dealer
is to act the
Father
in it—If you have not immediate Opportunities—If you apprehend any Hindrance—Stay not a Moment where you are—Take a Tour to
Blunt-Hall
together—The
Clergyman
of our
Assembly,
shall join your Hands, and bless your Wishes, and you may keep your Wedding at the
ancient Seat
of the
Blunt
's, since it will be so happy an Example to many Maids, who have been scared so long, by a silly groundless Custom, from speaking their Minds in an Affair, on which depends all their Felicity.
The Plain Dealer. No 59.
Cur in Theatrum,
Cato
severe, venisti?
MART.
MONDAY,
October
12. 1724.
IT is the Duty of a Patriot to mourn for those growing Evils, which seem to threaten, either the Safety, or the Honour of his Country: And, for this Reason, I have often been, irresistably chagrin'd, at the Corruption of our Publick
Theatres.
—But I was, lately, enliven'd into
Hope,
upon this Subject; and am glad, I can assure my Reader, that there is a Spirit of Improvement at Work, to sustain our sinking Taste, and set Examples for our present Stages.
THERE is a generous Boldness, as well in the
Design
itself, as in the
Time
of putting it in Execution. But nothing is more certain, than that it is form'd upon a Plan, which if it meets with the propos'd Encouragement, will go a great Way toward keeping the Hearts of the Gay World from breaking, should so dreadful a Misfortune happen, as that the God of Wit revenges himself upon the prostituted Theatres in Fashion, by making People asham'd of
appearing,
where they ought to blush at their Entertainment.
I AM transported to this Pitch of Joy, upon having Landed at
Westminster
Stairs, in my Way from
Barbican,
to the
Abbey Cloisters
(where I often muse, on Subjects which, a long Time hence, may fill
Plain Dealers)
and met, in the King's Highway, a Party-colour'd younger Brother, of the justly-celebrated Mr.
Lun.
—He was usher'd along in great State, with a sounding Drum in his
Front,
and a Trumpet, and
French
Horn, plac'd like Wings, on either
Flank
; while the
Rear
was brought up by a Body of scatter'd
Velites,
the flying Fragments of Humanity!
THE
Checquer'd Nuntio,
as I pass'd him, stopt; and nodded his loose Head at me: Snatching off his Pigmy Hat, by the Rabbit's Tail which was annex'd to it: And, tripping toward me, with a wanton
Waviness,
like the Curling of a Ship's long Pendant, when it dances in a Breeze, slipt a
Billet
into my Hand; and, retreating, with a merry Shrugg, or two, resum'd his Post as before, and gave Continuance to the Procession.
FROM the ludicrous Turn of his Figure, I open'd the Paper he gave me, with very humble Expectation: But was struck with no small Reverence, when I beheld the
Royal Arms,
magisterially display'd at the Head of it: And These surprizing Particulars promulg'd, under the Stamp of such a known Authority!
By His MAJESTY's PERMISSION. For the better Accommodation of
Gentlemen, Ladies
and
Others:
AT the
White-Hart,
in St.
Margaret
's
Lane,
is to be seen, in a Manner never Perform'd before, The whole Play of
HERO
and
LEANDER;
with a
LIVE
PUNCH.
Perform'd by a Company of ARTIFICIAL ACTORS, whose Diversions are very
Changeable,
and
Consistivarious.
THE Figures,
being Five Foot high,
perform with that
Nicety,
that they can hardly be distinguish'd from the
Live Players
; and give an
Equal Satisfaction.
LIKEWISE, you will see the Dancing of
Jigs, Masquerades,
and
Sarabands.—Likewise,
the Royal Court of
Foreign Kings, Queens,
and
Princes.
Every Figure
dress'd
according to their
own Country Habits.—Likewise,
the Rising and Setting of the Sun.
Also
CUPID's Paradise.—
Likewise, Cupid
descending out of the
Clouds,
to the Front of the Stage, and speaks the
Prologue
to the Play.
BEFORE the Play begins, there is a
High German Artist,
that takes an
empty Bag,
and turns it inside out, that you may see, there is
nothing in it,
and, then, conveys
Showers of Gold and Eggs
out of it.
THE Prices are from
Two Shillings,
down to
Six-pence.
And we begin, at the
Quality Hours.
THERE are very good Seats for
Gentlemen
; and Places, for
Coaches
and
Chairs
to stand in.
Note
—Any
Gentleman
and
Lady,
may have a
Play in Private,
any Hour of the Day; giving Notice beforehand.
VIVAT REX.
I FOUND myself not a little delighted, upon perusing this
Notification,
to be assur'd, in so Authentick a Manner, that we have
His Majesty's Permission,
to be
better accommodated
than we have been. For, from this,
intentional,
Royal Grace, I grew sanguine enough to expect, a very sudden Revocation of certain Grants, for Monopolizing the
Art of Conjuring
; and of bewitching the King's Liege People out of all sober Use, as well of their
Money
as their
Senses.
—I enter'd, therefore, with Pleasure, on the Divisions of my printed Billet: And began, with a Critical Eye, to examine what Likelihood there was, that
Hero
and
Leander,
should be too hard for the
Devil,
and his
Double Favourites.
THE
Live Punch,
though they seem to build much upon him, I cou'd consider as no great Rarity.—Not that I wou'd derogate, in the least, from that Respect, which is due to his Character: But he has
Brothers
upon both Stages, as much
alive
as himself, with the Advantage of being more incomprehensible. —
Punch
will be
understood,
with so little Difficulty, that our People of
Polite Taste,
will never be able to
bear
him.—But, when I had read about half a Line lower, and came to that Part of the Declaration, which promises,
That the Actors of this
new Company,
shall be
ARTIFICIAL, I was presently at Ease again: For, in that Case, I saw, most certainly, that there must be Novelty in their Design; since nothing is more generally allow'd, with Regard to the
other
Companies, than, That, for
One
of their Actors, who is
Artificial,
Six are absolutely
Naturals.
I GATHER'D much Consolation too, from that other welcome Assurance, That the Diversions of
this
Royal Company, are to be very
Changeable,
and
Consistivarious.
The Town has, Annually, for some Years past, been
dieted,
by the
Playhouse Doctors:
And gone through a
Regular Course of Bitters,
with a most laudable Spirit of
Meekness,
and true Christian
Resignation
—Their
Wit
was fall'n
Sick,
and submitted to
Quack Potions:
Because Mountebank Stages, by being
Licens'd,
had the Reputation of
College Practice:
(And, to poison by
Authority,
has the good Fortune to be
no Felony
).—So that nothing is more certain, than that the
Wooden
Company, will have the Advantage of our
Brazen
Ones, in this important Point,
the Changeable.
BUT, as for the
Consistivarious,
the old Workmen, I am afraid, will be more than a Match for the new Ones.—I am not, indeed, so able a Critick, in the Language of these Wooden Orators, as to decide, with any absolute Sufficiency, the Signification of a Word, so Derivative and Complex, as
Consistivarious:
But, if I am fortunate enough, to have rightly broke in upon so impregnable a
Decomposite,
then, I am sure, I may safely affirm, That our Stage's Conduct, ever since I can remember it, has been
truly Consistivarious,
in the most remarkable and surprizing Manner.—Nay, a
Triumvir
of that detach'd Administration, the accomplished Author of a
Tragedy,
which we are to be admitted to the Honour of
admiring,
in the Front of this happy Season, is, I am sure, so renown'd for his
Consistivariousness,
that one wou'd almost be induc'd to swear, That the very
Word
was of his
own making,
and coin'd, on Purpose, for his
New Tragedy.
BUT, here let me correct a false Report, which this Great Writer suffers under, by the Means of some, who envy him the Honours which are due to his
undoubting Genius:
—It is said, the Name of his New Tragedy is to be
Caesar in Egypt.
But I assure all Christian People, that though
Caesar,
may stand, in Capitals, on the
Title Page,
yet that shou'd only be consider'd as an
Error of the Press
; which the Buyer may
correct
with Ease, by reading CIBBER
in Egypt,
instead of CAESAR: And, with that small Alteration, every Thing in this Tragedy, will be found extremely Natural; and stand directly, as it
shou'd
be.
THE Spirit, however of our new Undertakers, at the
White-Hart,
is inflam'd into an enterprizing and smart
Emulation!
And I was very much taken with the Turn of this brisk Defiance—That, tho' they may pass for
Nobodies,
because they are made of
Wood
; yet, since they have the Good Luck to be
five Foot high,
they see no Reason to suppose their Adversaries to be
more than their Match
; and will, therefore,
perform with such Nicety, as not to be distinguish'd from them
; and doubt not in the least, to give an
equal Satisfaction.
AS for the next Paragraph, I fear it was purposely embroider'd over, with those
Likewises,
and
Also's,
for no other Reason in the World, but to cover a conscious Deficiency in the
Sense,
by the Eloquent Glare of the
Expression.
—For, who does not observe, That
Dancing of Jigs, Masquerades, and Sarabands,
are Improvements in Learning, which the happy Genius of our
Nobility,
and the vast Encouragement they give to
Wit,
have brought, already, to their full Perfection?—I can't see, therefore, what Novelty can be expected, in this Particular: Unless, when they give Notice, That
All their Performers are to be Wooden ones,
they wou'd have us understand it, that, by Aid of some
third Faustus,
their
Fiddles
are to fall a
Dancing,
and keep Time to their own Musick.
THE Rising and Setting of the
Sun,
I have very little to say for, with Regard to its
Newness.—Cupid
's
Paradise
may please at first, but will flatten, if they shew it often.—The
Court of Foreign Kings
is no such
Rarity
as they think it.—But, for every Figure to be
dress'd,
according to their
own Country Fashion.
—That, indeed, is a Stroke of
Decorum,
which out-soars, at one Flight,
Patent, License,
and
Charter!
And it will be reasonable to hope, after the Publick Taste has been so refin'd, by these
Chips of a new Block,
that we shall see no more Intermixture of the Ancient, with the Modern Dresses: Where the Order of Things is so capriciously revers'd, that the Courtiers of an
English
Monarch shall stand round him, like
Beaux of Yesterday;
and the Sovereign himself strut about, in Trunk Breeches, and be dress'd, as
old
as a
Patriarch.
THERE is, in the next Article, an odd kind of Mystery, which I own I could not fathom: And, I frankly confess, I was, once, afraid, there might be a
Plot
in it.—I puzzled my Imagination, till I was weary of imagining.—But, the more I mus'd upon it, the
less
I was able to
make,
of that strange
High-German Artist, who was to shake an empty Bag, inside out, that we might see, there was nothing in it: And, then, rain Gold and Eggs out of it.
IT was easily to be discern'd, that the
Scene
was
shifted
in this Place.—The
Play-houses
could have nothing to do with the Paragraph: None of
Their
Bags, for some Years past, having been
Empty
enough to turn inside outward. So that I was greatly perplex'd, by the Knottiness of this Difficulty: Till I, luckily, bethought myself of a Friend of mine, a
Decypherer
; whose surprizing Dexterity, levell'd every Rub in his Way, and made it as plain, as a Demonstration, That the empty Bag was the
South-Sea Scheme.
—That the Golden Showers were the
sudden Sallies of that Stock:
And, that the
Eggs
were the
sucking Bubbles,
that were
hatch'd
under the Warmth of it.
I SHOULD have been
lost,
in this
Desart,
if I had not return'd, to make a Remark, concerning the
Modesty
of our new Comedians.—How praise-worthy is their Generosity, and the Disinterestedness of their Spirit! Who, after putting themselves to the two-fold Charge of
building,
both their
Stage,
and their
Performers,
propose to act, notwithstanding, at
Lower Rates,
than their Rivals; which Last go on to
demolish,
as fast as their Competitors can
build up:
And yet, have the Courage to
raise
their Prices, because they
fall
their Entertainments.
THEN, how just, and how
Sympathetical,
is another Care of our Wooden Reformers!—Being perfectly acquainted with the Talents of a Modish Audience, they have judiciously determined to provide Room for the
Coaches
and
Chairs,
in the same Paragraph with the
Gentlemen.
—Their Thoughts were more upon
Merit,
than upon
Good Breeding
;—And since they knew that their
Kindred Vehicles
were as
able Judges,
as their
Owners,
and (which is of more Consequence) as
well-dress'd
too; they, therefore, thought it but reasonable to treat 'em with equal Reverence.
WHAT kind of
Play,
that may be, which any
Gentleman
and
Lady,
who give Notice before-hand, are to be diverted with
in Private,
I must make a Personal Search into, before I undertake to consider it.—But, upon the Whole, I believe, there can be no manner of Doubt, but that
The White-Hart, in St. Margaret
's-
Lane,
may bid as fair for
Fine Audiences,
as any of the Rest of our Theatres; where, though the Actors are not
of Wood,
they have usurp'd the Province of
Wooden Actors.
The Plain Dealer. No . 60.
—Pictoribus atque Poetis.
HOR.
FRIDAY,
October
16. 1724.
WHEN I read, with Admiration, the great
Actions
of an
Alexander,
a
Caesar,
or a
Tamerlane
; or an charm'd by the more powerful
Writings
of a
Homer,
a
Virgil,
or a
Cicero,
I am fir'd with an impatient Longing, to conceive their Turn of
Person, Air,
and
Features.
And when my Fancy (forc'd to travel without a Guide) has tir'd itself with vain Endeavours to
grasp
Ideas, that are
thin,
and
fleeting,
I lament that the
Materials
of the
Painter
's
noble Art,
are not as
lasting
as the
Painter
's Fame is. For, in that case, Two
Sister Arts,
uniting their different Powers, the one transmitting
Souls,
the other
Bodies,
(or the outward Form of Bodies) their combining Influence would be of Force to frustrate
Death itself:
And all the Ages of the World would seem to be
Cotemporaries.
BUT, here, the
Poet
triumphs. His Works
outlive
the
Painter
's, though the Painter begins much sooner to be famous, than the Poet does: And has also commonly the Advantage over him, with Relation to
Fortune:
The strongest Reasons of which Difference, I have lately read, with Pleasure, in the following Letter, from an excellent, and learned, Critick, whom I spoke of, in a late Paper, and whose
Encouragement,
I am afraid, is (to the future Reproach of our Age) most shamefully disproportioned to his
Merit.
THERE is something extremely
new,
in the Subject, as well as the Sentiments, of this Letter: And I will, therefore, take the Liberty to publish it, for my Reader's Entertainment; though the Author, when he writ it, meant it only for the private Satisfaction of a Gentleman of his Acquaintance.
October
the 7th. 1724.
SIR,
I KNOW not whether I should return you Thanks for your last Visit or not, because I know not whether I am indebted to Fortune, or to You for it. But I am obliged to take Notice, in a particular Manner, of the Desire you express'd, during our being together, that I would have my
Picture drawn.
AFTER I have omitted it so many Years, I would not have it drawn at last by a
Bungler,
and I am not in a Condition at present, to satisfy one who is a Master; nor do I know whether we have any Master, who would make me a
Present
of it: Though a Painter is much more able to
give,
than a Poet to
buy
; which has put me upon considering, what are the Reasons which make the
Painter
so successful, and the
Poet
so unfortunate; that make the Art of Poetry, and the Art of Painting, which are Sisters, so very
Resembling,
by
Nature,
so very
Different,
by
Fortune.
A great
Poet,
for the most Part, neglects and affronts
Fortune,
by making his Court to
Fame
; but Fame and
Fortune
are
Rivals,
that contend with each other, which shall heap most Favours upon the deserving
Painter.
All the great Painters that have appeared among us, have had Justice done to their Merit while they
liv'd,
and no
Sign-post-Painter
has ever yet pass'd for a
great Master.
All the Painters, whom our Kings have delighted to employ, have been Masters, as
Holbin, Rubens, Vandyck, Leeley, Ryley, Kneller,
and
Thornhill.
BUT the contrary of this has happened with Regard to
Poets.
Several good ones, nay, several of the
best,
have been neglected during their
Life-time,
as
Spencer, Milton, Butler, Otway,
among ourselves, and among the Ancients,
Homer
; while the most contemptible of all Scriblers have been Esteemed and Honoured. Our Kings themselves have, more than once, had such vile Scriblers for
their Poets,
and have, like Fortune, taken a Pleasure in
exalting Fools.
But tho' a King can give a Man Title and Place, only GOD can give him
Genius.
'Tis the Prerogative of a King to make a
Knight,
but only GOD can make a
Poet.
THE Reasons of the Difference which we sometimes find, in the Fortunes of great
Poets
and
Painters,
appear to me to be chiefly these which follow:
The First is, That the great Painter, for each of his Master-pieces, has but
one
Original, and no
Copy
can come up to the easie Grace and the natural Force of a beautiful
Original
; whereas, of masterly Poems, there are as many Originals, as there are true Copies; and all of them have equal Force, and equal Grace and Beauty; and this is none of the least Things that render the Works of the Painter so precious, and the Artist himself so fortunate. A Man may buy the Works of
Homer
or
Virgil
for a very Trifle, whereas those of
Raphael
are above any Value. But this multiplying of Originals gives the great
Poet,
at least, one Advantage over the famous
Painter,
which is, that it renders what he writes perpetual.
Homer
and
Virgil
are immortal in their
Works,
but
Zeuxis
and
Apelles
are only so in their
Fame.
ANOTHER Reason of this Difference, is, The Universality of the Language in which the Painter delivers his Art: The great Painter speaks to all Countries as intelligibly, as to his own, nay, more intelligibly, more gracefully, and more forcibly, to those Countries which are polite; and, therefore, his Fame keeps equal Pace with his Merit; and where-ever he goes, both Fortune and Fame attend him. The more his Pieces are known, the more they are desired, and the more dearly purchased. The greatest of Kings are ambitious to be Masters of them, and ambitious to possess the
Painters,
as well as their Works. What modern Poet, during his
Life-time,
was ever
read
by so many Sovereign Princes, as were
drawn
by the Hand of
Titian?
What Prince ever heap'd those Honours on a Poet, that
Charles
the
Fifth
did on
Titian?
Did the renowned
Augustus
himself, with all his Capacity, and all his Greatness of Mind, so Honour
Horace
or
Virgil?
Now, while the Painter's Fame and Fortune are unconfin'd, those of the greatest of our
English
Poets are restrained to the Islands of
Great Britain
and
Ireland,
that is, to less than
Twenty Millions of People,
of which, perhaps, there are hardly
Five hundred
which have a fine Taste of Poetry.
ANOTHER Reason of the Difference in the Fortunes of great Painters and Poets, with regard to Painting after the
Life,
is the darling
Interest,
and the darling
Passion
of both Sexes, and especially of the Women; no Motive is generally so predominant, as that of Self-Interest, no Passion so vehement and so ardent as Self-Love. Now the Generality of both Sexes look upon their
Persons,
as their
very selves.
It is their Persons, then, which they ardently desire should be advantageously known, and fairly distinguished, and should remain after them. This the great
Painter
alone can perform, who is sure to draw the best Likeness, and yet, at the same Time, to distinguish a Face, from all other Faces whatever, which 'tis impossible that the greatest
Poet
in the World, can ever do, by
Description.
ANOTHER Reason of the foresaid Difference, is, That few Persons pretend to decide sovereignly in
Painting,
but they who are acquainted with the Rules of the Art, and who, besides the Reading Ancient and Modern History, understand
Geometry, Perspective,
and
Anatomy
; whereas the Rabble of Mankind pretending to judge of
Poetry,
sovereignly, and without Appeal, wretched
Poetasters
have been often
applauded,
and
excellent Poets neglected,
because the former write most to the
Capacity
of the
Rabble.
And there is one Thing, which I have formerly mentioned, and which I have often observed, and always with fresh Surprize, That the Rabble, by their Noise, their Clamours, and their Obstinacy, have often drawn in Men who have pass'd for Men of Sense, to affirm their unrighteous Decrees; whereas the Men of Sense, with all their Judgment, and with all their Perseverance, have never been able to draw in the Rabble, without the Assistance of
Time.
THERE is still another Reason of the foresaid Difference in the Fortunes of great Poets and Painters, which is this; Most Men are very sensual; and Pleasure of
Sense
affects them, more than Pleasure merely
Intellectual.
They love to have their Understandings informed by their Senses, because that Instruction gives them
Pleasure,
without any Mixture of Pain, which always, in some measure, accompanies Labour and great Attention. And of all the Senses, they love chiefly to be instructed by the
Sight,
because the Instruction that comes that Way, is attended with the least
Labour.
And if it be true, that there are no
innate Ideas
; if it be true, that there is nothing in the Understanding, but what was in the
external Sense before,
then the Method of Instruction used by the
Painter,
is the very Method wich
God
and
Nature
have taken to instruct us. And this is the Cause of that extraordinary Pleasure which Men receive from
Painting,
as
Aristotle
has observed in the Fourth Chapter of his Art of
Poetry.
And, in this, the
Painter
has infinitely the Advantage of the
Poet.
The Painter informs the Understanding, and warms the Imagination, by striking the
Sight
strongly, and giving it the Height of Pleasure; while all that can be done, of that kind, by the greatest Poet that ever liv'd, is to make us vainly
imagine,
that he sets Things before our
Eyes.
THUS have I laid before you some of the chief Reasons of the Difference that is found in the Fortunes of
Great
Poets and Painters; and, now, to end with the Business with which I began, If he whom you propose to draw my Picture, is not a
Master,
I shall be unwilling to give him any Trouble. If he is a
Master,
he is
Rich,
as cercertainly as I am
not so:
I therefore expect, That he shall do it
intirely gratis
; For as
Painter,
and
Poet,
we are
Sisters Children,
and he is worse than a
Jew,
who, being
Rich himself, will take Money of a Poor Relation.
I am, SIR, Your most Humble, Faithful Servant,
A. B.
The Plain Dealer. No 61.
Labor Improbus omnia vincit.
VIRG.
Otium cum dignitate.—
CICERO.
MONDAY,
October
19. 1724.
THERE is not a more delightful Way of conveying useful Knowledge into the Mind, than Copying the
Allegories
of the
Ancients:
The following Genealogy of LABOUR and PLEASURE, is a modern Performance of this kind, which shews the Author a Person of lively Fancy and sound Judgment.
IT was sent me in a well-written Letter, subscribed
J. F.
which, when I suppress, I must own, I give my self some Mortification.
SATURN,
the Son of COELUM, after having made a Separation of Body and Goods with his Wife CYBELE, married NECESSITY the Daughter of DESTINY and FORTUNE.
Old Father DESTINY gave this poor Girl of his, her Education among the
MUSES,
and trained her up in the Company of
Poets
and
Philosophers.
She was blessed, from a very Child, with a strong, and enterprizing Genius, quick and ready at Invention, fruitful of mighty Projects, and ever intent upon proper Ways and Means, to give a finishing Stroke to her Undertakings. But though she was ingenious, she was homely in her Person; she, poor Thing! had none of those Charms to boast of, which might draw the Eyes of Lovers upon her; her
Mien
carried with it as little Temptation as her
Face
; and her Fortune was
low,
and still
less inviting
than
either
; so that she was no Body's Taste, and not any Individual breatheing had the least Thought of her for a
Wife.
The
MUSES
found the Charge grow heavy upon Them, and, sensible of their Inability to go through with the Expence of keeping her much longer, the begg'd DESTINY, by all means, to take her out of their Hands, and think of making proper Provision for her in some other Way. This put DESTINY on trying to bring about a Match, between his Daughter, and his old Friend SATURN, whom he persuaded, that since he was so far gone in Years, and parted from his Wife, without any Appearance of their coming together again; it was not possible for him to do better, than marry some honest careful Body, who would be tender in looking after him: And then he took Occasion to name his own Daughter, as a Person well qualified for that Office; assuring the old Gentleman, at the same Time, of her Inclinations to do every Thing, that would be most pleasing in his Eyes.
THE Truth is, NECESSITY was a good toward Girl, and followed her Father's Counsel, so well, and behaved herself with so much Docility, Humility, and Diligence, that she intirely won the old Man's Heart. That which prevailed with him, most of all, to come to this Resolution, arose from this Consideration, That all the Uneasiness between him and CYBELE, was occasioned by her
too great
Riches, which made her presumptuous enough to slight and despise him, and use him so ill, as to carry on a secret Affair with PLUTO, a Commerce, the most displeasing in Nature to him, and which he could never forgive. Hence he became perswaded, it would be doing very wisely, to marry a Woman of Birth, who having nothing of her own, would think of no other Enjoyments, but those which she shared in common with him, which he knew to be sufficient to render her eternally happy.
PRELIMINARIES were all settled, the Treaty concluded, and the Marriage consummated, between old SATURN, and his poor Spouse NECESSITY, whose whole Portion consisted in her
Vigilance,
her
Obedience,
and
Humility.
THE only
Issue
of this Marriage was VIRTUE, who from her Cradle, gave Promises of her Beauty. As soon as she grew up, the mature Virgin drew gazing Crowds after her, and the Eyes of the admiring World was fix'd upon this Object. There was not that single God in
Olympus,
but was fond of her Acquaintance: However, as she happened to be of a high and over-ruling Temper, and would take the Liberty of telling People their Faults very plainly to their Faces; she was not over-welcome to many, where she went.
THEN, again, her Mother NECESSITY, whose Company she was seldom out of, was, by Nature, bashful, and little used to frequent the Palaces of the
Great.
She went always very
plainly
and
simply
cloathed, after the
old Fashion,
which made her not a little timorous of visiting the
modish
Gods of
Quality.
THIS manner of Life becoming troublesome to them, they went often to pay their Respects to the
MUSES,
and to see the
Poets
and
Philosophers,
their old Friends, with whom they always found a more friendly and grateful Reception. This made them think of returning to the
MUSES,
and there to live for ever: And this NECESSITY got her Husband to consent to, who approved of this Retreat the more willingly, because he very justly judged, that the good Qualities of his Daughter VIRTUE, might help a great deal, in that Place, towards correcting the Vices and reforming the Errors of Mankind.
ACCORDINGLY they returned to
Parnassus,
and the
MUSES
obliged them with fine Apartments, where VIRTUE made herself known more and more, and was admired by every Eye that could get a Sight of her. The
MUSES
did all they could, to exalt the Merit of their new Tenant; they left nothing unsaid, that might inlarge her Reputation; they had a mighty Mind to captivate some suitable Person, and engage his Affections to her: But all in vain; there was not one Ear
rightly
open to these repeated Praises and Admonitions. Whole Crowds indeed would throng, to gaze at her, every Spectator Admired her, and even every Hearer, when she spoke, was forc'd to allow, That she had Reason for the Reprimands she made; but not one of them would have any Concern with her, or join themselves for ever with a Person, whose Manner of Living was so extraordinary and uncommon.
THUS she remained a long Time unprovided for, 'till a venerable Sort of Gentleman, oldish, but not very far in Years, who had the Reputation of great Capacity, Observation and Experience, and whose Name was WISDOM, happen'd to light upon her. To him this
tart
Humour of hers, which was always as
just
as it was
severe,
was not at all distasteful: On the contrary, he liked her for it; he made his Court to her, and having addressed her Father and Mother for their Consent, and obtained it, married her, to the universal Joy of
Parnassus.
THIS excellent Couple had Issue, but One Child, named LABOUR, who, in his Infancy, gave them Trouble enough, in all Conscience, to rear him. As soon as he approached the Age of Manhood, he gave the most apparent Signs of a
working
Head, and appeared never
easy,
but when in
Action.
ONE Day, above the rest, having closely employed himself upon an Undertaking of great Moment, a Task which his Mother VIRTUE had been pleased to set him; he saw RECOMPENCE, the Daughter of MERIT and of REASON, and became passionately in Love with her. Her
Youth
was blooming, her
Beauty
exquisitely charming; her Humour powerfully bewitching; her
whole Person
irresistably ravishing: All she
look'd,
or
said,
or
did,
was so engaging, that it was
natural
in her to
please,
and there was no-body but loved her, no-body but longed to possess her.
LABOUR, who was nearly touched with so many agreeable Qualities, resolved with himself to do every thing that should be requisite to gain her; and, as she did not want Lovers, he judged he should meet with many Difficulties before he could attain his desired End: But having received some joyful Assurance, that the Figure he made in the World, did not displease her, he resolved to omit nothing, that might make him still more grateful in the Eye of his Mistress. After infinite Pains, innumerable Hopes and Disappointments, the Treaty was at length concluded with MERIT and REASON, the Parents of RECOMPENCE, who gave their Consent with great Alacrity; and the more, for that VIRTUE herself did very heartily interest herself in that Affair. Nay, farthermore, Advices came to the Parents of RECOMPENCE, that the Marriage was APPROVED and DESIRED by COELUM, the Great-Grandfather to LABOUR.
IN Effect, LABOUR and RECOMPENCE were so exactly matched, that one may say, they were born
one
for the
other
; their Marriage was perfectly happy, by the good Understanding in which they lived; For LABOUR continuing towards his Wife the same Affection, desired to be everlastingly in her Company; he could not bear her a Moment out of his Sight, by his good Will; and would scarce be persuaded, at Times, that he had seen her, when he really had. His Wife was no less fond, on her Side; she observed a Conduct so regular, and so judicious, that she never gave him Reason of Complaint, and would favour no-body with her
Presence,
where her Husband was
absent.
THIS Marriage was render'd still more prosperous by its Fruitfulness. For, they had Issue Three Children, Two Girls, and a Boy. The Boy, who was the Youngest, was called REST: He was
well made
in his
Person, agreeable, insinuating, welcome
whereever he went: His noble Birth, and engaging Qualities, made him regarded and coveted by
all
the World, and chiefly by the
Rich.
He was not of so high a Spirit as his Sisters: He visited none but Persons that were peaceful, and little enterprizing. His
Father
was angry at it, and did all he could to render him
more active,
but he fled out of his Sight, because continual solliciting him to do something, disturbed his
Quiet,
and interrupted his Beloved
Repose.
THESE repeated Sollicitations grew, at last, so insupportable to REST, that, his Humour being no longer able to bear that of his
Father,
which was so
opposite,
he harboured Malice against him, and joining in an Association with IDLENESS, with whom he had contracted a
strict Friendship,
they plotted together to take away the Life of the Parent of REST. But honest Father LABOUR, being vigilant, was not long without discovering this Conspiracy, of which being but too certain, he drove this
unnatural Son
from him, nor would ever see him more: REST, touch'd with
Repentance,
or pushed by
some other
Motive, retired to the
Service of the Gods,
where he has, ever since, taken up his Residence.
THE Two Daughters of LABOUR, were GLORY and PLEASURE, both of them fine Persons, intirely like their Mother, so very like her, that they were often taken for her, which made her extreamly fond of them. LABOUR loved them dearly too, as well on Account of their Merit, as for that
near Resemblance
of Features which made him remember, when his Heart was first smitten with Love.
THE Children, on their Side, dutifully answered this Affection, and hardly ever quitted their
Father
and
Mother,
where-ever they went, whether to
private People,
or
Princes,
where they
most
delighted to make their Abode, and where they were
very welcome,
being significant Persons in
War
and
Peace,
and shining as well in the
Cabinet,
as the
Field.
IT is true, that PLEASURE, was not so lofty and proud of Heart, as GLORY, her Sister: For whereas GLORY thought of nothing but
great
Things, and would frequent none but People of great Genius, despising all other Considerations; PLEASURE, on the contrary, could amuse herself with any thing, loving as well Business of
little Account,
as that of
Importance
; the People of a
midling,
as well as of the
sublimest
Genius;
low,
as well as
high
Life, caressing all alike; which won her the Hearts of all the World: As she was, by Nature, very
curious,
she diverted herself with making little particular Journies to People, who were glad to have her in their Company, provided she was not with her
Father
and her
Sister,
the
Austerity
of whom, put them under too great a Restraint.
THESE little Sallies gave a
Stain
to her Reputation, it not being possible to see so fine a Girl familiarly visit so many People, without speaking of it. But what had like to have ruined her intirely, was, that at the same Time a
debauch'd Girl,
who had something of the
Air
of PLEASURE, but much
Affectation,
took it in her Head to go by the
same
Name, in order to find the
easier Access
in all Places. She was the Daughter of LEISURE and DEBAUCH, despicable People! and, as she had neither
Birth
nor
Honour,
she mingled indifferently with
all Sorts
of Persons, leading an infamous Life, and so disorderly, that she passed for one lost.
THIS Identity of Names, made them attribute to the
true
PLEASURE, all the Disorders of the
false,
which obliged her to clear up the Matter with her Father LABOUR, who was deceived, like the rest of the World, by this Appearance. But above all Things, her
conscious Innocence,
which they accused her to have violated, gave her great Confidence in her own Justification. She made known to her
Father,
that the greatest Part of those she frequented, were the best Friends of
Him,
and his Ancestors, VIRTUE and WISDOM; That she was cherished by a
whole Sect
of
Philosophers
; and, in short, That she saw
none
but People, whose
Manners
were
Praise-worthy.
The Plain Dealer. No 62.
—Nos animorum
Impulsu & caecâ magnâ
que
cupidine ducti
Conjugium petimus, partum
que
Uxoris; at illis
Notum qui pueri, qualis
que
futura sit Uxor.
JUV.
FRIDAY,
October
23. 1724.
I, WHO Pride my Self, in nothing, more than when I can be personating the
good old Man,
that is to say, Acting the Part of a Father towards the Youth of either Sex, must
naturally
have a singular Regard for those worthy Matrons, my Co-temporaries, whose approved Wisdom and Vertue, induce prudent Parents, to consign Children to their
Guardianship.
—The Truth is, That whenever I light upon the least Commerce with this beneficial Set of People, I am willing to improve it, both for their Sakes, and my Own, that we pick out of one another, sometimes a lucky Hint, that has been useful in conducting one Child to its Welfare, and by pushing it in the Education of another, make it the Happier, its whole Life after.—For this Reason, I was resolved to dispatch the Request of the following Letter, as early as possible, and because, as the careful Writer of it has young Ladies under her Tuition, I not only consider Her as a common Correspondent, but have for Her that
fraternal
Regard, which is felt by an
Affectionate Brother.
October 12, 1724.
SIR,
HAVING the Charge of two young Ladies of Fortune lately devolved upon me; I cannot but think it needful to call in the Assiststance of the
PLAIN DEALER
to enable me to perform this important Task, with that Justice and Prudence, which I am convinc'd it requires.
I therefore beg you will give me some Rules for Education; and, that they may the better Adapted to my present Necessity, I must tell you, as concisely as I can, the different Dispositions I have to deal with.
THE eldest is about Fifteen, very Bookish, but her chief Study has hitherto been in Romances, and Novels. I think it not proper to discourage this Taste of Reading in her, but would rather lead her, insensibly, into the Perusal of Books really Useful; which to such a One, ought to be entertaining too. What they must be, I submit to your Judgment, who, I hope, will Recommend some Authors that may be safely put into their Hands.
MY younger Charge, not quite Fourteen, is so far from reading Romances, that I can fix her to nothing; She promises fair to be the very Counter-part of your
Patty Amble;
And I believe has been a
Coquette
from her Cradle; She is good-natur'd, but giddy, and I fear it will be a difficult Matter to make her a reasonable Woman, tho' She certainly has good Sense.
THIS will be no Paradox, when we consider how many People loose the Benefit of a fine Understanding, for want of fixing it upon a proper Basis.
YOUR Thoughts upon this
SUBJECT
will be a Publick Benefit, and a Particular Favour to
SIR,
Your constant Reader, and humble Servant, ASPASIA.
IT is Nobly and Generously observed by an Excellent Poet of the present Age, that, To
do one good Actio
,
is preferable to the
writing,
however sublimely, the most
Glorious Deeds of others.
But methinks, on the other hand, it gives an unspeakable Pleasure to deliver in
writing,
what may give occasion to
good Actions.
The honest Inclination of
Aspasia,
and her earnest Desire, That I would give her a Word of Advice, concur to raise in me this Expectation, and therefore, while I shall lay down some cursory Observations, which may be of Service to young People, I am not asham'd to own, That the little Entertainment, which I offer to that Class of my Readers, is a kind of Feast to my Self.
ASPASIA
very well knows, the first and most important Point, which consists in studying their Tempers, and the Bent of their Inclinations. The Knowledge once obtained, the next Step is, to improve and heighten their good Qualities, and
artificially
to transform the Defects and Errors of their Nature, into Graces and Ornaments. As we must
naturally
Love those, whom we desire to instruct; and, as it is
natural
not to love those, who obtrude Instruction upon us, but to listen with Attention to those whom we Love, and to gather Instruction from them, as it were
without their Knowledge
; It is, for these Reasons, methinks Necessary, that the Method, generally observed in these Cases, should be Reversed; that is to say, The
Instruction
of the Child should be the
Consequence
of a Tutress's
Love
towards it, and not her
Love
be the
Consequence
of its
taking
her
Instructions
: These Directresses of Youth should
begin,
where they generally
end.
They give their
Advices plainly
and
bluntly,
and as those happen to take Root direct their
Affections
or
Resentments:
But they should,
first,
Practice upon the
Affections
of their
Wards,
gain their Hearts, and make their own
Love seen,
and
afterwards
steal their Admonitions into them, under the Covert of Art, keeping them as much as possible,
unseen.
Instruction thus Politically couched, will have a Power, that is Irresistable, and make an amazing Progress in tender Minds. Advice, not seen
by,
will be sure to be seen,
in
them.
TO descend to Particulars, in our present Case: Looking over those Romances and Novels, which her eldest
Ward
delights in, too much,
Aspasia
will certainly find some Heroick Examples of Vertue. These she would relate to some Friend, in the Secret, with very great Applauses, so as to be Overheard by her fair Pupil, who will be prejudiced for a Judgment, that seems to favour her own, and that she would be glad should do so. She will be charmed to hear this, and remaining, as it were,
perdue,
listen greedily to it, as the Commendation of her self. When her Mind is thus strongly prejudiced in Behalf of her Guardian, when it is warmed, and just ready to take the Impression; then, just then, the Guardian has an Opportunity of pressing down the Seal of Vertue. A little proper Female Oratory, in Commendation of the like Passages, still more beautifully expressed, in such Books, as she would have her read, will make her long, and beg, of her own accord, to see them. As for Example;
Aspasia
might say: Such a noble Quality is eminently conspicuous in the Hero of this Romance; but then he appears defective in such other Points: The Hero of such a Novel Revere for such a Part of his Conduct, but he is greatly to blame in other Respects: The principal Character in such a Book of Memoirs, would be a Favourite, and a shining Character, but for such and such Blemishes and Imperfections. Such a Gallant, in such a Play, behaves himself well throughout the whole Action, and makes me love him at my very Heart; but such a Gallant has a villainous Design at Bottom, upon his Mistress's Honour, and is my mortal Aversion. After having thus remark'd upon Texts, out of the Lady's own Scripture, it is Inexpressible, what an Effect it might have, if growing into a sudden Rapture,
Aspasia
should go on as follows: How does it charm and transport one, to find all these Vertues, and none of the opposite Vices; all these Beauties without Deformities, united in that one Favourite Character of mine, the
Christian Hero,
described with all the Force, with which Vertue can be described, and painted with all the Beauties with which Beauty can be painted?—This Method, or such a Method as this, would prompt the listening,
bookish
Ward to a Desire of seeing that Tract; she would long for it, she would enquire after it, she would beg to read it; she would set to reading it already prejudiced in its Favour; It would gain upon her, in the Reading, till she gained, what her Guardian would wish, from reading it. As she has true Taste, this just Picture, would beget in her a Contempt of those coarse Daubings of a Novelist's grosser Hand. The same may be said of the
Heroines,
celebrated in her favourite Romances. How much more charmingly is the
fine Lady,
described in the Marquess of
Hallifax
his Advice to a Daughter, and so of others.—What Fruit may not be hoped and expected:—Reading that little Book, called,
The Advice to a Daughter,
and the
Lady's Library,
is enough to make young Women learn to
Know themselves:
STEELE
's Christian Heroe,
and the
Gentleman Instructed,
teach them abundantly to know Men. A
Knowledge
of
themselves,
will be the
Preservative
of their
Honour
; and a
true Knowledge
of
Men
will fortifie them against the
Treacheries,
that are used by
artful
Deceivers, of
that Sex,
which is almost sure, one Time or other, to be either
their RUIN,
or
their ORNAMENT.
N. B.
There not being Room in this
Paper,
some Hints upon
Education
shall be occasionally added, wherein
ASPASIA
's
Elder Charge
shall be further considered, not forgetting the
Younger,
who may be a
fine Woman bred,
notwithstanding she is
born
a COQUET.
The Plain Dealer. No 63.
—Aliena Negotia Centum
Per caput, & circumsaliunt latus.
HOR.
MONDAY,
October
26. 1724.
I INTENDED in this PAPER, to have proceeded upon some Hints concerning EDUCATION: But I am forced to break off the Thread, and defer it to another Day. I have many entertaining
LETTERS
by me, from
Edinburgh,
and
Bath
; and two, that I must particularly mention from
Covent-Garden,
with Relation to my late Discourse on the
Play-House Management
; One is written by Mr.
Sock,
in a sad, and
lamentable
Stile, and the other by Mr.
Buskin,
filled with such Heroick
Rants,
that, however they excite no
Terror,
will as well answer the
End
of being exhibited to publick View; and move
Diversion,
like some
Modern Tragedies.
With all these I should be glad to oblige the
Publick,
as soon as possible; but the following EPISTLE, seems intended to Redress, in some Measure, an injured Person, and I think it a Part of Duty to quit other Speculations, though never so inviting, where it lies in my Power to
assist,
towards rescuing an honest Man, out of
real,
or even
imaginary
Distress, since the
latter
is often
equally
painful with the
former.
To the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
IN One of your PAPERS concerning DETRACTION, you justly observed, That Persons guilty of it, in a great
City,
ought to have some
Distinguishing Signs
to discover them, as Crosses are placed on the Doors of the
Diseased,
in the Time of a Pestilence.
THAT happy Way of Reasoning (inseperable from Truth) which shines in all your Writings, on whatsoever
Subject
employed, carries Conviction in every Line, that gives the
Good Man
Pleasure, and the
Envious
and
Detracting,
Pain.
THEN to whom shall I apply for Redress, but to the PLAIN DEALER, who, tho' above flattering the Great, thinks it not unworthy him, to do Justice, even to the
Lowest
Degree of Merit.
WAS I to draw the Man I mean, in the Character of
Husband, Father,
or
Friend,
in each, he would please and satisfy; but as those distinguishing Characters, are Private, tho' Undisputed, I will beg leave to tell you, He has, in
Active
Life, a
Fame,
that gives Uneasiness to some malignant People, while it does Good, more widely than they wou'd wish him able to extend it.
IF an indefatigable Industry, with his allowed
Skill,
and
Humanity,
crowned by the Blessing of the
ALMIGHTY,
with un-interrupted Success, can recommend a Man to Esteem in the useful Profession of of
Surgery,
you will allow me to name Mr.
Coltheart.
Methinks I see him, (as I have often seen him) going to the Relief of some miserable Object, with his usual Chearfulness and Smiles (with that Regard however to the Cause, which the Greatest could wish for, the Unhappy seldom find) as if he was going to some Great Man, whose Cure must make his Fortune; tho' he is certain to have no other Recompence than the Thanks and Prayers of his unfriended Patient.
INNUMERABLE Instances of this Kind the Grateful Many he has served, wou'd give, who, tho' willing, are not allow'd to do him the Justice he deserves; which induces me to believe, if ever Man took Pleasure in doing Good, he does; as also to think him a proper Subject, and Excuse, for my troubling you with this, who am,
SIR,
Your most Obedient, Humble Servant,
Z. Y.
WHEN I reflect upon the many Advantages arising to Mankind, from the Skill of a True Professor of the Surgeon's Art, he appears so Useful a Member of the Common-Wealth, that he makes no
inconsiderable
Figure among the most
considerable,
like
Machaon
among the Heroes in
Homer.
The Person, this Letter relates to, far from meriting to be spoken ill of, deserves that respect, which the best of all Books requires to be paid to the Physician, if it was for nothing else, but having, not long since, preserved the Life of a Member, of a very noble Family, in which
Wisdom
and
Eloquence
have been a long Time
Hereditary.
AS I am brought once more, unwillingly, to touch upon that hated Subject,
DETRACTION,
I think I cannot do better, in order to deter People, from it, than to place before their Eyes a Picture of its Deformity, as it was drawn by that Great Master
APELLES,
and Described by an excellent old Author.
AT the Right-Hand, was drawn Sitting, a Man, with long Ears, putting forth his Hand to
DETRACTION,
who seem'd from afar off to come towards him. About this Man stood two Women, that is to say,
IGNORANCE
and
SUSPICION:
On the other side came
DETRACTION,
a Woman dress'd in great Pomp and Magnificence, but in a mighty Passion of Anger, having her Aspect like Fire. In her Left-Hand, she held a burning Torch, and with her other, she drew, by the Hair of his Head, a young Man, who held up his Hands towards Heaven, calling God, to Witness his Innocence: With Her, came a Woman, Pale and Evil-favoured, beholding the the young Man attentively, like one that had been consumed with long Sickness, whom you might easily conjecture to be
ENVY.
THERE followed two other Women, who made it their Business to adorn
DETRACTION:
One was
TREASON,
the other
FRAUD:
After, followed a Woman in Mourning, Black and Ragged, called
REPENTANCE,
who turning her Back, and sore ashamed, beheld
TRUTH,
who then came forward.
IT is thus,
APELLES
described
DETRACTION,
by which he himself was brought into extream Danger, having been falsely accused to King
Ptolomy,
of
Egypt,
who, upon his refuting the Accusation, ordered him as many Talents, as would amount to Twelve Thousand Pounds Sterling, and that his Accuser should be his perpetual Bonds-man.
IF some curious Engraver would form a Plate, upon this Model; the best Method would be for Persons this way Injured, to purchase a Ptint, and fix it, like a Play-Bill, at the Door of any noted Offender; after which, it should be a Rule for the Neighbourhood, never to believe a Report that came from that Quarter, whether in
Praise
or
Dispraise
of any Body.
BY this Means, the
TONGUES
of
Evil-Speakers,
and the
PENS
of
Evil-Writers,
would become
Useless,
and
Unregarded
; and Innocence, having nothing to fear, might look, untrembling, upon Slander.
The Plain Dealer. No 64.
Quid enim sors est? Idem propemodum quod micare, quod talos jacere, quod tesseras. Quibus in rebus temeritas & casus non Ratio nec Consilium valet.
CICERO Lib. 2. de Divin.
Ista Veneficii est via.—
OVID Remed. Am.
Inveni germana viam (gratare sorori)
Quae mihi reddat eum, vel eo me solvat amantem.
VIRG.
FRIDAY,
October
30. 1724.
AMONG a Thousand shining Proofs of the Capacity of
Woman's Wit,
I have met with no Instance more extraordinary, than the
SUBJECT
of the following
LETTER:
Which I therefore publish, in Honour of the Advance of
Feminine Learning.
Tho', when I consider the Force of the Sex's
Natural Magick,
I observe with some Jealousy, their Pretensions to the
ART
of
CONJURING.
A Common-Council Man of this Great City, writes to me, with much Impatience, to be inform'd, Whether there is no Statute, in Force, against the Study of the
BLACK ART?
I was at a Loss, what
Art
he meant, 'till he went on to inform me, That he can never make his Visits, to a certain Lady, of his Acquaintance, but his Wife knows where he has been; and shews him, for Proof of it,
a Man and a Woman, in a China Cup,
discover'd, closer than they shou'd be, by means of certain Tell-tale
HIEROGLYPHICKS,
in the settling of her
Coffee-Grounds.
APPLICATION has been also made to me, by the Husbands of some foreseeing Ladies, who go to Bed, to
take Counsel
; and are as Wise, when
asleep,
as
waking.
—One poor Gentleman, in particular, has been kept at Home, these six Days, upon a Dream which his Wife had,
That an
Owl
flew out of her Bosom, and met with a
Jack-Daw,
that pick'd his Eyes out.
This has
absolutely convinc'd
her, that
her Spouse will receive some Mischief,
the first Time he ventures out of her Company.—In fine, our Women are become a
Nation of Sages!
And Men must shortly be Dependant on them, not for
DELIGHT
only, but
INSTRUCTION.
SIR,
YOU were pleas'd, in a late
PLAIN DEALER,
to threaten the Male-World with an Inundation of
Female-Wit.
Before we are so happy as to have this comfortable Tide break in upon us, I conceive it to be the Duty of every
married Christian,
who is honesty conscious of his Wife's Superiority, to furnish you with fit Materials; by
confessing,
as far as in him lies, the Blessing, that has befallen him.
I THINK it a wise Man's Part, to be
humble,
in the midst of
Preferment,
and wou'd, therefore, be understood to
speak without boasting,
when I inform You, That I am able to read my own Name, among the Worshipful, The Commissioners for Conservation of His Majesty's
Peace.
—But I have a
Wife!
who, not to praise her, more than she really deserves, wou'd have made a better
Justice
than I am.—Her Understanding blazes out, to the Admiration of All, who know her; only, like Wood, that is too vigorous, she is apt to
snap,
a little, in her flaming: For which, in order to be Even with her, I have given her the Name of
SNUBSY.
THE worst of it is, She confines her Talent to
one Science:
And, so, her Qualities, which, if divided, might have adorn'd a hundred Arts, are, All, profusely lavish'd, for Improvement of that single Purpose.
MY Spouse, good Sir, to be plain with you, is far gone in
Palmestry
: But
Greek
and
She,
being intimate Acquaintance, Her own Name for it, is
Chiromancy.
—If
Longitude
lay in her Palm, she cou'd not fail to
discover
it; and be
paid for her peeping.
—My Brothers, of the Bench, you know, are not without some Wit their Way; and most of them can
crack a Joke,
when we meet, over a Bottle.—I venture now and then, to
push a Pun,
upon these Occasions: And they All know, as well as I do, That I have no
close-fisted
Wife, tho' she
makes a good Hand of me.
I ALLOW her a
Study,
to herself, at the End of a long Gallery; where when I walk, and take my Pipe, I am sure, If I but peep thro' the Key-hole, to see her Thumbs as high as her Eyes; and half a Score reverend Philosophers, who Treat on this Deep Mystery, lying spread, on a Table, before her.—She has
Fortune,
at her Fingers Ends! and never
Sybil
prophesied, with such unwearied Application.
IT gives me no small Delight, to observe how busie she will be, in looking over my
Line of Life:
And really sometimes she
hits
Things strangely! One wou'd almost believe, she has
more Help than she shou'd have!
—My
CEPHALICA,
(which, you are to know, is my
Head Line
) has, it seems, a
Forkey Figure,
in the midst of it, that points, with both Horns, against my
Linea Vitalis.
—I don't know why it is, but she always
laughs,
when she sees this Mark; and says, She is sure
some Good
will come of it, because the But-end of the Fork points from the
Dragon's Tail,
to the
Mount
of
Venus.
THO' I believe her at my Heart, yet I pretend to make a Doubt of it; because there can be no
prettier Diversion,
than to see how she
frets,
and what a deal of goodnatur'd Pains she will take, to convince me of it!—I must own, I stand amaz'd at the Improvement of her Natural Parts, by the Benefit of frequent Practice, upon Secrets, I am utterly a Stranger to!
WE have a New Minister in our Parish, and, the first Time he came to dine, at our House, I shall never forget how he star'd, when
SNUBSY
began to shew her Learning!—She no sooner looked in his Hand, than she told him, He would be made a
Bishop.
He is counted a Man of
Letters,
and yet he was not able to
disprove
it; tho' he own'd, indeed,
It was unlikely:
For, she reduced it to a Demonstration, little less than
Mathematical
; by
Squares, Trines, Circles, Stars, Spots, Tokens, Signs, Lines,
and
Figures,
of a thousand different Sorts,
Direct, Transverse,
and
Parallel:
Pursuing every Argument, with an invincible Force of Reasoning, through the
Cavea Martis,
to the
Via Solis
; and unravelling all the
Crosses,
in the
Tuberculum,
on the
Mons Saturni;
'till she came within reach of the
Via Lactea,
under the
Girdle
of
Venus:
And there the
Doctor
stopt her, and made Acknowledgements of his Satisfaction.
WE went lately to shew
Bedlam,
to a Country-Cousin, who came up to visit us: And, in the middle of the long Room, my
SNUBSY
took a Fancy, to let her Kinswoman woman see how fine a Skill she was Mistress of: In order to which, she fell to reading us a
Lecture,
over the Palm of a silent
Lunatic
; who, with a Rugg about his Shoulders, very quietly gave her his Hand, through the
Grate
he was standing at—She had just pointed out, How his
Mons Mercurii
became afflicted, by an Evil-line, from his
Mons Lunae,
when the Patient besprinkled her Face, with a Bowl-full of a certain Ill-scented Liquor, of his own making, which his other Hand had concealed behind him. We were, all, in good Measure, made Partakers of his Bounty. But my Cousin, and I, were beginning to quit some Part of it, which we thought we should have no Use for, when we were interrupted by our dripping
Chiromancer,
who ran between us, all in Transport, holding her Hands as high as our Eyes, and crying out, with great Vehemence, That
Her Fears were now over
;—For she had foreseen, by a
Combust-Line,
between her
Pollex
and her
Cardiac,
That she should be in Danger of a Violent Death, either by
Drowning
or
Suffocation!
IT is not in my Power to explain to you All the Benefits, which I receive from this Profoundness of my Spouse's
Foresight.
—Other People, when they take
New Servants,
are forc'd to send, and enquire their
Character:
But my little Conjurer, does but peep upon their Palms, and satisfies her self immediately.—I had a very strong Partiality for a smiling Country, Girl, that came, last Week, to offer her Service, in the Quality of a
Chamber-Maid.
But upon the very first Inspection, my Examiner charg'd her Home, With
Three Favourite Sweethearts
; and then whispered something in her Ear, which she staid not to return an Answer to; but ran, blushing, out of Doors, in the utmost Hurry and Disorder. And this
Discovery,
my
Cassandra
assured me, was grounded meerly upon
Palmistry
; the Girl having a manifest
Triangle,
on the Bottom of the
Mount
of
Venus,
which extended so far downward, as to make a
Cleft
in her
Restricta.
I WAS, once, in some kind of Danger to have been drawn into a
Plot
; but my
SNUBSY
found it out, in the Palm of my Hand; and in Presence of a
Minister of State,
who, I can assure You, made no small Use of Her, convinc'd me, beyond Dispute, that I should bid fair for being
hang'd,
by Virtue of a
crooked Line, that cross'd my
Via Combusta. This frighted me from my foolish Purpose: But, I remember, I was strangely comforted, to discover, at the same Time, upon the
Minister's
opening his Hand too, That his Lordship had a
Combusta,
as
dangerously mark'd,
as mine was.
AFTER so happy a Deliverance, by Interposition of Her Art, I grew desirous to be
taught
it; and with a great Deal of Good Success I got over the Heathen Names of her
Planets
; and knew what Parts of her Hand they
kept House
in. I was wonderfully pleased with
VENUS,
when I found, in my
Primmer of Palmestry,
That she signified
Woman-kind, Kisses,
and
Ladies Curiosities:
But I could never away with
MERCURY
; For her
Books
were pleas'd to inform me, That he held his Influence over
Pages, Pimps,
and
Lawyers; Justices of the Peace,
and
Astrologers.
I thought it, from that Time forward, unbecoming my Honour and Gravity, to apply my self to an Art, that had treated my Office with such Indignity. And, as often as I cast my Eye upon these Venerable Words,
Justice of the Peace,
and saw them mix'd with such Ill Company, I clos'd my Fist in a Fury, and would study
Palmistry
no longer.
YET, in the Way my
SNUBSY
practices, Truth compells me to confess, It is an inexhaustable Fund of Benefits, both to my Self, and to the Publick.—If I happen to be sick, she consults
not
my
Pulse,
but, my
Palm.
And, when Persons of less Learning, feel Change of Weather, in their
Toes,
she reads it, under her
Fingers.
In short, it is impossible for any Body, but One, who knows as much of her as I do, to imagine what strange Sings and Tokens, she carries about her; and what Great Things they signifie.
To such a powerful Pitch of Perfection has she rais'd her surprizing Skill, that she saved a poor Man's Life, lately, who was brought before me, by a Neighbour's Daughter, in Order to charge him, upon Oath, With having done no less than
ravish'd
her: But
SNUBSY,
who was for beginning the Examination, in her own Way, no sooner saw the Inside of their Hands, than she convinced the Sufferer, very seasonably, That the Accident was
unavoidable
; having been foretokened, by a plain
Incisure,
on the Center of her
Via Lactea:
So that being
decreed,
from Both their Births, this Misfortune became a
Fate
; and it would have been in vain to have struggled against it.—The poor Girl wept, and thanked her; and, with charitable Change of Purpose, told the Prisoner, That
she forgave him heartily; for she thought it Hard, To have a Man hanged for doing Nothing, but what he was
born
for.
IN Justice to the Merit of a Wife, so deeply learn'd, I could do less than desire you to acquaint the World with my
SNUBSY
's
Character,
when you come to lay open the
Genius
of our
English Ladies.
I am, with due Regard,
SIR,
Your never-failing
Reader,
And your humble
Servant, WALTER WORSHIPFUL.
The Plain Dealer. No 65.
Per varios Casus, per tot Discrimina Rerum,
Tendimus—
VIRG.
MONDAY,
November
2. 1724.
To the
PLAIN DEALER.
Edinburgh,
October
8, 1724.
SIR,
IN my Last, I laid before You a short Character of the present Magistrates of this
City
; and some Account of the Factious Spirit, that too often disturbs Them, and their Laudable Undertakings. I am not at all surpriz'd to hear, That many of your
Readers,
among my own
Countrymen,
have taken Offence at my Free Correspondence, notwithstanding the Sanction of
your
Judgment, under which it is published.
PREJUDICE will always make the World Uneasie: Whatever Cause it proceeds from, it never fails to govern the Understanding, in a very shameful Manner. And, tho' it is often no more than the imbib'd Sense of a second Person, which a Man makes use of as his own, it is rarely, and with great Difficulty, restrain'd from producing innumerable bad Consequences in Life, with the Face and Appearance of something that is Good; it mixes it self with every Circumstance and Action, and has every where a powerful Influence. One Man calls it
Religion,
another
Principle
; and he who dares be Blunt, owns it by its plain Name of
Party.
Whatever is done, or said, upon this Foundation, though never so Faulty, shall find
Advocates
; and, however Praise-worthy,
Condemnation.
What a Shame is it to Reason, to hear it avow'd, That such a Sett of Men can do Nothing
Ill,
because
on our Side?
And such another, Nothing
Well,
because
they Vote with our Enemies?
—But Enough of this Subject.—If, as 'tis generally own'd, The Publick Good should be the Point most in View, of each Individual, I ought to rest satisfied, and may despise the Spleen of my Censurers.
BUT, Sir, I am inclined to construe favourably, and, perhaps, the Indignation that some People express against good Persons, and good Things, is not so much the Effect of
Vice,
as of
Ignorance.
As when a
Scheme
is proposed for Publick Benefit,
Blockheads
may innocently decry it, because they cannot comprehend it. This I take to be the present Case, from the dull Opposition, that I have wonder'd to see made against several highly generous and profitable Undertakings. Men, whose Souls are short-sighted, love to walk in Old
Ways,
because they are in no Danger of being
lost,
while they have a Hedge at each Elbow. Thus the
Hotentots
adhere to their Hereditary Dirt and Nakedness: Thus the
Irish
too, were formerly instigated to
rebel against the Yoke,
in Defence of their ancient Privilege of
drawing Ploughs by their Horses Tails,
with all the
Wit
of a
free-born
Stedfastness. And, I am sorry I have Cause to say, That for a Reason of this goodly Sort, my
Neighbours
love stinking Streets, and hate the Innovation of
Necessary Houses.
IF in this Part of the World, we chance to hear of a
Project to make us Cleanly,
we wonder at the
crack-brain'd Whimsie,
and guard our Hearts against
Vanity.
If it is undertaken at the particular Expence of the Proposer, we discourage the Guilt of so presuming a Generosity. Nay, let a Thing be actually executed, and compleatly done to our Hands, we have still Spirit enough to
rail
at it, with the most masculine Inflexiblity. In this, and other Respects, I have Instances in my
View
; and my
Neighbours
will take my
Meaning,
tho' not my
Counsel.
IT were easie, SIR, to expatiate upon the
Ignorance,
and
Partiality,
that prevail among our People, were I inclined to write
Satyr,
and expose the Weakness of my Country-men. But, as I am unwilling to spread their Defects, I beg Leave, on the the other Side, to lay before you several more of the Blessings and Ornaments our
City
boasts of!
YOU have done us the Honour, to distinguish the Genius and Virtue of some of the rising
Generation,
in one of your PAPERS; and my last begins an Account of the FAIR ASSEMBLY here in
Edinburgh,
which, notwithstanding the Opposition of our
Clergy,
is one of the best
Nurseries
of
Politeness
in
SCOTLAND.
By Means thereof, our Youth of both
Sexes,
learn a Habit of Briskness and Freedom, which, till of late, were less frequent among us. That Restraint, and Stiffness of Air and Address, which distinguished us from People of more generous Education, by Decrees, wears away; and Conversation, which was formerly so confin'd, and so dull, grows open, free, and easie:
Ladies
find they may
speak
to
Gentlemen,
without Violence to their
Modesty,
and
Gentlemen
may
entertain Ladies,
without Designs upon their
Virtue.
It is now no more a
Sight,
when a Lover waits on his Mistress Home, or takes a Walk with her in a Garden. Nay, we have Husbands, who, without Jealousie, can hear Batchelours invite their Wives to an Entertainment. In short, we exchange the
Spanish
Affectation and Gravity, for the
English
Liberty and Free Spirit; and, in Place of
Narrow Minds,
and the
vilest Hypocrisie,
we are growing Profane enough to assert the
Dignity
of
Humane Reason,
and the
Innocent Privileges
of
Nature.
PERHAPS I am not mistaken, when I affirm, That this
Conversion
(I beg Leave of the
Clergy
to make Bold with the Word, because I have as Good a Title to it, as they have) is, in a great Measure, the Effect of the
Union
of the Two Kingdoms. But, when I consider it is an Advantage, I wou'd not be thought to mean, that
either
Nation is yet too Happy under the Effects of their
Incorporation.
It may be allow'd us, I presume, to wish, that however strictly they are united, they may never be bound so close, but that one Hand may be loose enough to assist and unite the other, if it is not quite
impossible,
there shou'd arise, in some future Age, such a Miracle, as a
Corrupt Ministry
; or a Prince, less watchful, than our present Glorious SOVEREIGN, for the Defence of his Peoples Liberties.
BUT I am no Politician; nor will I attempt to Enlarge upon a Subject that fits not the Purpose of your PAPER; though I promise my self, That the PLAIN DEALER will not scruple, when Occasions rise, to assert the
Rights,
as well as the
Sense
of a
True Briton.
I PROCEED to Remark, That as the Correspondence and Communication between the now United Kingdoms, has, in a great Measure, improv'd and polish'd the
Taste,
the
Air,
and the
Fashions,
of both the Gentlemen and Ladies of my Country; so it has also refin'd our Language, in a very sensible Manner. I do not mean the
Accent
and
Pronunciation,
when we
speak
it—For these are hardly to be naturaliz'd without much Time, and continual Converse; there being, in
England
itself, a
Shibboleth,
peculiar to every County. No wonder then, that
Scotsmen
find it difficult to come up to their Standard.
BUT, if you'll allow, that we make some Progress in the
Substance
of the Language, we will readily give up our Pretensions to the
Graces
of it. Yet our way of pronouncing the
Vowels
has Advocates in
Foreign
Countries: And, perhaps, the Authority might deserve a Review with the
English.
I have wonder'd, to say Truth, that we are such Proficients in the Language, considering we have neither a
Court,
nor a
Theatre,
which are the acknowledged
Fountains
of its Refinement.
WHEN I look into the Writings of Mr.
DRUMMOND
of
Hathornden,
in the Reign of King
JAMES
I. Sir
GEORGE MACKENZIE,
in the Reign of King
CHARLES
II. The Earl of
LAUDERDALE,
in the Reign of King
JAMES
II. Bishop
BURNET,
and Mr.
FLETCHER
of
Salton,
in the two last Reigns; and of a certain noted Writer, in the present; when I compare their Style with the Style of some of their Cotemporaries in
England,
I am tempted to think my Country-men not so very far inferiour, as that
Criticks
shou'd depreciate our Pretensions to the Language. But, when I consider too, That whatever Elegance, or Mastery, of that Sort we arrive at, is as much a
Virtue
in us, as 'tis
Nature
in You, I am vain enough to imagine, that we merit no less Praise; at least shou'd meet with fair
Indulgence.
ONE Thing more I beg leave to Remark, with Respect to our Language. Many of our Words, that seem
Uncouth,
and are not understood by
English-men,
are, notwithstanding, of
English
Origin; and are not less
Emphatical,
and
Worthy,
for being
Obsolete
among You. I find few old Words in
DOUGLAS
's
VIRGIL,
that are not also to be found in
CHAUCER:
And, perhaps, our
ALLAN RAMSAY,
a living
Versifier
in Old-Style, uses few that are not to be met with in
SHAKESPEAR, SPENCER,
&c.—except, when he coins Words, by virtue of his
extra-judicial
Poetick Privileges, that never were, and never will be, used by any Mortal, besides
Himself.
LIVING Languages, are like living Trees; they have their Summer and their Winter. The
Words
of the One, like the
Leaves
of the Other, fall off, and are succeeded by a new Generation. It is, however, Discretion's Work, in this Case, to Naturalize none, at the Expence of better.
YOU see, Sir, with what Freedom I write my Sense both of
Persons
and
Things
to you. I own, I observe no Order in the Form of my
Letters:
Nor do I believe
That
wou'd recommend me more to your Regard. What I chiefly aim at, is, A natural
Simplicity
in my Expressions, and a
Truth
in my Facts, becoming a Correspondent of the
PLAIN DEALER.
'I HAVE the Honour to be with due Veneration,
SIR,
Your trusty Intelligencer, and most Obedient Servant,
FERGUS BRUCE.
AFTER having thank'd my Correspondent, for the Continuance of his agreeable Intelligence, I shall close with a short Remark on on what he says, concerning our Language.
I AGREE with Him entirely, that many of of our old Words had the same
Original
with theirs; for all that Part of
Scotland,
to the the Southward of the
Frith,
was as much
Saxon
as we were: So then the Foundation of our Language being the same, it is not so reasonable, as I wish it were, to allow this ingenious Gentleman the Claim he makes, in Behalf of his Country—That the Elegance and Mastery, which are by
Nature
in Us, are a
Virtue
in
North Britain.
THE
Nature
is certainly alike to both Nations: The
Virtue
is most due, where the Improvement was
first
made. The
Nobility
and
Gentry
of
Scotland
have, at least, for Ages past, been as learned as the
English,
and much more accustom'd to foreign Travel and Correspondence. These are the great, and indeed the only Causes of Refinement in a Language—For
Trade
and
Luxury
are much more likely to corrupt it, by the Confusion they introduce, mixing Degrees and Distinctions, and contracting our Care to regard nothing so much as
INTEREST.
SINCE then the
Scotch
Language was once the very same with the
English
; and since their People have been more intimately Conversant, than ours, among Foreign Nations; and have always enjoy'd the same Assistance of Learning, and yet have been behind us in the Improvement of our common Tongue; it follows by Necessity, That the Praise of
Virtue
is in ours—But it is a
Birth-right,
which, like
Kentish Gavel-Kind,
we must equally divide with our Brothers, in the next Generation: for, tho' they were slow Setters out, they have prov'd Themselves as good Runners, and will be a-breast with us, in the Race, and lose no Ground for the Future.
The Plain Dealer. No 66.
Credula res amor est—
OVID MET.
—Tormentis gaudet Amantis.
JUV.
FRIDAY,
November
6. 1724.
THE Complaint of
AMANDA
in the following LETTER, is of a Nature as New, as the Foundation of it is Just. The Guilt which it speaks of, is frequent enough: But this fine-spirited, and discerning Lady, has placed it on the Person who has, hitherto, been look'd on as most Innocent, and deserving Pity.—The Truth is, there are a thousand Resemblances of
Virtue,
which if unmasq'd, by so distinguishing a Hand as
AMANDA
's, wou'd assume their proper Faces, and be known for
Vices,
and
Follies.
—I will entertain my Readers, with this Lady's Excellent LETTER, just as I receiv'd it, and afterward, in Obedience to her Command, consider the Complaint, which is the SUBJECT of it.
October
17, 1724.
SIR,
WHEN Parents have so much Zeal for their Childrens
Promotion,
and so little for their
Happiness,
as to force them to
Marry
the Person they have an
Aversion
to, How is the World mov'd, with a Tenderness of Concern! And Nature shock'd with the Violence!
SUCH a Constraint has always met with its just Discouragement: And your
Predecessor in
PLAIN DEALING took it under his Care. But, Whether it is from the
Pride
of
one Sex,
who are fond of the
Reputation,
even, of a Lover whom they
Hate
! Or, from the unjust
Partiality,
of the
Other,
The much greater Offender, in my Opinion, passes uncensured.—Such
Parents
are stigmatiz'd with
Inhumanity,
and well they may! But what shall we say of
Him,
who continues to
teize
the Woman, who
abhors
him? who wou'd force her to make a
Prostitute
of her
Love?
To enslave herself to Interest? And, when her Refusal has drawn down the Resentment of her Parents, lays it, all, on his
Excess of Love.
IS Love then so
base
a Passion? So void of Tenderness? So unlike itself, and all its generous Pretences? that it can feed on the
Quiet
of the beloved Object! and
steal from it
the Joy which it has not Power to
give it!
No, no, The real Lover knows not how to
Offend.
—His Happiness must rise, and fall, with
Hers,
who inspir'd his Passion.—But if, on the contrary, His Desires run
Counter
to her Happiness, It is not
Love
; It is
Brutality!
And, if He, who is thus
possess'd,
supposes Himself in Love, He is deceiv'd, and wou'd deceive Others.
BUT, even granting, All This were the real Effect of Love, on the Part of the Pursuer, where can a
Woman
find That dedelightful Harmony, That inexhaustible Spring of Bliss, which we are taught to expect, in
Loving?
Can the Constancy of an unlov'd Lover ever win her to a Compliance? No—rather
Prepossession
will guard the Passes of her Heart, nor suffer it to be brib'd by Obligations; And
Time
does but add to our Hatred: For Opportunity finds out Faults, and furnishes
Reasons
for our Refusal.—In short, such a Lover shows more
Extravagance,
than
Constancy
; more
Inhumanity,
than
Passion.
THIS, Sir, is
my own
Misfortune, to be miserably haunted, by the Man, whose Sight is Odious to me: One, whom no Words can convince! No Denials satisfie! No affronts affect! Insensible of my Uneasiness; and Indefatigable, in creating it!—I wou'd fly him, but I cannot, unless I wou'd fly my Friends too, and my Parents: Nor have I any
Intimate
left, whom his Diligence, and Insinuations, have not made his Own.
'TIS of YOU, therefore, I must beg, to say something, that may give me Ease, and have some Effect on my troublesome Pursuer: And, if, in any Thing I have said, I am Mistaken, in my Sentiments, or unguarded, in my Expressions, be pleas'd to Correct it; and think, That a Woman can't be always on her Guard, who has so just a Cause for Resentment, as,
Your Unfortunate, Humble Servant,
AMANDA.
IT the Admiration, which is due to such a Merit as this Lady's, did not place her above Pity, I cou'd be sorry for that Persecution, which she Laments, in so
Elegant,
and
Pathetic,
a Manner. The Gentleman, who is so unhappy as to be the Subject of her Complaint, will be the last, that feels the Force of it.—There is a
Love of ourselves,
deeply rooted in human Nature, that imposes on us, first, and, then, emboldens us to impose on Others. We do not
approve
the Faults, which we are guilty of; But, which is almost as bad, we
cannot see
them:—We join heartily in, with those, who condemn the very Follies which are most remarkably
our own
; and are all the while insensible how ridiculous we appear to Others, by adhering publickly to the
Practice
of what we, as publickly, continue to
Censure.
IT is, I must confess, the hardest Lesson of Nature, to correct the Extravagancies of
Love.
—Where this Passion is Real, It will be the
Sovereign
of the Mind. It moulds the Soul to its own Purposes; and lends its own Eyes to the Understanding. Neither does it depend, for its Violence, or Moderation, on the Capacity of the Lover, but on the Proportion, in which it actuates him. The Wise Man, in this Case, has no Prerogative, above the Fool. It is in
Love,
as it in
Madness,
The more Exalted the
Genius,
the more unbounded the
Raging!
—A Wise Man may much better
defend
himself, than a Fool can; But, when He
yields,
there is no Difference; because
Opinion,
in this Passion, always stands in the Place of
Reason.
THIS being the Case,
AMANDA
has small Encouragement; who, by appealing to what is
Reasonable,
would disswade her Lover from what is
Necessary.
—Her Charms have deprived his Life of every Comfort, but what
She
gives it; and, while He loves, at the Rate she says he does, it will be impossible for him, to
think
himself so much in the Wrong, as she finds him.
IT would, certainly, be a Great Happiness, if Men, who love, without Hope, could desist, without Misery: For, besides that
AMANDA
's Argument has thrown an Air of ungenerous Selfishness, on the
Obstinacy
of such Addresses, there is This further Mischief in it, That a Lover, whom an avowed
Hatred
cannot repulse, in his Application, cuts off his Right, when he becomes a
Husband,
to complain of, or return,
Ill Usage,
—Is she too Cold, too Unkind, too Disdainful, for a
Wife?
—How much greater is His Fault, who
foresaw
all This, and, yet, would
make her one?
—He
loved
Her, before She
pitied
Him, and consented to become
His,
notwithstanding the most open
Profession
of her Insensibility! And how Base, and Ungenerous must it be, To make the
Continuance
of that Insensibility his Pretence for treating her Ill, after she has put her self under his Protection; which, while she refus'd, and detested him, had no Power to move his Resentment!
EITHER, He ought, with a manly Fortitude, to
tear
himself from the Remembrance of an Object, so insensible of his Torments; or, in Gratitude, for a Compliance, that was Involuntary, and the Effect, rather, of Compassion, than of Love, He should resolve to support himself under the Misfortune of her Aversion, without permitting his own Sentiments to be imbittered, by the Effects of it; till, by a Progress of perswasive Softness, He shall have touched her reluctant Heart, and prepared it to receive Impressions, as well of
Love,
as of
Gratitude.
BUT, how Monstrous is the Brutal Figure, which I have seen some
Husbands
make! who, when
Lovers,
were the Poorest, and most Abject, of all
Slaves!
—When they should be
Defenders,
they are
Tyrants
; and when it was reasonable for them to have been
Provoked,
they were
stupidly Submissive!
—How contemptible is their unmanly Weakness! A morose and restless
Peevishness,
makes up the Behaviour they expect to
charm by!
They contract a surly, sower Habit, from the Disappointments they meet in Life; and, instead of softening the Edge of Affliction, toward the Woman, who is bound to share their Sufferings, they double them on
her Head,
from whom, (in Honour, and Humanity) they ought to ward off Sorrow, by a noble Sweetness, and endearing Tenderness in their whole Behaviour!
BUT the pleasantest Stupidity of all, is, That when, by a Length of Savage Cruelties, they have made themselves compleatly Odious; they are impudent enough to
wonder, How it happens that their Wives appear no fonder of them?
THERE is no Part of our Life that requires a nicer Conduct than our Choice of the Person, with whom we are to
vow an inseperable Union;
and, yet, there is Nothing, which we venture on, with more Rashness; or which we examine, with so little Foresight!—And, hence it is, That
MATRIMONY,
with equal Satyr, and Justice, has been compared, by one of our Old Poets, To a
Crowd
in the
Street,
which excites a Curiosity, in every
Passer-by,
to add one Fool to the Number: But, they are no sooner in the midst of the Press, than they grow uneasy at their Situation, and are as Eager to elbow out again, as they were, before, to gain Admission.
MARRIAGE
is like unto a
Rabble-Rout;
They, that are
OUT,
would fain get
IN;
And They, that are
IN
would fain get
OUT.
MANY are the
Pleasantries,
which the Truth, and Frequency, of this unlucky Observation have given Occasion to, among
Men of Wit
; who, having laugh'd, a while, at Others, grow silly enough, themselves, to be also laughed at, in their Turns.—But, in all the Multitude of Sarcastick Fancies, which I have met with, upon this
beaten
Subject, I remember none, that is so uncommon, and founded on so humorous a Piece of Extravagance, as an EPITAPH, which I saw, at
Rome
; where a Man, and his Wife, who were buried, together, are represented quarrelling, in their Grave.—The Original is in
Latin,
but I will translate it, for the Service of
Coquets,
and
Old Maids,
who cannot fail to make Good Use of it, on a THEME, which they delight in handling.
STAY,
Batchelor!
if you have Wit!
A
Wonder
to behold!
Husband,
and
Wife,
in One dark Pit,
Lye close, and
never Scold!
Tread softly, though,—for Fear she
wakes:
Hark! She begins, already!
You've hurt my Head,—My Shoulder akes.
These
Sots
can ne'er move
steddy.
Ah,
Friend,
with happy
Freedom
blest!
See! how my Hope's miscarried.
Not
DEATH it self,
can give you
Rest,
Unless you
die, Unmarried.
The Plain Dealer. No 67.
Provehimur portu, terraeque, urbesque, recedunt.
VIRG.
MONDAY,
November
9. 1724.
BY this Time, I suppose, I pass for an
Out-of-the-Way Old Humourist,
who has Nothing in him, but a few
odd Whimsies,
which he takes Delight to be noted for. But, now the
Town
begins to
fill,
I design to take
more
State
upon me: And before the
Winter
is half out, I shall cause it to appear,
pretty Plainly,
That I can make free with
Trade
and
Politicks,
as well as with
Wit
and
Impertinence.
I WAS walking, the other Day, near the
Royal Exchange,
and took up a little
Pamphlet,
that lay in my Way, at a Bookseller's Shop, Intituled,
New, and Accurate Observations, on the Coast of GUINEA.
—I was pleas'd with this Subject: For, tho' I inform'd my
Reader,
my first setting out, That I was an
Enemy to the East-India Company,
(by which hangs a
Secret,
that may be disclos'd in some future Paper) yet I am a
Lover of THE ROYAL AFRICAN:
And have good
Reasons,
for
both Opinions.
THE Gentleman, who is Author of the above-mention'd
Treatise,
is a
Physician,
newly return'd from the
Coast
he writes of.—He seems to be a Person of
Learning
and
Experience
; and expresses himself with a Warmth of
Spirit,
that carries in it a Generous
Plainness,
and a rough, but Manly,
Integrity.
—When I began to peruse his
Book,
I thought He appear'd too
Angry:
But, before I had read it out, the
ill Usage
He complains of, seem'd incapable of being remember'd, without an Agitation of such Passions, as must leave him fully acquitted.—The
Abuses
and
Mismanagements,
which this Gentleman enumerates, are such, as I am sorry to hear of, because their
Consequences
must affect the
Company,
in too sensible a
Manner.
I HAVE often reflected, not without the utmost Amazement, from what strange
Causes
it shou'd happen, That the
Credit
of
that Company
has been sunk, to so low an
Ebb
; since nothing can be more demonstrable, than that It has
Advantages,
beyond Comparison, above all others, to make it self the most
Flourishing!
—If any Deficience, within themselves, with Regard to
Stock,
or
Encouragement,
is the Prevention of their
Good Purposes,
methinks, their
Complaints
cou'd be no sooner heard, than they wou'd be sure of a
Remedy!
For, even as they, now stand, no
Company
exists, that is of such
Importance
to the
Nation.
—If the Interest of
England,
in Respect to
Trade,
depends most, as it certainly does, upon her
American Plantations,
those Plantations do, as certainly, depend on the
Slave-Trade
from
AFRICA.
A
Trade!
that strengthens us, in the very Vitals, and first Principle of
Government:
For it is perpetually adding Encrease to the Numbers of our useful People; far beyond the progressive
Growth
of our
slow,
and
Natural Multiplication.
THE
Nation,
too, (in Point of
Wealth,
as well as
Power
) is, to an infinite Degree, more advantag'd than
The Company,
by Effect of this
Negro Traffick.
When the
Company
have sold a
Slave,
That Profit, which they once make, is
All
the
Benefit,
which he can, ever, bring them.—But, for the Benefit of the
Nation,
there is no computing what may be gain'd, by him. Not only the Wretch, himself, but his Children's Children, after him, down to the latest Generations, are, for ever, doom'd to
Work
; and
All
their Product is the
Nation's.
—The Difference is Vast, and Infinite!
THE Extent of Country, comprehended within the Limits of
This Company's Charter,
is Prodigious and Astonishing! For above
Thirty Degrees,
on one Side, from the
Line,
and about
Twenty,
from the other, all the
Coast
is within their Limits: So that they have all the
Good,
Variety, of Soils, and of Latitude, which the
whole World
can afford them.—They have, consequently, within their Bounds, a proper Earth and Climate, for every rich Product, that we pick up here and there, at the remotest Distances, from one Side of the
Globe
to the other.—They have not, it is true, a Claim of Property to the
Lands:
But, how easily might they purchase it, as far as cou'd be necessary, at Rates too inconsiderable to deserve the naming?—They have Islands too, and Settlements, never subject to the Natives Insults.—Why might not these be cultivated? Why not
Rice, Sugar, Indigo, Cotton, Ginger,
and
Tobacco,
brought hence, as well as from
America?
And how much sooner, and easier?
IN one short and comprehensive View, may be seen a Demonstration of the Difference, as to the
Company's Profit,
between the
Slaves
they transport to
America,
and those whom they might employ, if they pleas'd, to raise Products, for their own Benefit.
TO say nothing of the Charge of Shipping them, which wou'd be sav'd, upon All, so employ'd, in
Africa
; nor to insist on the mafest Advantage, of cheaper
Freight,
and shorter
Voyages,
what can be plainer than this Way of Reasoning?—Compute the
Company's
Profit, by the Sale of a
Negro,
to be Equal with what might be Gain'd by him, in a
Year's Work,
over and above his Maintainance, and the Interest of his Prime Cost, (which it certainly never is) yet, the
Negro,
that
WORKS
for the
Company,
costs no more, than One, who is
SOLD,
for them: Whereas this
Last
is wholly
Lost,
from that Day forward, to their Interest; while the
First,
returns them Yearly, the
same Profit, during Life,
without new
Charge,
to Balance it.
I SPOKE, just now of Products, which are commonly rais'd, by our
Planters
in
America
; and might, as certainly, be rais'd in
Africa
; But there are
Eastern Harvests,
of much greater Consequence, which
Time,
I hope, will teach
This Company
to reap, without more Difficulty, than may gradually be surmounted!—Why not the richest of the
East Indian Spices, Pepper, Nutmegs, Cloves,
and
Cinnamon,
procur'd and planted there? They have
Soil
and
Climate
exactly the same, with those in which they grow: Nay, they have
wild Spices,
rising naturally, under their Agent's Eyes, to be as it were, an
Indication,
and push 'em forward, to Attempt it!
BUT, if they will not be perswaded to
transplant
Advantages, at least they might possess themselves of those, which lie before them. They have
Gold,
which the Natives gather and bring down to their Forts and Factories. I know what
Difficulties
attend the
View,
I am about proposing: And I know too, that tho' they are
Considerable,
they are
far from Unsurmountable.
What hinders, then, but that the
Uplands
might be discover'd; and perhaps the
Gold Mines
found, and work'd upon, by the Natives themselves, for the
Company's
Benefit, in Exchange, for what those Natives value more, but which wou'd cost little to their Furnishers? And this Attempt, tho' peaceably establish'd and pursued, might, for more certain Safety, be protected by the Awe of an Armed Force: A very small one, were sufficient here, where Numbers are of little Strength, for want of Courage or of Order.
HOW much more Useful, than some of their present Factories, would Forts and Settlements be, a Hundred Miles, or more, in Distance, One above the Other, along the
Niger,
or some other of those Prodigious
Rivers,
which flow a Course of two or three Thousand Miles, through the
Heart
of this vast and unknown
Continent?
How easie were it for the People in these Forts, to possess and cultivate, a large Tract round them? To discover the Bordering
Country
and
Trade,
and make Leagues with the Neighbouring
Princes?
To maintain a regular and frequent Correspondence with each other, by means of Light Vessels, with flat Bottoms, adapted to the Navigation properest for those
Rivers:
And once a Year, or oftener, to send down their General Stores, to the
Company's
Ships, at the Entrance, and receive back, with the Return of their small Vessels, what should be sent them from Home, either for their Support or Traffick!—What new, and numberless Nations might the
Company
thus
Trade with, at first Hand,
to their unspeakable Enrichment?—And were such an Entrance once open'd to them, by expert and resolute Adventurers, what popular Encrease of Consumption, would it not occasion, in our
Woollen,
and many other,
Manufactures?
THERE are no Impossibilies, in Designs, of this Nature, but to narrow and confin'd Understandings; and to Spirits of a heavy Fabrick. But this
Company
has the Honour to be assisted by Great Genius's, Wise, and Enterprizing enough to mark out the Way, to Measures that might soon recover them from the present
Ill Prospect of their Affairs,
and make the Memory of the
ROYAL AFRICAN COMPANY
Dear and Glorious to all Posterity.
IT is a
Work
of too much Length, for such a Paper as mine is, to
prove
how practicable these Things are; But I shall, sometimes, occasionally, touch the Subject, with the Brevity I am confin'd to: Because, when I consider into what Hands my
Hints
may fall, I flatter my self, they may grow
Fruitful,
and become a
Service
to my
Country.
THE
Duke of CHANDOS,
in the Head of These, has so Fine, and so Enlarg'd a Spirit; and is so Great, and so Acknowledg'd, an Honour to our Nation, That it is scarce possible to express, in his Praise, so much as every wise Man
must Think of him!
—I dare not, therefore, attempt so hard a Task as his full Character: But, while I mention him, I am on Fire, with such an Admiration of his Generous Qualities, that I cannot forbear to close my Paper, with such faint
Out-lines,
as can be Sketch'd, by One who
draws
at too much Distance.
IT is not alone, in the Princely Grandeur of his
Oeconomy,
that this Illustrious Lord reflects a Brightness on his
Honour'd Order,
and points out to us, in a shining Light, what a
Nobleman
was meant to be.
Appearance,
He well knows, can be no more than the
Shadow
of Substantial
Glory.
—He looks inward, therefore, and draws out, into Practice and Example, such a surprizing Train of
Vertues,
That, instead of supporting his
Distinction
upon the
Title,
which was so justly due to his, He has added
to it
much more
Honour,
than some, who wear it with a Colder Spirit, have been able to borrow
from it.
THO' Descended from a
Noble Line,
one of the most
Ancient
of the Kingdom! He disdain'd to owe his Greatness to the Grandeur of his
Ancestors:
Nor ever thought of his
Fore-Father's Honours,
but as an Archer raises his Eye to the Point of some high Steeple, when he would shoot his Arrow
over it.
HOW Inconsiderable, in so Generous a
Taste
as
His,
are all the
Glitterings
of a
Dependant Greatness!
How much Nobler, after
His, more than Imperial,
Manner, to adorn and serve this Country, his own unbounded Expence, than to be more busie, to perhaps less Purpose, and be
Paid,
for his Want of
Liberty,
at the
Head
of an
Administration!
THE World lies open, to his Eye, and All its Interests are exactly known to him: But nothing can he see, in any Part, or happy Corner of it, more belov'd and worthy, than he himself is!—There is this too, Peculiar in him, That his
Mind,
with all its
Vastness,
is serenely
Centrical
and
Regular:
His
Purposes
are as Rational as Great. His
Understanding
is Clear. His
Penetration
is Boundless. His
Resolution
is Ardent; and his
Applications
are Calm and Stedfast!
HE knows, and marks, the nicest Difference between Dignity and Pride, Generosity and Ostentation; Condescension and Weakness!—He reconciles State with Easiness; and teaches Reverence to Freedom! How Extensive is his Wisdom! How Unwearied his Industry! How Magnificent his Liberality! How Enlarg'd are his Idea's! How Unrestrain'd by Prejudice! How Unconfin'd to Party!—What Astonishment would it produce, in the Minds of ordinary Men, could a a History be given the World, of the Immensity of those Princely Expences, which might be charg'd to his Humanity!—The Charity of the Common World would blush, and hide it self at the Comparison: For the Munificence of this prodigious
Spirit,
would swallow up all other Benignity, as the Enliven'd
Rod
of
Moses
devour'd the Serpents of the
Egyptians.
THESE are his
Known
and
Publick Beauties!
But, what Amiable
Private Qualities
must there be, in so exalted a
Mind!
which are hid from the distant
World,
and appear only to those
Few,
those
very Few,
of his Friends, who not alone are conversant with him; but have
Souls sympathetical
enough to conceive the
Glowings
of his untold
Purposes.
UNDER the Influence of
such a Power,
what may not the
Gentlemen,
of the
African House
expect, would they Resolve upon such
Measures,
as may suit the
Glory
of a
Company,
of whom it will be said hereafter, as was once said, of
TYRE
and
SIDON, Whose Merchants were Princes, and whose Traders, The Nobles of the Earth!
The Plain Dealer. No 68.
Scribendi recte, sapere est Principium, & Fons.
HOR.
FRIDAY,
November
13. 1724.
THERE is no kind of
Wit,
which requires a livelier Force, or more comprehensive Turn of
Spirit,
than That which we inscribe on
Monuments,
to express the
Characters
of the
Dead:
And I am sorry I have Reason to observe, That almost every Church, in
England,
is a Witness of our Deficience in it.—The Fire of
Fancy
should, on these Occasions, be extreamly Intense, and Subtile, because, wanting Continuity, it has all its
Effect
at a
Flash
; and can therefore have no
Medium:
It must be either
piercing
or
contemptible.
WHEN I stand before the
Tomb
of Mr.
Dryden,
in
Westminster-Abbey,
I am in Debate with my self concerning that Delicacy of Veneration, which was the Cause of its being inscrib'd with no more than his
Immortal Name.
—The Noble Founder thought it Superfluous to add any Thing, after that: Because there scarce
lives
a
Reader,
who can be unacquainted with his
Character.
—Yet, methinks, on the other Hand, the Expression of a Decent
Gratitude,
may be held Due to a
Benefactor,
however rais'd above the Want, or Expectation of our Benevolence. And, to carry it yet farther, tho' no Profanation cou'd be more unpardonable, than the Product of a
Vulgar Genius,
on a
Subject
so exalted, there is, at least,
One Spirit,
in the
Nation,
greatly Equal to the Labour! And This, the Founder of the
Monument
must have known, more certainly than any other Person, because more nearly conversant with, and more sufficiently a Judge of, him.
I WOU'D not, after this, say, I mean Mr.
Pope,
but that, in the Course of my
Papers,
I shall let him perceive, that I am no
Flatterer.
—I have wish'd to see
His Soul
do Honour to his
Father's Dust,
and animate a Marble, which can never be more dignified, than it is, unless
His own Remains
shou'd visit it!—When my
Passions
feel his
Force,
in
Eloise's
struggling
Conflicts,
I attend him, thro' the
Depths
of
Nature,
with the Reverence which is due to God-like
Wisdom
and
Philosophy!
And, while my Fancy flames, and glitters, in the sportive Vastness of his
Levity,
where
Belinda
's
Hair
attracts him, I am transported at his
Wit,
and
Gaiety,
and grow
in Love
with his Good
Breeding!
Yet, Five Parts in Six, I doubt, of all that
Admiration
which has been paid to these inimitable
Flights
of
Genius,
is
Implicite,
and
mere Accident:
For there are
Strokes,
so
fine
and
delicate,
that like
Angels,
they must be
invisible
to the Eyes of
Common Mortals,
and seen only by those happy
Few,
whom
Heaven
vouchsafes
a Visit
to!
I HAVE been shewn an EPITAPH lately, which is said to have been written by this
Gentleman,
for the
Tomb
of a Friend of his: The Thought, on which it turns, is very happy, and extreamly Natural.—It has been publish'd, in some of our
Weekly-Papers
; but not so full as I here give it.
To this sad Shrine, whoe're thou art, draw near,
Here lies the
FRIEND,
most wept, the
SON
most
dear,
Who ne'er knew
Joy,
but
Friendship
might divide;
Nor gave his Father
Grief
—but, when he
died!
How vain is Reason! Eloquence, how weak!
When
POPE
must tell, what
HARCOURT cannot speak!
Yet,
Let
thy once lov'd
Friend
inscribe thy Stone:
And, with a
Father
's Sorrows, mix his own.
Ah, no! 'tis vain to strive—It
will not be.
No Grief, that
can
be
told,
is felt for
THEE!
THE
Manuscripts,
of this fine EPITAPH, which are handed about Town, have, already,
various Readings:
And in some, the two last Lines are wholly omitted. But, I can never suppose a Castration, of that
Importance, Genuine
; because the
Close,
at the first Break, has a Strength, so full, and distinguish'd, that it left an absolute Necessity, for a vigorous Turn of Thought, in the Conclusion of that which follows it: Whereas nothing could appear more languid, and unequal to its Author, than to have ended, after so
fine
a
Stroke,
with saying no more, than this:
Let your Friend write your Epitaph; and tell the World, that he is as sorry for your Death, as your Father is.
I HAVE not, I think, at home, read any Piece, of this Kind, more striking, and strongly rais'd upon the
Force
of its touching
Simplicity!
But I remember to have seen two
Epitaphs,
both,
Foreign
; which gave me a Delight, of the same Nature.—I shall translate them, as near I can, into
English.
This, first, is by a
French Poet,
on the Death of
Cardinal Richlieu:
And has in it, a certain Mixture of the
Great,
the
Natural,
and the
Surprizing,
which is very rarely to be met with.
Stay, Traveller!—for, All you want, is near,
Wisdom, and Power, I seek.—
They, both, lie here.
Nay, but I look for more, and raise my Aim,
To Wit, Taste, Learning, Elegance, and Fame.
Here ends your Journey, then: For, here, the STORE
Of
RICHLIEƲ
lies.
—Alas! repeat no more.
Shame on my Pride! What Hope is left, for Me,
When, here, Death treads on All, that Man can be.
THE Second, which now follows, is of
Spanish Original
; and was the
Epitaph
of a beautiful Neice of the Famous
Olivarez.
If (weeping
Love!
) Inquirers seek to know
Her
Name,
whose Charms enrich the Dust below;
Point up, and bid 'em read:—But, say no more:
Nor strive, in vain, to count her
Vertues
o'er.
Scarce cou'd the sweet Amount be justly sung,
Tho' Her
Each Atom
were an
Angel
's
Tongue!
WHERE there is Justness, and Propriety, in these
Rays
and
Beamings
of the
Wit,
they break out upon our
Fancy,
with irresistable Force and Lustre! We are often dazzled, for a Moment, even with the false Imitation of it, where the
proper Sence
is mingled, and confounded with the
Metaphorical.
But we no sooner examine it, closely, than the Counterfeit Colours vanish, and we despise our own, and the
Poet
's
Weakness:
Whereas, when the Thought is
just,
as well as
shining
; when it is founded on Truth, in Nature, and only raises our Admiration by its Grandeur, Grace, and Nobleness, the Heat, contracted, and pointed strong, upon a near, and single, Center, inflames and catches, like a
Burning Glass
; and Stocks and Stones, are melted down by it, almost as suddenly as Gold and Silver.
IT were a Work of General Use, and no unpleasant Entertainment, to make a
Muster
of those False
Thoughts,
or affected
Turns
of
Wit,
and pass 'em, in
Review,
oppos'd to such, as are True and Solid.—The Common
Taste
would stand corrected, and consent to give up their
Favourites
; for Few can want Good Sense to distingush, when they see 'em together; and mark, that
Truth,
(which is Nature represented exactly as she appears) is the
Life
and
Soul,
of Thinking; and
Greatness, Delicacy,
and
Delightfulness,
the fine
Dress,
and
Ornaments,
of it.
THE black
Eyes
of the
Spanish Ladies,
have a Jack-o'the-Lanthern
Brightness,
that is very apt to
mislead
the
Poets
of that warm Country. The following
Sonnet
is a
Masterpiece,
of its Kind, and may deserve to stand as an
Example
of that
False Wit
above-mention'd: As consisting, chiefly, of contradictory
Idea's,
which are forc'd together, like
Oil,
and
Spirit,
by the Violence of the Writer's
Fancy
; but seperate, and distinguish themselves, as soon as they have Time to
settle.
I know, too well, my cruel FAIR!
Why those sweet
Eyes
have
Sable
Covers,
Mere Pity bids 'em
Mourning
wear,
To grieve the
Fate
of
murder'd Lovers.
Assist me, then, thou
killing
Maid!
I
hate
my Foe, and
must
defeat him:
Oh! lend me but those
Eyes,
in Aid,
And He's
Stone Dead,
when next I meet him.
BUT tho' such
Turns
as
These
are unnatural, and therefore ridiculous, when apply'd to any serious Purpose, yet there
are Turns,
both upon
Words
and
Thoughts,
that, preserving the Truth of Meaning, are so far from being Faults, that in all the lighter Kinds of
Poetry,
they are extremely graceful and desirable. Thus in the famous
Epigram
of
Ausonius,
relating to
Dido,
who fled from
Phaenicia
to
Carthage,
upon the Death of her Lover
Sichaeus,
and, afterwards, died her self, upon
Aeneas
's forsaking her, the Thought is just and solid; and tho' it glitters, and is so full of
Point,
yet, it bears, without
diminishing,
every
Light
that it can be view'd in.—I will give both the
Latin
and the
English,
because our
Language
has been judg'd incapable of expressing it, without more Compass, and Weakness, than the
Original.
Infelix
Dido,
nulli bene nupta Marito!
Hoc pereunte fugis: Hoc fugiente peris.
Poor Queen! twice doom'd disastr'ous
Love
to try;
You fly the Dying; for the Flying, die!
THERE is something too, of an elevated Smartness, and that will bear the nicest Examination, in the
Thought
of a
French Poet,
concerning a
Cardinal,
already nam'd; who was accus'd of holding too great an
Ascendant
over his
Master.
Il est trop absolu, sur l' Esprit de son Maistre.
Mais son Maistre, per Luy, est le Maistre des Roy's.
Tho' he shadow'd his Master, with arrogant Wings,
Yet, he made, whom he master'd, the Master of Kings.
IT is this Power, in the Conception! This comprehensive Grasp of Meaning! where more than can be
express'd,
in Pages, is crowded into a
single Sentiment,
and insinuated to the Reader, so as to swell, and expand it self, in his Understanding! It is
This,
that is True
Poetry!
That makes up that illustrious
Art,
which is therefore justly, call'd
Divine,
because it shakes, and moulds the Soul, and bows to its Purposes; transports us out of our selves, and raises a
Creation,
round us, which is wholly of its own establishing!
BUT how different from this, is
Poetry,
as it is commonly understood and practis'd!—A trifling Skill in Measure, and an easie Sweep in Rhyming, are no more what makes the
Poet,
than the
Chimes
can be call'd the
Church,
or the
Chariot
makes the
Doctor.
He, who
thinks,
in a vulgar Manner, will be so far from concealing his Emptiness, by the
Verse,
he pretends to charm by, that like the
dirty Fool,
in the
Gospel,
who invited himself to the
Marriage Feast,
and sat down, among the
finest Guests, without a Wedding Garment,
he will be put pointed out, with the more Contempt; and serve to
set off
the vast Disparity, between himself, and those he presumes to mix with.
WHOEVER does but reflect on the different
Figure, France
now makes among the Princes of
Europe,
compar'd with That, which every Body remembers Her to have made, within these Twenty Years, will, in Justice to a most Heroick Monarch, divest himself of the ungenerous Littleness of Common, National, Prejudices, and observe with Pleasure, That Great Prince's Influence, over the
Wit
and
Genius,
as well as the
Courage
and
Obedience
of his People.—When I read the
Birth-Day-Songs
of our
English Laureats,
I see the Poorness of their
Salary,
thro' the Slightness of their
Sentiments.
But the most light, and jovial, Performances of our
Neighbour Nation,
when they had their
King
for their
Theme,
seem'd to glow, with a Warmth of Gratitude, as if
Reason
strove with
Invention,
which shou'd praise him with most Copiousness.
Qu'il regne ce Heros, qu'il triomphe toujours:
Qu'avec luy soit toujours la Paix, ou la Victoire!
Que le Cours de ses Ans dure, autant, que le Cours
De la
Seine,
& de la
Loire!
Qu'il vive, autant que sa Gloire!
May our
Hero
long reign, and still triumph in State!
And
Conquest,
or
Peace,
on his
Purposes
wait!
Let the Course of his Years, like the
Loire
and the
Seine,
Flow with Fullness and Strength, above
Time
's deepest Drain!
For,
while blest
with her
King,
what has
France
to implore,
But, that
He
may
live,
till his
Fame
lives no more!
I DESIGN'D, when I began this
Paper,
to say a great deal more, than I have left my self Room for, concerning
Epitaphs,
and
Elegies
; but I must refer, what remains, to some other Opportunity: And will conclude, with one of the
Sublimest
Pieces of Extravagance, that ever heated the
Imagination
of of a
Poet.
—The Author was a
Portuguese,
and, in describing the Assault of a Fortress, by his Countrymen, speaks of the
Ditch,
in a Flight, at once so
wild,
and yet so
strong,
that it is impossible to find a Proof, more pregnant, that
Genius
without
Judgment,
can do nothing considerable, in
Poetry.
The yawning Ditch
declin'd,
with dreadful steep,
And, from Days aking
Eye,
so backward fell:
That
Saints
might pass, thro' its unsounded Deep,
To scare the
Devils,
and let in
Light,
on
Hell!
The Plain Dealer. No 69.
—dare Jura Maritis.
HOR.
MONDAY,
November
16. 1724.
PATTY AMBLE
has many
Friends,
who will be glad to hear, That the
COQUET
is come to Town; after two whole Months Absence.
LOVE
revisits me, at the Approach of this
wild Creature,
like the Return of a
Tertian Ague.
—So, my
Readers,
in mere Pity, must be moderate, when they find me
Dull.
'Tis a
Rule
among us,
LOVERS,
to be either stark
Mad,
or
Stupid.
—See! what an unaccountable
Letter
the
pert Baggage
has sent me!
Dear SLAVY!
AT last, this sweet Town, which must for ever hold my Heart, has again Possession of my
Person.
—I left
Tunbridge,
a Hundred Years ago; and went a Pilgrimage, in pure Compassion, to visit a poor Thing, in
Marriage Trammels
: Where I have stuck fast, ever since, in the
Dirt
of your Dear
Sussex.
WELL! tho' I have but half forgiven you, for setting That
breathing Whirligig, Ned Volatile,
upon me; yet, I think, I am as much in
Love
with
You,
as with any of your
Rival Candidates
for the
Place
I have to dispose of.—But, if ever I marry you, there is
One Thing,
I must positively
insist on.
—You shall keep me
two Chairs,
and a
Chariot.
—I had scarce a
Scruple
of Brains, in my Head, all last Week: For, after rumbling up, in a
Stage-Coach,
I was
pounded to Death,
from the dreadful
Borough,
to
Park-Place,
in an odious
Hackney Mortar.
—You have
History,
I know, at your Finger's Ends: Pray send me the
Name
of that Tragical
Roman
Tumbler, who was barrell'd up, by the
Carthaginians
; and roll'd, a Mile or two, down Hill, in a
Butt,
stuck full of
Ten-penny-Nails?
Methinks, I pity him, from my Heart! For, I could not help thinking, while I was bouncing up and down, in my Vehicle, like a Thimble full of Shot, in a Quart Bottle, That my own
Case
was as bad as
His.
At least, if there was any Difference, it lay only in a few
Points,
which I had rather give up, than
stand upon.
HEAVEN
have Mercy on those poor
Citizens Wives,
who, when their hideous
Bedfellows
have made them too
big,
to be able to
go,
are forc'd to be
carried,
in these Town Tumbrels.—'Tis well I was not chose for a
Knight of the Shire,
at our last Election! The Rogues, who contriv'd these
Bolting Hutches,
to sift Peoples Bones thro their Skins, shou'd never have escap'd
Punishment,
for want of a Law, to reach them: I would have got an ACT
passed, on purpose,
to have the Monsters
gallop'd to Death,
in their own unmerciful
Torturing Boxes.
COME, and drink
TEA
with me Tomorrow. I know you don't love to be
look'd at:
And to humour that very out-o'the-way
Taste,
of yours, we will be as Retir'd, as two Snails in a Wilderness. For, I have resolv'd to be at Home to No-body, but
Jenny Ogle,
and
Gatty Gosling,
and dear Lady
Frightall,
and Miss
Jumper,
and
Jack Scarecrow
; and
Jack,
you know, is
Nobody:
—
Jack
is like one of the
Family.
Only if
Sally Simple
should chance to drop in—or
Fanny Prue,
in her new
Equipage,
there is
no being denied to Them
: For the whole Town says, That
Sally
has had a
Misfortune,
since I went to
Tunbridge:
And
Fanny
is a
Prude,
that has stoop'd as low as
Matrimony.
—I long to see how they look, after the Accidents that have befallen them.—Don't,
fail
at your Peril, for we want your Sage
Advice,
about a
Project,
that is newly come into our Heads; and I shall never be at Rest, 'till I know, what you think of it.
THE Business, in one Word, is
Freedom: WOMAN's Freedom.
—For, sure! if
Men,
who are born to be
Subjects,
pretend to
Liberty,
and defie
Tyrants
; our
Sex
must have high Pretensions; who, by
Nature,
were form'd for
Sovereignty
; and can make Slaves of
those,
who enslave Millions!—In short, we are come to a Resolution to
issue Writs,
and call together a
Female Parliament.
—You allow, that we have
Wit;—We, our selves,
know
we have Wisdom:
And every Body has
Reason
to know, that
we
can't want
Authority.
—So, the Thing it self is past Dispute;
we
have
decreed, to take Government upon us:
But the
Question
is, Under what
Name,
or
Title,
we shall exercise it.
WE are told, by an Experienc'd
Sister,
who is
sole, Chamber Counsel,
to an Eminent
Counsellor, at Law,
that the Word
Parliament
will be too Bold and Ardent for our
Purpose.
And yet if another of our Members, who is Learned in
Law French,
be but as good at
Derivation,
as she has always been at
Disputation, She
will have
Parliament
to signifie
Prattlement
; and in that Case, who doubts, but we might make good our
Pretensions.
HOWEVER, let it go. We aim at Nothing, but our
just Prerogative;
nor have any Design, in the least, against the
Privileges
of the
other Houses
; whose Members, for any Thing I see to the contrary, may be as
Capable
as
We
are.
YET, it were certainly no harder upon the
Men,
That the
Women
should usurp
their Offices,
than it is mortifying to us
Women,
to see the
Men
interpose, in
Ours.
And, what Truth can be more manifest, than, That there are Male-Members, of more Houses than One,
ungallant
enough to invade us, in our very
Essentials?
—Some can
Dance,
as well as we can; some (tho' Fewer indeed) can even
talk,
as well.—Here, and there, one can
manage a Family,
as well.—But an infinite Number of them can
wash their Months,
as well; and vye
Genius
with us, in
Dress,
and
Diversion.
—Nay, I am credibly inform'd, by an Able
Committee-Woman,
of our Assembly, That she is intimate with
two
of them, who are so
far gone,
against us, that the first
makes Shifts, and Aprons,
with the finest Work-woman of his Acquaintance: And the other can
cut Paper,
the best of any
Gentlewoman
in the three Kingdoms!
IF such Wrongs as these must be
tolerated,
away with Order and Distinction.—Shall any Body, after this, say, we ought not to assume a
Title,
because the Nation has, already bestow'd it on
Our Representatives?
What were the
Nation,
without
Us?
And how are
WE Represented,
where none of our
Sex
are permitted to sit, and vote, for
Us?
Is this
Free Government?
Is this to be subject to no Laws, but those we have, first, given Cnsent to?—Either, let us, as a distinct
Body,
have a Right to
govern our Selves
; or, admit an Equal Number of
Us
to sit, where
Laws
are
made for Us:
And, I believe I may venture to undertake, for the
Absent,
That we will be modest enough, in that Case, to content our selves with a
bare Negative,
upon All Bills, that concern
Us.
BUT, what shall we do, about this
Difficulty,
of the
Name?
Old Lady
Lofty
was for having us dignifie our Purpose with the awful Sound of
The SENATE:
But, her Grand-Daughter, who can read
Horace
in
Latin,
said, That
Title
had an Air, too
Motherly,
and would
sit hard,
upon Youth, and Gaiety.—It was next mov'd, That a
Commitee
of
Virgin Elders
shou'd be sent, as far as
Poland,
to borrow and bring Home, the Use of the Word
DIET.—Kitty Hoyden
leapt out of our her Chair, to second this
Motion.
—She had been inform'd, she said, That
Polish Diets
are often summon'd to meet,
on Horseback
; and she was positive, That no People could ride, more Learnedly, than the
Horse-women
of our Country. She added, That little more seem'd peculiar, to these
Polish Diets,
unless it were their
Art,
of
Quarrelling, without Interval
: And, in that too, she saw no Reason, why an
English Woman
might not equal them.
IT was now in a fair Way to be carried on this side the
Question
; when
Suky Shadely
who is newly recover'd from the
Jaundice,
turn'd the Tyde of Opinions, by crying out, That she
protested
against the
Physical
Sound of the Word; for it put her in Mind of her
Apothecary.
—What at last, we all inclin'd to, was the
Turkish Title,
of
DIVAN.
I think,
CONVENTION
was whisper'd, faintly; but none of us knew what to make of it: And as for
CONVOCATION
it was unanimously rejected, upon the Insinuation of a grave
Arch-Deaconess,
That it would be inconvenient to assume
known Titles,
which under Pretence of
Custom
and
Precedent,
might reduce us to Subordination; and bring us to feel some Power, we should not dare to disobey, and yet be heartily vex'd, at submitting to.
DEAR
SLAVY,
don't look grim; but
think
for us, and help us out, as you wish well to your Speculations.—Come, for your Consideration, beforehand, I will communicate to you the Material
Heads,
upon which we meditate our Institution; as they were drawn up for us, by a
Sergeant's Lady,
who has often made it a
Moot Point,
whether
Her Stile,
or
Her Husband's
is most Remarkable for
Conciseness.
First,
THEN, For avoiding Disputes and Contests, with certain Courts, already Established, we renounce, discharge, and hereby openly disavow, and protest against all Claim and Pretence, whatever, to Decisions, of
Justice,
or of
Equity.
Secondly,
WE forego, quit claim to, and depart from, in like manner, all Exercise, Right, Benefit, Interest, Property, and Demand, of, in, from, to, or upon, Subjects,
Religious
or
Ecclesiastical.
PROVIDED NEVERTHELESS, That Nothing, in the Article contain'd, shall extend, or be construed to extend, to deprive us of our Claim, and Privilege, to hold, and avow, Jurisdiction, as well
Corporal
as
Spiritual,
over All Forms, Matters and Things, which have related, do relate, or shall or may relate hereafter, to
Virgin Frailties, Slips, Elopements,
or any other
Female
Privilege, or
Privileges,
whether
Maidenly
or
Matrimonial.
Thirdly,
THAT all Causes, Debates, Laws, Doubts or Customs, touching, concerning, importing, appendant, or relating to
Love, Honour, Dress, Duty, Wit, Breeding,
and
Domestick Authority
and
Discipline,
in all its Parts, Degrees, and Divisions, shall lye, in their
last Appeal,
before US and US ONLY.
Fourthly,
THAT All and Every the Members of our Assembly shall have, hold, take, occupy, exercise, and enjoy the same Exemptions, Freedoms, Personal Rights, Distinctions and Peculiarities, which have at any Time been occupied, or enjoy'd, by any the Member, or Members, of whatsoever other Assembly, of, in, or belonging to these Kingdoms. And in particular, that All and Every their Person, or Persons, shall be, and for ever remain, free from all Arrests, Touch, Seizure, Detainment, Restraint, or Attachment, whether by Father, Husband, Guardian, or by, or under, any other Authority, or pretended Authority, whatsoever. Any Law, Act, Grant, Matter, or Thing, to the contrary, in any wise, notwithstanding.
Fifthly,
THAT for the surer Dispatch of Business, under the Multiplicity of
Debates,
that may, and questionless, shall and will arise, in so able, and so numerous an Assembly, the
House
shall chuse SIX SPEAKERS (of whom, however, no more than
Three
shall speak at once) that so there may be, at all Times a Reserve, for due Succession; in Case of
One Sett's
wholly
tiring,
under such incessant
Application.
Sixthly,
THAT the First
Session
shall be held, in the Great
Masquerade Room,
at the
Opera House,
in the
Hay-Market
; where All the
Voices
of that House, whether
Women,
or
Other than Women,
shall be admitted to sit with the Members. But no
absolute Men
shall be capable of holding Office, within Doors, SAVE ONLY our Trusty, and Well-beloved
John James Heidegger,
whom in Regard to his Good Will, and Past Services, we constitute sole Bearer of our
Mace,
and of all other, our convenient Utensils.
THESE are all our
determin'd
Articles: But it was as good as
Resolved,
at our last Meeting, That for the
Safety
of our Assembly, proper Application shall be made, for a Company of Guards, to mount upon us, and continue to do Duty, as long as ever we sit. The Officers of this Company, as high up, as the Lieutenant, may, as usually they are, be of the
Masculine Gender
: But the
Captain
must, always, be a
Woman.
—If the Lieutenant happens to be
Married,
his Wife will
Command of Course.
But if not, the Nomination will be by Majority of the Members Voices.
YOU see, now, Dear Servant, the Great Importance of this Affair: And since I am sure, your Head is stor'd, with
Models, Schemes
and
Systems,
concerning
Power,
and
Rights
of
Government,
drawn from
Latin, Greek
and
Gothick
; nay, and for any thing I know, from
Arabick,
and
Egyptian
: Do but
aid
our generous Purpose, with your Experience, and grave Counsel, and you shall see, as soon as we are married, with how much Gentleness I will hold the Reins, which your Wisdom will have contributed to put into the Hands of,—I was going to say your
Affectionate
; but, in sober Sadness, of
Your oblig'd, and not insensible, Humble Servant,
MARTHA AMBLE.
The Plain Dealer. No 70.
Quicquid praecipies, esto brevis: Ut citò dicta
Percipiant animi dociles, teneantque fideles.
Omne supervacuum pleno de pectore manat.
HOR.
FRIDAY,
November
20. 1724.
WHEN I was Young, I remember, among many other
Follies,
I was very vain, and tenacious of my own Way of Thinking. I was particularly delighted with the
Notion
I then had of
Eloquence:
And made no Manner, of Dispute, but I was, my self, a wonderful
Proficient
in it. I was ravish'd, with the flowing Swell of a long-winded Period. I had form'd my
Taste
of
Stile,
upon
Cicero
; and treated the
Commentaries
of
Caesar
with an Extraordinary Air of Contempt, when I compar'd them with the most frothy Flourishes of That ever-abounding
Orator.
I HAD not learnt to consider, That there is a Difference, in the Effect of the same
Words,
when they are
spoke,
and when they are
written.
—When we
see,
and
hear,
a powerful
Orator,
our Reason is betray'd, and dazzled, by the Interposition of our Senses.—The Grace, and Majesty, of his
Person
; The never-resting Variety of his
Motion
; The Aptness of his
Looks,
and
Gesture
; The Rise and Fall of his
Voice, insinuating, softening, accusing, repeating, urging, impressing,
and
enforcing,
with a
Gradation
of the strongest
Passions:
All these combine, to charm, and cheat, us, into Admiration.—But, when, divested of these Prejudices, we come to
read,
with a steady Judgment, what we
heard,
with so much Emotion, the cold, and languid,
Oratory,
depending now on
Sense,
and wanting all its Aid of
Emphasis,
and
Utterance,
lies tasteless on our Understanding; and
Repetition,
and
Change
of
Lights,
are found to fill up the Place of
Richness,
and
Variety
in the
Conception.
ONE of the first, who made me bold enough to break out of my
Roman Bondage,
and resolve, for the future, to think, all
Words,
which give a Discourse no Progress in its Meaning, rather Burdens, than Embroidery, was
Montaigne,
where he is speaking of Authors.
AS to
Cicero,
says this free-spirited
Frenchman,
to confess the
Truth
frankly, His way of Writing appears to me very tedious. His
Prefaces, Definitions, Divisions,
and
Etimologies,
take up the greatest Part of his
Work.
There is
Life
indeed, and
noble Life!
but it is smother'd in the dressing. When I have spent an Hour, in reading him, I recollect what
Substance
I have gather'd from him; and find, for the most Part, I have got nothing but
Wind:
He is not,
yet,
come far enough, to be Enter'd upon his
Reasons.
—Now, for
Me,
who only desire to be
Wise,
not
Eloquent,
I wou'd read nothing, but what is to the
Purpose.
—I know well enough, without being told, What is
meant,
by
Death
and
Pleasure:
Why then do they give themselves the Trouble of
Anatomising
them? I am for
Reason,
and
Argument,
at the first Dash, and wou'd be instructed how to
withstand,
rather than
talk quaintly of,
my Passions. I am for Charging at once, into the Heart of the Doubt, and not Approaching it, by Way of
Siege,
with Logical
Lines,
and
Trenches.
—The Subjects of
Cicero
languish, by his Delaying our Expectation. His Way was very well for the
Bar,
; or might do, perhaps, for the
Pulpit
; and since 'tis so common to
Nod,
at a
Sermon,
Men, in this Case, might have Leisure to
take a Nap,
and wake, a Quarter of an Hour after, Time enough to find the Thread of the
Discourse.
Men may speak, in this Manner to
Children,
or to
ignorant People:
But I can never be made Attentive, by an Author's Elocution, where his
Matter
is too weak to hold me.
BEFORE I had the Cood Fortune to meet with this Censure, (which carries with it no more
Boldness,
than
Reason
) I had ventur'd to appear, in
Print,
and sent some
Treatises
into the World, which I have never thought of, from that Time forward, without blushing at my Conscious Weakness, in the Affectation of a
Stile,
so
Wordy,
that it moves my own Indignation, very strongly, against my self, for what I have, formerly consider'd, as no small Part of my
Merit.
IF my
own Works
were of Importance enough, I wou'd
light 'em up,
as a
Beacon,
to warn Others of the Danger: But, since That
Honour
is more than they deserve, I disclaim it, with due Modesty; and will borrow an Example, of like Nature, from an Author of more Dignity.
THE Gentleman, I mean, is a Reverend and Learned
Professor:
In whose
Preface,
to an excellent Translation of
Virgil,
we are told, after, at least, as much
Instruction,
as cou'd,
reasonably,
have been expected, That
He has, not, yet done with us: For something, more, still, remains, behind.
NOW, tho' much may be said, for this Gentleman's
Generosity,
from the Profusion of his Desire to
satisfy
us; yet a less Degree of Praise will be sufficient, for his
Discretion:
Since it was not kind enough to whisper in his Ear, that He, who tells us the same Thing,
Six Times over,
will rather provoke us to
Indignation
than to
Gratitude
; because it argues an Opinion in him, That he is talking to Persons, who have a
Deafness,
in their Understanding.—When he had assur'd us,
He had not yet done,
There cou'd be no Reason in the World, but the over-obliging Liberality of his
Rhetorick,
to take the Trouble of adding, that
There was something more:
Much less, That there was
something more, still!
—But, when he goes on, with so unhop'd! so unexpected! a Flow of Bounty, as to add, That there was
something, more, still, that remain'd,
The Obligation was
enforc'd
to so surprizing a Height, that it must have been judg'd Impossible to raise it more, if we had not found, immediately after, That not only
something, more, still, remain'd,
but, that it
remain'd, behind,
also!
I COU'D wish to see it establish'd, as a Rule among
Writers,
That every Word should be a Fault, which, being taken out of a
Discourse,
left no
Void
in the
Sense:
For, to what End shou'd we use Expressions, which may be cut off, without
Maiming,
or let stand, without
Beauty?
WHEN the Pen of One, who attempts to write
History,
happens to be thus,
dropsically,
disposed, He never fails to drown his
Facts,
in a Deluge of
Affectation.
—We have then, long
Speeches
of great Generals, made to their Armies, in Line of Battle, and just on the Point of Engagement; In which the monstrous Absurdity of supposing such a Time fit for formal Harangues, or that they could be Audible to the Hundredth Part of the Numbers they are address'd to, is not sufficient to deter these Orators from displaying all their
Tropes,
with so much Fullness and Variety, that, when the Armies come to
Charge,
the Historian has not Spirits enough left him, (after the Fatigue of his
War of Eloquence
) to observe, or explain to us, How the Battle, it self, was formed, and fought; or by what Conduct, on one side, or Mistake, on the other, The Fortune of the Day delcared in Favour of the
Victorious.
TACITUS,
of all Historians, was least guilty of using Wordiness, or Circumlocution, in his Relations.—On the contrary, when he errs, it is in the much nobler Extream, of too Rich, and Delicate an Excess of
Sense.
—He refines not on
Words,
but on
Things
; he
speaks
less for his Great Persons, than They
spoke,
for Themselves: But he
thinks
for them much more delicately than it is probable
They
ever thought.—When
Galgacus,
at the Head of his
Britons,
is about to charge the
Roman
Army, what Number of Eloquent Pages could have inspired his Followers with Reflections, more apt to inflame them with Heroick Sentiments, than what He
flash
'd upon their Imaginations, in this comprehensive Encouragement.—
Fall on, my Friends, and, in the
Shock,
think of your ANCESTORS, and your POSTERITY!
ANTIQUITY can scarce produce an Instance of more perswasive Eloquence, than This
Oration, in a single Sentence!
—But I have the Pleasure to see, before me, the Speech of a
Modern Leader,
which, as it had an End very different, so its Influence was much more powerful.—
Caesar,
and many Generals, before, and after him, inspired
faint-hearted Followers, with Courage:
But This is the only Instance, I have ever met with, of a Commander, who had Rhetorick enough to
talk Brave Fellows, into Cowardice.
THE Hero of our Story (which is, sincerely, a
true
one) was at his Studies, in One of the Universities of a Neighbour-Nation, when the late Rebellion broke out, and allarmed the Care of the Government. He was Young, and designed for a Pillar of his
Mother Kirk.
—Grace and Sanctity, had therefore, been more in his Thoughts, than Arms, and Slaughter: But some of his Friends, who claimed a Power in raising, and disposing, the
Militia,
took a Fancy to dignify the young
Kirkman,
with the Command of a
Company,
and gave him Orders to march them to a
Rendezvous,
that was appointed, a few Days after.
THE
New Captain
(as He tells the Story, Himself, with a great Deal of Humour, and Frankness) thought
Safety
more his Business than
Valour:
Yet was ashamed to appear Fearful, when Every Body, round him, looked as big, as a
Bajazet.
—He resolved, therefore, To have Recourse to his
Oratory,
and try, if it was not possible, under Pretence of
Encouraging
his Men, to frighten them into
Desertion.
—In Pursuance of this Hope, He drew them on the Morning appointed for the March, into a Ring, at the Foot of a little Mount; and, placing himself on the Top of it, addressed them in the following Oration; which he gave me, in his own Hand-Writing:
Friends! Brethren! Country-Men!
WE are marching against
Enemies,
who are marching, against
God:
For they fight against our
King
; and our King protects our
Kirk:
and our
Kirk
is the Care of
God.
—So,
our
Enemies are
God
's Enemies, and our Cause
must
prevail against them.
AS an Officer of Command, and a Leader, who knows
No Fear,
It is my Duty to speak to You, in a Stile, that may inflame your Courage.—But, as I am a
Christian,
as well as a
Soldier
;—A Man of
Humanity,
as well as
Mettle
; I dare not conceal from You, That there is a Danger, which I, my self, am afraid of; I, who, to speak in the World's Notion of
Fear,
am so
resolv'd,
that I can
fear Nothing.
—I mean, my Fellow Soldiers! The Danger, which some of your Dear
Souls
may be in, of rushing Headlong upon
Damnation.
IN all Probability, there will be an Immediate Engagement;—I am confident, we shall (I mean, All, who survive the Battle, shall) suceed in the Event.—But, alas! which of us knows, whose Lot it will be, to
Fall,
in the Field of Slaughter? And, since there is Odds against your Lives,
Are Ye prepar'd for approaching Death?
— It is, indeed, an
unseasonable
; but, ah! my Friends! It is a
necessary
Question.—Are ye
prepar'd,
I say, to die?—Have ye
Assurance
of
Salvation?
I acknowledge, That your Piety, your Loyalty, and your Bravery, may intitle you to
Hopes
of Glory: But, if you want the
Inward Token,
the
Assurance,
the
Testimony!
—If you are not
positive,
my Friends, Ye are
DOUBTERS:
And
He who doubteth,
(says
Holy Writ
)
is Damn'd.
)—Mark
That,
Brethren!—
He, who doubteth, is damn'd!
AH weigh this important Question, before I lead you a Step farther. Knock, at your Bosoms. Ask your Consciences, If ye are
Doubters?
And, if ye find, ye are
Upright,
and
Stedfast,
—If ye have clear, and unquestioned, Evidence:—If your Lives have been
Pure
; and your Bodies
Undefiled.
—Your
Credentials
for
Heaven,
are Good;—and ye may follow
me,
undauntedly;—for
Nildesperandum est Teucro Duce, & Auspice Teucro,
(That is, (being interpreted)
King
GEORGE
for Ever.
Amen.
BUT, If you
doubt,
If ye Faint, If your Inward Man is not Strong,—I desire none none of your fruitless Aid.—I shall be more Triumphant without Ye. Neither would I have your Blood upon my Head; since, if ye
die,
you will be
damn'd.
—But my
Christian
Concern for your
Souls,
hath made me forget that ye are
Soldiers.
—I come down, to put my self before you, and let you see, by my Example, in the horrid Bloodinesses of this Day, What an Assurance there is in the
Accepted,
when they fight against the
Doubtful.
—I leave the Rest to your Consciences. They, who
doubt not,
will follow me.
N. B.
—They ran away, to a Man, from behind their Commander!—What an Instance was here, of the powerful Effect of
Oratory!
The Plain Dealer. No 71.
—furens quid Foemina possit.
VIRG.
MONDAY,
November
23. 1724.
Mr.
PLAIN DEALER,
I COMMENCED
TOAST,
about the Beginning of Last Season; and among some
Six Dozen
of Lovers, (who could, All,
see,
as clearly as any Old
Cynick,
in
England
) I never heard it observ'd, That
Black Eyes
were
Jack o' Lanthorns,
'till I read it, in your
PAPER, Number
lxviii.—I must needs tell you, I don't
like
some Things, in That
PAPER
: And, in Particular I make War against your odious Partiality, in preferring a
Musty Jyngle,
of and old
Cardinal,
and Queen
DIDO,
to one of the prettiest, and wittiest, Copies of Verses, that ever was seen or heard of!
WOU'D, I knew where to find That Dear! Genteel! Gay! Spritely! Charming!
Spanish
POET, who was Author of the Verses, to which you have done the Honour of finding Fault with them, for no Reason in the World, but because they were made upon
Black Eyes!
—I can't help fancying, That you have,
not only Grey Hair,
but White Eye-brows, with a Whey-coloured, Fat Face; and a sower, freckly Forehead, with a pale, deadish, Look, as
limy,
and as
wall-ey'd,
as one of the Watch-Towers of your own
Barbican!
—Never go about to deny it;—for I am as sure, that it is so, as if I had been acquainted with you these Sixty Years. And I will never believe to the contrary, unless you get some Body to draw your Picture, after the
Life,
and have it Cut upon a Copper-Plate, to hang up like a Sign, at the Head of your PLAIN DEALERS, for the Entertainment of your
Female Readers,
in Place of your impertinent
Motto's.
I know, too well, my cruel Fair
Why those Sweet
Eyes
have
Sable
Covers
Mere
Pity
bids 'em
Mourning
wear,
To grieve the
Fate
of Murder'd Lovers.
WELL-BRED! Transporting, Creature!—What Woman cou'd look with
Frowns,
upon a Lover, that could lay her
Eyes
under such delightful Obigation!
—
Pity,
bids 'em
Mourning
wear!
To grieve the
Fate
of
Murder'd Lovers!
CALL you
This,
FALSE WIT?—I had always an Aversion to a
Critick,
from my Cradle: But from this Time forward, I shall never endure the
Name
of him: And, if ever I should so
lose my Way,
as to fall into the Company of one of them, my
Eyes would ake,
at the very Sight of them.
MY Grandmother, at her Country-house, has an overgrown,
old Turkey Cock,
that is the
Plain Dealer,
of the Family.—He could never abide
Red,
because it is the prettiest of all Colours; and therefore I bought me a
Pink-colour Damask
Suit, and carried it down, with me, on purpose to shake in the old Gentleman's Eyes, and set him a
fretting,
by Way of Diversion.—I have search'd, the whole Town over, for an Opportunity to deal with
You,
as I did your
Brother SURLY,
in the Country: And, at last, I met with the enclos'd Copy of Verses, at an ASSEMBLY, where
Eyes
of all Colours,
Black, Blue, Grey
and
Hazel
;—Nay, even the
Green
and the
Yellow,
agreed to
smile,
with Approbation, on the
Wit,
and the
Subject.
And, because I would
mortifie
you, I send you, What
others
have been
charm'd
by: And as far as all good Offices, of this kind, shall remain, very heartily,
Your Humble Servant,
NIGRELLA.
VERSES, To the Right Honourable, The Lady
SOMERVILLE,
on Her MARRIAGE.
WHEN Themes,
unlov'd,
invoke an absent Muse,
The unlist'ning
Sisters
Half their Aid refuse:
But, with full Force, the Vot'arie's Hopes inspire,
Whose Breast glows, conscious, with a
favo'rite Fire.
Oft, have I prov'd, that, when loose Flights we try,
From our weak Wing, the sweet
Supporters
fly:
The restive
Numbers
backen, on the Tongue,
And no bold Fancy nerves the languid
Song.
Not so, when softer Subjects court their Aid;
Some
new-bless'd Lover,
or some
brided Maid!
Then, All, at once, their tuneful Force combine;
Swell, in Each Thought; and, in each Cadence, shine.
The Stream of Verse, like
Thames,
untroubled flows;
And
Strength,
and
Ease,
a mingled
Grace
compose.
Devious, of late, amid too
light
a Strain,
Each, of the
Adverse Nine,
was sought, in vain:
But, soon as FAME
reliev'd
me, with the Sound,
That
SOMERVILLE
in
YOU,
His
Heaven
had found;
Rap't, I resolv'd, th' inspiring
Choice
to
sing;
And
Crowding Muses
danc'd, on Ev'ry String!
Receive, Illustrious Charmer! the Respect
Your Poet
pays; and, what He writes,
protect.
While
Others,
Cold, and Formal, Zeal display,
And wish you
Joy,
the dull,
Prosaick,
Way;
Distinguish'd, from the Rest, The
Poet
's Prayer
Visits, in
Verse,
—and
hails,
with livelier Air.
Reign,
Wedded Love!
on
Reason,
founded, strong:
Thou Source of Kindred! and Thou
Soul
of
Song!
In
Thee,
the Lover meets no treach'rous Smile:
No faithless Snares his manag'd Heart beguile!
What, tho' to
One,
Thou do'st
Desire confine?
Thy Bounds are
EDEN,
a Restraint, Divine!
Sweetly associate,
He
sustains no
Care,
That
She
disarms not, by Her Wish, to share.
Her
Joys are heighten'd, by the Part,
He
bears;
And All
Her
Words are Musick, to
His
Ears.
Dash'd, on Life's Ocean, when the breaking Waves
Rise, over
One,
Th' assisting Consort
saves
:
'Till Each, at Anchor, 'midst the Tempest, rides;
Nor dreads the
Surges,
nor obeys the
Tides,
How greatly blest, must This bright Ʋ nion be,
Where
BODIES Emulate,
and
SOULS Agree!
Pride, of the blooming World!—Your Eyes, and Air,
Have wearied
Wonder,
and awak'd
Despair!
Your Form
seems made, to
match
your Heav'nly Mind;
And, while, on
Earth,
to leave
all Earth behind!
His
Soul
shines thro',
and animates his Face,
With
Angel's
Sweetness, soft'ning
Manly
Grace.
His
warring Race
have triumph'd, oft,
before:
But
HE,
in Conqu'ring
You,
has
triumph'd more!
May lengthen'd Life your meeting Wishes Crown;
And rising Ages spread your
wreath'd
Renown!
May no
first Death
your social Hearts divide;
But,
late, together,
be This
Knot
unty'd!
RESERVING, 'till another Opportunity, What I have to say, against NIGRELLA
's Eyes,
and her
Pink-colour Damask Petticoat,
I shall satisfie my self, (for present Vengeance) with
admiring, as much as she does,
the Verses, which she sent, to
mortifie
me.—How will she be able to support this Disappointment?—Nay, to nettle her still further, I admire, very much, too, the Lady, on whom the Verses were made; and I have even heard it affirm'd, by as many Men, as there are Lines, in the Poem, That NIGRELLA
's Eyes
are no more to be compar'd with
that Lady's,
than Her
Spanish Poet's
Verses are as Good as This Gentleman's.
BUT, because I would not be behind-hand with NIGRELLA, in a Readiness to
oblige,
I will, in Return for her Entertaining me, at so agreeable a
Wedding,
invite Her to a
Funeral,
which we owe to the same Hand.—She may come, without new-dressing her
Eyes,
since they
wear Mounring,
already.—But, (which will go very hard, with a Lady of so lively a Temper!) She must lay aside Her Favourite
Pink Colour,
and set her Face, to
look sadly.
TO close, in a more serious Strain,—The following Verses, and the foregoing, are the Work of a
North-British Muse,
and have, for their Author, the young Gentleman, who writ the
ODE, On the Power of Musick.
—It will be needless to point out to the
Reader,
The unusual Excellence of these Two Peices. They both abound with the True, and Sublime, Poetick Spirit! And the Subjects are so diametrically Opposite, to Each other, That to place them, thus,
together,
will furnish a striking
Contraste
of Beauties, in the
most Joyful,
and the
most Melancholly,
of all Humane Circumstances!
VERSES, Occasioned by the DEATH of the Right Honourable, The Countess of GRANTHAM.
PARDON, O
Shade Divine!
th' officious Verse,
That breaks the sacred Silence of thy Herse!
The Muse's Tears, when for the
Dead
design'd,
Flow but in vain,
Impertinently kind!
Courtiers,
and
Poets,
mix not, oft, in Care,
Their Passions, and their Views, too
diff'rent
are!
But, to this mourn'd Occasion,
All
must owe
One social
Utt'rance,
of one,
Gen'ral Woe.
So, shall the distant
Poles
one Ruin share,
When the Last Trumpet wakes the World's Despair.
Oh! treach'rous
Ebb
of
Joy!
that, thus, deceives,
And
Hope
's gay Bark on sudden Quicksands leaves!
The
Smile
of
Loveliness
lies, pale, in Clay;
And
weeping Wonder
turns its Eyes away!
Trembling, the Muse surveys the clouded
Courts!
How damp'd their Converse! and how dash'd, their Sports!
What gloomy Paleness
deadens
Every Face
What sick'ning Mem'ry checks each rising Grace!
The
ROYAL PAIR
stand, fix'd, in gen'rous Pain:
And
look
a Grief, that makes all
Language
vain!
Round, in deep Silence, sad'ning Passions flow:
And Sighs, from Sighs, catch the contagious Woe!
Fancy, amidst the Fun'ral Pomp is led,
And waits, in solemn
March,
the
Moving Dead;
Lodg'd, in cold
Earth,
Her
Body
sinks, resign'd:
But Her Immortal
Image
charms Mankind!
Soft sleep, Thy Dust, to wait the
Eternal Will;
Then, rise, unchang'd, and,—
Be an Angel, still!
Ye, Loveliest, of Her fair Survivors! Come,
And, with sweet Sorrow, grace her sacred Tomb.
Fix'd, o'er the
Marble Mirror,
leaning, see,
What Weak Defence, from Death, your
Charms
can be!
Think, what She was; and, conscious of Her
Due,
Teach us, by
mourning Her,
to
sigh,
for
You.
But, What wish'd Comfort shall the Muse afford,
To the sad Bosom of Her
Widdow'd Lord
?
Think,—since not all your
Love
could Life retain,
How shou'd your
Sorrow
charm her back again?
High, above
Hope,
or
Fear,
she, now, lives, blest:
Where Nothing, but
Your Woe
can break Her Rest.
O, let her, undisturb'd, those
Blessings
share,
Which cannot
Greater
be,—'till
You are there.
The Plain Dealer. No 72.
Mens immota manet.—
VIRG.
FRIDAY,
November
27. 1724.
AMONG the Beauties of Magnanimity, there is none, of a nobler Quality, than the Power of
forgiving Injuries.
—It throws a Majesty over the
Mind,
and illustrates the
Person,
with an Air of Sweetness, and Serenity.—We ought the more to admire it, since, where-ever it is found, It is in Company with the
Sublimest Virtues:
There not being
Room
for it, in a narrow, vulgar,
Soul
; because, overfill'd with Little Sentiments, such as have their Rise, and Revolution, within the Circle of
Self-Interest.
BUT the Brutal Passion of REVENGE, and a malicious Memory, for
Mischief,
is become so Shameless, and Licentious, that it is common to hear Resolutions of retain'd Malice avow'd, coldly, and in general Expressions, Such as,
Setting upon People's Skirts,—Finding a Time to be Even with them,
—and the like malignant, silly, Phrases, whereby the Burnings of an inward Hatred seem to struggle, for Eruption.
METHINKS, a sufficient Fortification, against so abject a Frailty, might be drawn from such Natural Reflections, as These;—That,
In violently returning Wrongs,
we do Nothing but what
Beasts
can do, more readily.—That, in
Malice,
the most Exalted
Noble,
is but on a Level with the Lowest
Slave:
Whereas, to
Pardon,
is an Act of
Sovereignty
; and, however
Inferior
we were,
before,
to the Person, who has injured us, From the Moment, in which we
forgive him,
we exchange Conditions, and become
Superior.
BUT, since many, who have no Ambition to be thought Men of
Virtue,
would, yet, gladly, be esteemed
Wise,
It may be an Argument, of more
Perswasion,
That This Propensity to
Revenge
is a Mark, not of
Mean-Spiritedness
only, but of
Ignorance.
—The Man of Knowledge can never be enough surpriz'd, at Common Wrongs, to be inflam'd into a Resentment, either too Malicious, or too Violent.—His Wisdom has instructed him, That where-ever we find
Men,
we shall be sure to find
Injuries:
And, That there is a Necessity of its being so, from the incompatible, and opposite, Wills, Humours, and Interests, among Mankind.
SHOU'D the Treacherous, the Suspicious, the Covetous, the Insolent, or the Reproachful, behave themselves otherwise than we could have expected, from their Natures, we might be justified, in our
Wonder
at it.—But, why should we express Amazement at what it was natural for us to depend on? Why be
Angry
with the
Inconsiderable?
—Most of Those, who provoke, and offend us, deserve rather our Grief, and Pity; For They are no more in their own Hands, than a
Madman,
or an
Ideot,
is: And we make a poorer Figure than our Pride allows us to
believe,
when we disquiet our selves, on such weak Motives.—When a
Fool
throws a
Straw
at us, It were to seem
light,
to feel the Weight of it: And
He
will never enjoy
Rest,
who is not Master of Resolution to
forgive
All Those Injuries, which his Honour, or his Safety, does not
compel
him to defend himself against.
NEITHER is there only a Wisdom, and a Nobleness;—There is something, too, of a generous
Courage,
in a Heart, that is above the Reach of these vindictive Impressions.—The Levity, that is shewn, in being moved, at every Trifle, carries with it an Air of Faintness, and may be mistaken for
Pusila
ity.
For, the firm, and manly, Temper, apprehending Nothing, with
Fear,
receives all Accidents, with
Calmness:
And, justly conscious of its Strength, to support it self, against Danger, is Indifferent to the Indiscretions, or Animosities, of malignant Natures.
THERE is a single, heroick,
Word,
in the History of the
Life
of
Adrian,
which I could never read, without Emotions of the highest Admiration; and, which carries in it the Instruction, and Sublimity, of many Volumes!—After That Great-Spirited Prince became possessed of the Empire, He met a Person, in the publick Way, who had been his most implacable, and bitter, Enemy.—The Wretch, whose Heart was as
contracted,
as His Malice had been
extensive,
began to tremble, with Expectation of some severe, and sudden, Punishment,—such as, He knew, He would, Himself, have inflicted on
Adrian,
had the Emperor's Power been
His.
But
Adrian,
with the serenest Gravity, only whisper'd, as He pass'd him,
EVASISTI—You have Escap'd me.
ALL, that
Largeness of Soul
could inspire, or Eloquence adorn, and utter, seems to have been express'd, in this
ESCAP'D ME!
—It laid open, to the View of the World, the Mighty Heart of it's Great Speaker!—It declared him nobly sensible, That
Justice
would look like
Malice,
should He, now, when at the Head of Empire, revenge, upon a Private Enemy, the Contempt, He met with, while a Subject!—That very
Power,
and
Command of Punishment,
which sordid Natures would have used, with Greediness, to the Destruction of the Man they hated,
restrained,
and
temper'd,
His Resentment!—He considered Himself, as no longer on a
Level
with his Injurer. The
Protection,
which he owned his
Subject,
disarmed the Hatred which he bore his
Enemy!—You have escaped,
(He meant to say, in That significant, single, Word!)
You have escaped, by my becoming your MASTER, the Vengeance which you should have felt, from me, had, I continued, but, your EQUAL.—That
ADRIAN
is, now, no more, from whom you could not have expected Mercy; And This
ADRIAN,
who gives you Pardon, owes Compassion to His offending Subjects, and remembers none of the
Other
's Injuries
!
IT is impossible, but a Collection of such amiable Examples as This, enforced, by some perswasive Pen, must work strongly upon the Minds of Men, not depraved into utter Tastlessness: For, by striking, even,
Little Hearts,
with a clear Conviction, That the
Precept
contains Nothing, but what has been exceeded in the
Practice,
It would leave them no Pretence for Evasion; and insinuate, by a gradual Progress, out of their Memory, into their Imitation.
BUT Nothing furnishes more Occasion for Surprize, and Indignation, than to observe our Places of Publick Worship, filled with
Outside Formalists,
of all Ranks, and of both Sexes; who, either with an impious
Hypocrisy,
or a
Stupidity,
as dark as
Ideotism,
affront the Majesty of Heaven, by petitioning
GOD
's
Pardon,—as They, Themselves, pardon Others.
While, at the very Moment of their Kneeling, in this empty Mockery of Devotion, It is known, to one Half the Congregation, That the Hearts of the other Half are imbitter'd with malicious Purposes, and glowing with a painful Restlessness, till they can be revenged, for, some slight Indignity.—Could These People have a Sense of the Signification of the Words they utter, They would tremble at the Apprehension of having What they pray for,
granted, literally
; and the Mercy of That dreadful GOD they dare to trifle with,
refused,
to their Unworthiness, till they have learnt as readily to
forgive,
as to
pray to be forgiven.
BUT, exclusive of those severer Arguments, which might be drawn from
Grace,
and
Virtue,
There is
One,
which
must
be welcome; because we, all, agree to
love ourselves;
and no Enemy is so Troublesome, as
Malice
to our
Pride,
our
Health,
and our
Quiet.
—We submit our selves, by this unmanly Passion, to the Humours of the Men we hate.—We empower them to afflict, and mortifie, us.—At the Sight of a Person, against whom we meditate Revenge, our Spirits undergo a Tempest: And, even when he is absent, our Memory goads, and tortures us.—Our very Dreams become imbitter'd, and confound our
Rest,
with our
Disquiet.
—We wish the Evil to Another; but we inflict it on our Selves: And, contrary to our own Intention, become
Patients,
where we design to be
Agents.
—The Revenger lives in Torment, and He, on whom He would be revenged, is at Ease.
IT is a grinding, gnawing, Passion, that preys inward, upon the Heart, and mistakes the
Means
of its own
Purpose.
—What Triumph can
Revenge
afford us, but from a Reflexion, That the Person punished, repents, and wishes the Wrong unacted? This End can never be obtain'd by
Mischiefs
; for, by provoking
new
Malice, they make the Memory of the
old
delightful: But it may be nobly effected, by astonishing, disgracing, and confounding an Enemy, with
Benefits
in return for his
Demerit.
And This is what the most Venerable of all Books very strongly expresses, by
heaping Coals of Fire, on His Head:
That is, It burns, and wounds, his Imagination, with a conscious Shame, at his
Inferior Figure,
while He sees himself disgraced, by Services from That Person, of all the World, whom he least deserved to be obliged by!—The stubborn Virtue of
CATO,
would have allowed him to submit to
CAESAR
; but that his
Pride
was more afraid of a
Pardon,
than his
Person
was of an
Insult.
MEN of Spirit shou'd
despise
this Passion, because it is evident, That the
weakest
Minds are most malicious, and revengeful.—Children, Women, and Men, less resolute than Women, sting, and fret themselves with sense of Slights, Contempts, and Follies, which they mis-call Injuries; while the
Rational,
and
Stedfast
Mind neglects, or smiles at, all such Accidents.—Their Effects may flutter round him; but, when they find no Place, to enter at, are
lost,
in fruitless Murmurings; like a Tempest, that is repuls'd, against the Firmness of a Mountain.—The
Distasts, Aspersions,
and
Indignities,
which appear so formidable, to an Abject Nature, may be compared with Thunder and Lightning; which are
terrible,
to our
Lower World,
but have nothing in them, worth the Notice of those Angels, and superior Spirits, which inhabit the
Caelelestial
Regions.—
SCIPIO, CAESAR, ALEXANDER
; All the Great and Shining Characters, which have made Antiquity Illustrious, have been so far from stooping, to indulge
Revenge,
that, on the contrary, they have sought Occasions, to overwhelm, with
torturing Kindnesses,
the most malicious, of their Personal Enemies.
BUT, a Mixture of
Shade,
with
Light,
being necessary, to compleat a Picture, I will set them off, by one another, in a Comparison, between a MONARCH and a MINISTER; out of
Mirkond,
a
Persian
Writer.
A POET whose Name was
Delah,
attracted by the Fame of
Ogtai-Khan
's Munificence, undertook a Journey, on foot, from the remotest Parts of
Tartary,
as far as to That Prince's Court, in
China,
for no other Purpose, than to throw himself at the Foot of his Throne, and implore his Assistance, to discharge a Debt, of
Five Hundred Balisches,
under the Weight of which he became dispirited, and was interrupted, in his Studies.—The Generous Prince, conversing with him, and discerning his Extraordinary Merit, entertain'd him very graciously, and order'd him
a Thousand.
—His Chief Minister remonstrated, That this was rather
Prodigality,
than
Bounty,
to give
Double
the Sum demanded!—
Have you not consider'd,
reply'd Ogtai-Khan,
That the Poor Man has travell'd over the Mountains, and Desarts, merely on the Fame of our Liberality? And, shou'd we send him back with no more, than is just sufficient to pay his Debts, by what Means will he be able to Defray the Charges of his Journey?
But your Highness, (answer'd the Minister) has not, yet, been inform'd, That he presum'd to write a
Satyr,
against
ME,
since his coming hither, because I was unwilling to allow him Access, with so impertinent a Petition!—
For which Reason,
reply'd the Prince)
You shall present him with another Thousand
out of your own Private Purse,
That he may go back, and tell his Countrymen, there is a Monarch, in this part of the World, who permits not his MINISTERS's RESENTMENTS to be the Measures of his Bounty.
JUST half as good a Story we read, of
Queen Elizabeth,
and
our Spencer
; She had order'd him a
Hundred Marks,
for some Piece of his Poetry: But the Frugal
Treasurer,
of those Days, whose
Wit
was too Little, for his
Wisdom,
took upon him to tell the
Queen
it was too much Money for an
Idle Ballad.
—Give him, then, said She, what you think he deserves,
in Reason.
—He reply'd,
he would consider of it
; which he delay'd to do, so long, that, at last, he quite forgot it.
THE
Queen,
a Year or two after, din'd, in one of her
Progresses,
at the House of a Gentleman, where
Spencer
happen'd to be; who, in Presence of his Friend, the
Treasurer,
put into her Hands these Verses.
I was promis'd, on a Time,
To have Reason, for my Rhime:
But, from that Time, unto this Season,
I have had nor Rhime nor Reason.
THE
Queen
(says the Story) was highly pleas'd with the Humour, and commanded the
Treasurer
to pay him Double the Sum, first order'd.—Had She added, That he shou'd pay it
out of his own Private Purse,
we shou'd have found no Occasion to mend her deficient Example, by a Better, in that of
Ogtai-Khan,
just mention'd.
The Plain Dealer. No 73.
Proprium humani ingenii odisse quos laeserit.
TACIT.
MONDAY,
November
30. 1724.
MAHOMET
the IId, That victorious
Turkish
Emperor, who took
Constantinople
from the Christians, had a very great Genius for Poetry, and was so warm in its Encouragement, that He is reported to have offer'd Rewards, for every
Fault,
that cou'd be pointed out, in the Works of his
Court Poets,
and made Good against the Arguments, which shou'd be brought, in Favour of the Defendants.
HEAVEN be prais'd, That His Majesty of
GREAT BRITAIN
has no such partial Opinion of the Poets of our Age, and Country! Such a Proclamation wou'd drain his Exchequer, more effectually than a Ten Years
War,
with the strongest Power of
Europe!
BUT, I believe, we may live at Ease: The Encouragement of the Poet's Art, in this present Generation, will occasion no Profuseness, that can be dangerous to the Revenue. And, as for our
Great Men,
They are
Patrons,
for the most Part, as They are
Doctors,
and
Masters of Art,
rather by Accident, than by Purpose; and think themselves under no Obligation to
pay for
Compliments which their Conscience tells them, They have
No Right to.
THE Truth is, when Any Thing, so Extraordinary, falls out, as, That A Man of Quality is Witty Himself, and an Encourager of Wit, in Others; The Poets are so Unmerciful, in their Assaults on his Liberality, That His Equals, in Dignity, have found much Safety and Comfort, in the Fame of
Dullness.
And there never was a livelier Proof of the Soundness of That Common Maxim, that
Honesty is the best Policy
; than the Success of the fashionable Expedient, (at once so frank, and so ingenious!) of returning the Dedicator's Gilt Book, with this short Apology for not accepting it—
My Lord gives his Service, and says, He does not UNDERSTAND these Matters.
FOR Want of some such dext'rous
Stroke of Art,
The Grandees, of That
Turkish
Emperor's Court, whom I nam'd, at the Head of my Paper, were, often, reduc'd to a
Nonplus.
It was, particularly, the Case of
Ali-Basha,
His Favourite
Treasurer.
He had learnt to
Read,
and
cast Accompts
; But
Wit
being
out of his Way,
He had one, regular, Method of rewarding All who address'd their Writings to Him: He put the Book into one Scale, and dropt Gold into another, and, having
adjusted the Balance,
gave the
Weight
of the Work, as a Gratuity, to the Author.—The worst Effect of this General Rule was, That it was common for the
lightest Discourses
to bring with them the
heaviest Bindings.
There was nothing, more
Substantial
than the
Covers
of this Great Patron's Books!—But one Poet, above the Rest, had contriv'd a pleasant Scheme, to make the most of his Ingenuity. He compos'd a Copy of Verses; and, instead of
Writing
them, in the usual Manner, caus'd them to be
Engrav'd
on a Block of
Marble,
that was large enough for a
Tombstone!
—He loaded a Cart with his Compliment, and went to wait on the Basha with it; who, having Notice of his intended Present, sent out the Master of his Buildings, to examine the Size, and Workmanship, of the Stone, and pay for it, according to its Value—The Poet went away very much surpriz'd, and dissatisfy'd, and writ his Patron a Complaint, How contrary to His
Greatness
's Custom, His Officers had presum'd to Treat him: To which the
Basha
answer'd, gravely, That
it arose, from a Change, in His Manner;—For, whereas he had, formerly, rewarded, by WEIGHT, He shou'd, hereafter, do it, by MEASURE.
WE have
some,
among our Nobility, who are equally Illustrious for their
Learning,
and their
Patronage
of Learning: But they are so
Poetically persecuted,
by the Swarms of Little Creatures, who have no End, in Writing, but the Profit they propose to draw from it, That they meet with daily Provocations to repel the Avarice of Flattery, with a Spirit, and Sharpness, like the
Basha's,
above-mention'd: And, This, no Doubt, is one Reason for the Neglect, which
Works of Genius
often meet with, when address'd to Men of Quality.
BUT, if Contempt is due to the
Mercenary,
The
Modest
deserve Encouragement: And They, who are truly Generous, shou'd never wait, till Occasion offers it self; but seek, and make, the Opportunity. For, as the Sharpness of our
Sight
is best prov'd by the
Remoteness,
in which we distinguish Objects; so our
Judgment
appears, most strongly, when we discern Merit at
Distance,
and
invite
it, to aproach us.
I AM always pleas'd with the Prospect of Any Work, from which the
Publick
may promise It self, either Entertainment, or Instruction: And I hope, The Gentleman, who has sent me the following Verses, and Letter, will have no Reason to complain of the Reception, His Design shall meet with.
The
HAPPY MAN.
HIGH, o'er the Winding of a cliffy Shoar.
From whose worn
Steep,
the back'ning Surges roar:
Freeman,
—Sweet Lot!—in quiet Plenty, lives,
Rich, in the unbought Wealth, which
Nature
gives.
Ʋ nplanted Groves rise, round his shelter'd Seat,
And self sown
Flow'rs
attract his wandring Feet:
Lengths of wild Garden his
near
Views adorn;
And
far-seen
Fields wave; with domestick Corn.
The grateful
Herds,
which his own Pastures feed,
Pay their ask'd
Lives,
and in due
Tribute,
bleed.
Here, in
learn'd Leisure,
He relaxes Life,
'Twixt pratt'ling Children, and a smiling Wife.
Here, on dependent
Want,
He sheds his Care;
Moves, amid Smiles; and All, he hears, is
Pray'r.
The
World
lies round him, like a Subject Soil;
Stor'd, for his
Service,
but beneath his
Toil.
Hence, in a Morning Walk, His piercing Eye
Skims the green Ocean, to the circling Sky;
And marks, at Distance, some returning
Sail,
Wing'd, by the Courtship of a
flatt'ring
Gale:
The fearless
Crew,
concluding
Danger o'er,
With glad'ning Shouts, salute the opening Shore:
Fore-think
how, best, They may their
Gains
employ;
And antedate thin Scenes of promis'd Joy!
Till a near
Quicksand
checks their shorten'd Way;
And the
sunk Masts
point thro' the rising
Spray!
Freeman
starts, sad!—revolves the changeful Sight;
Where
Mis'ry
can, so soon, succeed
Delight.
Then, shakes his Head, in Pity of their Fate;
And,
sweetly conscious, hugs His happier State.
Mr.
PLAIN DEALER,
THE Enclosed is
one
Copy of Verses, of a great Number, which my Friends have been kind enough to savour me with, in Order to furnish out a
Collection of Miscellaneous POEMS
: Concerning which, you may, possibly, have met with a Proposal in the Hands of some of your Acquaintance, for their being
publish'd, by Subscription,
in the Name of
Richard Savage,
Son of the late
Earl Rivers.
I AM, Sir, That unfortunate
Richard Savage;
the peculiar Circumstances of whose uncommon Treatment, from a Mother (whose fine Qualities make it impossible to me
not to forgive her,
even, while I am
miserable, by Her Means, only
) induced You, some Months since, in your
Twenty Eighth Paper,
to publish a Few ineffectual Lines, which I had written, on Her surprizing Usage of me: To which your Humanity was pleas'd to add certain Reflections, in my Favour, which I remember with due Gratitude; and am encouraged, by That Instance of your Goodness, to make the present Application.
WHEN you shall have perused my Extraordinary
Case,
and Those convincing
Original Letters,
which I have entrusted with the Gentleman, who brings you This, I shall need say no more, to satisfie You, What
Right
I have, to
complain,
in a more
Publick Manner,
than I have, yet, allowed my self to resolve on.—The
Papers,
in the Order you will see them, are prepared for a Hand, too
Just,
and too
Powerful,
to to leave me the least Distrust of being, shortly,
less oppressed than I have been:
But I judged my self obliged to lay them under
your
Eye, That you might be sensible, you said less, of my
Wrongs,
and my
Sufferings,
than the unhappy
Truth
could have justified.
AS to the mentioned
Collection of
POEMS, They are, some of 'em my own: But many more the Works of Eminent Hands, for the most Part, never before publish'd.—The
Subscription
will be
Half a Guinea:
And, as I can sollicite Nothing, with
Importunity,
in which (tho' a
small one)
I have a visible
Interest,
my Subscribers will be only Those, who, if They think They see any Thing, in
me,
or in my
Design,
worth their Notice, or Encouragement, can have Generosity enough to save me the Confusion of
applying to them,
and send their
Names,
and the Number of Books they subscribe for, to
Button
's
Coffee-House,
in
Covent-Garden
; where Receipts will be given.
THE
Book
is now in the Press, and will be published, as soon as it can be
printed off.
—If you find, among the
Poems,
which my Friend has desir'd he may shew you, What you think worthy of your Aprrobation, In That Case, (and in
That only)
I shall hope your favourable Interposition in Behalf of,
SIR,
Your most obliged, humble
Servant, RICHARD SAVAGE.
I HAVE, purposely,
left out,
much of This ingenious, and unhappy, Gentleman's Letter, which was very new, and surprizing; and affected me with the most touching Grief.—If I apprehend His Case clearly (and the Proofs He sent me, are too
strong,
to be easily mistaken) It is, in some Measure, to be considered, as
That of an Injured Nobleman,
—But of This, the World will judge, for it self, when the Particulars shall be more publick,—
That
is His
own
immediate
Concern,
and will, I suppose, be His
own Care:
—But His
Proposal
is What
Every Body
ought to take Part in; because the Book, in itself, has a very uncommon Merit: And Both
Merit,
and
Ill-Fortune,
join, to recommend the Proposer.
I THINK it was finely said, by a Gentleman, whose Writings, and Humanity, were, for many Years, the Admiration of the Kingdom.—
That it ought to be the Care of All, in whose Power it lay, to lift Mr.
SAVAGE
above a Sense of his
MOTHER
's Cruelty; because a Misery, so undeserved, had intitled him to a Right of finding Every Good Man his
FATHER.
BUT, when, to a
Misery so undeserved,
we add a
Design, so full of Reason,
It is impossible, but there must be
Many,
who will feel a noble Delight, in distinguishing their Zeal, for so modest a Proposer; and send their own Names, and Those of Others, whom they can Influence, as so many
Examples,
when the
List
comes to be publish'd, That we have Spirits, who can discover
Genius,
before it rises into
Noise
: and dare promote it, without
waiting
till the
Way has been led, by Others.
The Plain Dealer. No 74.
—Fuit haec Sapientia quondam,
Publica privatis secernere, sacra profanis.
HOR.
FRIDAY,
December
4. 1724.
MY Devotion, I am afraid, is not so
Pure,
and
Simple,
as it ought to be. There is a
Niceness,
in my Taste of other People's Behaviour, at Church, which ill agrees with the Duty, which I my self am there, for the Discharge of.
I discovered this Defect of
Grace
in the Constitution of my Zeal, by a kind of Reprobate
Contempt,
which I found my self affected by, last
Sunday,
against that plain, and humble, Aukwardness, with which the mangled
Psalms
of
David,
were vociferated, by the Congregation.—A Gentleman, of my Acquaintance, unluckily whispered me, (in the midst of what they call their
Singing
) That he knew a
Dutch
Painter, who had drawn the liveliest
Grotesque
Piece, in
Europe,
by an Idea, that he brought out of Church with him, from a Gallery of
Country Psalms-Singers.
MY Eyes, and Ears, took his Hint; and I shall never forget the
Group
of Living Imagery!—The Rolling Eyes, Raised Faces, Hanging Heads, Oblique Chins, Stretch'd Mouths, and Distorted Muscles!—The
Voices
too were as provokingly dissonant, as the
Looks
were ludicrously penitential!—Instead of finding my Thoughts exalted, by the Spirit of transporting
Harmony,
I became
ashamed,
at the presumptuous License, with which the Coarsest, and most unskilful
Roarers
took upon 'em to
bear Part,
in Musick, Sacred to the Praises of the ALMIGHTY.
THIS brought to my Reflection, with how much Reason, as well as Reverence, The
Choirs
of our
Cathedral
Churches preserve the Dignity of their Religious Harmony, by
excluding the Unskill'd
; and aiding the Attracted Heart, by all the sweet, and melting Force, of Vocal and of Instrumental Musick; in its most moving Elegance, and Perfection.
BUT, It is not only the Manner in which
Psalms
are commonly sung, that I consider as an Indecency: The
Psalms Themselves,
as we have them in the old
English,
Version, are a Disgrace to our our Learning, Language, and our Religion!—
Who,
that forms his Notion of
David
's Genius, from his Poetry, as This Translation gives it us, could possibly
believe
Him the Sublimest, of All Human Writers? Who, that should read these Lines, as they run, in the Exalted Original?
Lord, Let not All,
alike,
Thy
Mercy
share,
Strike
the PRESUMPTUOUS, but the LOWLY
spare.
WHO, I say, could suppose He had
found
them, either in the
Sense,
or the despicable
Expression,
of This, which follows, from our Vulgar Version?
O Lord, then, be not Slack;
Nor draw thy Hand
a-back:
But pluck it forth, from out thy
Lap,
And give thy Foes a RAP!
THE
Sectarians,
who are (too frequently) exceeding Rigid, and Narrow, in their Adherence to imbib'd Prejudices, seem rather to affect, than discourage,
Cant
and
Dullness,
in their Religious Eloquence: And, it is a very
Extraordinary
Reason which some of those Gentlemen have been pleased to give us,
in Print,
for the want of Taste, and Incapacity, with which the Noblest, and most Elevated, Strokes of
David
's Sacred Poetry, have been debased into Low, and untuneable Jargon;—
God's Altars need none of our Polishing!
As, if to write poorly, were a
Merit,
in Religious Treatises; and it were possible to find a Subject, more adapted to the Fullness of Art, than the Praises of That GOD, who formed Both
Art
and
Nature!
THERE is Nothing so Rapturous! Nothing so strongly painted, in all the noblest Warmths of Fancy, or of Judgment, which have immortalized the Antient Poets, as most of the
Hebrew
Descriptions of the Power, and Majesty of GOD! And, among These, The CIVth
Psalm,
and especially the First Part of it, is a Collection, in one View, of the most
Dreadful
and
Amiable,
of the Almighty's Attributes: So glowingly conceived, and represented in such lively Fullness; that all the
Greek
and
Latin ODES,
are faint, and languid, in Comparison with it.
IT is impossible to
Translate
the Images of This prodigious Poet, without doing them some Injustice: But, having lately been presented with an Essay, upon the mentioned
Psalm,
in which an Eye has been, Every where, kept to the
Sense
and
Dignity
of the Original, rather than to its dead
Letter,
I will publish it, as a Proof, That Nothing can be more unlike the Thoughts of
David,
than what we sing, as
His
in most of our Churches.
I.
NOW, while my Heav'n-tun'd Harp is rightly strung,
Soar, my wing'd Soul! And let Thy GOD be
sung.
Cloath'd
with
embodied
Light, He reigns, sublime;
And
grasps Eternity,
—and governs
Time!
From His fear'd
Wrath,
the
Sun's
fierce Blaze retires:
And dark Convulsions
shake
his sick'ning Fires.
Conscious of
Beams,
which dazzle
Nature
's Eye,
And, which, but once, to
View,
were,
then,
to
die;
Kindly, th' unequal Sight of Man to skreen,
God, like a
Curtain,
drew out Heav'n,
between.
Dreadfully
known,
in aweful
Fires,
He glides:
Or,
veil'd,
in
Clouds,
His Self-roll'd Chariots, rides!
He
walks
upon the
Wings,
which guide the
Wind:
Steps,
beyond Worlds,
—and leaves ev'n
Thought
behind.
II.
Myriads of
Angels
His Commands fullfil;
Angels!
the
Heralds
of Almighty Will!
Lightnings, in Millions, sweep His fiery
Way
:
And, round His Paths, in blue
Maeanders,
play!
The firm fix'd Ballance of the pendant Globe,
To neither
Bias,
partial, sway'd,
Poiz'd,
at His
Word,
has, from
Time
's
Birth,
obey'd.
III.
The covering
Deep
drew off the World's
wet
Robe,
Gave back—and fill'd the Chanels, He had made:
But
(tow'ring
as, the
Hills!)
reluctant, staid;
Displeas'd with its
New
Bounds,—and, yet afraid,
It's
old
to re-invade!
The stubborn, and disdainful,
Flood,
—no more
High-licens'd, as before,
Oft, with bold Vengeance, wou'd
devour
the Shore:
But, when the Rebel Surges swell, too high,
And sprinkle Heaven's Eternal Eye;
Sudden—the watchful
Prohibitions
rise:
The starting Flood hears—shakes—and flies:
Down
sink
Her watry Mountains, from the
Sky;
And,
hush'd
in humble
Flatness,
lie!
Yet, at the
Sovereign Will,
They quit their Beds:
And
climb,
above the
Mountain's
loftiest Heads!
Thence, call'd, again rush down, at God's controll,
And, o'er broad Kingdoms, in wild Tempest, roll!
Loose, as they are, They feel th'
Almighty
's Check:
They know th' appointed Bounds; and watch th'
imperious Beck!
IV.
To Life's
cold Treasury;
the briny
Deep,
Thro' Earth-form'd Laby'rinths taught to slide,
Fruitful of Springs the winding Currents creep;
Thence, trickling, into Rivulets, they glide:
Slow travelling, to trace their mazy Way,
And 'twixt th' enamour'd
Hills,
delightful, stray!
Sweet, and exhaustless, Stores, of limpid
Drink,
For each wild
Thirst,
that seeks the smiling Brink,
And, in the
Groves,
that, bord'ring, rise,
Sit, hous'd, the warbling Songsters of the Skies.
But the proud
Mountains,
which,
ambitious,
grow,
And, viewing
Heav'n,
disdain the
World below;
Nor will to humble
Brooks
Refreshment owe;
Sip the moist
Clouds;
and cool their Heads, in
Snow.
V.
Amazing Goodness!—where's the smallest space,
Which does not
feel
His pow'rful Grace?
The
Herds,
luxuriant, crop the flow'ry Mead;
Fruit
was for
Man's
superiour Taste decreed:
For
Him,
th' inspiring
Grape
was taught to bleed.
Bread-bearing
Corn
supports the Labou'rers Toil
And his rough Skin relents, with soft'ning
Oil.
VI.
Call'd, at fix'd Times, up rolls the changeful
Moon;
And shoots her Shado'wy Gleam, thro' Nights black Noon!
Swift, tho' the
Light,
from its high
Source,
descends,
It dares not dart its
Way,
one Thought too soon.
Yet, at
God
's
Word,
the Flag of
Day
is furl'd;
And licens'd
Darkness
rises, o'er the World!
Then, does the gloomy
Forest
shake;
And summon'd
Savages
their Sallies make:
The painting
Herds
creep, terrified, away;
While the stern
Lyon,
hungry, roars for Prey!
God suffers him His meant Support to take,
And, then,
new-wakes
the
Day!
VII.
The
Sea's
wild Herds, as well as Those, on
Land,
Rough-moulded
Sons,
too, of
Thy
formful Hand!
All!
live,
and
move,
by
Thy
Command.
That
horrid Scene fatigues the aking Eye!
There,
canvas'd Ships the op'ning
Depths
defie:
Captive the Winds—and diffe'rent Courses ply.
There, does
Leviathan,
wide wallowing, lye!
And, while his Sports the finny Nations
fly,
Th' unweildy Monster sucks in
Seas;
and spouts them at the
Sky!
On
Thee,
Great
Maker!
All Thy Creatures wait;
And, in due Season,
All,
by Thee, are fed:
Thy All-deciding
Pleasure
is their
Fate
!
They seek but what Thy ope'ning Hand has spread.
Soon, as thou hid'st Thy Face, we fall away,
To
unform'd Dust;
—and, old,
paternal, Clay!
VIII.
Time
shall have End: But
God,
shall,
still endure!
The self-rais'd Pillars of Thy Pow'r stand
sure!
The Mountain Tops wou'd
smoak,
—if
touch'd
by
Thee:
And
EARTH
flow, liquid, and
o'erwhelm
the
SEA
!
The Plain Dealer. No 75.
—Artem Experientia fecit:
Exemplo monstrante viam—
MANIL.
MONDAY,
December
7. 1724.
I DECLAR'D, in a late Paper, that my Speculations shou'd sometimes, extend to
Politicks.
This Day's Entertainment shall be an Introduction, to that Purpose; which I shall, occasionally, pursue, with the open Spirit of a PLAIN DEALER: asserting, and making free with All the
Liberty
I was
born to:
—A Liberty, which does not alone intitle us to a Property in our
Estates,
but in our
Thoughts
also. It is the great Charecteristick of every Free-born
Briton,
That
He may speak, as He thinks, and think, as He pleases.
WHILE, like the Provinces of the declining Empire of
Old Rome,
we are fretting, and disturbing ourselves, (under the Notion of
Reason,
and
Principle)
to support the factious Avarice of a few aspiring Men, who find their Interest in our Divisions, the
GOTHS are at
our Gate
; and we are apprehensive of no
outward
Danger.—There seems to be rising, near us, That NORTHERN LYON, which has, so often, been prophesied of: And I believe, in the Course of my Papers, I shall make it sufficiently visible, that, if early Measures are not taken, by Way of
Prevention,
against the threaten'd Evil, the UNIVERSAL EMPIRE, which
Spain
and
France,
have successively alarm'd
Europe
with a fruitless Dread of, seems, in Reality, to be coming upon us, with all the Terrors of a
Fifth General Monarchy.
IF it is suppos'd, That such a Fear concerns
Us,
less than
other States,
which may be thought to lie more expos'd, I doubt we deceive Our-selves, by a Vanity, common to all Nations, in over-rating the
Hazard
of an Enemy, who shou'd presume to invade us.—Our
Ships,
(powerful, and numerous, as they are) are more formidable by the Reputation of their Terror, than by the Danger of their Opposition. For, to expect that a
Fleet
will, at all Times, be able to keep Danger at a Distance, were to give our
Protection
to the
Winds
—How many
Caveats,
against so unstable a Security, cannot our own History furnish us with?—Neither ought it to be consider'd, as a Remote, or Chimerical, Prospect,
That we may be match'd in our Marine Pretensions
—We cannot possibly have more Advantage, in the Fame, and Practice, of Dominion at Sea, against any of our Cotemporary States, than the
Carthaginians
had against the
Romans:
And the Success which crown'd the Industry, and unconquerable Spirit, of these Last, in Defiance of
all
Obstacles, as well of
Nature,
as of
Art,
is a Lesson, which may may teach our Statesmen, That there is infinite Difference, between Things
difficult,
and Things
impossible.
NOT to insist on, the memorable Surprize, with which
France,
in a few Years Application, convinc'd us, with how little Reason we had indulg'd a Notion,
That there were natural Impossibilities to prevent that Great Nation from becoming Powerful, at Sea;
All which were found mere Shadows, when the Genius of her Ministers turn'd their Thoughts on attempting it!—The prodigious, and enterprizing, Spirit of the present
Czar
of
Russia
has, at once, establish'd, in the
Baltick,
a Third
Maritime
Power, Superiour to Both its old Ones: And, now, while I am Writing, has a Fleet of Sixty
Ships of the Line,
besides
Frigates
;—and
Gallies
without Number.
AS to
natural
Advantages, whether for
building, equipping,
or
maintaining
a Navy, this Prince has the Start of us, beyond all Comparison.—And since, when his Ships are as
Many,
and as
Strong,
as ours, (which judging by what has been done already, they may be, in Three or Four Years) our whole Pretence to Superiority must be plac'd in our
Skill,
and
Experience,
in Sea-Fights, how dangerous wou'd the Consequence be found, shou'd he hit upon some New Method of
improving his Vessels, in their Strength, Defensive, or Offensive?
Many High, and Arduous Attempts toward which, have busied, some Years past, the unresting Genius of that Monarch.
WITHIN the Memory of Numbers, yet living, the
Muscovites
were consider'd, as a People, so far from
Dangerous,
that they were even
Contemptible:
And the precipitate Advance of their Reputation in Arms, and Policy, is a Proof, that no Vanity is more weakly founded, and unjust, than the Common Practice of all Nations, to esteem
Themselves
more
Valiant
than their
Neighbours.
—Mankind is every where the
same,
by Nature, till a
Difference
is produc'd, by Custom.—What Nation
braver,
than the
Persians
under
Cyrus?
Yet, what Nation
baser,
when they oppos'd the Arms of
Alexander?
—What People, under Heaven, have more inrich'd the Histories of former Ages, than the Ancestors of those degenerate
Greeks,
who are, now, the Disgrace of
Christendom? Contented Slaves,
under a Tyranny, a thousand Times more insupportable than the worst of Those, in scorn of which their ancient Orators have fill'd the World with Noisy Declamations, in the boasted Cause of
Liberty! ITALY,
the imperious Mistress of the Universe! has been
sunk,
for many Ages; and parcell'd into petty, and almost inconsiderable,
Jurisdictions!
—And, to bring the Proof quite
Home,
what People ever seem'd to hold a clearer Superiority over their Enemies, than the
English
Armies, which our
First Edward,
led to War against the
Scots?
And, yet, what Truth more undeniable, than the shameful
Cowardice,
and downright
Baseness,
of the Sons of those very
English,
drawn out, against the Sons of the same
Scots,
in the next succeeding Reign of
Edward the Second.
COURAGE, when consider'd
nationally,
is not the Effect of
Nature,
but of
Discipline!
Skill, and Practice, teaching an Agility in the Use of Arms, excite a Pleasure in their Exercise: And, abating, by Degrees, that Fear of Death, which is natural to all Men, convert it into Hope of Victory; and a proud, and restless, Thirst of Glory.—
Arms
therefore, and a dexterous Superiority in the Use of them, should be esteemed the
Sinews of War
; and not MONEY, as is, commonly, pretended.—An Army, capable of
conquering,
will always find Means of
subsisting:
But
Money,
though it
subsists
an ill-disciplined Army, can never qualifie it for
conquering.
—The Helpless
Indians,
of
Mexico,
were infinitely
Richer,
than their Plunderers,—the
Goths,
when (from that very Country, which the
Czar
now governs) they overran, and ruin'd
Europe,
brought them only,
Iron
; they knew,
That
would make them Masters of all the
Gold,
they should have Occasion for.
PRINCES, whose Authority is absolute, and uncontroll'd, by
Privileges, Rights,
or
Customs
; whose Dominions are vast, and populous, and whose Subjects are laborious, hardy, and obedient; and acquainted with no
Learning,
but what is sufficient to aid their Industry, without inflaming their Pride.—Such Princes, become
dreadful,
as soon as they appear
ambitious,
and exert themselves in Preparations for
War.
—But, when it happens, too, that a Prince, in so tempting a Situation, has a Genius capable of
Improving
the Art-Military, It is difficult to put
Limits
to the Consequences, which may attend His Fortune.
THO' the Study of the
Art of War
has been carried to a great Perfection, yet there is Room enough left to give Scope to the Force of Genius, this Way: And it would, perhaps, be found, upon Trial, That the
Modern System,
(notwithstanding the Use of
Gunpowder,
which was unknown to the Ancients) is as subject as the
old
was, to be trampled on, and overpower'd, by some new, and unforeseen,
Discoveries,
on those Sides, most especially, where we believe ourselves securest.
THE
measur'd Lines
of Humane Foresight, which are, so proudly distinguished, by the Name of
Policy,
are vain Amusements, and mere
Cobweb Subtleties.
—Their narrow, busy, Schemes, of
balancing
the Power, and Interests of Nations, are often insufficient for the Purposes of their Designers, because these High-way Statesmen
found
their Maxims upon
Error, in the first Concoction.
—The
Force
of a Prince is, by their Rule, to be calculated, from his
Revenue,
and his
Revenue,
from the Wealth of his Subjects: But This Argument depends intirely on the general,
mistaken,
Notion,
That All Equal Numbers, will be of Equal Weight, in War
; which is so far from being
true,
That, should the
Poorest
Prince in
Europe,
fall upon the
Richest,
with a Skill in Arms, as much Superiour, as He is
Inferiour
in his Numbers, the Disparity would be
revers'd,
immediately.
THE
Romans,
who never
conquer'd, in order to prolong a War,
but to make it bear its own Expences; and encrease, as well their
Treasury,
as their
Reputation,
were so far from this new Way, of computing an Enemy's
Strength,
by his
Riches,
that Their Judgment was directly contrary. And this Opinion of Ancient Times appears strongly in that magnanimous Answer, which was given by a
Gaul,
to a King of
Macedon,
who shew'd him his Heaps of
Gold,
in order to excite Terror; and, then, ask'd him,
What He thought of His Condition?
The rugged Soldier reply'd, sharply,
That as to what concern'd His Condition, a Stranger could be no Judge: But His
BOUNTY,
He could perceive, Extraordinary,—since he had taken such unusual Pains to let his Enemies be convinc'd, clearly, That his Kingdom was worth their Conquering.
WHERE a Prince is really
strong,
—To be held
Weak,
in the Opinion of the World, is rather a Benefit, than a Disadvantage.—His Preparations alarm no Body; and the Blow, he designs to strike, will as soon be
felt,
as
apprehended:
Whereas the Fame of Power, and Riches keeps Jealousy awake; and attracts Envy, and Opposition, from all Quarters.—The
Fortune
of the late
French
King had, possibly, kept Pace with his
Ambition,
if it had not been watch'd, and check'd, upon this single Consideration.—On the other Hand,
Gustavus Adolphus
was so happily
despis'd,
by the
Austrian Grandeur,
which took it for granted, according to the modern Reasoning,
That the Poverty of such an Invader would be a Curb to his Courage,
that, boldly entring
Germany
with an Army of but
Seven Thousand Men,
he carried every Thing before him, like a Torrent; broke the whole Scheme of the Emperor's Designs; and had ruin'd, in all Likelyhood, the Interest of that Family, if he had not been
kill'd,
in the Battle of
Lutzen.
DESIGNING, in some future
Papers,
to speak of Things, a little out of the common Road, and draw Conclusions, which I judge too
new,
to venture on, without a previous Notice, That I propose not to deduce my Arguments from the Principles of
Modern Politiques,
and therefore refuse to be try'd by them; I have, for that Reason, thought necessary to publish these few General Reflections, as a Preparative, for what I intend, hereafter, to consider, in a more distinct, and peculiar, Manner.
The Plain Dealer. No 76.
Quos Ego—Sed motos praestat componere fluctus.
VIRG.
Age, si hic non insanit satis sua sponte, instiga.
TEREN. AND.
FRIDAY,
December
11. 1724.
WHILE I was preparing to make good my Promise, in a late Paper, concerning the AFRICAN COMPANY; I receiv'd the following Letter; which has thrown me under a Necessity of Suspending the Execution of my Purpose, 'till I can argue the LADIES into a Humour of Supporting the Burthen of something,
very Grave,
upon the Comfort of its having been preceeded by something that was
very Whimsical.
Mr. PLAIN DEALER,
I HAVE been One of your
Female
Readers, ever since your first Appearance; and, having begun to
take a Fancy
to you, was much concern'd, for your sake, when I saw you venturing upon
African Stock.
Take my Word for it, You and I shall be
both Losers?
Only I have lost
Money:
And the PLAIN-DEALER will lose, but
Labour.
YOU may spare your self the Trouble of Instructing the
knowing
Gentlemen, who manage our Affairs, in that Country, how to
get, all that is to be gotten:
And since
no more than All,
can be hop'd for, away with your
Schemes
to
improve Trade,
and enable us to
improve Conversation.
—I remember a Story in one of your Papers, of a Widow, at
Wapping,
that had brought over an
Elephant,
from
Guinea,
that cou'd dance,
Moll Peatly, Overturn Apple Baskets,
and play a cleverer Circle of of Tricks than a whole Set of Managers, put together.—I remember, too, there was a
Russian Bear,
in the same Paper, who came over to offer his Service among the
Italian Fidlers,
of our Haymarket
Orchiestra:
But was rejected, as I since heard, on the Remonstrance of some of their
Singers,
—That his Strokes were too
Masculine,
for their
Measure.
—Now, never trust me, if I was not a Thousand times more pleas'd, with your Account of these two
wonderful Curiosities,
than I am like to be, with your expected
Essay,
for the Improvement of our
African Traffick.
BUT, if you can prevail with the
Royal Company
to Trade in something, which
we Women,
may find our Interest in; If, in their
Exports,
for Example, you cou'd include our Husbands, and disagreeable Lovers: And, enrich the
Bills of Entry,
with any Privileges, Rights, or Benefits,
imported Custom-free,
for the Use of the SEX, at home: In this Case, I cou'd read, with Patience, the most
profound,
of your
Commercial Dissertations,
and so, might come, in Time, to get
Gravity,
and
Breath,
enough to peruse
one Moiety
of an
Act
of
Parliament
; or begin, and end, a
Church History.
—I am (in no small Terror, and Apprehension.)
SIR,
Yours, at all Points, proper,
LAETITIA GAMBOL.
AS there is nothing, more easie, than to satisfie the Demand of this
Lady
; and I am, naturally, inclin'd to do every Thing in my Power to promote the
Pleasure,
or
Interest,
of the SEX, I shall postpone, what I mean to say, further, on the Improvement of that
Company's Trade,
in
general,
'till I have open'd a Prospect to this ungovernable Member of theirs, Mrs. LETTY GAMBOL, of the many
Great,
and
Glorious
Advantages, which may be
imported,
as she desires, out of
Africa,
to our
Sea-Port Towns
; and thence, spread themselves, in due Time, over the Heart of this happy Kingdom; for the Ease, Emolument, and Distinction, of the
Women,
its
best MANUFACTURE.
I SHALL not confine my self to any single Part of
Africa,
but boldly, ransack that whole Continent, for a Purpose, so
Meritorious.
—It is the same Thing to me, whether the Commodities I enquire after, are the Products of
Wappo,
of
Popo,
or of
Ekke Tokki
; Provided only, That the
Goods
are as polite, and elegant, as the
Names,
I shall
load
as willingly at
Boffow,
or
Juffer,
as at
Quaqua:
Nor shall I make any Difference, as to the Value I rate
Laudable Customs
at, from the One's having been the Prerogative of a
Bossum,
and the Other the Quality of an
Arompo
Note.
An
Arompo
is a
Man-Eater
; whence, no doubt, our
Engl
sh
Word,
ROMP
: A private Remark, by the bye, for the particular Use and Instruction of the Lively
Mrs. Laetitia Gambol!
.
THE Sable
Toasts
of those Sunny Climates have such
Choice
of Tempting Privileges, that I shall have Room, in this Paper, to recommend but a very few of them: I will, therefore, select the Best; and begin with this ARCH-CLAIM of
Virginity, within the Tropicks,
that Girls, at Nine Years old, commence
Women!
THE
Young Ladies,
too, in most Places, are at Liberty to dispose, freely, of whatever may be call'd
Their own:
And, when, afterwards, they think of
Marrying, their
Credit,
like that of other Traders, is rated the
higher,
by how much
wider,
and more
publickly,
They have carried on their
Dealing.
I THINK, no Doubt can arise, concerning the Welcome with which
These Two valuable RIGHTS
will be receiv'd: But, not being
altogether so clear,
in my Opinion, concerning the
following,
I shall leave it to be weigh'd, maturely, How, far it may be
of Use AMONG US,
it is a
Privilege to retire, from the Fatigue of Man's Society, after having been Mothers of Ten Children.
THE Antient
Tryal, by bitter Waters,
has been more generally heard of, than approv'd, among our
Women
here at home, who, if not, perhaps, the
Deepest,
are, unquestionably, the
prettiest Casuists,
in the Universe. But the Duskier Beauties, of
Negroland,
when under Accusations of
too much good Nature,
have an Appeal, to
sweeter Waters,
in Justification of their Innocence: For, in order to discover, to a jealous Husband, whether the Wife has been guilty, or not, she is thrown, headlong, into a River: And if she
drowns,
she was a
Sinner.
But, it is a Remark, of great Consolation, That there never was found a
Woman,
who had not
Lightness enough to Swim
; and escape the Malice of her Accusers.
THERE is something, too, in their agreeable Manner of
Mourning, for the Death of a Husband,
which deserves to be offer'd to the Consideration of the SEX, in these more
Phlegmatick, Northern,
Regions: And one wou'd wonder, indeed, how any thing,
so extravagantly Polite,
shou'd have got Footing, among People, who never Subscrib'd, to an
Opera.
—The whole Term of such
Mourning
is included within
Fourteen Days:
And the Ceremony consists of
Cries,
which are modulated by the Tunes of Musical Instruments; and accommodated (with a certain Equitable Dexterity) to the Ease of the
Performer,
and more lively Entertainment of the
Audience
; by large, intermediate,
Pauses,
during which they drink Brandy, and smoke Tobacco, 'till their
Spirits
are duly rais'd, to expect when the Musick begins again, for
another Act,
of the
Obsequies.
BUT, above all their agreeable Customs, I contemplate, with most Reverence, the vast Extent of their
Charity!
There is, in it, an uncommon Profoundness; and a Tenderness of Heart, beyond Example!—It is a Practice, among the
Rich Negro Ladies,
on the
Gold Coast,
to give Orders, on their Death Beds, for buying up a Number of Female-Slaves, to bestow on the
Publick,
as
Living Legacies,
whose whole Business it is, to be at Every Body's Service,
in One sole Employment,
(which they are, All, equally, capable of) for the Price of
Three Periwincle-Shells.
—They consider This, as a Work, of great Mercy, and Compassion; and, conscious of their pious Purpose, close their Eyes, and die, satisfied.
I COU'D add an infinite Variety of such uncommon Commodities as These: But the Foregoing will serve, as
Samples,
of what
Rich Goods
may be imported, for the Uses, which my Correspondent hints at, if, in Right of her self, and the
Ladies
she acts for, she cou'd propose any
Scheme
of
Engraftment,
by vertue whereof, the
Assistants
of the
Royal Company
might cooperate with the
Sisterhood.
IT is not to be question'd, but, when such a Scheme comes to be seen, the Directors of some other, of our more thriving
Societies
will
stir
against it, out of Envy, and propose their
own
respective
Bodies,
as most Capable of, or more adapted to, the mention'd
Incorporation.
But the Ladies will, I hope, have Honour enough to
keep close
to their first Engrafters: And, least their natural Disposition
to think too meanly of Themselves, and their own Reasonings,
should expose them, without Defence, to the Force of Arguments, they cannot Answer, I will conclude this Essay for their Service with the Example of a ROYAL AFRICAN;
His Majesty, the King of
Boffoe; who, when his
Conscience
was a little puzzled, brought himself off, by his
Resolution.
KING
Yagou,
the abovemeant, was a Lover of the Female Sex; but being a Prince of great Frugality,
contented
himself with
Ten Wives only,
when many of his Subjects had
Forty
; and out of that small Number, of Ten, would, now and then, for mere Good Husbandry, bestow
One,
on his Son,
Joost.
—A
Portugueze Fryar,
to whom he was boasting of these Great Qualities, represented to him the
Wickedness
of the Action; and assured him, That no
civiliz'd
Part of the World allow'd it.—At which, he laugh'd, very heartily, and return'd him this Answer—
Must I be a Fool, because the White Men of your Country, are Fools?—My People are better inform'd;—and we act, in both Places, according to our different Understandings!
The Plain Dealer. No 77.
Misce stultitiam Consiliis brevem.
HOR.
MONDAY,
December
14. 1724.
I REMEMBER a Passage, in some
Eastern
Writer, which carries a sharp, and instructive, Moral. An
Emir,
of great Sanctity, had a Custom, every Night, to call his Family together, that they might sit round him, with due Gravity, to hear his Son read some Chapter of the
Alcoran,
which the Father would take Pleasure in opening, and enlarging on, to his Domestick Congregation. It happened, one Night, that, in the midst of the Sermon, the whole Audience
fell asleep
; except the Preacher, and his Son: Which last, assoon as he observ'd it, interrupted his Father, with this Remark.—
See, Sir, the Fruits of your Good Purpose! There is not one, of them All, but sleeps, as soundly, as if God's Word deserv'd no Reverence!
—The
Emir
look'd round the Company, and shutting up his
Spectacles,
in the Book, against a fitter Opportunity, drew his Discourse to a Conclusion, with this Reply, to his Son's Intelligence—
You had, your self, been better employ'd, in adding One to the Number of Sleepers, than in waking, not so much to correct your own Faults, as to observe the Faults of Others.
I receiv'd a Letter, the other Day, which brought this Story to my Remembrance, and is one Proof, among many, how difficult a Province he undertakes, who assumes the Office of a PLAIN DEALER, at a Time, when People are so
vigorous,
in the Censures, which they make
Themselves
; and so
languid,
in their Approbation of Those, which others make, with the same Liberty!
The Author of this Letter is, so kind, as to let me know,
"He is one of my
Best Friends
; he will not therefore insist on my Disingenuity, to
fall foul of
—a single Sentence,—in one of my late Papers; and,
dwell on one Error,
in a voluminous Author: But he is so good as to be in Pain for my
Veracity
; having carefully (he says) examin'd every single Paragraph of
Mr.
Trapp's
Preface to his Translation of
Virgil, and not being able to discover, what I charge him with.—He closes all, with a Hint, that he writes, in Vindication of that worthy and Reverend, Author; and would not have Offence taken
at every Trifle.
"
THE VERACITY of the PLAIN DEALER being the Side he will be sure to be most defensible on, it was unskilfully done, for a
Lover of the Muses,
as my Correspondent subscribes himself, to bring on his Attack, so rashly, on that Quarter.—He ought, first, to have been very careful, and confirm'd, in his
Discoveries.
—But, to remove the
Cloud
from his Sight, if he pleases to turn to
Page
382, of the first Volume of the mention'd Translation; in an
Essay, on moving the Passions,
previous to the Remarks on the 4th Book, he will find a Paragraph ended thus,—
We have not—as—yet—indeed—completed the Explication, propos'd:—For something—more—still—remains—behind.
—If this differs from what it appear'd in my Paper, it is only by being a little
worse
than I made it.
THUS much, to the
Charge,
in that only Part, which carried any
Appearance
of Reason with it.—The other Articles have no Weight, at all, but from the Regard that is due to a
mistaken Good-Nature;
which has misled the Gentleman, whoever he was, to apprehend, as a
Trifle,
an Error of the first Magnitude, in Writing.—It is certainly the Business, and the
Aim,
of every Author, to
explain,
and
illustrate,
his Argument: But this tedious Redundance obscures, and perplexes it.—Where a Man should
imprint
Idea's, he distracts and
erazes
them: And, instead of awakening the Passions, affects the Spirits with Drowsiness.—Such a
TRIFLE
is this Fault, which my Correspondent is for passing over, with so tender-hearted a Blindness!
THE censur'd Passage, then, is no Error, of such
small Importance,
as the Animadvertor had thought fit to imagine; but he falls, next, into another Mistake, of considering it, as a Place, pick'd out by the Inquisition of a malicious Eye: Whereas (if he had been as attentive to the
Argument,
of the Paper, where he found that Censure, as he was to the
Censure Itself
) nothing would have been more easy, than to have observ'd
Numbers, of the same Kind
of
Amplifications,
which might, with equal Effect, have been borrow'd from that work: And, thence, he must have drawn this natural and obvious Conclusion.—That
one Error, only, was dwelt on,
not because it was all that could be found, but because it was all, that could be admitted in that Paper.
AS to the
Worthiness,
or
Reverence,
of the Author, the Letter-Writer himself can wish no less Ill to him, than the PLAIN DEALER does. But this is a Matter entirely out of the Question. The
Person
has nothing to do, where what he has
written,
and
published,
is the Ground of the Argument.—For a
Friend,
Partiality is
Weakness
: And, against an
Enemy,
it is
Baseness.
The Merit of a Cause lies above the Level of such low Motives; and they, who would reach it, as they ought, must be listed in their Attempt, between
Justice
and
Resolution.
—There is nothing, which the PLAIN DEALER has a sincerer Detestation of, than Personal Reproach or Defamation: But then, on the other side, he who dares not speak out openly, whenever Occasion offers it self, concerning the Miscarriages of the Greatest Men, or the Vertues of the most Unprosperous, has a Soul, below the Duties, of one, who
writes, that he may deserve Reading.
BUT, to make a Transition to a Subject, which I have, for some Time (in vain) been expecting an Opportunity to
resume,
with a Spirit less
ludicrous,
than That, in which I touch'd it, not long since: I am rais'd, to such a Height of Wonders, by the triumphant
Posture,
in which the
Wit
of this Generation is visible, almost every Night, at one or other of our Theatres, in the Genius of our Actors
Limbs,
that there is nothing, which I cannot promise my self, from the Readiness of their
Elastick Capacity
; and the Humour, which the Town is in, of
listning,
to the
Voice
of their
Muscles!
I HAVE noted, for this Reason, what I discovered, not without due Transport, as I was perusing a certain
Venerable
HIGH GERMAN Compiler, (
CAMERARIUS his Historical Meditations!
)—It is a new, and unbroken
Mine,
of
Theatrical Treasure!
which I shall recommend, with the stronger Hope, to the Contention of our Rival Stages, because, the never-to-be-forgotten, the Triumphant
FAUSTUS HIMSELF
was of Happy
High German
Original!
I HAVE oftentimes, says this Grave and Authentick Sage! (for I reverence him too much to vary a Word, from his Text)
seen, with wondering,
in the Prince of
Bamberg
his Court, a certain Peasant of
Germany,
nourished, and brought up, as himself avouched, in the Mountains,
among Beasts
; who was so active, and nimble, of his Body, that all that saw him were
astounded,
and thought he used
Enchantment,
which, yet,
I do not, verily think he did!
—And that, which was most remarkable in him was, That he shewed his Agility,
not standing, but walking upon his Hands, and his Feet, prone and flat-back'd, like a Dog, or a Cat!
IN that same Court, was a
Dwarf,
who would
get up, upon
this Peasant, as upon a Horse; making him to turn, and wind, all manner of Ways, as a Rider would do a
Spanish Genet
; But, when the
Peasant listed,
he wou'd easily
throw his Dwarf,
for all that ever he could do to sit fast.—Sometimes he was
baited,
with
very mighty Mastives,
and with
English Dogs,
that the Prince had: And, by a certain
Barking,
which he counterfeited naturally, and a
furious snarling, like a Dog,
would give them the Chase, and make them run apace, out of the Hall.—That done, he would set himself to
leap,
upon his Hands, and Feet, forwards, and backwards, with a
Nimbleness incredible!
and would
scramble up, by the Coines,
towards the Roof of the Hall, faster than an
Ape
could do! albeit, otherwise, he was a
rustical Fellow, heavy,
and of a
gross making.
I SAW him twice, as I was at the Prince's Table (after he had thrown his Dwarf) and driven away all the Dogs that were in the Room) leap upon the Shoulders of one of the Guests, and thence upon the Table, without overturning
Dish,
or
Cup:
And then cast himself with such a
Spring
upon the Floor, that one would have said,
It
had been a
Squirrel,
or some
wild Cat.
—He did use to skip as fast upon the Tops of Towers, and of Houses, built Point-wise, as our House-Cats would do: And so many other PARTS of a
Cat,
and an
Ape,
HE PLAYED, that
his Tricks were the Talk, and the Wonder of all Men!
I WAS so pleas'd with this Fancy, that I could not forbear communicating it, for the future Entertainment of our
People of Fashion:
And I am so firmly convinc'd of the imitative Spirit, and Genius of the Hostile
Harlequins
of the
Two, Comic, Houses,
that I question not, in the least, but by the Second Week, after
Christmas,
we shall see a Dozen, or two, of Bull-Dogs round the Tail of
Shepherd,
on
Drury-Lane-Stage,
without being able to
bite him,
while he
curvets
and
barks
with his
Back up,
and wheels safe, in
their
Center
;—And Mr.
LUN,
at the other House, crawling up the Edge of one of his Scenes, and
sticking to the Roof, like a Spider
over the Heads of a
shouting Pit!
where he will
spin
himself into their good Graces, 'till their Necks are half broke, with the
Sublimity
of their Entertainment!
The Plain Dealer. No 78.
Quo me cunque rapit Tempestas, deferor Hospes.
HOR.
FRIDAY,
December
18. 1724.
LIKE, a Ship that is compell'd, by Tempest, to decline, from her due Course, I am, sometimes, driven out of my Way, by the Letters of my Correspondents; None of which beat so violently upon me, as Those from the
Feminine Quarter.
I BEGIN to find it Impracticable to work any Good, on that perverse, and malapert, Sex, by the
Weight
of
Age,
and
Experience.
—If I had not confess'd, at my first setting out, that I was, then, in my
Grand Climacterick,
I am verily persuaded I might have apply'd my self to them, with more Success.—Under their Sense of my Weakness, they despise the wholesomest of my Lectures; and go on, in open Defiance of the utmost I am able to do to them!—Not a Day passes, but I have new Intelligence brought me, of their
persisting
in Mischiefs, and Enormities, which reach, and involve, all Men, from the
Canopy
to the
Cottage.
THE Epistles, which this Paper shall be fill'd with, will be some small Proof, how hard a Task he takes upon him, who would oppose himself against an Influence, which bears down every Thing before, it!—In fine, I see there is much more han I once imgain'd, in this Observation of an honest
Mahometan. Five Things, in the World, will always be found useless: A Candle, in the Sun-shine.——Beauty before the Blind.—Rain, that falls, in a Desart.—A Feast, to those who have no Stomach.—And, Sage Advice, when it is given to a Woman, who has no Inclination to follow it.
To the
PLAIN-DEALER.
Oh! Prodigious!
FLESH and Blood can bear it no longer! Twenty, and Twenty, Times, I have been provok'd at you, before; But, in your Paper, of last
Friday,
there is such an intolerable Piece of Impudence! such an Affront to the
whole Sex!
that it is not possible for us to
live, silent.
—MANUFACTURE, quoth he? A
Woman
a MANUFACTURE!—Had you call'd us
Products,
or
Merchandize,
or
Things,
or
Commodities,
we could have born it, with some Patience: But, MANUFACTURE insults us, with an abominable Insinuation,
That we are but the
WORK
of our Women's Hands!
like a Machine, that is
Empty, in its Inward Parts,
and whose Value consists, not in the
Matter it is made of,
but in the Curiosity, with which they
pin
it together!
OH, that some Body would direct me, how to find out Mrs.
Patty Amble!
—If I don't
do your Business, there,
never trust Woman more.—I'll warrant, she shall
die, a Spinster,
rather than put herself under
your
MANUFACTURING; most
facetious
PLAIN DEALER!—And, so, no more, at this present Writing, but that I am, with a great Deal of Truth and Obligation,
Any Body's, rather than yours,
PRISCILIA SPARKLEY.
THE two next LETTERS (the
First
from a Lover in
low Life,
writ in
simple Honesty of Heart
; and the second in a Strain, and from a Condition, very different) having really been sent me, in one, and the same, Day; I publish them, as a Proof, that All Degrees, and Capacities,
Sink in the soft Captivity together.
High-Holbourn,
Nov.
27. 1724.
Mr.
PLAIN DEALER,
I AM like a Man, in the middle of a Bogg; the more he struggles to
get out,
the Deeper he
sinks in.
—To tell you the Truth,
I am in Love:
Only I am but an
Apprentice,
and have not serv'd quite Four Years of my
Time.
—Therefore, what I wou'd desire, of you, is, to
learn
me how I shall be able to
have done Loving:
For, 'till that is brought about, I shall never mind my
Business.
—And my Fear is, That my Mind being half towards
Love,
and the other half towards
Business,
that,
between Both, I shall gain Neither.
And what is a
Man
without a
Business?
My Case being, therefore, of great Importance, and my Livelihood depending on my
Business,
I do not, at all doubt, but that, when you have taken it into Consideration, it will, likewise, be of great Benefit to many Hundreds, besides myself.—Good Mr. PLAIN DEALER, pardon This, my Presumption; and be pleased to correct what I have writ amiss,
being not right in my Senses.
—But tell me what I had best do: For one had better be an
humble Servant
to a
whole Army,
than be, what I am forc'd to write myself,
CUPID
's Slave.
SIR,
WHEN I read the Letter, in one of your late PAPERS, sign'd
Amanda,
I was but
too well
assur'd of its
Author.
That Delicacy of Sentiment, and beautiful Propriety of Expression,
alas!
how how
often
have they
charm'd
me! Never was Eloquence so
persuasive.
—Never was Eloquence so
vain!
—While she begs me to
desist,
in so Enchanting a Manner, I am only
ten Times more her Slave
—Her Repulses, like the Struglings of a beautiful Virgin, serve but to heighten her own Charms, and
inflame
the Desire of the Ravisher.
I know,
Rochefocault
says,
If a Man fancies, he loves his Mistress for her own Sake, He is mightily mistaken.
—But, alas! He
never saw
AMANDA. Heaven be my Witness, if I thought, that in those exquisite Raptures, which I hope, one Day, to owe her, she would not be an
Equal Sharer,
by all those Hopes, I
swear,
—sharp, killing, Thought! I
swear, I wou'd Foregoe her.
—With so sincere, so disinterested, so artless a Passion, I am,
AMANDA
's Everlasting Lover.
To the
PLAIN-DEALER,
SIR,
IF you wou'd do a Piece of Service to the Young Men of the World, whose warmest Ambition it is, to recommend themselves to the FAIR, without considering what
Vertues,
They, whom they love, are possess'd of—Let me give them, through your Means, the following
true
Relation.
Olivia
is a Lady, of genteel, and fashionable Education; for her Mother took early Care to
shew her the World,
as they call it: That is, To teach her, through the most contrary
Appearances,
to intend Nothing, but her
Pleasure,
and
Interest.—Pamphilio
is a Gentleman, of good Estate, in the Neighbourhood.—The Lady's Reputation was unsullied, He saw her often; and, every Time he saw her, saw new Marks of her Wit, and Good Humour; her Freedom and Sincerity; 'till from
admiring,
he fell to
adoring
her.
HIS Love was inflam'd, by the little, innocent, Encouragements, which
Olivia
knew how to give, without incurring the Imputation of
Forwardness:
and which
Pamphilio
regarded, as so many modest Overtures, to the Advantage of his Passion.—His Visits were more frequent, and more open. He could, no longer, conceal his Love; he declar'd it, at once, to, both,
Olivia,
and her Mother—for her
Father
was dead: And they, Both, gave him Hope, of succeeding, in his Wishes.
Pamphilio
's Affection growing stronger and stronger; he became impatient for their Marriage; in the near Prospect of which, all the Neighbourhood rejoyc'd, and did their Utmost to advance it. For they observ'd, how his Soul
doated
on her; and darted itself into his
Eyes,
whenever she approach'd him.—
Olivia
declin'd marrying.—She was too young, she said, to be Mistress of a Family; and insisted on a
Year more,
in which she might fix her Resolution.—Tho' this
Year,
to
Pamphilio,
was a
Lover's Eternity,
he was to submit, on any Terms; and the Time, requir'd by
Olivia,
at last, drew near its Conclusion.—The Lady, then, grew
cooler,
and the Lover
more transported.
—She declar'd to him, very frankly, That
It was impossible for her to love him.
—Neither
Love,
she said, nor
Hatred, were Things in our own Power: And he ought not to take it ill, that she cou'd no longer deceive him.
POOR
Pamphilio
had no Voice to
reply.
But a sudden
Tear,
or two,
spoke for him!
—He trembled, grew pale, and gaz'd on her—and sigh'd, at length this faint Hope—
That she cou'd not, sure, be in Earnest.
—She answered,
He had no Reason to give himself the Air of so much Surprize.—She had never promis'd him Marriage,—
and was, yet, at her own Disposal.—Pamphilio,
bow'd, and left her; and has, also, left
Society.
He shuns all his former Companions: And is sunk, in the deepest Melancholy! His Affairs are neglected, his Health is destroy'd; and his Friends are enrag'd and astonish'd!
ABOUT a Quarter of a Year ago,
Olivia
was
married:
and with so extraordinary a Success, that her Relations are already upon suing out a
Divorce.
—What ought to render the Condition of this Lady
Inconsolable,
if she has either Generosity, or Reflection, is,—That
Her
hard Fortune afflicts
Pamphilio,
to a sharper Degree than
His own
did!
SUCH a
Jilting
Temper, may, perhaps, be consistent with
Chastity,
but it can have neither
Honour,
nor
Tenderness.
—She was form'd to inspire Love, and very capable of it, by
Nature:
But she was harden'd, by
Education,
to become
unsusceptible
of it.—She expos'd Charms to Sale, which she intended not to part with: And, then, like a covetous Tradesman, who has lost his best Market, she resolv'd, as a pretty Revenge,
to throw herself away, upon the First Bidder.
Yours,
PAMPHILIOPHILUS.
The Plain Dealer. No 79.
Incertam frustra Mortales funeris horam
Quaeritis,—
PROPERT.
Tum vero in curas Animum diducimus omnes.
HOR.
MONDAY,
December
21. 1724.
I NEVER met with any Accident, which more touchingly surpriz'd me, than the Death of my Friend, Sir
Portly Rufus,
under Circumstances, with Regard to his Fortune, much inferior to the Figure, he had maintain'd in the World; and which made such Impressions on his departing Soul, as serv'd, at once, to excite my Pity, and inflame my Admiration.
I VISITED him, during his Sickness, and found his Family in great Disorder: The chearful Faces, which were formerly worn, by his Servants, as the lively Signals of his Hospitality, were quench'd, and sadden'd by a Sorrow, that prov'd its
Deepness,
by its
Silence.
—He was fallen into a forc'd Sleep, when I came down to his House in the Country; and it being late in the Evening, I went to Bed, with a Resolution not to disturb him, 'till the Morning.—I lay awake, and heard the Clock strike
One,
indulging my Thoughts, under the Solemnity of the Midnight Darkness, with a Thousand busy Reflections, on the Instability of our Health and Pleasures; when, from an Old Tower of the Parish-Church, which was almost contiguous to my Chamber-Window, I heard the
Toll,
of a Great Bell, sound out, many Times, distinctly, with a deep, and mournful Fullness, which left an unusual Vibration in the Air; and had scarce ceas'd, when I found the whole Family alarm'd; and the House fill'd with
Shriekings,
and the most distracted Cries of Sorrow.
I ROSE, and dress'd my self, in much Amazement; and, following the Clamour, found it, collected in the Sick Man's Chamber:—I was assur'd, at the crowded Entrance, That
Sir Portly was a Dying Man.
—That
the Bell, which had toll'd out, at Midnight, always did so, of it's self, before every Death, that was to happen, in the Family:
—That
it was a Warning, which had never fail'd:
—And, That
Sir Portly, who had been wak'd, by the Sound of it, was, himself, of the Opinion, That he could live but a few Hours.
I FOUND my Friend, sitting up, in his Bed, very faint, and scarce able to speak; and looking round him, with a Mixture of Wildness, and of Sorrow, on the Distraction of his Assembled Family.—As soon as he saw me near him, He gave me his Hand, with a Glimpse of Chearfulness, which seem'd to brighten, through his Anguish: And, insisting, with much Earnestness, That I should be left, for some Time, alone, with him, the rest withdrew, and I sat near him, on the Bed-side.—He continued silent, for several Minutes, fixing his Eyes on me, very stedfastly, and with much inward Commotion; till at last he spoke to me, as follows.
YOU have tim'd this Visit, kindly; for it is the Last, you will ever make me: It is a sensible Comfort, that I have this Opportunity to communicate my dying Sentiments, to a Friend, who will be capable of doing me Justice, where the World may speak of me with a mistaking Liberty—
HERE he put a Key into my Hand, and directed me to find a Paper, which I have now in my Possession; and from the Subject of which, I shall take Occasion, some Time hereafter, to draw more Observations than One, for the Use of Men of Business, who may receive Entertainment, and Advantage, from it.—He said something, concerning his Private Affairs, in which my Advice he believ'd, might be of Service to his Family: And, then assum'd a Discourse, on the
Tolling of the Parish Bell,
and proceeded in it with much Composure.
I HAVE neither Learning,
said he,
nor Leisure, to enter upon an Examination, concerning the
Causes
of these
Praeter-Natural Notices.
It is enough for me, that
It is thus:
And you will soon be convinc'd of the Consequence, with Regard to my approaching End.—But, Let not any Thing, so common as
Death,
be an Affliction, or Surprize to you. I have enjoy'd my Bed of
Sickness,
like a
Study.
It has given me an Opportunity of retiring into my self, without Partiality or Interruption!—The Danger of my Condition drew a Curtain betwixt the World and me, and contracted all my Business into the Compass of this silent Chamber. Here I have seen Things,
as they are,
and learnt to judge of them, without Prejudice.
TO
forsake the World,
gives me no Pain, from any Attachment to its Pleasures. It can tempt me with Nothing
New
; for I have, already, seen it all.—Though I die (as I shall) to Night,
To-morrow
will be like to
To-day
: The same
Sun
will rise upon it; and leave it, in the same Darkness.—The Seasons will come round again, and be
call'd New
; but they will be no other than the Repetition of what I have, so often beheld already.—Why should it startle me, to be call'd back to the Place, from which I came hither? I rose, from Uncertainty, into Life; and I am now but returning, out of Life, into Uncertainty. Can any Thing be more reasonable, than that
Others
having given Place to
Me,
I should give Place to others, in my Turn?—Either I have not made the proper
Use
of
Life,
which I have enjoy'd so long already, and therefore deserve to hold it no longer: Or, having reap'd the Profit of Living, to what End should I wish Life lengthen'd?
I HAVE many Hopes, 'tis true, which, it grieves my Soul, to leave imperfect: But, if I would live, 'till I am
compleatly Happy,
I seek what is never to be found. It were to act, like those foolish
Indians,
who run themselves out of Breath, to
catch the Sun,
when it seems to
set, so near them:
—So might I travel on,
for ever,
and weary my self, to no Purpose: The Object of my Pursuit is not in the same World, where I am!
YET there is one Thing, which makes Death
terrible,
and triumphs over Reason, Reflexion, and Philosophy! It is, That we are torn from our
Friend's Society.
—That we are divided, by, perhaps, an
Everlasting
Separation, from what
Love
has made
dearer
to us than our
Life
is! It is that Blending,—That Liquefaction—or Confusion, of Two Hearts, in one Will, Desire, and Interest, which is the
Spirit
of all human Blessings! Light is Darkness, without it; and Prosperity
not enjoy'd,
but
possess'd,
without Relish.
IN this View, of our Soul's Union, here on Earth, with some kindred Spirit, which it delights to mingle with, Death is
dreadful,
when it strikes between us!—How many unfinish'd Purposes may it interpose it self, to the Disappointment of, with Regard to the Comfort, or Service, of Those, who are thus
Dear
to us, when we are cut off, by a sudden Summons, and allow'd no Time to compleat our yet but intentional Gratitude, or give Perfection to our unripen'd Labours! Can a
Husband
sit Easie
within,
when he is straining his dying Eyes, for the last, afflicting, Sight of a Wise, who deserv'd his Tenderness, and was intitled to his Protection; but, whom he is, that Moment, compell'd to leave, to struggle with the Bitterness of
Want
; and acquaint herself with the Licentiousness of Reproach, Contempt and Insult!—Or can there be a Strength, in Wisdom, to sustain a dying
Father,
whose Heart is tortur'd with the burning Uncertainty, of what shall become of his helpless Children, expos'd Orphans, to an unpitying World, without Guide, Support, or Prospect?
HERE, my Friend was interrupted, by the Impatience of his Family, who broke in upon us, with a Grief, which soon appear'd to have too just a Ground: For
Sir Portly
died, in less than a quarter of an Hour after.—There were many Circumstances, in the Manner of his Death, which will deserve to be describ'd, in a future Paper: But the melancholy Impression they have left me under, will at present be best indulg'd by an Abstract of some Excellent Verses, from a POEM of
Mrs. ELIZABETH SINGER
's,
on the Death of Her Husband.
—I am not sure, that I remember them right; for it is long, since I read them: But there is so much of
Beauty, Nature
and
Passion,
in them, that the Reader cannot fail to discern, and admire, the Author's Genius, through whatever Injury they may have suffer'd, by any Injustice, I may, perhaps, have done them.
IN what soft Language shall my Thoughts break free,
My dear
Alexis!
when I talk of
Thee
?
Nor
Nymph,
nor
Grace,
of all the fancied Train,
Nor
weeping Loves,
shall aid my pensive Strain:
True Passion has a Force, too strong for
Art;
She needs
no Muse,
who can invoke her
Heart.
Tasteless of
Forms,
and from all Comfort torn,
The
Husband—Lover
—and the
Friend,
—I mourn!
All, that to Worth, and Tenderness, was due;
Whate'er Excess the fondest Passion knew,
I felt!
—My Pray'rs to
Heav'n,
were, All, for
Thee:
And
Love
inspir'd me, first, with
Piety.
Oh! Thou wert all my Triumph, and my Pride:
My Hope, my Peace, my Shelter, and my Guide!
Thy Love
(sweet Study!) busied all my Days:
And my full Soul's Ambition was
Thy Praise
!
Why has my Heart this fond Engagement known?
Or, why wou'd Heav'n dissolve the Tye, so soon?
Whence had the Charmer all his
Power to move
?
Or, why was all my Breast so
turn'd,
for
Love?
Oh! he cou'd
talk!
—'Twas
Extasie
to
hear!
The
list'ning Soul
hung, trembling, on the
Ear.
Musick's whole Power dwelt, artless, on his Tongue;
Awefully soft,
like some kind Angel's Song!
Pain,
that but heard
Him
speak, was charm'd to
Rest
:
And
Mercy
melted down the
Miser
's Breast!
Hours, Days, and Years, unheeded, took their Flight:
For
Time
was only measur'd by
Delight!
Fancy, still, paints him, fresh, in every Grace;
But, the thin Shade eludes my lost Embrace:
The shrinking Vision melts, in shapeless Night,
And a cold Horror blots my blasted Sight!
Then, the past Mis'ery rises, to my View,
His
Death
(sad Scene!) will be, for ever,
New!
Then,
with the quickest Sense, his Pangs I feel:
And his
Last Accents
o'er my
Silence
steal.
"My
Wife!
—my sharpest Pain! my fondest Care!
"Heav'en, for
Thy Sake,
will hear a
Dying Pray'er:
"Will
lead,
and
comfort
Thee, when I am
dead;
"When, from these aking Eyes, thy Form is fled:
"When these cold Hands, which, now, thy Grasp implore,
"Shall tremble, at the Touch of Thine, no more;
"Oh! where shall my unsocial Spirit
stray
!
"How,
Err,
unblest, along th'
Eternal Way
!
"From all Engagements,
here,
I now am free;
"But That, which keeps my ling'ring Soul with
Thee.
"How I have
lov'd,
thy bleeding Heart can tell:
"And—
we MAY meet
!—'till which dear Time—
Farewell.
He ceas'd—and waiting Angels catch'd his Breath:
And his quench'd Eyes dissolv'd their Beams, in
Death!
But oh! what
Words
have Passion, to
express,
What
Thought can feel,
the Rage of my Distress!
Why did they tear me from the breathless Clay?
I shou'd have stay'd, and wept my Life away.
Yet, gentle Shade!—where e'er thou now may'st dwell,
Where-e'er thy Spirit does the Rest
excell,
If thou can'st listen to my Grief, oh! take
The
softest Vows,
that Love, and Truth, can make.
"For
Thee,
my Thoughts all
Pleasure
shall foregoe:
"My Tears, for
Thee,
shall stream, in
secret Woe.
"Far, from the
busy World,
I will retire;
"Where mournful Mem'ory feeds the silent Fire.
"First taught by
Thee
the noblest
Flame to prove,
"The Force! the Life! the Elegance of
Love!
"
Sacred,
I will to
Thee
thy Gift confine:
"Grasp Thee
thro' Death,
—and be
for ever, Thine.
The Plain Dealer. No 80.
—Populus me sibilat, at mihi plaudo.
HOR.
FRIDAY,
December
25. 1724.
IT has been justly observ'd, by our Writers, in Defence of the
Stage,
That
It is a
GLASS,
in which we see, what we, ourselves, are, by the Image of our own Actions, represented in the Persons of Others.
—Commend me then, to the Wit, or the Satire, of one of our Theatres, where they have brought
Newgate,
into their
Mirrour,
and taught our People of Quality, the elegant Art of
breaking Jayl,
by Way of Diversion and Improvement.
TO Treat this Subject, if possible, with some Appearance of
Gravity,
either the Taste of our Audiences must be depraved, to a Degree of Horror; or the Judgment of our Master-Players corrupted, to a Degree of Pity!—Too long, indeed, have the most Successful of our Theatrical Entertainments been
Low
and
Contemptible
; but I never observ'd, before, That they were
Ungenerous,
and
Inhumane!
—What Idea will Posterity conceive of the Present Age, when they shall read, among a thousand living Records, to our Infamy, That our Nobility, and People, of the First Figure, in Life, cou'd descend to be Partakers in an Insult offered to the Memory, and Misfortune, of a poor Wretch, a
Felon,
who had, just before, been Executed, at
Tyburn
; by sitting, contented Spectators, to observe his Crimes, and his Miseries, acted over again, for their Delight, and Instruction.
BUT, If (as
Lucan
says of
Nero
) the Gods cou'd make Way for
CAESAR,
by no other Means than those dreadful Things which
preceded
him,—If
Nothing less
cou'd induce the Town, to bear with the insupportable
CAESAR in AEGYPT,
than their acting it immediately after SHEPHERD
in
NEWGATE, the Players have, at least,
One
Good Argument for permitting it:—They made Way too for a
Brother's Tragedy,
whose tender Heart might, have been broke, if he had,
twice, write dismally,
to no Purpose.—
King JOHN,
the Dramatick
Abortive,
of last Winter, was a pusillanimous Prince, and cou'd condescend to hear Reasons, why it was necessary to submit, for Fear of
a forcible Deposing:
But
CAESAR
was a
Hero,
and too
resolv'd,
to shake at
Danger!
—Tho' all the Serpents, of
Africa,
shou'd have
hiss'd in his Face,
he would have regarded them, as little, as he did, the
Boxes,
the
Pit,
and the
Gallery.
THIS Tragedy is so provoking, and copious a Field for Satire, that it is with Difficuly, I restrain my Pen, from the severest Licence of just
Invectives.
But I soften my Indignation, when I turn my Eye, from the Play to the
Author:
—The Exemplary
Candor, Humanity, Politeness, Affability,
and
Generosity,
of that Gentleman's indulgent Behaviour, with Regard to the Works and Interest of other Writers! But,
above all, his prodigious Modesty!
These, his extraordinary and well-known, Virtues, overbalance a thousand Absurdities in his Tragedy; and determine me to continue silent.
THE
Theatre,
to confess the Truth, is a Subject of too much
Consequence,
from its Effect on the Morals, and Behaviour of the
Publick,
to leave it either decent, or reasonable, to omit Defects in the Stage's Constitution, and descend to the Actor's particular Failings.—But we have Persons on the Stage, who want not some
Graces,
and Generous Qualities, as well of Body, as of Mind, which might have
adorn'd,
even the Best of those Characters, which they are accustom'd to represent: And of These I shall speak seriously, and with Pleasure, on Occasions which will offer themselves, when I come, in a little Time, to consider the
Present State of our Stage,
and what Justice there may be, in those Pretences to its
Improvement,
which we have heard so very much of, under its Management, as it now stands.
BUT, TO return to my first Subject: There have not been wanting, publick Marks of Disapprobation, as often as those ill-chosen Entertainments above-mentioned have been exhibited: Yet, they
went on, with an unmoveable Steadiness of Resolution,
which, in a Cause, the
Reverse
of theirs, might deserve to be call'd a
Virtue
; and, even as the Case really stands, it is an
Accomplishment, very new, and Extraordinary,
and must be allow'd not unworthy of the
highest Admiration!
—That heroic
Roman
Spirit, which
Horace
speaks of, in the Motto to my PAPER, went no farther than a private applauding himself, at home, in Return for the
Hisses,
which he met with, when abroad: But our
English
Firmness of Face, can
look Reproach in the Teeth,
and persevere, with as much Negligence, and Satisfaction, as if we suffer'd for our
Excess of Wit,
what is levell'd at our
Want of Judgment.
I WAS favour'd many Months since, with a Sheet or Two, of Excellent Reflexions, which were lost, by some Accident, and have been but lately recover'd. The following Observations, seem so applicable to my present Purpose, that I cannot do better than borrow them, for Reproof of a barbarous Custom, which had spread itself,
too broad,
among us, before it appear'd on one of our
Theatres.
AT
Paris,
and at
Amsterdam,
there is scarce a Week passes, without some
Publick Execution
; and yet, tho' there are
News-Papers
in Abundance, we seldom, or never, find any Account of that Sort, in them.—They think, and perhaps justly enough, That it is a Point of National Credit, to conceal, with as much Decency as they can, the Enormities of their Countrymen.—On the contrary, our Writers for the
Day,
and the
Week,
watch with Earnestness, for the Opportunity, and are sure to pass by no such Subject.—It often makes a very Glaring
Paragraph
; but is sometimes unhappily scituated. I have frequently known a
Change at Court
yok'd with a
Remove at Tyburn;
and both follow'd, close in the Rear, by an Account of some
Church-Advancement
; or new-drawn
Matrimonial Tye,
among People of Quality.
I ONLY hint at these Liberties, and desire to deal gently with my Contemporaries.—There are other Wretches among us, who attend the
Gibbet,
like Ravens, or Vultures, and expect their
Subsistence
from it.—Not a poor Criminal can be hang'd, but they break open his expiring Lips, and rob him of his
Last Words.
When he has suffer'd the Sentence of the
Law,
he is condemn'd, afresh, to a
Libel:
And is far from being
at Rest,
even after he has surrender'd his Life to the Halter, his Cloaths to the Hangman, and his Body to the Surgeons! For, then, come the Scribler, the Pamphleteer, and the
Biographer
of
Newgate,
who
draw
out his Good Name, and
quarter
it; and hang up his Reputation, in
Effigie,
They give him a
Quarto,
or an
Octavo
Shrowd; and fringe, and flourish it with his
Birth,
and
Parentage.
—Hence, the
Ordinary,
to preserve his
Perquisites,
is driven upon the Necessity of
advertising against Counterfeits
; and, has, sometimes, no better Expedient, than to publish the
Posthumous Works
of his Communicants,
even before they are yet departed!
TO be
half-hang'd,
has been the Case of one or two Sufferers; but to be
twice hang'd,
is a very great Hardship: And when a Criminal's Account of
Himself
is suppos'd to be
true,
it seems a Mifortune that They, who wilfully,
belye,
him, should be permitted to survive him.—If the Sufferer can write and read, then, besides his
Birth,
and
Education,
his
Tryal,
and
Confession,
we have
his Last Works, and Compositions.
If he is married, we have
his Widow's Lamentation.
If he dies, troubled, and unsatisfied, we have
his Ghost:
And if his Life has been at all remarkable, we have
His History, and Adventures.
—Some ready Compiler of
Newgate,
bundles up his
Memoirs,
and describes his Exploits, in so discreet, and adapted, Style, That the Pleasantry of the Relation is more apt to prevail, on the
Young,
and the
Giddy
(who are the common Readers of such Tracts) to
imitate
a Life of so much seeming Heroick Extravagance, than to take Example, from the fatal End of it.
I KNOW not whether such
Exposing
Methods as These, are not suffer'd to take Place, by Way of Advance upon the Lenity of our
English Executions
; and as a Counterballance to the Foreign Severities of
Torture,
and
Mutilation.
If there is any such Depth of Politick Refinement, in the Indulgence, which is shewn this Practice, the
Dead
feel nothing that relates to them; and the
Living,
I am perswaded, are very little the better, for such
Paper Executions.
But, of
This,
I can venture to be positive, That should some Drudge for the Bookseller's Benefit, make a
Collection of all Works, of this kind,
and some mercenary Translator dress it out, in a Foreign Language, our Neighbours, and our Posterity, might be tempted to believe, That the present Generation of
Englishmen
were
a Nation of Thieves, and Pick-pockets.
The Plain Dealer. No 81.
Diversos diversa juvant, non omnibus—
Omnia conveniunt.—
GAL. ELEG.
MONDAY,
December
28. 1724.
IT is a Rule, in Conversation, that he, who keeps all the
Talk
to himself, never pleases, so much as one, who
listens,
in his Turn, to what is said, by the rest of the Company.—The same Observation will hold good, with Regard to such a Paper as the PLAIN DEALER; I must, sometimes, fall civily back, and give Way to my Correspondents; or I shall incur the Reproach of Writing rather to entertain
My-self,
than to delight, or oblige my Readers.
Mr.
PLAIN-DEALER,
I HAVE such a Veneration for the FAIR, that I am sorry, I shou'd have Occasion to exhibit any Complaint against them; but I am, once a Week, so whimsically treated, by some of them, that I am resolv'd to
speak out, and spare not.
THERE are many young Ladies, and, what is worse, many old Ladies, within the Bills of Mortality, that, every
Saturday,
while their Houses are cleaning, take a Fancy to have Business with
Me,
for no other Reason in the World, but because they can't tell how else to dispose of themselves:—For, you must know, That I am a
Mercer.
—They swim into my Shop, by Shoals, not with the least Intention to
buy,
but only to hear my Silks
rustle,
and fill up their own
Leisure,
by putting
Me
into full
Employment.
So they tumble over my Goods, and deafen me with a Round of Questions, 'till, having found nothing in my Shop,
to their Fancy,
as they call it, they toss themselves again into their Coaches, and
drive on the Persecution,
to the Terror and Disturbance of most of the honest Shopkeepers, from one End of the Town, to the other.
LAST
Saturday
was three Weeks, at Two, in the Afternoon, I sent out my Servant, to watch a Couple of these
Silken Strollers,
and keep, if possible, within
Ken
of them. They
undress'd
about a Dozen Shops, without stripping themselves of a single Shilling; and, at six, my Man return'd, out of Breath, and told me, That he had left them, cheapening Sugars, beyond
Norton-Falgate.
—But, presently, they came back, and saw my next Neighbour, a
Linen-Draper,
at his Door. They pull'd their Coachman by the Thumb, and broke in upon my Friend and Acquaintance, tho' his Shop was shut up, and empty.—They had bethought themselves, that
they must see some Cambricks.
My Neighbour
knew
them, for they were his Customers of five Years standing; during all which Time, he had never taken any of their Money—But they had done him the Honour, to lean over his Counter, find Fault with every Thing he cou'd shew them; Exclaim, at his
frightful Prices,
and make it a Rule with them,
To bid Nothing
—He turn'd over his whole Variety of Cambricks; and had the unexpected Good-Fortune, after the prettiest Doubtings, and Hesitations, in the World, to fix their Determination; for they pitch'd upon a particular Piece, about half an Hour past Seven, and order'd him to
cut off enough for a Tucker.
The worst of all This is, That these unprofitable
Wayward Visiters
keep Buying-Customers out of our Shops.—Pray, Mr. PLAIN-DEALER, reprimand them,
for the Good of Trade;
and the Ease, and Deliverance, of
Your afflicted Corespondent,
J. H.
SIR,
A GREAT many useful Lectures were levell'd, heretofore, against the Enormities of certain Fashions, which had taken Possession of the Female World.—The Reduction of the
Stays.
The Exaltation of the
Petticoat
—and the Lightness, and the Transparency of the
Modesty Peice
—(as that SEX had peceluiar Views, in each of these Modes) have been Topicks, for Admonition, and Stature.—The LADIES have even been told, That the obsolete Reliques, of their Great-Grandmother's Scare-crow Wardrobes, were less Fantastical than the
modern Whimsies!
But those wholesome Severities suffer'd the Comon Fate of such Good Purposes,
They diverted for a Week, and were forgotten.
ALL Arguments, which would be successful, must adapt themselves to the
Understanding
of those in whom they expect to operate.—The WIT of a Woman is her
Dress.
To
move genteely,
is her JUDGMENT: And, to
Govern herself, with full Freedom,
is her BIRTH RIGHT, as an
English Subject
; who renounces, and protests against, all absolute, and unlimited, Monarchy.
BUT, pray, whisper (if you dare) to these pretty
Free-Thinkers,
That there is a a Country, in the World, call'd
Turkey
; where Women are secur'd against the Danger of
Sun-burning,
by being kept out of the
open Air,
and lock'd up, like
other Jewels,
in Places where no
Mischief
can reach 'em.—A Side-Glance, once a Year, from a Window, or an imperfect Random-Shot, through the
Hedge
of a
Gauze Muffler,
is the utmost Danger a Man can be expos'd to, in those safe and silent Regions; where they have an unaccountable, savage, Notion, That
there is Temptation, in a Woman's Eye, and that it is possible for a Pretty Fellow to stare himself into Fornication!
A LITTLE private
Rumination,
on such laudable Customs as These, may have Influence, perhaps, to moderate some of our Fine Ladies
well-bred Exorbitancies.
If not, we have at least this Remedy: It is but
to turn Turks,
and we new model our System of Government, with Regard to this
Female Freedom.
—Such a Resolution wou'd furnish Business, not at all disagreeable to
Your most humble Servant,
The Black EUNUCH.
Mr.
PLAIN DEALER,
ORACLES have been deliver'd in Dreams, and I see no Reason why Truth may not be as well
nodded
over by us Moderns, as by the much more wakeful Ancients.—Our Senses being too gross, and our Minds too much prejudic'd, to receive Truth, for its own sake, it must approach us
obliquely
; that, being couch'd under sensible Representations, it may be brought nearer to our View, and make its Way into our Apprehension.
UPON this Account, therefore, (not to keep you in Suspence any longer, least you may think me
dreaming already
) I have sent you my last Night's Vision; which if it meets with your Approbation, may encourage me to close my Eyes again; for I am, both
sleeping,
and
waking,
Your constant Admirer,
EUGENIO.
AFTER having reflected on my Mistress, and on Marriage, I fell asleep, and found my self in a
Myrtle Grove,
where several
Ways
ran together into one Great Path, that led to the
Temple of Hymen.
—The Flowers, most of which were
Violets,
and
bleeding Lovers,
exhal'd a delicious Odour: And the Birds, that warbled round me, help'd to fill the Scene with Transport.
I OBSERV'D Crowds of Travellers, passing onward; but none, to my great Surprize,
repassing.
—Upon looking a little nearer, I discover'd Troops of flying Boys with Silver Wings, that hover'd before them, for their
Guides.
There were Persons of all Ranks, and of both Sexes.
I TOOK particular Notice of some, who tho' they seem'd to make more Haste then the rest, were, at the End, the farthest behind-hand. These, I heard, were call'd
Coquets,
in the Language of the Country. They seem'd, to do nothing but sport, and flutter about; without gaining any Ground, or
desiring
to gain any.
THE next, I was told, were
Prudes:
And these had taken a Bye-Path, and mov'd onward, toward the Temple, very slowly; and, to all Appearance, unwillingly; with their Necks fantastically reverted, and their Eyes looking back, upon the Country, they had newly pass'd through. Yet These were the First that came up; and slipt, silently into the Temple!
AMONG the Men, was a Troop, which seem'd compos'd of the most expert Travellers. My Guide inform'd me, They were call'd
Hibernians.
They did many Things, I perceiv'd, very differently from the rest: For, while others led up but
one
Companion, to the Temple, these had several, in several Paths; and were the only Persons, who, after lodging
One,
went out again, to conduct
Another.
—It was easy to distinguish them, however mingled in the Crowd, by the
Shine
of a certain
Metal,
which had burnish'd their Cheeks, and Foreheads, and cast a
Gleam,
like a
Corinthian Vizard.
I WAS call'd off, by a confus'd Noise, at some Distance; and made toward it, as well as I cou'd; but found such an Alteration in the Air, that I cou'd not stir one Step, without sneezing. This was a Troop of
Sword-Knots,
and
Cockades,
displaying a powerful Instrument, that glitter'd much, and was call'd a
Snuff-Box.
The Scuffle of Tongues was so great, that I staid not long, among the
Pretty Gentlemen,
(for that was the Name they went by) but pass'd on, to a Part of the Grove, whence there issued a delightful
Harmony.
COMING thither, I observ'd a Number, apart from the rest, with Harps in their Hands, which they touch'd, with transporting Melody. Nine Goddesses were mix'd among them: all most ravishingly beautiful! These happy Gentlemen, I found, were the Favourites of the Grove; but they made no Haste to the Temple; rather wandering up and down, and making
Sallies
into every Path, with an Air of agreeable Indifference.
I LEFT them, and came up with a Troop of Clowdy, Haughty, and Erect, Movers, distinguish'd by
peculiar Head-Pieces,
which, at Distance, look'd like
Diadems.
All the Female Travellers, they chanc'd to meet with, receiv'd their Whispers with a kind of Triumph; and listen'd to them with more Rapture, than even to the Voices of those
Divine Musicians!
—This Train was under the Care of two Goddesses, whose Names were
Insolence
and
Privilege!
I was now within the Sight of the Temple; but taking an Aversion, in my Sleep, to the affected
Struttings
of this Company, I wak'd fortunately out of my Dream, and resolv'd to send it to the PLAIN-DEALER.
The Plain Dealer. No 82.
Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem,
Quam quae sunt Oculis commissa fidelibus, & quae
Ipse sibi tradit Spectator.—
HOR.
FRIDAY,
January
1. 1725.
AN Evil Spirit had taken Possession of one of the Villages, in
Lapland,
and turn'd the Inhabitants into
Bears:
By which Means, being depriv'd of the
Discretion
of
Humane Creatures,
and unable to provide for
Themselves
; the King of the Country committed them to the
Keeping
of two or three of his
Beef-Eaters
; who took the Office, with no other Prospect, than to live at their Ease, on the
Perquisites
of it; and were consequently, more inclinable to provide Diet, to their
own
Taste, than to that of the Metamorphos'd
Animals,
which had been deliver'd into their Custody.—They had, however, so much Gratitude, for the Profit, accruing from their
Grant,
as to resolve, That the poor Creatures shou'd want nothing, that was
Strong
and
Savoury:
But they had not the Judgment, to consider, That a
Man,
when he becomes a
Bear,
requires a
coarser
Kind of Nourishment, than he was accustomed to, while a
Rational Creature!
—They gave 'em nothing to drink but
Brandy
; and fed 'em with
Cock-Broth,
and
Forc'd-Meats
; 'till they, All, grew giddy, and light-headed, and were taken with a dangerous
Vertigo.
A YOUNG Shepherd, who had been brought up a little
wildly
; and, who, by living much among Beasts, had acquainted himself with the
Nature
of
Bears,
undertook to
Board 'em Cheaper
; and built, and open'd, to that End, a
New House of Entertainment;
where, for the same Rates which were paid his Rivals, he treated the Animals, in their own Way, with
raw Horse Flesh,
instead of
Ragousts
; and
Spring Water,
in the Place of
Brandy.
—The
Bears
were strangely delighted, at a Change, they were, so able to relish; and flock'd, in Transport, to their
New Ordinary
; where they
grinn'd,
and grew
fat,
upon a
Diet,
which was adapted to their Palates: So that, in a little Time, not a
Cub,
of any
Quality,
cou'd make a Meal, upon their
Old Commons.
And the poor Shepherd, who provided for them,
so judiciously,
had all their Custom, for the future, and became Richer, than the
King's own Bear-Wards!
How such an odd Story as this came in my Way, I know not; But I will leave it, as I found it: For I am in a Humour to talk of the
Theatres.
THE
Royal Company of Comedians
differs from the
South-Sea-Company,
the
Bank,
and other
Acting Companies,
of this
City,
in this one Point, among more, That It has
Directors,
but no
Governour.
—It is certain, however, that those
Gentlemen,
whom they call their
Managers,
have had all possible Advantage on their Side. The Court-Authority, and Countenance, went with them.—The
Noble,
and the
Ignoble,
join'd in a long, and unreasonable Partiality, to support them,
without Rivals
; in direct Opposition to the Interest of their own Pleasure; which is, undoubtedly, best provided for, when
Rival Theatres
contend, which shall, most deserve Encouragement.—It is worth while, then to examine, how they
lost
this Advantage. And I take the Fact to be thus.
THE good
Old Patentee,
of the
New Theatre
died, under a Length of Oppression; and left his
Right,
and his
House,
to his
Son
; an Unfear'd, and Friendless Youth! of whom it might then have been said, as of
Chamont,
in the
Orphan.
His
Hopes
were
all
his Fortune!
HE
Open'd,
against a Tide of
Prejudice
; and acted many Years, not only, without
Favour,
but almost without
Notice,
at least from the
Fashionable World.
—He try'd every
Reasonable
Art of
Pleasing,
without Success!—He reviv'd the best old
Old Plays,
and brought on several
New Ones!
but had, often the Mortification to oppose his own
Industry,
and the sublimest Scenes of
Shakespear,
to the cold Encouragement of
Empty Boxes!
—What shou'd he do, in this Case?—The Torrent of Opinion was
against him.
Good
Sense,
and solid
Thinking,
were as Useless to him as his
Boxkeepers!
—At last, by a Quickness in his
Natural Wit;
and a Satyrical Sharpness in his
Observation,
He perceiv'd he had nothing to do, if he wou'd have the
Game
play'd into his Hands, but to lay aside his
Judgment,
and abandon Himself to his
Fancy.
IN Pursuance of this lucky
Discovery,
He compos'd a
New Species of Entertainment,
which had an infinite deal of
Sense
in them; but it was only the
Sense
of
Seeing.
—It is scarce possible to conceive the
Ease,
which this Reformation of the Stage gave the Bulk of our
Genteel Audiences
!—They, cou'd, now, laugh out, without Restraint; for they were no longer in Danger of
being Merry, in the wrong Place!
They felt no Weight of
Words,
which had formerly
lain heavy
upon their
Understandings:
And, the Burden of their
Attention
being, so commodiously,
lighten'd,
they
came,
and
saw,
and were
satisfied.
THE old
Managers
were indiscreet enough not only to
envy,
but to
imitate
him.—They made That their
Choice,
which, in their
Rival,
had been
Necessity.
But, attemping it, with inferior Genius, they appear'd so aukward, and ungraceful in it, that they
compell'd
their partial
Admirers to take Notice, That they were excell'd
—And, so taught 'em, from that Time forward, to believe it probable, That, since in
one
Point, they had, so manifestly, the
Disadvantage,
they might, in
Others
too, have been rather
Fortunate,
than so
Deserving,
as they had concluded them.
THUS, the
Young,
and
Oppress'd,
became a a Match for the
Old
and
Prosperous.
—He has continued, ever since to maintain the Ground he won; 'till the Current is, now, turn'd, and dispos'd to
run, in his Favour.
SO far, his
Wit
has carried him. We are to look out for his
Judgment hereafter.
But, for my Part, I am of Opinion, That, when he shall have
toy'd
us into Good Humour enough to forgive him a little
Reason,
he will have Courage and Generosity, to restore the Stage to its Dignity; and exchange our
Juleps
for
Substantial Diets,
as soon as our sick Stomachs shall have recover'd Strength enough to digest it.—There is scarce a surer
Proof,
That a Man has
Worth,
than the Respect, which he shews the
Worthy:
And I was delighted, the other Day, with the Praises, in which I heard it told, at an
Assembly,
That the
OLD BATCHELOR
is, by this Gentleman's Voluntary Offer, to be acted, next
Monday,
at the
Theatre
in
Lincoln's-Inn Fields,
for the Benefit of so Learned a Benefactor to the Stage, as Mr.
DENNIS.
UPON my expressing some Concern, That it was not rather a Play, of Mr.
Dennis
's own Writing, I was inform'd, That the Master of that
Theatre,
who sought all Opportunities of shewing his Esteem of so Excellent, and so Injur'd a Judge of Wit, and Learning, had left the
Choice
of the
Play
to Mr.
Dennis himself;
who had pitch'd upon the above-mention'd, because it was a Work of his old Friend Mr.
Congreve.
—I acknowledg'd the
Generosity
of the Master of the
Theatre,
and the
Modesty
of the
Gentleman,
whom he treats with so well-judg'd a Humanity: But I cou'd not avoid indulging a Fit of talkative
Spleen,
against that
Malice
or
Ignorance,
which has more than once, appear'd in the Discountenance of some Writings, from which the
Name
of Mr.
Dennis,
will, long, continue to receive Honour, after his
Body
shall be Dust and Ashes!
THE Stupidity which follows
Prejudice,
has made Thousands of his Cotemporaries insensible of his Great Merit, which, if they allow'd their Reason to examine it, they wou'd be
charm'd by,
and take a
Pride
to
encourage.
—The Terror with which young Writers have accustom'd themselves to hear, and to talk of, his
Austerity,
and of his Aversion against
Scriblers,
has spread abroad a false Opinion, that he is
Ill-natur'd,
where he is only
impartial:
And, that he is an Enemy to
Wit
and
Learning,
while he is only such to the
Prophaners
of them.
IT is pleasant to observe, to what a whimsical Degree this
Dread
of
Criticks
has been propagated; and how far down, into Low Life, we may trace the Effects of our Poet's mistaken Outcries, who, by giving their
Shepherds
the Name of
Wolves,
have taught the Clowns to set their Dogs upon 'em, and cut off the Defence of their own Fold. Honest Mr.
David Cook,
the ingenious
Bell-Man
of
Pye-Street-Corner,
is, I find, against the Opening of the
New Year,
under terrible Apprehensions, from the Impressions he has been fill'd with of the Dangers, all Good
Works
are expos'd to.
"
Great Sirs!
my Muse has
You,
her Guardians chose,
"Against the
railing Malice
of her
Foes;
"For, she perceives,
these well-meant Lines
must bear
"The
CRITICK's Censures,
who will
Nothing spare!
I WAS visiting, where one of honest Mr.
Cook
's
GREAT SIRS
ask'd him,
Why he was afraid of Criticks?
and was much edified by his Answer—
One Mr.
Pope,
Sir, an ingenious Member, of OUR Fraternity, knows much, of these Matters; and has said it, in Print, That
"
Criticks
proceed, without the least Remorse,
"Seize on our
Fame,
and put their Laws in Force.
THO' I smil'd at the
Turn
of this Reason for the Fears of so safe a Muse as Mr.
Cook
's, yet I can't help wishing, that no great Writer had ever allow'd himself to join the common Cry against Criticks.—If the Poets have
no Art,
they are a Race of Contemptible Triflers! and if they have
Art,
they have
Criticism.
—Whoever is a good
Poet,
is, and must be,
Himself,
a
Critick.
—To be afraid of a
Judge,
is the Mark of a
criminal Conscience.
—But the severe, and manly, Censures, which are peculiar to Mr.
Dennis
's Writings, have encreas'd the Number of his Enemies, by a piercing
Sharpness,
which they carry with them? Such Arguers, if they had liv'd with
Cato,
wou'd have made War upon that
noble Plainness,
which distinguish'd, and supported, his Character: And refus'd the Reverence, due to his
Vertues,
because His
Manners
were not supple enough, to fall in with their Notions of
Politeness.
THE best Way to become acquainted with a Writer is, to look for him in his Writings:—His
Soul,
which is his Noblest
Self,
lives there, and is, there
discovered.
—How often have I remember'd (with Pain, for the Infamy it must, one Day bring us) That the most generous, and extensive Design, that ever was conceived by Man, with Relation to the
Groundwork
of
Criticism,
in
Poetry,
was once, undertaken, by this Gentleman, and a Subscription for it propos'd, upon the most moderate Terms, with so disproportion'd a Success, that after a Year or two's fruitless Application, he publish'd a
Specimen
of his intended Work, with an Apology for not proceeding in it: Because, after so long a Trial, he had been able to procure no more than
Seventy or Eighty Subscribers,
whose
NAMES
he printed, to their Glory! For, they will be read, an Age or two hence, with a Veneration, not unlike That, with which the
Athenians
engrav'd those of the
Three Hundred P
triot Greeks,
who defended the Streight of
Thermopylae,
against the Fury of the
Persian
Army.—So, wou'd those
Noble Few
have defended the Honour of their Country's
Judgment,
against an Inundation, of
Ignorance
and
Presumption.
WHAT will make this Fact more wonder'd at, is,—That it happen'd at a Time, when a boundless Profusion of Encouragement was pour'd out, upon all Pretensions, but Those of
Learning,
and of
Modesty!
—But it will not, I hope, be
believ'd,
That the
Tragedy
of
APPIUS
and
VIRGINIA
was acted, Three or Four Times, and
forgotten,
in spite of those powerful Passions, and strong Pictures of transported Nature, which it every where abounds with: Or, that
Shakespear
's
CORIOLANUS
cou'd be alter'd, by such a Hand as Mr.
Dennis
's, and so strikingly, to its Advantage, and yet brought on, without Success, where
Shakespear
's
RICHARD
THE THIRD,
rack'd, and mutilated, by a barbarous
Player,
ran into Fame, and Applause, and drew Audiences, every Season!
BUT I can never expect Room, in such a Paper as the PLAIN DEALER, to touch the Merits of this Gentleman's Writings, for whose Benefit, as above, the Play of
Monday
next, is to be acted: And, who, now, descending apace into the
Vale
of
Years,
ought to find his Way made smother for him; and lose Sight of these malignant Enmities, which his stronger Days have grappled with. There can be no-body, who is a Friend, either to Learning, or Humanity, and who has his Heart in the right Place, but must feel a generous Delight, in being
present, for His Benefit,
whose whole Life has been taken up, with
Essays, for the Benefit of Others.
—The
Brave
and the
Beautiful,
will agree, in a Resolution, to Shine out, upon this Occasion, where They will be known to
appear in the Cause of Wisdom:
And, where, to be
seen,
is to be
honour'd, Themselves,
for
doing Honour
to
unrewarded Excellence.
The Plain Dealer. No 83.
Numquam adeoque pudendis
Utimur exemplis, ut non pejora supersint.
JUV.
MONDAY,
January
4. 1725.
I HAVE somewhere, met with a Story of one of the ancient Princes, of the
East,
I think, it was ANTIOCHUS.—He was hunting, and lost his Followers; and Night coming on, after a tedious Wandering, over Heaths, and Forests he came at last, to a little Cottage, where the Poor People were at Supper, and entertain'd him, very chearfully, as a Traveller, who had lost his way. The chief Subject of their Discourse, was concerning the
King,
and his
Ministers.
—As for the
King himself,
they accus'd him of
no Vices.
—They spoke of him with much Duty; and agreed, That he
meant well,
and was desirous of his Subject's Happiness: But he was not, they said, so absolutely, the
Monarch
of his
Ministers,
as of his People: Submitting his own Sense of Affairs, and the Authority of his Determinations, to Men of less Vertue, and Understanding, than Himself; and giving Way to Ease, and Indolence, while he devol'd the Power of his Office, on Wretches, whose Hearts were too narrow, and their Passions too violent, to deserve any Government at all; much less That of a
Kingdom
!
THE King said little to all This; but laid it up, for his Use, and Benefit: And, in the Morning, when his Guards, and the Great Men, of his Court, having follow'd the Track of his Horse, were come to him, at the Cottage, he receiv'd them with this Declaration.—
You are mistaken, if you suppose, I have been, all Night, out of my Way.—I have sat in Counsel, with an Assembly of the only Honest, and faithful Advisers, I met with, since I became your Sovereign. Nor did I ever hear a Word, of the True Condition of my Affairs before I learnt it, in this Cottage.
THE Condition of a Nation, where
Minions
have their Prince in
Pupilage,
is so vastly the
Reverse
of
Ours,
That a Discourse, on such a Subject must be forc'd to draw
Examples,
either from the Histories of Foreign Countries, or from our own, remov'd, far backward.—But, as the Blessing of a perfect
Health
is never better understood, and valued, than while he who is so happy as to enjoy it, employs himself in reading the
Symptoms,
of some dangerous, and dreadful
Disease,
so the Comfort, which we,
Free
Britons
must receive, from a Comparison, of our
own Happiness,
with the
Misery of Others,
is an Argument, which convinces me, that no Theme deserves, more justly, the Consideration of a PLAIN DEALER.
I WILL venture to lay it down, as a
Maxim,
That, where the Soul of a
Minister
is not
Great
enough, to
overlook,
and forgive, and to drown all
Personal Regards,
in the Ocean of his
Publick Cares,
let his other
Vertues,
and good
Qualities,
be never so numerous, and so shining, he will confound his Prince's Interest, with his own private Resentments. Instead of
healing
Divisions, he will
inflame
them; and, by a Thousand passionate
Extravagancies,
draw upon himself a Universal
Hatred
; and upon his Sovereign, a
Contempt,
that is the most dangerous of all Motives to Sedition; and, what wise Princes have been careful to guard themselves against, by a
Spirit,
and
Activity,
which, even where they have not been
lov'd,
serv'd, at least, to make them
fear'd
; which is the
next
sure Anchor of
Obedience.
THE Best of Princes have had their
Favourites:
But, it is the easiest Thing in the World to distinguish the MINION from the MINISTER. The MINISTER is his Prince's Instrument; The MINION makes an Instrument of his Prince—Under a MINISTER, the common Themes, of all publick Conversation, are his Great Designs, for the Ornament, or the Interest of the Kingdom— Benevolence, Mercy, Wisdom,
Generosity,
and
Magnificence,
flow down upon the People, in a Current of new Laws, and Benefits.—On the contrary, under a MINION, nothing is talk'd of, but his Subtlety, his Malice, and his Avarice!—Little Weathercock
Artifices,
and temporary
Shifts,
and
Expedients,
stand in Place of a steady Policy, and a manly Course of
Equanimity.—Oppression, Pride, Suspicion, Faction, Bitterness,
and
Partiality,
are the Products of his Influence: And the
Law,
which shou'd be the Measure of his Rule, is the Nose of Wax, to his Ambition!—The MINISTER takes Delight to inquire out Men of
Learning,
or of
Vertue,
that his
Bounty
may raise them high enough to shine, like Stars, upon his Administration!—The MINION hates
Discernment,
because he knows himself unfit to be look'd into; and, therefore, appropriates Rewards, and Preferments, to the
Mercenary,
and the
Ignorant.
—In short, the MINISTER is
wise
; But the MINION is only
cunning.
IT is finely observ'd by
Aristotle,
in his Discourse concerning
Government,
"That
Monarchy,
when its Power is wisely divided, among
distinct Counsels,
none encroaching on the other's Boundaries, draws into it self all Advantages, which are attainable by any of the
Common-Wealth Systems:
But, is in nothing so weak, and unstable, as in the Folly of partial Kings, who, ruling by their
Passion,
instead of their
Reason,
remove Truth out of their hearing, and submit their Will to the Guidance of some
one, sole, Director
; neither examining Things,
Themselves,
nor allowing
Others
to examine them.
SUCH a
Political Monster
of a MINION, we read of, in the
Annals
of
France,
"In the Year Nine Hundred and Nineteen, (says the Author, in his Second Book)
Charles
liv'd, as it were, alone, in
Soissons
; despis'd, and forsaken, by his
Peers,
on Account of one
HAGANON,
of
Laon
; a Man, of
vulgar Extraction;
but who was, solely, trusted with the
King's Secrets;
and without whose Concurrence, no Matter of Importance, cou'd be done, either in the Court, or in the Kingdom. But the Credit of this
New Upstart
was the Cause of the King's Ruin; for the Great Men resolv'd, at last, no longer to endure, that such a base Scoundrel shou'd be exalted, over the Heads of the whole
Nobility.
HAGI-JUSOUF,
a Governor of
Arabia,
under the Reign of
Caliph Abdulmelec,
met with a Stroke of unexpected
Satyre,
which gives a lively Representation of the General
Odium,
these busie MINIONS are always destin'd to live under.—He was hated for his Cruelty, and Exactions; but carried, nevertheless, an
Outside
of Charity and Religion. He met a
Dervis,
one Day, in the Street; and, having stop't, to give him Alms, recommended himself to his
Prayers.
—The
Dervis,
lifting up his Eyes, to Heaven, cry'd out, with a loud Voice,
Take him from us, O Great God! Take him from us, I beseech Thee!—Hagi-Jusouf
was not satisfied with the Turn of this Prayer; and began to murmur at the
Dervis:
But the
Holy Plain Dealer
replied, with great Earnestness and Humility,—
It is good for you, and for All the
Mussulmans.
THE Truth is, there is an unavoidable Necessity, that Princes shou'd be assisted by such Subjects as they think fit to Favour: But it is happy, where the Master has
Spirit,
and the Servant
Moderation:
For, in that Case, the Mischief will be either prevented, or corrected, before its Progress is become considerable.—Opinion, and the Obstinancy of Reasoning, have made a mighty Noise in the World, concerning the Differences between
Arbitrary
and
Limited
Government: But, in the Nature of Things, there is neither
Absolute Power
nor
Freedom
; taking them in their full Sense.—Every
Whale
has its
little leading Fish,
and follows it, with a Kind of unweildy Obsequiousness! This, in the
Sea,
has been thought a Wonder, but few Things, on
Land,
are more usual, and familiar.—The most terrible, of the
State Leviathans,
have been manag'd, and led along, by a
Wife,
a
Mistress,
a
Favourite,
or some other such
dimunitive Pilot
: So that in an unlimited Signification, there is no such Thing as
Monarchy.
THE
Grand Signior
it is true, can cause any of his Subjects to be
Strangled,
without assigning other Reasons for it, than his
Imperial Will, and Pleasure.
But, how seldom is this done, at his
own mere Motion
; and how often, at that of his
Vizier
's, and tyrannick
Minions?—I my self,
(says a Writer of the last Age)
have known some Sovereigns, so far Strangers to what was convenient, that they wou'd scarce grant, or deny, any Thing, out of the Presence of their
Secretary.
THERE is but one
Consolation,
which can give Men Patience, while they are
suffering,
under the Insolence of such Upstart Tyrants: And that is, their reasonable Hope, that they shall live to see the
Punishment,
when the
Guilt
is ripe enough for Vengeance—It is long, before a Prince can break out of the obscuring Mist, which an Evil Counsellor will conjure up, and involve him in—But, when by Accident, or Reflection, he comes, at length, to clear his Eye-sight, and see Things, in their proper Colours, the
Minion,
then first, becomes a
Benefit
to the People he has injur'd; for he leaves them a Protection, in the Example of his Fall, which may guard them, in Times to come, against the Malice of a New Oppressor.
THE last Emperor of
China,
was one of the greatest Monarchs, of his Age, and for nothing more celebrated, than the Vigour, and Strictness, of his
Justice:
But he was warm, in his Pursuits of
Pleasure,
and impatient of Interruption, when his Mind was intent upon it.—The
Viceroy
of one of the Provinces, of that vast Empire that lay most remote from the Imperial City, had wrongfully confiscated the Estate of an honest Merchant, and reduc'd his Family to the extremest Misery.—The poor Man found means to travel as far as to the Emperor's Court, and carried back with him a Letter to the
Viceroy,
commanding him to
restore
the Goods, which he had taken, so illegally.
FAR from obeying this Command, the
Viceroy
put the Merchant in Prison; but he had the good Fortune to escape, and went, once more, to the
Capital,
where he cast himself at the Emperor's Feet, who treated him with much Humanity, and gave Orders, that he should have
another Letter.
The Merchant wept, at this Resolution, and represented how ineffectual the First had prov'd; and the Reasons he had to fear, that the Second wou'd be as little regarded.
THE Emperor, who had been stopt, by this Complaint, as he was going, with much Haste, to Dine in the Apartment of a Favourite Lady, grew a little discompos'd, and answer'd, with some Emotion—
I can do no more than send my Commands: And, if he
refuses to obey them, put thy Foot upon his Neck.
—I implore your Majesty's Compassion, reply'd the Merchant, holding fast the Emperor's Robe, his
Power
is too mighty for my
Weakness:
And your
Justice
prescribes a Remedy, which your
Wisdom
has never examin'd.
THE Emperor had, by this Time, recollected himself; and raising the Merchant from the Ground, said,
You are in the Right—To complain of him was your Part, but it is mine to see him punish'd.—I will appoint Commissioners, to go back with you, and make search into the Grounds of his Proceeding; with Power, if they find him guilty, to deliver him into your Hands, and leave
you Viceroy,
in his stead.—For, Since you have
taught me how to Govern,
You
must
be able to
Govern for me.
The Plain Dealer. No 84.
Curae leves loquuntur—
SENEC. HIP.
FRIDAY,
January
8. 1725.
MANY Writers, besides the Author of my
Motto,
have observ'd, That the
Lightest Griefs speak loudest!
And, it is doubtful, whether there wou'd arise most Occasion for
Mirth,
or
Pity,
cou'd we see, at one View, the numberless Variety of little Accidents, which are magnified into
Miseries,
by the Impatience, with which we kindle ourselves, upon every unwelcome
Trifle,
that runs counter to our Wish, or Humour; or squares not exactly with our
Interest.
IF People cou'd divest themselves of the Prejudices of
Self-Love,
half the Vexations, which imbitter Life, and rob Good-Fortune of its Tranquility, wou'd be found to owe their Existence either to our
Pride,
or our
Avarice.
But I am afraid, I shall touch this Subject, with very little Effect; because I have a Thousand Times, observed, That there is a
healing Quality
in
Vanity,
which cures the Wounds of good Counsel. Lady
Low-taste
finds
SENECA so dull,
where he lays open a
sordid Heart,
and
shames
it, by a Comparison with the noble Loveliness of
Generosity,
That she can neither
relish,
nor
support
him, but falls
asleep,
over his Philosophy, as the readiest Way to be even with him!—Yet, who so lively in her Attention, and so transported an Admirer of
this very Seneca,
where he happens to speak
kindly,
of any Vertue, she is conscious of, in
herself
; or
severely,
of of any Vice, which she can charge upon Her
Acquaintance!
—There are
Two Ends
to the Glass, thro' which we look into ourselves, and others. One
contracts
Objects; and one
enlarges
them: And, it is the pleasantest Observation in the World, to remark, how kindly
Nature
has instructed the silliest, and blindest, of both Sexes, to apply either End of this
Perspective,
so as to answer their particular Purpose, with as much Readiness, and Sagacity, as if their
Wit,
were no less than it
shou'd
be.
I AM overwhelm'd with Letters of Complaint, against
Fate, Ill-Luck, Blind Fortune,
and the whole Train of
malevolent Chimera's,
under whose Shadow it is usual to hide the Effects of our own Miscarriages.—
Arietta,
a brown Coquette, in her Five and Fortieth Year of Fluttering, has fill'd Three Pages of an angry
Epistle, Falsehood, Traitor,
and
Inconstancy,
against a Cousin of
Ned Volatile
's, who lov'd her Four Months, and a Week, and then visited her no more, upon a private
Intelligence
from
Mrs. Lucy,
that his Name was down, in her
Lady's List,
as the Nine and Fiftieth, of her
absolute Conquests!
WHAT shall we say to these insupportable Misfortunes? They must be submitted to, with as much Resignation as the Nature of them will bear: And, for what remains, I can do no more than provide a little Comfort for such
afflicted Vertue,
by a Proof, That there are Others, almost equally
wretched!
—If, therefore,
Arietta
will let me know what Part of the Town she shines in, I will wait on her, the Day after, and
apply
a
Letter
to her wounded Heart, which I receiv'd from a Druggist's Wife, in the City, who had
Threescore Tickets, in the last Lottery,
and was so
strangely Unfortunate,
that she clear'd but about
Two Hundred Pound,
over and above her whole Adventure, tho' an
ordinary Creature,
over-against her, that had but Three Tickets, in the Wheel, cou'd have Two of 'em come out
such Prizes,
that she sets up,
truly,
for a
Fortune!
THE following Letter, I am afraid, must be number'd amonst the
Curae leves
; tho' there is an Air of Concern, and Sincerity, in it, which perswades me, That the Author is, in good Earnest, at a Loss, how he shou'd act, in the Business he writes about.
Fleet-street,
Decem.
16. 1724.
Dear SIR,
I CONTRACTED a strict Friendship, with a Gentleman: And we liv'd together for some Time; during which he fell in Love with a Young Lady, between whose
Body,
and
Mind,
there seems to be a perpetual War, which of the Two, shall appear
most beautiful!
—But she was
promis'd,
by her Relations, to one, whose
Fortune
is much Superior to my Friends.—Yet, he had frequent Opportunity of
Discovering
his
Passion,
but wanted Courage to
declare,
what he, as much wanted Power to
conceal,
and, so, was forc'd, in Search of
Rest,
to retire into the Country.
BUT Absence, instead of lessening, inflam'd, and rivetted, his Anguish.—He return'd to me, in great Disorder; and delivering a Letter into my Hands, press'd me, with the most moving Words, and Gestures, to convey it, privately, to the Lady's.
NOW, Sir, you must not start, when I ask you this Question,—
Whether I ought to deliver it?
The Difficulty lies here—I know, her Relations have a particular Aversion to this Gentleman.—And they are Persons, to whom I owe a Thousand Benefits, and Obligations.—My
Friendship
is dear to my
Soul,
—and my
Gratitude
is due to my
Honour.
I wou'd not
appear to betray
Those who have so strong a Claim to my
Sincerity.
—On the other hand, I was tender of shocking the Delicacy, and Refinement, of a Passion, so sacred as our
Friendship.
Love is rash, and distrustful; takes Alarm at every Trifle; and judges hastily, and without Reason. He wou'd conclude, if I
refus'd him,
That his Peace, and Interest, are of no Weight with me.—Wou'd he had thought of
another Means
of conveying his Letter to the Lady!—But, now, shou'd I advise him to it, it wou'd look like Coldness in his Cause; and his Imagination wou'd take Fire, with so many false Apprehensions, That he cou'd never preserve
Temper,
to consider, That he has push'd me, where there is no Necessity for it, on the surest Step by which I can incur the Hatred, and the Reproaches, of a Family, to which I am indebted, for almost every Thing, that Fortune favours me in!
IN this Struggle, between the Duties of
Friendship,
and of
Gratitude,
I can come to no Resolution. I have Friends enough, on whose Advice, in other Things, I set a very considerable Value: But, there is no Opinion, I wou'd follow so soon, in a Point of this
Niceness,
as that of the PLAIN-DEALER. It is the first Request I have ever made to you; and, I hope, you will not refuse your Answer.—When I tell him whose Determination I act by, I am sure, it will satisfie him: And, if you
deny
me, the Prejudice may be Infinite.—Let me have but a single
Paragraph,
to direct me: Or, if that be too much, give me a
Yes,
or a
No,
at the Bottom of One of your
Papers
; and it shall be enough, for one of your sincerest Admirers,
B— B—.
'METHINKS the Difficulty, in this Case, is not so great, as the
lively Painting
which describes it, makes it appear, upon a first View.—Since the Lover is so worthy of the Lady, (if he had no other Means of reaching, or being recommended to her, but thro' the Hands of
This Friend
) my Correspondent, without all Doubt, wou'd have stood bound to deliver the Letter; and try the utmost of his Influence, to render it successful: And the rather, because
Interest
only, and not
Merit,
seems to have recommended the
Rival.
—But, since it is so easy to find other Means, as effectual; and the Favours, receiv'd by my Correspondent, from the Lady's Family, are strong Motives against his Friend's employing him, where there is no visible Necessity, that confines the Choice to
him only,
he appears, to me, a little
mistaken,
when he strips
Friendship
of that generous
Freedom,
without which, it can never subsist; and punishes himself with such inward Conflicts, in Support of a
Delicacy
;; which, tho' it
beautifies
the
Face
of
Friendship,
is rather the
Dress,
than the
Body,
of it.
OF all human Passions, this, of
Friendship,
is the most refin'd, and I might, almost, say too, the most
ardent.
But I wou'd be understood to speak of the
Thing:
For the
Word
is much more common, and less powerful.—Most People, when they say
Friend,
mean
Companion,
or
Acquaintance.
But, alas! what infinite Difference!—How Few can distinguish between
Friendship,
(which is a Parity of Souls) and
Affection,
which is a Claim of Blood; or a Tye of mutual Interests; or an Agreement, of Hopes, or Fears, or Principles, or Humours; or any of these mistaken
Fellowships,
which are
Parts
of
Friendship,
but
not Friendship.
I SAID, it was the most
refin'd,
of all our Passions: And it is
so,
from its Dis-interestedness, its Nobleness, and its Exemption from all
Earthly
Motives. It is a
strugling
of the conscious
Soul,
to enlarge her
Limits,
in the
Body,
and exert herself, in generous
Sallies,
into the
Purlieus
of
Immortality
!—It is, indeed, a
Desire
; but, it is such a Desire, as the
Angels
burn with!—It is an Exaltation of the
Human
Nature, by a powerful Mixture of the
Divine:
And serves to give us an Ideal Foretaste of our
Business,
when we shall have outsail'd
Time,
and launch'd into
Eternity!
I had a Friend,
says our immortal
Dryden,
in some, or other, of his Tragedies;—I forget the particular
Place,
but must, always, remember the Beautiful Description!
I had a
Friend,
that
lov'd
me:—
I was his
Soul:
He
liv'd
not, but in
me
:
We were so
lost,
within each other's Breast,
That
neither
found himself, but in the
other.
We
mix'd,
like
meeting Streams,
that flow, together!
All
knew
us different, yet perceiv'd us
one;
Nor cou'd
again divide
us!
BUT I am entering on a Subject, which shou'd I do more, than barely
touch
it, wou'd carry me away with it, into a Length, in which I might
lose my self,
and my Reader: And the best Way I can find, to prevent it, will be to put an End to this
Day's Paper,
with two Excellent
Stanza's,
from
Spencer,
which are very strong, and elegant, upon the Subject.
Hard is the Doubt, and Difficult, to
deem,
When All Three Kinds of
Love,
at once, contend,
And cleave the labouring Heart, with wild Extream,
Which,
with
most Power,
the stubborn
Will
can bend!
Or
dear
Affection,
which from
BLOOD
descends?
Or
raging Fire of
LOVE,
to
Womankind?
Or
that sweet
Tye of Souls,
that fastens
FRIENDS?
Yet,
sure!
the Knot, that joins the
fellow'd Mind,
Shou'd the associate Heart, with strictest Ʋ nion, bind!
The
Love
of
Kindred
soon will feel Decay,
And shrink, or melt, in
CUPID
's scorching Flame:
But firmer
Friendship
bears its
fiercest Ray,
And,
bright'ning,
in the
Proof,
its Rage can tame:
Inviting
Trial,
and despising Blame,
For, as the
Soul
inspires our moving Clay,
And gives the
Body
every Act, and Aim,
So, the
Soul's LOVE
does Love of
Bodies
pass,
Far, as the
ripen'd Gold
surmounts the
cank'ry Brass
!
The Plain Dealer. No 85.
Gratum est quod patriae Civem, populoque dedisti,
Si facis ut Patriae sit idoneus, utilis agris,
Utilis, & bellorum & pacis rebus agendis.
JUV.
MONDAY,
January
11. 1725.
To the
AUTHOR
of the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
HAVING lately met with an Opportunity of looking back, upon a Compleat
SETT
of your PLAIN DEALERS, the last Paragraph, in your
Paper
of
Monday,
the 9th of
November,
puts me upon asking, Whether it would not be worth while, to bestow an
Essay
to shew the
Honour,
as well as the
Profit
of
TRADE
; in order to remove that mistaken Motion, which possesses the Minds of the
Indolent,
and
Unthinking,
Part of our Nobility and Gentry,
That by engaging in TRADE they degrade themselves?
YOU will easily prove the
contrary,
since not only our
Credit
at Home, but our
Power
Abroad, is supported by it. Besides which, the Education, necessary to qualify a Man for a compleat
Trader,
is such, as becomes a Gentleman of the first Rank. For he should be a Proficient in
Languages, History, Geography,
and
Mathematicks:
And, in order to be Master of the Improvements, which may be made, in every Soil, and Climate, he should know something of
Natural Philosophy.
—He ought to be acquainted with the
Policy
and
Government,
of all Nations: And, though he does not immediately concern himself in the Management of
State Affairs,
yet he should be
qualified
for a
PRIME MINISTER.
OUR Youth of
Title
and
Gaiety,
are generally taken with the Character of a
SOLDIER
; and it must be allowed, a
Noble Employment,
—Especially, when assumed in the Defence of our Country. But then, it may be remembred, That the Art of
War,
was introduced thro' the
Corruption
of Mankind, and is always attended with
Ruin
and
Desolation.
OTHERS, who would appear more polite than their Neighbours, breed up their Sons to practice the
LAW,
—but I am sorry to say, that
This,
considered as a
Profession,
is is attended with Consequencs, as Fatal to Families, as
That
is to Nations.—For, though our
Seats
of
Justice
are filled with Men, from whom we may expect All, that is equal and just; yet by the
Turns,
and
Managements,
of the inferiour Practicers in those Courts, our Approach to Them, is made so
Intricate
and
Expensive,
that they who are obliged to sue for their own Right, in the common Forms, are frequently
undone,
even though they obtain the
Verdict,
in their
Favour.
THUS the Properties of the People are render'd precarious, and many Difficulties are put upon them, in their Pursuit of
Justice,
by those, who pervert the true
Intention
of the
Law
; and make That a dark
Mystery,
which being the Rule of every Man's Actions,
should lie open, and plain to his Understanding.
AND, here, I cannot help mentioning a Thing, which, though it seems but a Trifle, much be allowed to look like a very unreasonable Hardship.—The Manner of making out, and serving a
Subpoena
in
Chancery!
—This is a small Slip of Parchment, roll'd up, in a Lump of Wax, and may chance to be serv'd, in the Country, upon a Person, who can hardly read the plainest
English:
—When it comes to his Hands, perhaps, at first, he is
affraid to break it open
; but, if he proves
hardy
enough to do that, he is not one Jot the wiser; for it is wrote in
Barbarous Latin,
with odd unintelligble,
Abbreviations
; and, in a Hand, more resembling a Set of
Hieroglyphicks,
than the Letters of a
Christian Alphabet.
THE poor Man, thinking no Harm, lays it by, till his Convenience serves him, to get it
explained,
by the first
Great Scholar
he happens to meet with. But, in the mean Time, upon this Delay, out comes an
Attachment,
and so on, to a
Writ
of
Rebellion
; for no other Reason than that a Man who was bred to understand nothing but
Husbandry,
could not decypher a Summons, served upon him, in a
Language
he never heard of, and a
Character,
which the Parson of the Parish, might himself, have been equally puzzled by!
THERE are many other Proceedings in the
Law,
of a like Nature, which if truly considered, have methinks, but an
odd
Appearance, in a Country of so much
boasted Liberty.
—But if, while we censure, what seems thus unreasonable, in the Method of some of our
Law-Practices,
it should be alledged, That, Notwithstanding all this, it has produced many Great, and Useful Men,
I allow it,
—only it may be worth considering, Whether we have not more Reason to be
ashamed we stand in need of them,
than to boast that we
have them.
And I will ask this plain Question, If that would not be esteemed a
happier Climate,
where there is no Need of
Physicians,
than where the Uncertainty, or Unwholesomeness of the Air has encourag'd so many of them to settle, that you are sure of finding a Good One in every Street?
I BEG Pardon for this Digression; but I was led into it by mentioning the
Law
as a
Profession,
compared with that of the
Merchant,
in order to engage your more able Pen to show, at large, how much
One
is preferrable to the
other
; as well with respect to the
Honour,
as the
Usefulness,
that attends it—since All, who raise their Fortunes meerly by the Practice of the
Law,
or the Success of the
Sword,
must necessarily do it upon the
Ruin
of
Families
and
Nations:
Whereas the Generous
TRADER,
while he enriches
himself,
is spreading Benefits to all about him: From whence we may infer, That
This
is the Employment, most agreeable to the
Original Design
of our
Beings,
which was, not to
destroy,
but to
comfort,
and
cherish
each other.
MOSES
was a great
Lawgiver,
and
David
was a
Warriour:
But
SOLOMON,
whom GOD was pleased to honour, with still sublimer Marks of his Favour, and to whom He gave the
wisest,
and most
Understanding Heart;—So that there was none like him, BEFORE, neither should Any rise, AFTER, like unto him.
This
Solomon,
the Greatest King, the Chosen People of GOD ever had! was a
MERCHANT
; and sent Fleets, by way of the
Red Sea,
to bring home
Gold,
from the
East Indies:
And what
Noble Monuments
did this Prince leave behind him of his
Wisdom
and his
Grandeur:
BUT we have a living Example in the
CZAR,
a Prince, who has done more for the Advantage of his Country, and his own Glory, by encouraing
Arts
and
Sciences,
and improving every Branch of
Trade,
in his Dominions, than by all the
Battles
he has ever fought.—In fine,
who
has not observ'd, That
our own most Gracious
SOVEREIGN, at the opening this present Session of
Parliament,
recommended from the Throne,
the Encouragement
of
TRADE,
and
NAVIGATION, as the great Means, to Support, and Establish us.
IF you think any of these Hints can be of Service to the Publick, you may use them as you please.
I am, SIR, Your very humble Servant,
PATRICIUS.
Jan.
5
th
1725.
I AM perfectly in the Sentiments of the Ingenious Gentleman, who sent me the foregoing Letter;—But, the Subject which he has recommended, can never hope to succeed better, than under the Care of so able a Hand, as his own: And, for that Reason, I am very desirous of the Continuance of his Correspondence.
THE Opinion, That
Merchandizing debases Blood,
is a Folly, worthy only of the
Tribe,
to whom this Gentleman imputes it.—It is a Truth, too well known, that the INDOLENT and UNTHINKING,
Part,
of our
Nobility
and
Gentry,
is a very
large
Part of them: But (Heaven be prais'd!) not at all a
considerable One.
—They are a Race of
pleasant Creatures,
who had the Honour to be born, for their
own Ease
; but for the
Entertainment
of other People.—They put me in mind of the Innkeeper in the STRATAGEM, who was able
at present,
to produce none of the
Good Things,
his Guests wanted, but had the Satisfaction of, remembring that he could have furnish'd 'em, All,
if they had din'd with him, last SUNDAY:—No Matter how pur-blind
a Man of
Quality
happens to be, since he had a
Great Grandfather,
that was
sharp sighted!
He may
be, a Fool too,
(HIMSELF)—but it ought to be
Scandalum Magnatum
to laugh at him.—For he has
Proofs,
in the
Herald's Office,
That his FOREFATHERS cou'd
act wisely.
WE have the Comfort, however, to know, that
All
our
Lords,
are not LORDS OF TRADE: If they
were,
my Correspondent's Excellent Notions might be urg'd, with an Effect, but ill-proportion'd to their Value; and fall under the
Noble Eye
of not a Few able Ministers, of the same Stamp with a famous One, in a late Reign, who, when a certain Knight, a Great Trader, presented him with a
Scheme
for the Improvement of Commerce,
threw it back to him, with a
wise Contempt,
and ask'd him,
Whether he thought, that Men of HIS QUALITY, had nothing to do but to read Papers!
TO the just, and lively, Observation,
That a Merchant ought to be qualify'd for a Minister of State,
I will add this Wish, of my own,—That we may, never have a
Minister of State,
who is not
qualified for a Merchant!
—Not
Trade
alone, but
Politicks,
would soon feel the Benefit of so
new
a Regulation.—Yet, there is a Happiness,
still greater
; and it is the
Last,
the
warmest, Hope,
of those, to whose successful Industry we owe our
Commerce!—That the Way might always lie open, to the Ear of our Princes Themselves,
without passing the
narrow Posterns,
which
Truth
is often oblig'd to
wait at,
'till it has wearied it self, to no Purpose.
THE First remarkable
Start,
in the Enlargement of the
English Traffick,
was made in the Reign of our High-spirited
Queen Elizabeth:
And to what Kind of Measures it was owing, may, I presume, be gather'd, without much Difficulty, from the following little Story, which I have taken out of Sir
Walter Raleigh
's Discourse, concerning the
Prerogative of Parliaments.
QUEEN
Elizabeth
would set the
Reason
of her
meanest Subject,
against the
Authority
of her
greatest Councellor.
By her Patience, herein, she raised the ordinary
Customs
of
London,
above
Fifty thousand Pounds a Year,
without any new Imposition.—The Lord Treasurer
Burleigh,
the Earl of
Leicester,
and Secretary
Walsingham
(All
Three PENSIONERS
to Customer
Smith)
join'd, to set themselves against a poor
Waiter
of the Custom-House, call'd
Carwarden
; and commanded the Grooms of the Chamber not to give him Admission.—But the Queen, sent for him, on a Petition, which he deliver'd, into her Hands, and gave him Countenance
against them all.
—It would not serve the Turn
with Her,
to be told by her Great Officers, that she
disgrac'd Them,
by allowing her Ear to the Complaints of
busie Heads
; and that she dishonour'd Her
own Dignity.
—She had always This, to answer—
That, If Men shou'd complain, unjustly, against her Ministers, she knew well enough, how to punish them—But, if they had Reason for the Complaints they offer'd Her, She was Queen of the SMALL, as well as of the GREAT; and would not suffer Herself to be BESIEG'D, by Servants, who cou'd have no Motive for wishing it, but their Interest in the Oppression of others
The Plain Dealer. No 86.
Audit iter numeratque dies spatioque viarum
Metitur vitam.—
CLAUD.
FRIDAY,
January
15. 1725.
I THINK, I have already inform'd my READERS, That I am a great Lover of
Walking:
But I don't know whether I have, yet, acquainted them with a Custom I have, to
look back,
from every Rising Ground I meet with, in my Perambulations, and examine the Change of Prospect; and the Face, and Scituation, of the Country, I have left behind me.
I HAVE transplanted this good Custom, from my
Body,
into my
Mind
; which I have, for some Years past, inur'd to make
Pauses,
now and then, in
Life
; and reckon over its
past Stages,
and the Uses I have adapted them to: And This I sometimes do, after a
General,
and, at other Times, in a more
particular,
Manner.—The
Distinction
of
Ages,
by
Solon,
into Divisions, of
Seven Years,
is an Example of the
First
Kind; and has something in it, that is just, and natural; and uncommon enough to be worth translating.
The
Seven
first Years of Life, (Man's Break of Day)
Gleams of short Sense a
Dawn
of
Thought
display.
When
Fourteen
Springs have bloom'd his downy Cheek,
His soft, and blushful,
Meanings,
learn to
speak.
From
Twenty One,
proud Manhood takes its Date;
Yet is not Strength compleat, till
Twenty Eight.
Thence, to his
Five and Thirtieth,
Life's
gay Fire
Sparkles, burns loud, and flames, in
fierce Desire.
At
Forty Two,
his Eyes grave
Wisdom
wear;
And the
dark Future
dims him o'er with
Care.
On, to the
Nine and Fortieth,
Toils increase;
And busy
Hopes,
and
Fears,
disturb his
Peace,
At
Fifty Six,
cool Reason reigns, intire,
Then, Life burns
steady,
and with
temp'rate Fire,
But
Sixty Three
unbinds the Body's Strength;
E're the unwearied
Mind
has run her Length.
And, when, from
Sev'enty
Age
surveys her Last,
Tir'd, she stops sho t—and wishes,
All were past.
OF the
second,
and more
particular
Kind, I have met with no livelier Example, than That of the illustrious
Paulo Paruta,
a
Noble Venetian
; who was sent Ambassador, from his
Republick,
to
Pope Clement the Eighth
; and compos'd the following
Soliloquy,
during his Residence at
Rome
; wherein he briefly Examines the whole Course of his past Life.
WHERE am I? What am I doing? What am I designing?—I am hastening already to the
End
of my
Life
; and have hardly so much as thought upon the
End
of my
Being!
—I am transported with That which I am not sure to possess,
a Day
; and neglect to acquaint myself with what I must carry with me,
thro' Eternity!—Age
has, naturally, a Power to afflict, and mortifie, the
Body:
Let it now exert a
nobler Influence,
and
exalt,
and
quicken,
my
Spirit!
—Summon, O my Soul, thy stray'd, and degenerate, Thoughts; Know the Dignity of thy Condition; and let nothing proceed from Thee, but what may, truly, be worthy of Thee.
I FEAR, if I make a Scrutiny into the Conduct of my Life, I shall disgrace my blushing
Reason,
by a Recollection of my
Vanity.
—The Tenderness of my
Infant Years
was too weak to afford Matter, that cou'd merit my
Age's
Notice; and yet, the
Tears,
methinks, which it was subject to, might have forewarned me, That I was ent'ring upon a
Wilderness,
of
Misery!
IN the
Boyish
Years, which succeeded
Childhood,
I drew in Pleasure, at my Eyes, and Ears; and gave my Soul a
Tincture
that prepared it for the Impressions of future Levity.—
Riches, Honour,
and
worldly Greatness,
glitter'd on me, from a lovely
Distance:
And
Retirement,
when I heard it talk'd of, seem'd
Stupidity
or
Madness.
—These Conceptions gather'd Strength, as I advanced into riper Life, from the
Common Consent,
of all Men, to practise, and to praise, as I did: And
That most
among Those, who were reputed
wisest,
and
most happy.
AT my Entrance into
Youth,
I applied myself to
Study.
—I delighted, chiefly, in
Rhetorick,
and
Philosophy
; and, having the good Fortune to meet with Excellent Masters, I made a swift, and unusual Progress.—Yet I cannot help confessing, That it added Fuel to my native Pride. It inflam'd me with a
Thirst
of
Praise
; and serv'd to countenance that
Self-Love,
which stood in need of no
Incentive.
—Knowledge is apt to
puff up
its Possessors.—I dare not say, I possess'd it: But, if I should be ask'd,
What Fruit, I reap'd, by my Studies?
I think, I might venture to answer,
That Philosophy, if it did not
teach
me
TRUTH,
awaken'd, and prepar'd me, to receive it.
FOR a while, I was very Earnest in the Study of
Morality
; and delighted in it so much, that I publish'd a Treatise, on that Subject: And, afterwards, when I was come to Man's Estate, I compos'd, in Obedience to my Father's particular Command, an Elaborate
History, of my Country.
—But, while I labour'd to contribute toward the Glory of other Men, I pleas'd myself with a flattering Prospect, That I too, by those my Labours, should have a Place, in the Temple I was building; and, live, in my
Fame,
many Ages after my
Death.
Absurd Extravagance of
erring Vanity!
—As if, what is
nothing,
in
Itself,
could gather an
Existence,
from the Opinions of Others!
NEXT, I gave myself wholly up to the Service, and
Government
of my Country; and found my Way so plain, and easy, that I soon attain'd Great Honours, and helped to fill the
foremost Employments.
—But, alas! What
Boast
is
This?
—Am I not sensible, that not only the most
busy,
but even the most
pleasing,
of my present Thoughts, will vanish, like a silent Shadow?—All these Dignities, and Distinctions, these
State Bustles,
and
Negotiations,
with which my Mind is, so
gloriously incumber'd,
will dissolve,
like Smoak into the Wind!
or be wither'd, like
Flowers,
by the Beams of that
Sun,
which cherish'd them!—Yet, unstable as these
Phantasms
are, and as I
know
them to be, I must meditate on
Them only.
My Thoughts, however reluctant, must, at all Times, and in all Places, give way to the imaginary Importance of these proud
Chimera's
; and abandon the Contemplation of Things
intrinsically Noble.
ALAS! how hard it is to serve
Two Masters,
of opposite Meanings! my
Reason,
and my
Pride,
seem to have divided me, between them.—
Pride
teaches me to measure my Actions, with Regard only to
outward Appearances,
by which Men rather
seem
happy, than
are
so.—But
Reason
is always whispering me, that
Patience, Humility, Mediocrity,
and
Self-denial,
are the Roads, which lead to
Felicity.
—As I approached to
Old Age,
I grew, more and more, sensible on which of these Two Sides
Truth
lay: But I persisted, even against Conviction, and sacrific'd my
Peace,
and
Rest,
to
Careful Power,
and
Splendid Misery.
WHAT, then, do I
wish?
—What is it, that I am
expecting?
—If I know, that my Pursuits are
Follies,
what hinders but that I
change
them?—If, after having wasted the Vigour of my Life, without Advantage from such Applications, I am less satisfied than when I
began
to
live,
Am I weak enough to hope, That, while,
I, myself, do not change, the very Nature of Things shou'd alter?
Shall
Disappointment
turn to
Delight,
because I am fondly
in Love with Pleasure?
—Or shall a World, that produces nothing but
Cares,
be taught hereafter to abound with
Comforts,
That I only may be
indulg'd,
with new, and unnatural,
Satisfaction?
LOOK out, my Soul, upon these
Ruins,
that are every where spread round thee! This was, once, That
aweful
ROME! The Queen of the dependant World!—Where is, now, her
unbounded Influence?
Where the
Majesty
of her
Empire?
Where are Her
Treasures?
Her
Triumphs?
and the dreadful Consequences of a
Thousand Victories?
—Are they not the Prey of
Death,
and
Time?
Do they not lie
buried,
in these Heaps of
Ruin?
—And shalt
Thou
be fond of
Glory?—Thou,
who canst look down with
Pity,
on the Desolation of a
Power,
that drew a Chain about the World;—Shalt
Thou
presume to pride Thyself in
Honours,
or
Distinctions?
or grow
vain,
upon the
little Preference
of a light, and momentary, Dignity!
No,—Thou, who hast
Duration,
and
Stability!
Thou! who shalt endure,
unwasting,
thro' the
Changes
of
Eternity!
consider better the true
Rate
of
Things
; and proportion thy Desire to their Value.—If they are not of
Real Worth,
why then, hast Thou
lov'd
them?—Why endeavour'st Thou to
retain
them? Why art Thou
shaken
at a Prospect of thy
losing
them?—Or, grant they have, in them, any Thing, that may be call'd a
Real Good,
why, at least, is it not remember'd,
For how short a Time thou canst possess them?
A THOUSAND Ways, these
worldly Benefits
have it, in their very
Nature,
to deceive us.—While we suppose their
Increase
the only Means to make us
happy
; we, insensibly, become
miserable:
For we fix our Minds, so intently, upon the
Little we, yet, want,
that we continue
Dead
to the Enjoyment of All that we were before possessed of.—The Fear of
losing,
what we have already got, has a Power to
impoverish
vulgar Minds, as effectually as if they really
possessed Nothing!
And a greater Vexation than This, the Humane Soul is not capable of being tormented by—Because, as the Misery is
imaginary,
it is
boundless
; and, as it drew its Evil from
Depravity,
it can receive no
Cure
from
Reason.
—Strange Perverseness of our Nature!—We have our
Happiness, within ourselves,
and are always seeking it
abroad:
—We have our
Miseries, remote, and without
; and, yet, are, for ever,
smarting inward
; and transplanting Tortures, to ourselves, which have no
Roots,
but in our Diligence, to
excite,
and
nourish,
our own Mischiefs!
IF we
feed
the Soul with Meat, which is not
proper
to her Nature, what Wonder, that she
pines,
and can never be
satisfied?
—But, I perceive, while I
praise MARY,
I am
imitating MARTHA.
—I discern the
right
Way; But I chuse to travel in the
wrong,
till I have lost my self in its intricate Windings!—I am troubled, and
busied with many Things
; tho' I know, well enough, that there is but
One,
of 'em, sincerely Necessary.— I am
birdlim'd
by the tempting World.—I am given over to a Variety of solicitous, and grinding,
Cares,
which I hug, like
Blessings,
to my Bosom; and am soften'd, more and more, into an Affection, and Partiality, for them.—The Love and Gratitude, I owe my
Friends.
—The Hopes, and Fears, and touching Tenderness, with which I think of my
Wife,
and
Children;—Domestick,
and private
Oeconomy
; and the weightier Concerns of the
Government
of the
Commonwealth!
press my Thoughts, on every Side, and afflict me with Purposes, diametrically
opposite
to each other.
FAIN wou'd I
free
my Soul, and restore her to her
Liberty,
from these
Passions,
which confine, and torture her: But I neither know
how,
nor
when,
to resolve it.—Yet, am I comforted, however, That I feel, in myself, a strong
Desire,
to exert the Prerogative of my
Reason.
Since I consider it, as a Sign, that tho' I am not
able to do well,
I retain the
Principles of well-doing.
The Plain Dealer. No 87
Hoc habet animus argumentum, suae divinitatis,
Quod illum divina delectant.—
SEN.
MONDAY,
January
18. 1725.
To the
AUTHOR
of the
PLAIN-DEALER.
SIR,
IF You think, This may deserve a Place, in one of your Papers, insert it; If not, deal Plainly, and commit it to the Flames; and either way, you will oblige,
Yours,
&c.
THE Wise Author of Nature gave us
Passions
for a noble End: And, to defend us from
Excess,
our
Understandings
were conferred, to
regulate
them; And, least All should prove deficient, out of His overflowing Goodness, He enriched us with a
Revelation.
THE Eternal Truths of the Christian Religion, cast a
Shade
upon the finest, and most exalted, Productions of
humane Literature:
Which Remark has been frequently brought, as a Defence of its
Divine
Original, and is really, a very
strong Argument
; for who can imagine, that without
supernatural
Assistance, Men of ordinary Condition, unassisted by the Lights, or Improvements, of
Learning,
should be able, in various Languages, to lay down such
invaluable Principles;
a Multitude of which, were vastly preferrable, to any that had been introduced, by the most penetrating of the
Heathen Philosophers.
SOCRATES, Plato, Epictetus,
and several others, have
thought,
and
written,
so well, that their Memories deserve to be highly respected; But what
nobler,
and inimitable
Morals!
How Extensive, and yet adapted, to all Abilities, have descended to us in the
Divine Collections?
—I have often, with no small Concern, lamented, that the Study of the
Scriptures,
is so little relish'd; I had like to have said, so much despised, in in Comparison of the
Pagan
Writers.
IN the
Schools,
to open an Aquaintance, with the Politest of the
Classicks,
is undoubtedly a commendable
Outset.
But to be taught, a greater Admiration of them, than of the
Prophets,
and
Inspir'd Writers,
is an
Extream
; and one, that is, more than ordinary
Criminal.
—How common is it, to hear Persons expressing their utmost Fondness for the Former, whilst the Last is seldom mentioned; or, however, with much
Indifference.
There are
sublime
Sentiments in the
Greek
and
Latin
Authors;—But there is something, too, which, I cannot forbear to take Notice of, that their
Characters
were seldom suitable;—One Proof of which Assertion, we may borrow from
Plutarch
's Life of
Cato
; Even that
Cato
who was famous for the rigid Stubbornness of his Morality!—When his Domesticks were worn out with hard Labour, or grown past it, through Encrease of Age, he would dismiss them, and show no Tokens of further Regard or Humanity: On which
Plutarch
has left us this Reflection,
That we are not to use unfortunate Wretches, who depend on us; as we do our
old Shooes,
or
Platters,
and throw them away, when they are
broken,
and fall to Pieces in our Service:
—But if it were for nothing better than to express the Respect, we have for the
Humane Nature,
a Man ought always to cherish in himself a kind and compassionate Disposition.
BUT, not to digress farther, There are
infinitely Sublimer
Sentiments in the
Sacred Writings,
and the Lives of their Authors shone, illustrious Examples of their Doctrine!—How becoming a great Soul, is,
The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, Blessed be the Name of the Lord
— Again,
What? shall we receive Good at the Hand of God, and shall we not receive Evil?
—How Happy would it be for Mankind? if they would feel, and apply, to their Practice, the glorious Commands of our Redeemer,
To do nothing, but as we would be done by
; to exercise our Benignity even towards those, who
hate,
and who
persecute
us! This Proposition is contemned by too many, tho' we have it so strongly recommended, not only by the
Words,
but by the
Practice
of Him, who
died
for our Salvation! Besides, (as you have observ'd in one of your PLAIN DEALERS) a Return of
Good Offices,
for
Injuries,
is, indeed, the sharpest
Revenge
; For by such a Conduct, we triumph over, confound, and disgrace, a malicious Enemy: As by a contrary Management, we seem to
justify,
as well as
inflame
him.
IN Fine, There are a beautiful Variety of Instructions, in Holy Writ, which can never be parallell'd; They manifest their Heavenly Original; And, if we make 'em our Delight, will alleviate all earthly Calamity, and furnish an infallible Remedy, for every Accident, that can befal Us. I design'd now to have ended; but Recollecting, that there are some, who have little
Faith,
in
Revelation,
I'll go on, a Line or two farther;—Suppose, we grant their
inconsistent Hypothesis:
Yet, still, it is our Interest to direct ourselves, by the Measures of
Revealed Religion,
because it is the truest Friend to humane Nature, and promotes nothing which is not conducive to our Quiet, and Well-being; so that, allowing it were not our
Duty,
it is, however our
Prudence,
to comply with so excellent, and even so
agreeable a Model.
SO far, I have entertain'd my Readers with some Reflexions, for which I am oblig'd to an unknown Hand, on a Subject, whereon much has already been written; with less Effect than might reasonably have been expected, from the Force, and Clearness, of the Arguments.
IF I am not mistaken, That
Disrelish
of the
Sacred Writings,
which my Correspondent complains of (tho' I hope it is far from Universal among us) may be imputed to the low
Spirit,
and flat, obsolete,
Expression,
of the
coarse English,
they are
translated
in.—I leave it (says an Excellent Modern Critick) to our Prelates and Pastors, to consider, Whether, since they are satisfied, That there is a Necessity for a
Numerous Style,
in some Parts of our
Publick Worship,
they ought to remain contented with the
Vile Versions,
now in Use, and suffer the most lofty, and most pathetick Idea's of
Religion,
to be
burlesqu'd,
in our Churches?—which is all one, as if they shou'd dress up a
Bishop,
in some
antick-Habit,
and expose him, every
Sunday, in That merry Garb,
to raise the
Veneration
of the People!
IT is finely observ'd, and indeed, undeniably demonstrated, by the same Gentleman, in his
Grounds of Criticism in Poetry,
That, as the Great
Characteristick of Poetry,
is
Passion,
and the strongest, and most moving Passions flow most naturally, from
Religious Idea's
; For this Reason chiefly, the
Ancient Poetry
(where their
Religion
had its most powerful Influence) has, so visibly the Advantage over the
Modern,
(which is for the most Part
light, prophane,
and
contemptible.)
And, for the same Reason too, the
Poetry
of the
Hebrews,
which the
Old Testament
is, every where, fill'd with, excell'd That of the Antient
Greeks
and
Romans.
THERE are numberless Instances, in the
Psalms,
and among the
Prophets,
and indeed throughout all Parts of the
Old,
and
New Testaments,
of a
Sublimity,
that exalts the Humane Soul, and shakes it, with a much stronger Degree of
Terror,
and
Admiration,
than Any, the most noble Strokes of rapturous
Enthusiasm,
which can be met with even in
Homer Himself.
WHAT a
Collection
of
dreadful Images
are thrown together in the
Eighteenth Psalm,
to describe the Majesty of GOD, descending in the Fullness of his Power!—
The Earth trembles,—The Foundations of the Hills are shaken,—He bows the Heavens, and comes
down,—and Darkness is under his Feet!
All This is animated, and wonderful!—But, what follows, is a Conception, of so immense, and terrible a Grandeur! that our vulgar
Translation
seems unpardonable, for the manifest Injustice it has done the Meaning;
Then the Channels of the Waters were seen: And the Foundations of the World were discover'd!
—But, see, how This
ought to have appear'd,
in the noble Dress which Mr.
Dennis
has given it.
Still Darkness
usher'd His mysterious Way,
And a black Night of congregated
Clouds
Became the dark Pavillion of his Throne!
Earth, upwards, from the gaping Center,
cleav'd,
And
bar'd
the fix'd
Foundations
of the
World!
A Sight! that
blasted
even the World's,
Great Eye!
And made the starting
SUN recoil,
From his
Eternal Way!
WHAT comes nearest to This, is, That famous Passage, in the xxth
Iliad of
Homer, to which also, the Gentleman just nam'd has given the finest Translation it ever met with,
Mean while, Majestick
Neptune,
from below,
The reeling Globe with his huge
Trident
Strook.
Mount
Ida
trembled, from his hoary
Top,
And from his
nethermost Foundations
shook.
Pluto
starts, frighted, from his burning Throne,
And, striking his infernal Breast,
cries out,
Least such another Stroke shou'd
rend
the
Globe,
And, on his
pale Dominions,
let in
Day!
THE
Hebrew Prophets
abound, Everywhere with Idea's, so
sublimely Enthusiastick,
that they transport and carry away the
Reader,
with a Power that is
resistless
; and worthy of the
GOD,
who is honour'd by them!—Among These, the Description of That Desolation from the
East,
which was prophesied against the
Jews,
by
Habakkuk
(as we see it, in his
first Chapter
) has something in it, so strongly painted, and so
terrible!
that it strikes us, (thro' the most un-ornamented
Simplicity,
) with a Force, that was never excell'd, by all the
Elaborate
Productions of Poetry!
I will raise up the
Chaldeans,
That bitter, and fierce, Nation! and They shall march thro' the Breadth of the Land.
THEY
are
terrible!
and their
Horses
are swifter than
Leopards
; and fiercer than
Evening Wolves!
THEY
shall come on, and fly with Violence, as an
Eagle,
that
hastens to eat!
THEIR Faces
shall
drink up,
like the
East-Wind
; and they shall
gather
the
Captivity,
as
Sand.
THE fourth Chapter of the same Prophet, is one continued Height of the
Divinest Elevation
; and I shall insert the whole Succession of its matchless Images, as a Proof how truly it has been observ'd, by the Gentleman who sent me the foregoing Letter,
That there are infinitely sublimer Sentiments in the Sacred Writers, than in any of the most celebrated Classick Authors.
At
Israel's
Call, th'
Almighty
's Thunder, hurl'd
From
Paran
's Summit,
shook
th' Astonish'd World!
Frowning, provok'd, his threat'ning
Wrath
flam'd high;
And
Earth
's dim Regions
gleam'd,
beneath his Eye.
Poiz'd, in his undetermin'd Hands, he bore
Judgment
's heap'd Horn, and
Mercy
's strugling Store.
Near him,
Pale Death,
in shad'owy Triumph, trod;
And press'd, with
ghastly Signs,
the doomful Nod.
Keen, from beneath his Feet, red
Lightnings
broke,
And the
veil'd
Mountain
shook,
in
Clouds
of
Smoke.
He
stood
—and, while the
measur'd World
he
ey'd,
The starting Nations
drop'd
their warlike Pride.
High-boasting
Cushan
struck her Tents, with
Shame,
And
Midian
groan'd, beneath
repented Fame.
He
stept
—and, from their old Foundations, rent,
The
Everlasting Hills
before him
bent!
He
march'd
—and all th'
up-rooted Mountains stray,
And roll, in Earthquakes, to escape his Way!
Fast-foll'wing, from their
Chasms,
a thousand Tides
Spout a wish'd
Deluge
o'er their frighted Sides!
Back swell'd the roaring
Sea,
his Face to
fly,
And, in
O
e trembling Billow
scal'd the Sky!
Conscious of Wrath Divine, the
Sun
grew
pale,
And o'er
Distinction,
cast a
dusky Veil.
This when I
hear,
chill Frosts my Heart o'erspread,
And my Lips
quiver,
with the rising Dread.
Trembling, and sunk, my Limbs I faintly draw,
And my
Bones crumble,
with
Ideal Awe
!
I SHALL close my
Paper
with the Words of a Gentleman, whom I have, already, once or twice, nam'd in it,—
'If Harmony,
says he,
is, of itself, so Efficacious, what must it not be, when incorporated with a
Religious Sense?
—There can, certainly, be no better Way to
Reformation,
than the Reading of those Writings, which we believe to be
divinely inspir'd:
But it is equally certain, that the greater the
Pleasure
is, with which we read them, the
oftner
we shall discharge that Duty: And, to make us read them with more Pleasure, They must have more of the Harmony, and Force, of their
Originals.
—This would attract the
Gentry,
and Persons of the most
Extraordinary Parts,
whose Examples would influence the rest. For Persons of the most Extraordinary Parts, being extremely delighted with
Poetry,
and finding the
most exalted Poetry upon Religious Subjects,
wou'd, by Degrees, become more us'd to be mov'd, by
Sacred,
than
prophane Idea's
; and, in Consequence, wou'd be
reform'd.
The Plain Dealer. No 88.
Suave mari magno turbantibus aequora ventis,
Et Terra magnum alterius spectare laborem.—
LUC.
FRIDAY,
January
22. 1725.
THE
Sea
is the most
Vast,
of all the visible Objects of Nature: And, when the Wind adds
Disturbance
and
Motion,
to its Immensity, There is nothing, that seems so
Dreadfully
proportion'd to the Greatness of its Almighty Creator!—Yet, as the Art of the Painter gives us a sensible
Delight,
from the
Representation
of Prospects, of Creatures, or of Actions, which, in their
Natures,
are Productive of
Horror
; so, we are never more pleas'd, by any Descriptions, in Poetry, than by Those, which set before us the strongest, and liveliest Pictures, of
Shipwrecks
and
Storms at Sea
: Whether it is, that the Soul exults, and prides its self, in a Consciousness of its own Capacity, to
move
and
conceive
so
greatly?
—Or, That we derive a sharper Taste, and Enjoyment, of our own
Safety,
from a Comparison, with those represented
Dangers?
ALL the Poets, Ancient and Modern, have been fond of
raising Tempests;
wherein, for the most Part, their own
Time,
has been
castaway. For,
they have
scatter'd
and
weaken'd,
the
Terror,
they design'd to
increase,
by throwing together
All the Images that occurr'd,
rather than selecting the most
Essential
and
Impressive:
By means of which perplexing, and inconsistent
Variety,
their Reader's Imagination finds
Relief
; from not clearly
discerning
their
Object,
through the
Dust,
which they have rais'd about it.
IT has been observ'd, by the Admirers of
Homer,
That there is a Similitude, between
His
manner of
Thinking,
and that of
David
and
Solomon,
and others of the
Hebrew Writers,
who ow'd their Excellence to the Inspiration of the
Holy Spirit.
—Meethinks, this Remark, which is much to the Honour of that immortal
Greek,
may gather some New Force if we consider
Homer
's Description of a Tempest, which
Longinus
was so justly charm'd with, and compare it with that of
David,
in the 107th
Psalm,
which has often been mention'd with Wonder, by the
Criticks,
of our own, and foreign Nations.—Both the
Versions
are New: But Both the
Originals
are inimitable.—I begin with That of the
Psalmist.
They, who in Ships, the
Sea's
vast Depths descend,
And, o'er the
watry World,
their Passage bend;
They,
(more than
All)
their
GOD's
Great Works discern,
And 'midst th'
unfathom'd Deep,
his Wonders learn.
There, from smooth Calms, on sudden
Storms,
they rise!
Hang
on the horrid Surge, and
Skim
the
Skies!
Now,
high
as
Heaven,
they climb their dreadful Way:
Now,
sink,
in
gulphy Slants,
and
lose
the
Day!
Giddy, they
reel;
to shoot the frightful
Steep;
And their
Souls melt
amid the
sounding Sweep!
Helpless, they
cling
to what supports them, first,
And o'er 'em feel the breaking Billows
burst.
Then, to their
last ALMIGHTY Hope,
they
cry;
Who
hears,
and marks them, with a pitying Eye:
HE
bids the
Storm
be
hush'd
—The
WINDS obey:
And the
aw'd WAVES,
in silence,
shrink away!
NOW follows
Homer,
with a Terror, and a Majesty, which leave it almost
doubtful,
to which of these
Great Poets
the Victory shou'd be ascrib'd; but,
Certain, beyond all Question,
—That no other has equall'd either of them.
O'er the broad
Sea
the driving
Tempest
spreads,
And sounding Surges swell their
sweeping
Heads.
Upwards, Immense,
the
Liquid Mountains
flow;
And
shade
the distant Ship, that
climbs, below
!
Down her wash'd Decks the white'ning Foam rolls o'er;
And the big Blasts thro' bursting Canvas, roar!
Back shrink the Sailors from the
briny
Grave:
And see
pale Death,
press close on
every Wave!
WE see here no Time lost, in enumerating
little Particulars.
All the Great, and Striking, Circumstances are thrown forward, in their proper Lights: But nothing is added, That can either
diminish
or
distract,
the Apprehension.—I have plac'd these two admirable Descriptions thus opposite to each other, That some of our fashionable Applauders of
Homer,
may see his Sublimity more than match'd, in the Works of a
Poet they have seldom heard of
: And that
they,
who are,
justly,
his
Admirers,
may find Cause to esteem him, yet more, by observing how near he comes, to One, whom
OD was pleas'd, after a peculiar manner, to
inspire
and
delight in.
WHILE I am upon this Subject, it falls naturally in my Way, to recollect a Letter, that was lately sent me, by a Gentleman, who writ the Particulars of the Story from the Mouth of a Person, who was, himself, an Eye-witness.
To the
AUTHOR
of the
PLAIN DEALER.
Will's Coffee-House, Cornhill.
SIR,
YOU appear, by some of your Writings, to be so heartily a Lover of the Trade, and Prosperity, of your Country, that I perswade my self you must of Necessity, be a Well-wisher to the
honest Sailors:
A Set of Men, who at the continual Hazard of their Lives, contribute their Toil, and their Skill, to the Power and Grandeur of the Nation: And, who, allowing
Themselves
no Leisure for Luxury, furnish
Means,
notwithstanding, to maintain the Luxury of
other People.
—The Sailors, to be short, are a Race of openhearted, gallant, Thinkers, who retain the Plainness, the uncorrupted Sincerity, and blunt
Species
of
Virtue,
which distinguish'd our Forefathers; and which
Old England
has, so often, triumph'd by, in Times, whose Customs we rather
admire,
than
imitate.
—Whatever, therefore, relates, in a very extraordinary Manner, to the
Good
or
Ill Fortune,
of any of this useful, and worthy Race of your
Kindred Plain Dealers,
I promise my self, you will take Pleasure to distinguish, by allowing it a Place in your Paper.
THE Ship
Bouevia,
of
London,
of Burthen about 250 Tun, Captain
Brooks,
Commander; set sail, from the Coast of
Holland,
on the 25th of
November
last; having two Pilots, one
English,
and the other
Dutch:
And his
Wife
was on board, with him.
THE Day had been fair, and clear; but, in the Evening, about Six, it blew hard at South and by West. The Gale increas'd, into a violent Storm, and continu'd for about Seven Hours, veering to the West, and North and by West: During which the Ship was
stranded,
off of
Enchuysen,
in the
Texel.
IN order to save themselves, if possible, the Men all got into the Long-Boat, and were just ready to put off: But, not having their Captain among them, they call'd to him to hasten down; because the Sea ran so high, that it broke over the Boat, and indanger'd her beating to Pieces, against the Side of the stranded Vessel.—The Captain, in this nice, and perilous, Point of Time, recollecting that his Wife was Seasick, in the Cabin, cou'd not bear the ungerous Thought of endeavouring to save himself, without her, and was earnestly labouring to bring her along with him.—But, she, who had heard the Men cry out, That the Boat wou'd sink, under the weight of two Persons more, embrac'd him passionately, and refus'd to go.—She wept, and told him, in the most moving manner, That a
Woman,
in such an Extremity, wou'd prove a
dangerous Incumbrance.
She implor'd him not to think of
dividing
his Care; but to employ it all for Preservation of his single Life, much dearer to her, than
her own was.
FOR some Time, he press'd her, in
vain
; but prevail'd with her, at length, to come up with him upon Deck; where the first Observation they made, was,
That the Boat was out of Sight
; having been beaten off, by the Force of the
Swell,
that rose between her and the Vessel.
HE was Gazing, Speechless, on her Face, in a Despair, which he found no
Words
to
utter,
when a Billow, breaking over the Midship, wash'd him headlong, into the Sea; and left
her,
shrieking, and alone, behind him, in a Condition so far
less supportable than his,
that, after a Succession of the bitterest
Out-cries,
she fell forward, in a Swoon, and sunk sensless after him.
THE Boat, in the mean Time, endeavour'd to return to the Ship; and passing, providentially near their Captain, who was yet faintly Swimming, the Men discern'd him, in the Sea, and took him up quite Spent, and Speechless: In which Condition, they laid him in the Bottom of the Boat; and coming along the Ship's Side, one of the Sailors looking up, saw something like a Woman, with her Arms and Cloaths, entangled in the
Shrouds.
THIS Woman was the
Captain's Wife
; who, in the Moment of her falling forward, had been sav'd and supported against that Part of the
Rigging!
—She was still in a Swoon, and
insensible
; but so beloved by the Mariners, that they redoubled their Efforts to get Aboard, that they might have it in their Power to save her; And they were so
Fortunate,
in their Humanity, that they found Means to lift her into the Boat: Where they laid her,
Dead in all Appearance,
by her Husband, who was in the same Condition.
THEY put off, again; and, with great Difficulty, got ashore, upon one of the Islands in the
Texel
; where the Captain, coming to himself, told his Men, That they wou'd have done more kindly, had they let him perish in the Sea; since the Life, they had forc'd upon him, must for ever be
imbitter'd,
by the Memory of
Her unhappy End,
for whose Sake only, He had thought it worth wishing for.—His Wife, was now recovering; and near enough to
hear,
and
answer,
this noble Instance of his Tenderness.—They flew, astonish'd, and quite lost in Exstacy, into each other's Arms—And it is easier to
imagine,
than
describe,
what they
thought,
and
said,
on so transporting an Occasion!
LET me only add, That this Relation was faithfully taken, from the Mouth of a Gentleman, who was an
Eye-Witness,
of the miraculous, and providential, Particulars.—I am,
SIR,
Your most humble Servant, G.— B—r.
The Plain Dealer. No 89.
Sed neque quam multae species, & Nomine quae sint
Est numerus—
VIRGIL.
MONDAY,
January
25. 1725.
SIR,
SINCE my
Misfortune
arises only from my having
succeeded,
to the fullest Point of my own, and my Friend's
Wishes,
I know not how, in Conscience, I can expect your
Pity
; but, be that as it will, my Case is somewhat extraordinary; and I shall fairly
state
it, with the Purpose of serving as a
Buoy,
for the Warning of others:—You
must
know, Sir, I was left an
Orphan,
under the Tuition of a Rich Uncle, who promis'd to settle his whole Estate upon me at the Day of my Marriage: And that he might not
cramp
me in my Choice (a Folly too frequently attending the Caprices of
Old Age)
the only Article he insisted on, was a
Woman of
strict Vertue:
—A Condition, so very
reasonable,
was sure to meet with an easie Compliance: And I, so
punctually,
and
exactly,
observ'd it, that from the
overflowing
of my
Wife's Vertue,
my Happiness lies under Water.
WHATEVER Mismanagement, or Folly, she happens to be guilty of, she can immediately set to rights, by the Counterpoize of her
Chastity:
And I have no sooner
open'd my Mouth, than she hits me in the Teeth with her
VIRTUE, the conscious Good Fortune of
coming off, without Cuckoldom,
is, it seems
a Cordial Preparative,
that can defend a Husband's Palate against the bitter Taste of
Arrogance, Pride, Vanity, Ill-Nature,
and the rest of That long Catalogue, which
Female Purity
is pleas'd, sometimes, to arm it self withal, against the Danger of
Worldly Temptations.
I SHALL content my self with mentioning a few Instances, that lately happen'd, upon the Heels of one another.—Amongst many
Neighbours in the Country,
I can boast but of one
Friend,
with whom I live in the greatest Intimacy.—He was one Day at Dinner with me, and said, occasionally, in a laughing way, That there might possibly be
other Faults
in a
Wife,
as insupportable as
Adultery:
At this, my
Lucretia
's
Chastity
flew out, at her Mouth, and Eyes.—
The Spirit of Honesty came
upon her,
and she threw the Spoons, and Salts, at his Head, till her
Vertue remain'd Triumphant,
and she had driven her Antagonist from Table.
WHILE this Storm was in the Air, there cou'd be little Quiet under its Influences; so, I judiciously retir'd to a Farm-house; where I had been recovering my self, about a Week, when a Messenger came with Tydings, That my spotless Spouse, having heard, as Ill-luck wou'd have it, that the Nurse to my only Child was a Bastard, had turn'd her away, at a Minute's Warning, and kill'd the Child, in Three Days after, by persisting in a Resolu- to
wean
it, from a Milk of so
wicked an Original!
Upon this melancholly Account, I hurried Home, where I had the Comfort to be convinc'd, that I ought, by no Means, to be sorry, for the Death of my Child, since my Wife's
Vertue
was
yet alive,
and her
Modesty
preserv'd
inviolate.
NOW, Sir, what is to be done in such a Case?—I wou'd tell her, if I durst; (nay, I will, if you are so kind, as to
stand by me), That
the
Vertue
of a Man's
Wife, will
never attone for the
Loss of his Friend:
And that her
Chastity
is the worst Remedy, she cou'd have thought on, to supply the Loss of a
Son
and
Heir.
—Nay, if she shou'd not believe me, I am determin'd (if you think there may be no
Danger
in it) to let her alone to try the Experiment.
SIR, I have fairly told you my Story, and beg you will expatiate upon the Subject. Pray give a little of your seasonable Advice to these Professors of
Grace without Gracefulness.
—Perswade 'em, if you can, to consider, That a Wife's
Chastity,
is in the Nature of
Laudanum
to her Husband; a just Quantity promotes
Rest:
—Too little occasions
Restlessness,
and too much gives convulsive
Ravings:
—Such a desperate Old Gentleman as
you
are, may venture to say, too, That
Continency,
by
Constitution,
is rather a
Happiness,
than a
Vertue:
And, that a Wife, who sets up her
Chastity,
as a
Specifick,
to cure all Uneasinesses, is more insupportable, than a
Quack,
who can cure, only, the
Tooth-ach,
and maintains (for that Reason) that the
Stone,
the
Gout,
and the
Consumption,
are
Distempers, of no Consequence.
YOURS, J. W.
INSTEAD of complying with the Request of my Correspondent, and coming in, to his Assistance, against so
impenetrable
a Championess; I shall add to his Complaint, as just a one of my own.—
That I, too, lose my Rest, by
WOMEN.—What they
do,
or what they
suffer,
is for ever invading, and overwhelming, my Purposes.—Their
Charms,
and their
Mischefs,
press in upon me, from Town, and Country.—The
Post groans
as we do, under the Burthen of their
Vanities.
—But, what I think ought to be reckon'd among my
Sufferings not deserv'd,
is,—That it often costs me a
Groat,
to read one of their
Secret Histories,
not worth a
Half-penny.
My Intelligencers, from remote Quarters, make no manner of Conscience in their Correspondence, with me.—For, while they
charge
the
Follies
they acquaint me with, upon those to whom they belong; They take care to charge the
Postage
upon a Person, who is
wholly Innocent.
I WAS lately in Despair of working any Reformation upon Offenders, who possess the Power of
bewitching
those who examine them: But there came to my Hands, some Time since, a short Treatise, in Manuscript, subscrib'd by Seven Ladies, its Authors; who intitle themselves
The Order of Angels.
Into this Order, they tell me, they propose to admit all the BELIEVING
Fair,
(which, if they do, they can never fail of a most
comprehensive
Establishment!) The Business, they are to be
admitted for,
is, to learn, it seems, to CONCEIVE
after a new Manner,
so as to be
brought to Bed of themselves
; and, by Virtue of such
New Birth,
be made
Kings,
and
Priests
to
God,
and become what All the Best of them were, at first, created by the Lord to be,
Real, Blessed, Heavenly,
ANGELS.
THESE being the Words of the Ladies Treatise, I am restor'd to some Degree of Hope; and shall shortly form a Resolution to disburthen myself of a Care I am
unequal
to, and deliver over the
whole Sex,
into the Hands of these
Able Undertakers.
—Mean while, here are Three Letters.—The First is a mortifying Proof, that Avarice can teach Women of Fortune, to
think
as
poorly,
as the
Lowest
of their
Species:
And the Second, and Third, relate to a
Grievance,
almost too common to be
worth complaining of
; I shou'd not therefore, have inserted these Two, but for the Sake of a Rhetorical
Figure
in the Last, concerning a
Snail,
whereby I have been able to gather, That the Person accus'd is less pardonable, for having no
Money,
than for having no
Conscience,
or
Generosity.
To the
PLAIN-DEALER.
SIR,
I HAVE been so unhappy, for this great while, as to indulge a Passion for a young Lady; in whom I thought I might reasonably promise my self an agreeable Companion, and a virtuous Wife. But alas! how vain and uncertain are all our Hopes! A near Relation of mine, who married her Sister, by Errors, and Misfortunes, (which generally go together) is
well nigh reduced,
which, I am too sensible hath created a
Prejudice to our Family.
My present Circumstances are such as I think could not well be excepted against; but am so well acquainted with the Effects of
Prejudice,
that I dare not hazard revealing my Mind; fearing it may totally debar me, the Satisfaction, which I, sometimes (but alas! seldom) enjoy, of being in her Company.
AS She is your constant Reader, the incerting this in one of your Papers, may, very possibly, incite her to pity him who
loves
too well to
dare
to
offend.
Hoping Fortune may some time offer the happy Means of possessing her; the only Object of my Desires. Excuse this Trouble.
I am Yours,
&c.
Good Mr.
PLAIN DEALER.
A DISTRESSED Kinswoman of mine, desires you would be pleased to insert the Epistle inclosed (which I received from her by the last Post) in your next Paper, if possible, for a publick Warning to our unguarded Sex. And if you would take upon you to warn these unthinking Monsters, the
Men,
by describing the Heinousness of their Crime; you would do a laudable Act, and worthy your self; for Men of this Complexion are become so daring of late, that none but a PLAIN DEALER dare meddle with them.
I am, Your Constant Admirer,
E. A.
Dear Cousin,
YOU might too justly have condemn'd my Folly, if it had not been too, too severely punished already. I am therefore to intreat you to lay by your Anger, least you still aggravate my too rigid Fate, and lend a compassionate Ear to this doleful Tragedy, and consider withal, that 'tis I,—your near Relation, who bear the principal, and insupportable Part in it. No Hopes remain—to speak at once the unwilling Truth, and utter all my Disgrace—
I have been betray'd!
betray'd by gaudy
Outside!
expecting
Wedlock
and a
wealthy Spouse:
But, Confusion seize him—
The Snail carries his all upon his Back!
—Nor is this all: The upbraiding Consequence too plainly appears,—The
Consequence
—that
swells
the Tide of all my
Woe.
—I can no more.—Let others who are free, learn from my Woes to shun the alluring Bait. And least such Treachery should be any longer a Secret,
Dear Cousin,
let me, as a small Recompence for this long Train of Evils, have the poor Pleasure of being a
Warning to others
; and, to that Intent, I humbly intreat that you would get this publickly printed the first Opportunity, and forgive the Error of,
Your much Afflicted till Death, But loving Cousin,
Z. H.
*⁎*
P.S.
Do not forget to have this Printed.
The Plain Dealer. No 90.
Unusquisque sua noverit ire via.—
PROPERT.
FRIDAY,
January
29. 1724.
To the
PLAIN-DEALER,
SIR,
IN Return for that Pleasure with which I have read your Abridgment of
PARUTA
's
Soliloquy,
in one of your late
Papers,
I send you an Abstract from a much more modern Treatise, Intitled,
An Enquiry into the Nature of Society,
wherein the Author has consider'd
Hypocrisie,
as it is the Effect of our Common
Self-Love,
in a manner, that is equally new, and delightful; and with a
Penetration,
as Remarkable as the
Pleasantry
of his Images.—In short, His
Descriptions
appear to me so full of Nature, Wit, and Liveliness, that I believe they cannot fail to give great Pleasure to your Readers: And, for that Reason, I have transcrib'd what follows, and send it you, for their Entertainment.
THEY (says this too near Observer) who have never taken Notice of the Conversation of a
Spruce Mercer,
and a
Young Lady,
his Customer, who comes to his Shop, have neglected a Scene of Life, that is very
entertaining.
—HIS Business is, to sell as much Silk as he can, at a Price by which he shall get what he proposes:—As to the
Lady,
what SHE would be at is, to please her Fancy, and buy cheaper by a Groat or Sixpence a Yard, than the Things, she wants, are commonly sold at.
FROM the Impression, the Gallantry of our Sex has made upon her, she imagines, That she has a fine
Mein,
and easie
Behaviour,
and a
peculiar Sweetness
of
Voice:
—That she is
handsome
; and, if not
beautiful,
at least more
agreeable,
than most young Women she knows.—As she has no Pretensions, to purchase Things with
less Money
than other People, except those, which are built on her
Good Qualities,
so she sets herself off, to the best Advantage her Wit, and Discretion, will let her.—The Thoughts of
Love
are here out of the Case: So, on one Hand, she has no Room for playing the
Tyrant
; and giving herself
angry,
or
peevish
Airs; And, on the other, she has more Liberty of
speaking kindly,
and being
affable,
than she can have, on almost any other Occasion.—She knows, that Abundance of well-bred People come to his Shop; and endeavours to render herself as
amiable,
as Vertue, and the Rules of Decency, allow of.
BEFORE her Coach is yet quite stopp'd, she is approach'd by a
Gentleman-like Man,
who has every thing
clean,
and
fashionable,
about him: And who, in low Obeisance, pays her Homage, and hands her into the Shop.—There, immediately, he slips from her; and through a Bye-Way, that remains visible, only for half a Moment, with great Address,
entrenches
himself behind the
Counter
; whence,
facing
her, with a profound
Reverence,
he begs the Favour of
knowing her Commands,
LET her say, and dislike, what she pleases, she can never be directly
contradicted:
She deals with a Man, in whom, consummate
Patience
is one of the
Mysteries
of his
Trade.
Whatever Trouble she creates, she is sure to hear nothing but the most
obliging Language,
and has always before her a chearful Countenance, where
Joy,
and
Respect,
seem to be blended with
Good Humour,
and altogether make up an
artificial Serenity,
more engaging than
untaught Nature
is able to produce.
WHEN Two Persons are so well met, the Conversation must be very agreeable, as well as extreamly mannerly, tho' they talk, about Trifles. While
she
remains irresolute what to
take, he
seems to be the same, in
advising
her: But, when once she has
chosen,
he immediately becomes
positive,
That it is the
Best of the Sort.
He continues to extol her Fancy; and, the oftener he looks upon it, the more he
wonders,
that he shou'd not,
before
have discover'd the Pre-eminence of it, over any Thing he has in his Shop.—He founds her Capacity, finds out her Blind-side; and, by Fifty little Stratagems, makes her
overvalue
her own Judgment, as well as the Commodity she wou'd purchase.
THE greatest Advantage he has over her, lies in the most material Part of the Commerce between them, the
Debate
about the
Price
; which
he
knows, to a Farthing, and
she
is wholly ignorant of: Therefore, he no where more egregiously imposes on her Understanding. But, tho' he has, here, the Liberty of telling what
Lies
he pleases, as to the
Prime Cost,
and the Money he has
refus'd,
yet he trusts not to
Them only.
He attacks her
Vanity,
and makes her
believe
the most
incredible
Things in the World, concerning
His Weakness,
and her own
Superior Abilities.
—He had taken a Resolution (he says) never to part with that Piece, under such a Price.—But she has the Power of
talking
him out of his Purposes. He protests, must
lose
by her; but, since she seems to
have a Fancy for it,
and is
resolv'd
to give no more, rather than disoblige a Lady he has so extraordinary a Value for,
He will let her have it.
—Only begs, That
another Time
she won't stand so hard with him.
IN the mean Time, the Buyer, who
knows, that she is no Fool;
and has a
voluble Tongue,
is easily perswaded, that she has a very winning Way of talking: And, thinking it sufficient, for the Sake of
Good-breeding,
to disown a Sense of her Merit, in some witty
Repartee,
she swallows, very contentedly, the Substance of every Thing he has told her: And the Upshot is, That with the
Satisfaction
of having
sav'd Ninepence a Yard,
she has bought her Silk exactly at the same Price as any Body else might have had it for.
IT is possible, that this Lady, for want of being sufficiently
flatter'd,
or for a Fault she is pleas'd to find in his Behaviour; or, perhaps, in the
Tying
of his
Neckcloth
; or, for some other Dislike,
as Substantial,
may be
lost
; and her Custom bestow'd on some other of the Fraternity. But, where many of them live in a Cluster, It is not easily determin'd which Shop to go to: And the Reasons, some of the Fair-Sex have for their Choice are often very
whimsical,
and and kept as a
Great Secret.
—Among the Mercers, a Fair-Dealer must keep before his own Door; and, to draw in random Customers, make use of no other Importunity, than an
Obsequious Air
; and a
Bow,
to every well-dress'd Female, that offers to look towards his Shop.
BUT, I have seen another Method o
Inviting Customers,
the most distant in the World from what I have been speaking of.—I mean, that, which is practis'd by the
Watermen,
on those, whom, by their Mien, and Garb, they know to be
no Londoners.
—It is pleasant to see half a Dozen of these
Tritons
surround a Man, whom they never saw in their Lives before, and Two of them, who can get nearest, clapping Each an Arm over his Neck, hug him, as familiarly, as if he was their Brother, newly return'd from an
East-India Voyage:
A Third lays hold of his Hand,—Another of his Sleeve,—His Coat—the Buttons of it—or any thing he can come at: While a Fifth, or a Sixth, who has scamper'd twice round him already, without being able to get at him, plants himself directly
before
the Man in
Hold
; and, within Three Inches of his Nose, contradicting his Rivals with an open-mouth'd Cry, shews him a dreadful Set of large Teeth, and a Remainder of Bread and Cheese, which the Country Man's Arrival had hinder'd him from swallowing.
AT
all This
no Offence is taken. The Peasant thinks
they are making much of him
; and, therefore, far from opposing them, he patiently suffers himself to be push'd, or pull'd, which way they direct.—He has not Delicacy to find Fault with their
Dirt,
and
Sweat
; for he has been us'd to it, from his Cradle: And it is no Disturbance to him, to hear half a Score People, some of them at his Ear, and the farthest not Five Foot from him,
bawl out,
as if he was a Hundred Yards distant.—He is conscicious, that he makes no less Noise, when he is merry,
Himself
; and is secretly
pleas'd,
with their boisterous Usage. The hawling, and pulling him about, he construes, as a
Courtship,
which he can
feel,
and
understand:
And he can't help wishing them well, for the Esteem they seem to have for him.
HE loves to be
taken notice of,
and admires the
Londoners
for being so Earnest in their Desires to
serve
him, for the Value of
Threepence:
Whereas, in the Country, he must first tell People what he wants, and tho' he lays out Three or Four Shillings, he has hardly a Word spoke to him, unless it is in Answer to the Questions he is forc'd to ask them! This
Alacrity
in his Behalf, moves his Gratitude, to all the Watermen, and being unwilling to
disoblige any,
he knows not which of them to pitch upon—I have
seen
a Man
think
all this, or something like it, as plainly as the Nose, in his Face: And move along, all the while, very contentedly, under a
Load
of
Solicitors,
carrying down to the Waterside, with a smiling Countenance
Seven
or
Eight Stone
more than his
own Weight.
THERE is something, so strongly touch'd, so
picturesque,
and so diverting, in these Two Descriptions, that I cou'd not resist the Temptation I was under to send 'em you, with my Request, That you would publish them, in one of your PLAIN DEALERS: Where, if I am not mistaken, they will make a very agreeable Figure.
I am, SIR, Your constant Reader. and humble Servant,
TERENTIUS.
The Plain Dealer. No 91.
—Furit alter amore.
MANIL.
Nascentes morimur, finisque ab origine pendet.
Ibid.
MONDAY,
February
1. 1725.
IN the Decision of that Important
Question, What is strongest?
which we read of, in the Sacred Writings,
LOVE
and
DEATH,
stand out,
distinguish'd:
And two of my Correspondents have given me an Opportunity of placing both these
Invincible Powers
in full View, near one another: A Position, which, like the
Contraste,
observ'd in the
Poetry
or
Painting,
of Judicious
Masters,
sets off, and throws forward, every Object, by its OPPOSITE; and
rounds,
and
raises,
to the Eye, what (without such artful Disposition) might be lost; and lie too
flat,
to catch the Notice of a slight Remarker.
I SHALL introduce the
Lover's
Letter by a Reflection, concerning the Impossibility of
describing
Love, and the Benefits, which
Society
owes this Passion; from a Poetical PICTURE of it, which I have more than once, made mention of, in the Course of these Papers,
The
roughest
Passions
gently
learn to move,
And Savage Hearts are
humaniz'd,
by
Love:
Love,
in a
Chain
of Converse, bound Mankind,
And
polish'd,
and
awak'd,
the rugged
Mind.
Pity, Truth, Justice, Openness of Heart,
Courage, Politeness, Eloquence, and Art;
That generous Fire, with which
Ambition
flames!
And all th'
unsleeping Soul's
Divinest Aims:
Touch'd, by a
Beam
from
Love,
burn up, more,
bright;
Proud of the godlike Power to
give Delight!
Thus, have I vainly try'd, with Strokes too faint,
Love,
in his known, and
outward Marks,
to paint:
Forgetful, that, of old, they
veiled
his Face;
And, wisely,
cover'd,
what they
cou'd not trace.
Lovely
Creator
of my Soul's soft Pain!
Pity the Pencil, that aspires in vain.
Vers'd
in Love' Pangs, and taught his Pow'r, by you,
Skill'd, I presum'd, that what I
felt,
I
drew:
But I have
err'd
—and, with
delirious
Aim,
Wou'd
picture MOTION,
and
imprison FLAME!
He, who can
Light'ning's FLASH
to
Colours
bind,
May paint
Love's
Influence, on the
Lover's Mind.
To the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
EVER since you have oblig'd the World with your Paper, I have taken a great deal of Pleasure in reading it; such just
Sentiments,
and your
peculiar Method
of
Plain Dealing,
must charm the intelligent, and give Satisfaction to every one, who is susceptible of Tenderness and Good Nature.
AMONG the Subjects, which you have cursorily touch'd on, LOVE, that Heavenly Passion, (notwithstanding your
grand Climacteric
) seems to claim a considerable Share in your Composition; else, how could you so tenderly express your self concerning the Affair of
Lucinda?
With what Energy did you Discourse! Humanity appear'd in every Word, and I believe it impossible for the most Ardent LOVER, to speak of Love, with greater
Emotion,
than you did in that Beautiful PLAIN DEALER.
I HAVE for some time been
in Love,
with a Woman, invested with all the Graces which accomplish the Sex; And, as I am entirely
devoted
to that Passion, when I read that Paper, of
Lucinda,
I felt within me something
new,
That argued still, for
Love
; something, so natural, so moving! that it was impossible for one, in my Circumstance, to withstand it. The Opinion I had already conceiv'd of my
Beautiful Disturber,
heighten'd by a growing and vertuous Passion, made me a Thousand times delight my self with an Imagination, that my
Emilia
resembled
Lucinda!
The Love I bear this most agreeable Woman, has so deeply rooted it self in my Heart, that neither
Time
nor
Accident,
can eradicate it.—All my Thoughts center in her, and when
absent
from
her,
I have lost the
Soul,
that
animates
my
Life,
and my
Mind
is as effectually
Dead,
as my
Body
will be, when
I am no more,
and shall have learnt the Power of
forgetting
her.
MY Passion for this
dear Creature
has been sometime
Dormant:
About two Years ago, my Affairs obliged me to go Abroad, when our Acquaintance was but little cultivated; yet, an Infant Passion, even then made me solely
her
Admirer: Such
Beauty, Good-Nature, Wit,
and lively
Conversation,
as are rarely to be met with in one Person, so captivated me, that I could think of nothing but the
dear Emilia.
—When I return'd Home, my Passion encreased daily, insomuch, that at this Time I am a Stranger to every Thing in the World, but
Love,
and
Emilia!
without
her,
I shall be the most unhappy Man alive.—I dread the Thoughts of
her
being
unkind,
and Heaven grant, they may be groundless!—I have declar'd my Passion to
her,
and, if I don't flatter my self, she
appears
to have some regard for me; this you will readily conclude gives me
Hope; but,
alas!
I fear
too, or I shou'd be
no Lover.
OUR Circumstances are very different, and we seem in this Case only, to be
Diffident
in one another; As for my Part, a
genteel Employment
is the only Fortune I have to trust to, and therefore, according to the laudable Custom of
Bargain
and
Sale,
in the Affair of
Marriage,
I am afraid I have too
little Plea that Way
; yet, she is entirely at her own Disposal, and can,
without asking any Body Leave,
make me the
happiest Man on Earth.
—Dear Mr.
Plain Dealer,
as you have been an Advocate for
Lucinda,
I beg a little of your Assistance; What must I do? without her I am inevitably lost, and am afraid it may be so, if you don't intervene with your
good Advice
; I beg you to publish this, in your next; it may have some Effect on the
dear Emilia
; I am almost perswaded she does not
hate
me; And, yet when I reflect on the
mercenary Ways of the World,
I am plung'd into the utmost
Despair.
SIR, As you are a Man of Reason, make not
light
of my Condition, but exert your self to
assist
me; I am afraid I have exceeded the Bounds of a Letter, pray correct the Mistakes in Sense. I forget every Thing but the
dear Emilia.
—Angels
protect
her, and make her
kind!
Your Advice, how to proceed, will be very grateful, and your publishing This, save me a great deal of Confusion: For she will know it comes from me, by a Declaration in it, which none else can perceive.
I am, SIR, Your constant Reader, and humble Servant,
C. K.
THERE is no Spectacle, more
profitably
terrible, than that of a Man, who lies,
expiring
his
Soul,
on his Death-bed.—To see how the Spirits shrink inward, and retire to the Heart; which is beating with convulsive Anguish! while the Hands and Feet, its most
remote
Dependancies, are
first incolden'd
to a
fashioned
Clay, as if Death
crept in at the Nails,
and wou'd, by Surprize, from both
Extreams,
make sure of the
vital Center.
THE
Mind
would fain
utter
it self, but the Organs of the Voice are so debilitated, that it
cannot.
The
Eyes
now settle to a dim Fixedness; which but a little before, was as swift as the Shoots of Lightning, as nimble as
Thought,
and as bright as the polish'd
Diamond!
The
Countenance
(through which perhaps there shined a
lovely Majesty,
even to the Captivating of admiring Souls, is alter'd into
frightful Paleness,
and the Languor of a ghastly Stillness.—The
Tongue
is
silent,
which commanded a Family, nay, perhaps a
Kingdom
; and kept every Thing in Awe, with the Importance of its Motion.—The
Form
that was, Yesterday, so graceful, is now become a Thing so full of
Horror,
that
Children
are afraid to look upon it; and must, therefore, be transmitted from its Pleasures, and its Passions,—from all the Scences of its inchanting Blandishments, to a dark and silent
Grave.
THERE is even the Difference of
two several Worlds,
betwixt a King,
enamel'd
with his Robes and Jewels, sitting in his Imperial
State
; and his Posture, Figure and Condition when consign'd to his Six Foot of Royalty, to his
Box
of everlasting Obscurity. And yet this
Change
is without any visible, substantial,
Diminution:
All the
Limbs
remain perfect, as they were, without Dislocation, or Contraction.—Whence
Scaliger
defines Death to be but the
Cessation of the Soul's Functions:
As if it were rather a
Restraint,
than a
Dissolution.
What seems wanting, is chiefly
Colour, Heat,
and
Motion
; yet, that gross Object, which is left to the Spectator's Eyes, remains remains now but a Compound of the two ignobler Elements,
Water
and
Earth
; while the two purer,
Fire
and
Air
; are winged away, as fitter Attendants on the
Soul,
than on the extinguish'd
Body.
WHEN this happens to one, whose Conversation hath indeared him to us, when we see his Eyes
put on Death,
and hear the
tolling Bell
give publick Notice of it, what Soul can
then
lose a Thought on the fugitive Joys of
Pleasure!
What a
Bubble,
what a
Puff,
what a
Wink
of
Life
is Man! And with what a general, and sure, Success, does Death stand over Humane Nature, always
striking,
here and there, and exercising an unbounded
Triumph!
I HAVE, lately, from such a Sight as
This,
learnt both
Humility
and
Elevation:
—The One, to lower my Esteem of a
Body,
which must, one Day perish in unlovely
Rottenness.
—The other, to Reverence a
Soul,
which after having liv'd here but as a
Sojourner,
reascends, when its House of Flesh is demolish'd, with a Vigour as unrestrain'd, and an Essence as refin'd and glorious, as the
un-imbodied,
and coelestial,
Angels!
Mr.
PLAIN DEALER,
IF you think these few foregoing Hints of mine worthy to fill up a Corner of your Paper by incerting them, you will oblige your constant Reader,
AULUS MARTIUS.
Inner-Temple,
January
the 16th, 1724. 25.
THERE are
Descriptions
in
Spencer
's Writings, much more
bold,
and strongly
figur'd,
than those of almost any other Poet, Antient, or Modern; His Fancy was
quick, penetrating, vast!
and his Conceptions so
clearly
possess'd, that he seems to have
embodied
his
Idea's
; and, given us, instead of his
Thoughts,
the very
Substance
of the Things he
thought of.
—There is, in his Works, an
Image
of
DEATH
so dreadfully drawn, and painted in such
glowing Colours,
that (having got it by Heart, when I was a Boy) it made so lively an Impression on me, that I never fail'd for a long time after, to
see
it, at, my Bed's Foot as soon as the Candle was carried out of the Room—and met it, in every Churchyard, I pass'd over, after Sunset.
Death,
with a
Bow,
in his Left hand, was seen,
And his long
Arrows,
slanting from his Side;
All, naked, dangerous, and deadly
keen:
With
Feathers,
in the Blood of Millions
died,
Such the fierce
Indians
in their Quivers, hide!
These be shot, careless; ever,
changing Place;
Strait,
to what
Mark
so e're he next him spy'd:
Nor was there Pow'er in
Art,
to
shun
his
Case,
Or
cure
th'
eternal Wounds,
he makes in
Human Race,
As
pale,
and
wan,
as
Ashes,
was his
Look,
His
Body
lean, and meagre, as a
Rake;
Shrunk
was his
Skin,
like a dry, wither'd, Root:
Cold
to the
Touch;
and dreary as a
Snake!
T
, as the quivering
Air,
he
seem'd
to
shake!
His Dress was
Canvas,
strain'd, and girded, tight,
With an uncomely Belt, of twisted
Brake,
And, on his Head, he wore a
Helmet light,
Made of a Dead Man's
Scull,
a strange, and ghastly Sight!
The Plain Dealer. No 92.
Nos Numerus sumus—
HOR.
FRIDAY,
February
5. 1725.
Mr.
PLAIN DEALER,
HUMANITY has instructed me, That he who lets a
Secret die
with him, from the
Knowledge
of which the
World
might receive
Benefit,
is an Enemy to the Good of Mankind, and a Dishonour, and Misfortune, to his Country.—Physicians may boast, as they please, of the Vertues of their
Simples,
I know a
Compound,
call'd
Flattery,
that is a better
Remedy
than any of 'em.
I AM one of Those, whom
Fortune
has the least Kindness in the World for.
This,
however, she did for me.—My Father Dying, while I was a Child, she put it into my
Uncle's
Head to take Care of me; and he sent me to the
University
; where I have now been (at
his
Charge) about two Years, and a half.—I come up to
London,
every
Christmas,
to pass a Month at my
Uncle's,
who is a Rich Merchant, in the
City
; and give him an
Account,
as he calls it, what I have
learnt,
during the other Eleven. His
Education
has tinctur'd him with that infallible Mark of a
narrow Spirit,
—The
Destroying Half the Merit of his Purposes, by an ungraceful Manner of Executing them.
—And he has so often, taken Delight to put me, coarsely, in mind of his
Charity,
That he
robb'd
me, even of the
Comfort,
which
He laid out his Money to procure
me.
THIS last
Christmas,
being seiz'd by a violent Fit of the
Gout
; he was roaring out, one Day, in Extremity of
Pain,
and
Peevishness:
—He cou'd not, he said,
imagine,
how so
temperate
a Man, as
He
was, shou'd come by such a Distemper as the
Gout!
If he had been a
Glutton,
or a
Drunkard,
he shou'd not have wonder'd at it!—But, for a
Small-Beer-Drinker!
One, who had always been
remarkable
for his
Self-Denial,
to fall under the Torture of
such a Disease, as the Gout!
—It was very hard!—It was very strange!—And he cou'd not,
for his Part,
tell, how it was to be
accounted for.
IT was my Good-Luck, at that Time, to have been newly reading a Collection of
Miscellaneous Poems
; and I bethought my self of something, that I met with, in it, which had pleas'd me very much; and made an Impression on my Memory.—I ran, and fetch'd the Book, and opening it to the Place, put it into my
Uncle
's Hands, and told him, He might there, find the
Reason,
of that
Misfortune,
he had been complaining of.—He desir'd me to read it to him, and I did it, as follows.
"THE Learned
Sydenham
do's not doubt,
"But
PROFOUND THOUGHT
will bring the
Gout:
"And, that, with
Back
on
Couch,
we
lie,
"Because our
Reason soar'd too high.
"As
Cannons,
when they
mount vast Pitches,
"Are
tumbled back
upon their
Britches.
MY
Uncle
smil'd, and said,
'Twas pretty.
He made me read it so often, that he has got it by Heart: And repeats it Twenty Times a Day, in all Companies, as a Proof of his
Nephew's Ingenuity.
He never cou'd
abide Poetry:
But, is now grown very fond of it.—He cou'd not have
believ'd,
he says, that there was
so much GOOD REASON in Rhyming.
In fine, I am grown a
Favourite
; and he allows,
I have a great deal of WIT,
ever since I prov'd his Distemper to be the Consequences of his
JUDGMENT,
and
profound Thinking.
—I cou'd not forbear sending you this Intelligence, as a Hint, to some of your Readers, who may benefit themselves by the Example.
I am, SIR, Your most humble Servant,
FAVONIUS.
I AM oblig'd to the
Zeal
of a
Friend
unknown, for the following
Good Counsel
; which I take very kindly; and give him my Word, (in his own Phrase) That I will
follow it, as far forth as I shall be able.
My
FRIEND,
FORASMUCH as Thou art lifted up, as a PLAIN DEALER, among thy
Bretheren,
and hast taken an Office upon thee, which it behoveth thee to discharge with
Wisdom, Moderation,
and
Integrity:
Verily, therefore, I am
moved
to
warn
thee, that thou becomest heedful, so far forth as thou shalt be able, that thou neither
deridest the Unhappy
; nor
holdest the Meek Man in Scorn.
—When thou art
moved,
by the
Sharpness
of the
Wit
which worketh within thee, thou oughtest to shoot thy Arrows at the
Mighty.
—Yea, at the Men, who pride themselves in the
Strength
of the
Flesh,
and have no
feeling
of the
Spirit, that laboureth within them.
Take Heed, also, that thou slidest not into
Vanity,
when thou hearest thy self well spoken off; neither inflamest thy self into
Anger,
when thou chancest to be
rebuked.
—Verily,
Friend,
this Great City may be liken'd unto a
Field,
which hath
rank Weeds:
If, by thy Writing, thou canst
root them forth,
and throw them, on a Heap, from among the
Wheat,
thy Name shall become
Exalted,
in the Mouths of
the Brethren.
—If thou
art,
even as thou
seemest
to be,
thou will
deliver forth a Reproof,
against the
Scorn,
which light Men, of thy Perswasion, make of the
Habit of us Friends.
Thou knowest, the
Corn of the Field
is not so BEAUTIFUL, as the
Butter-Flower
; neither is the
Pomegranate
so alluring to the Eye, as the
John-Apple.
—Nevertheless, the
Corn of the Field
is more USEFUL, than the
Butter-Flower:
And the Inside of the
Pomegranate
more delicious, than the
John-Apple.
—Lo, Thou mayest make the Application,
thy self.
Thy loving Friend, (And Reader, while thou writest with Prudence)
AMINADAB.
Mr.
PLAIN-DEALER.
SIR,
AM a plain Man my self; but have, to my Wife, a young Woman, that is so far from being
plain,
that she is the
likeliest,
of our whole Parish.—She
sings, dances,
and talks
French
; and, in short, has a great Deal of
to'ther End of the Town Breeding in her.
But here is an Impudent Young Dog, that comes to my House,
whether I will or no
; upon no other Account,
truly!
but because I have a
handsome Wife!
I wou'd have
believ'd
him, tho' he had not
told me so
; for he takes very great
Liberties
with her,
before my Face!
—I am inform'd she came by him, at the
Masquerade.
She says, She can't tell how to get rid of him,—I desire, therefore, to know, Whether I ought not to take some Measures with him? And, in particular, Whether I might not, (with a safe Conscience)
swear the Peace against him?
For, without some such Security, I am
afraid
to forbid him my House,
myself:
And if my
Wife
does it, she says, He
won't mind Her.
—Am, in no small Trouble,
Your Friend to serve you,
HEZEKIAH HORNEY.
To his Reverence, (the most Profound, and Impartial) The
PLAIN DEALER,
for the
Liberties
of
LONDON.
The Humble
PETITION
of
LUKE THOROUGHSTITCH,
Colonel of the City Militia.
SHEWETH,
THAT your Petitioner is a
freeborn Englishman,
and has a Stomach, that loves
Liberty.
But, being oblig'd to
eat,
(since he left off House-keeping) among a Sett of
She-Tories,
he can never dine, without a
Restraint,
that he takes to be an
Abuse
of our happy
Constitution
; and which was never known, but in a
State of Nature,
before Kings were (by
mutual Compact
)
deputed to execute Laws for us.
THAT they
persecute
him, ever and anon, with
Much Good may do you,—I'm glad to see you eat so heartily,—A good Stomach is a Sign of Health,
—and such like
Exorbitant Encroachments.
—And, that, Yesterday, for Example, after he had eaten,
at most, but six Slices,
and was, (peaceably, and without Cause of Offence to any of the Company) preparing to
enter upon the Seventh
; he saw the Eyes of the whole Circle, most
tyrannically
fix'd upon him, with an Air of
arbitrary,
and
unreasonable
WONDER; to the manifest
Abasement
of your Petitioner's
Courage
; and the Violation of his UNDOUBTED PRIVILEDGE,
to eat, as long as he finds himself hungry.
HE, therefore, most humbly prays, That your Reverence would condescend to take this
Grievance
into your Consideration; and acquaint these
Invaders of the Peoples Rights,
that there was a
Reserve,
either
express'd,
or
tacitly imply'd,
in the ORIGINAL CONTRACT, That every Man should have
Property,
in his
own Appetite
; and eat, and drink, to
please himself
; and not to
humour
the
Taste
of his
Company.
And your Petitioner (as in Duty bound) shall
pray,
as heartily, as he
eats,
&c.
LUKE THOROUGHSTITCH.
To the
Author
of the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
I HAVE seen the first Part of a
Satire,
which is just publish'd, under the Title of
THE UNIVERSAL PASSION.
Tho' the Author's Name is not before it, it is easily distinguished to be the Work of some considerable Genius.—And the Delight which, I observe, you take in
Praising
whatever has
real Merit,
convinces me, That I shall contribute to your own, as well as your Reader's, Pleasure; by having transcrib'd a few Verses, from this
Satire,
which (unless I greatly deceive deceive myself) carry with them the most shining Marks, of a Spirit, that is
truely poetical.
—Speaking of a Kind of People,
call'd
LORDS, he observes, with a great Deal of
Good-Breeding,
that the
first Place
(in his
Satire
) is Due to
Quality:
And accordingly
makes Way
for them, like a Person,
justly conscious
of the
Respect
which ought to be shown them; I mean the
Generality
of them;—for some are far from
deserving
the Distinction.
My Lord
comes forward,—
Forward let
him come!
Ye
Vulgar!
at your Peril, give him
Room:
He stands for
Fame,
on his
Forefather
's Feet,
By
Heraldry
prov'd valiant, and discreet.
With what
becoming Pride
he throws his Eyes
Above
the Man, by THREE DESCENTS less wise!
For
Men,
like
Figures,
pass for
high,
or
base,
Slight,
or
important,
merely by their
Place.
If
Virtues
at his
noble
Hands you crave,
You bid him
raise
his
Fathers,
from the
Grave.
Men shou'd press
forward,
in
Fame
's glorious Chace,
Nobles
look
backward;
and so, lose the Race.
Since
Titles
ought to mark the
Just,
and
Wise,
The
Knave
or
Fool,
who wears a Title,—
LIES.
I CAN'T forbear following this very agreeable Guide, so far,
down Hill,
as 'till we meet with a
Rural Squire, a Hunting
; and in
Company
with a Pack of Dogs that
run sweetly,
and with great
Vigour,
as well as
Harmony!
The
Squire is proud,
to see his COƲ RSER
strain;
Or well-breath'd BEAGLES
sweep,
along the Plain.
—
Say,
dear
Hippolitus!
—whose Drink is
Ale,
And whose whole
Learning
is a
Christmas Tale!
Whose
Mistress
is saluted with a
Smack;
And
Friend
receiv'd, with
Thump
upon the
Back!
When thy
sleek Gelding
nimbly leaps the Mound;
And
Ringwood opens,
o'er the tainted Ground;
Is
That THY Praise?
—Let
Ringwood
's
Fame
alone:
Just
Ringwood
leaves each
Rival Beast
his own.—
&c.
I shall make no Apology, for having troubled you with so long a Letter, because
Pleasure,
the more it is
lengthned,
is the more
welcome
to the
Receiver.
I am,
SIR,
Your most humble Servant,
GRACCHUS.
The Plain Dealer. No 93.
Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, sagas,
Nocturnos lemures, portentaque Thessala!—
MONDAY,
February
8. 1725.
To the
PLAIN DEALER.
Cambridge,
January
23, 1725.
SIR,
THE only Account I shall give you, with Regard to
myself,
is,—That I am a
Fellow
of one of the
Colleges,
in this
University
; my chief Design in Writing, bing to strengthen you, with some
new Materials
for the better Performance of that Promise, you were once pleas'd to make us, of
proving,
that the
Women
are a great deal
wiser
than
We are.
MY Father, very lately, sent me down, into the
Fens,
to
make Love
to a young Lady, who is Mistress of a considerable Fortune: Where I discover'd, to my no small Mortification, That All my
Learning,
hitherto, has taught me Nothing, that deserves Comparison, with the
Universal Knowledge,
which I met with, in that discreet, and profound, Family!—Not
Heaven
alone, but
Earth, Air, Fire, Water; Birds, Beasts, Stocks, Stones!
—Every Part of the still, or moving, mute, or speaking,
Creation,
has contributed to the
Erudition
of my more than accomplish'd Mistress!—All Things been
laid open,
to her, if not in their
Natures,
I am sure, I may say, in their
Meanings.
IN short, after Three Days unsuccessful Endeavours to fathom my Fate, with Regard to this
infallible
Lady, I am come back to my College, almost too
humble to wish for
the Possession of a Blessing, so
uncommon.
—I saw a
female Dwarf,
in my Mistress's Neighbourhood, and could not help thinking, while I was looking on her, and listening to a little History, of her having been
serv'd up in a Goose-Pye,
That this Pocket
Abridgement
of
Womanhood
might as modestly pretend to incorporate Herself with one of the
Gyants,
in the King of
Prussia
's
frightful Regiment,
as I, to
match my Mind
with one, whose
Comprehension
is, so vastly, too
big
for me!—
AT my first coming, I was receiv'd, by an
old Maiden Aunt,
who is Mistress of the Ceremonies to the Lady I was recommended to; she surpriz'd me with a Declaration, That she
knew of my coming, before she receiv'd my Father's Letter,
I said, I thought it had been a
Secret:
but she assur'd me. That I had been
hanging, for a whole Week past, upon one of the Bars of the Kitchen Chimney.
—Not being intirely
Enlighten'd,
as to the
Authority
of this dark Prognostick, I was preparing to ask a Question, or too; but was
scar'd
out of the Intention, by a melancholy Denunciation,
That my Father wou'd not live to see the Match come to Perfection
; for this Good Lady had (the Night before this Letter was brought to her)
seen it coming, in Both her Candles, with a Winding-Sheet just over-against it!
I BOW'D, with a becoming
Sorrow
; and receiv'd the Prophecy with all that
Reverence
which was due to so
extraordinary a Reason!
This won her to a Warmth in my Interest; and she would carry me, without Ceremony, to
surprize
her Neice, in the Garden, where she was visiting her
Orange Trees,
in the
Green-House:
—We were got as forward, on this pleasing Journey, as to the outside of the Garden Door, when some or other of those
busy Powers who envy Lovers their propos'd Enjoyments,
put it into the Old Lady's
Feet, to stumble over the Threshold!
upon which she turn'd back, in a Fright, and push'd me
in
again, with such
Care
and
Kindness,
that I can never sufficiently
thank
her; since, if I had
gone on,
(after such an
ominous Warning
)
and met my Mistress, in an unlucky Minute,
All the World, it seems, from that Time forward, could never have made it possible for me to
come near her, in a
LUCKY
one.
SHE overtook us, however, as soon as we were got back, into the Parlor; and broke in upon me with such a
Flash
of
Charms,
that, as I saluted her, I was struck dumb with
Rapture,
out, of which I recovered in Time to over-hear her tell the Old Lady, as she was passing round her, to a Chair,
That it was not I, that had drawn open her Curtains, when the Bride-Cake was put under her Pillow.
—I was not, yet, skilful enough to know what
Good,
or
Ill,
this
boded
me: But, before we were fully seated, a new Misfortune had befallen us.—My
Clarinda
's
Chair tumbled backward,
upon which she declared to me, with the prettiest Resignation in the World,
That she was not to be
LADY-MAYORESS,
this Year
; but had
Patience
to support herself, under all such Disappointments.
BEING now got into perfect Composure, I began to find, that I was
looking silly,
—So I sigh'd three Times, and inform'd her, as well as I cou'd, of the
Great Respect my Father had, for the Family;
And
Clarinda,
on her Part, had open'd her Fan, to its full Extent, and was looking down upon it, in the proper
Attitude
; and telling the Sticks, with both Fingers, when the Aunt interrupted me with a Groan, (that had been unluckily mention'd by my naming my
Father)
and confirm'd her former Remark, of the
Winding Sheet,
by a
Death's Head, she had found out, in the Fire!
—As
Great Misfortunes
rarely come
single,
a malicious Coal,
in the Shape of a Coffin,
flew, just then, to
Clarinda
's Feet; who turn'd pale, and took it up, betwixt a Finger, and Thumb, and after throwing it
behind
her, over the
left
Shoulder, corroborated her Aunt's Evidence, by a
Death-Watch,
that had kept her
waking
;—By the
howling of a Dog,
all Night long;—By a deep
Grave
that he had scratch'd up, at the Foot of a
Rosemary
Bush, exactly under her Window!
AND, now, their Eyes being turn'd on Me, as if they expected my Opinion; I gave it them, very gravely,
That these Things had somewhat in 'm!
—and it was happy for me, that I said no
less
for an Old Family Servant, with a sober, mournful, Face, having heard Part of the Discourse, while he was busy about the Fire, very dismally confirm'd our Terrors, by Three Proofs, which were stronger than all.—First, by the
squeaking of a Weasel,
that had met him upon the
Cellar-Stairs
; Secondly, by a
Hole, that the Rats had gnaw'd, in the Back of his best Livery:
And, Thirdly, by a strange
Dream,
that Mrs.
Susan,
the Chamber-maid, had been almost frighted out of her
Wits
by, about
Wet Cloaths,—Three Ministers,—Ripe Fruit,—and Roses in Blossom!
—After all which, to put it absolutely out of Doubt, and
convince
us,
That somebody wou'd die shortly,
he shew'd us on one of his Hands, a dirty
yellow Spot,
which the Thumb, of his other (as he shook his Head, and observ'd to us) was not
broad
enough to
cover
; and this, they all agreed, was no better than a
Death-Mould,
and
must mean something.
IN the midst of these
Miseries,
I had very little to say for my self, having been
put out
of a premeditated
Speech,
which I had been inventing during my whole Journey; but as
Good-Luck
wou'd have it, the
Tea
came in, to my Relief; and the first
Dish,
that had the Blessing to approach
Clarinda
's Lips, was so richly cover'd with
Money-bags,
floating in white Circles, all over the Surface, that
Gayety
took Place of
Melancholy.
—A little
Spider
too, was so kind as to
spin down Good-Luck, into her Lap,
(which, methought, meant
me
no Harm) Nay, I became, on a sudden, so happy, that her
Elbow
declar'd in my Favour; and her Aunt put her to the
Blush,
by observing,
she must change her Bedfellow.
BUT let no Man be too much in
Haste,
to conclude, that He is
happy.
—My Triumph was
dash'd at once,
by a Discovery That
this was Childermas-Day:
After which my Mistress said no more, but that
Nothing wou'd come to Good, that was begun on that worst Day of the Week:
So her Teeth ach'd
most prodigiously?
She was sorry she cou'd be
no Company
; and took her Leave of us, till next Morning.
NEXT Morning came;—and the first Person I met, was Mrs.
Susan
; whom I discover'd, cross the Hall, spitting seriously in her Hand, and shutting it close, with a great deal of Caution, for Fear of
letting slip
(as she afterwards told me) a
Sign,
she had felt, in her Palm, that a
handsome Gift
was very near her.—I was glad of this favourable Opportunity, to confirm the
Truth of that Token
; and she was so obligingly
Communicative
as to intrust me with two great Secrets,
One,
That,
I had trod upon her Lady's Toe,
last Night, in the Hurry of waiting on her to the Stair-foot; whence a Conclusion had been drawn, in my Favour,
That I shou'd come, e'er long, to her Bedside.
—The
other,
that Mrs.
Susan
having discover'd, this very Morning, That one of her Lady's
Stockings
had been
put on, wrongside outward,
was forbid pulling it off again, for Fear of
turning some Good-Luck, that was meant her.
Mrs.
SUSAN,
in Return for her kind Intelligence, was very Earnest to know, whether I had
dreamt of no Body?
—I told her, I had had the Happiness to be, all Night, in
Her Lady's Company:
And I cou'd perceive, that this Information was no more than had been expected; which led me into some probable Guesses, concerning the Purpose of a
Case-Knife, in a
Common-Prayer-Book,
which, when I got up, in the Morning, I had found,
under my Bolster.
—While, I held this Conference with my
Fellow-Servant,
we had the Pleasure of bidding our
Mistress Goodmorrow,
and of hearing (to my no small Comfort) That her
Foot,
as she came down Stairs, had given her the Signal,
That she was to tread upon strange Ground.
IN fine, Sir, it is impossible for you to conceive what an infinite Variety of
Notices, Impulses,
and
Prognosticks,
outward, and inward, these Ladies direct their Conduct by.—In my Three Days stay, (which I thought enough for my first Visit) I cou'd learn nothing, with any certainty, of what I chiefly sought to know; but was edified, above Measure, in the
Occult Sciences of the Family.
—My Mistress call'd after me, when I had taken Horse to come away, that she was afraid I shou'd have a
wet Journey
; for
Puss was washing her Face,
and carried her
Paw above her Ears;
which, she assur'd me, was a
Sign,
that had never been known to miscarry.—Whether she meant this as a Display of her
Art,
or of her
Inclination to bring me back again,
is a Mystery; which, notwithstanding the great Advance I have made in
guessing,
I am, yet, unable to disclose, with any positive Dependance.
BUT, I wou'd not, (for all that) have you think slightly of my
Skill in Tokens
; since I cou'd
astonish
you, if I thought fit, with a Profusion of
portentous Mysteries.
—I am absolutely Master of that
oraculous
Secret, which is
kneaded up,
in the
Dumb Cake.
I am instructed in the
aweful Ceremonies,
which are sacred to the fam'd
Saint Agnes,
to the Purity of whose mysterious Worship
Three Fasting Virgins
must concur, with so strict an Abstinence, That a KISS, during those restrictive
Rites,
wou'd be as
Undoing,
as a RAPE, after they are over. I can foretell the most agreeable Things in the World, by
Six Pea-shells over a Door:
And anticipate Consequences, which wou'd puzzle a
Southsayer,
by
turning Three Times round, in my Shirt, and falling into Bed, backward.
—I know who will die, an Old Maid, by the Help of a
Grey Goose Wing,
a
Clean Hearth,
and a
Seive full of Ashes!
BUT I shou'd never have done, were I I to let you into the Virtues of
Roses gather'd on Midsummer Night
—of
Hempseed, sown,
and
mow'n, in the Dark, upon the Graves of a Country Church-Yard
—of
patching a pretty Face with Apple-Kernels
—of
Cutting the Nails, fasting
—of
twisting a Garter, in Nine Knots, round a Bed-Post
—of
a Certain Hair, that you may find in your Shooe the first Time you hear the Cuckoo
—and a Thousand other
deep Discoveries,
which I have made, in this delightful Journey: And, which have put me quite out of Conceit with my former Studies; since, after having
labour'd
to be
wise,
so many Years, in a
College,
I found my self, (notwithstanding) little better than a
Fool,
as often as I came into my
Mistress's Company.
PRAY, Sir, favour me with your Opinion,
how far I may prudently venture my self,
with a Lady, so much wiser than I am. Your Advice will have its weight, with
Your humble Servant,
AEMILIUS.
The Plain Dealer. No 94.
—Non quicquid turbida Roma
Elevet, accedas—
PERS.
FRIDAY,
February
12. 1725.
WE had once a Species of
Opera,
call'd
Dramatic,
in which the Dignity of
Reason
was not sacrific'd, as it is now, to the Dissoluteness of
Sound
; but the Force of
Words
and
Meaning,
was increas'd by
Musick,
and
Decoration,
and impress'd upon the Soul, by the Mediation of the
Senses.
I HAVE heard, with a Pleasure, which, I hope, was not groundless, That there is a Design on foot, in one of our
Theatres,
to restore these manly, as well as delightful, Entertainments, with an Elegance, and Magnificence of Ornament, which we have not yet been accustom'd to.—The Success, which
Dioclesian
has met with (an
Opera,
of
this Kind,
but far short of the Perfection, which I am told it is propos'd to raise to them to) will serve, it is to be hop'd, as an Encouragement, to keep the Gentleman, who is
Patentee
of that
Theatre, firm
and
vigorous,
in his Intention.—His Genius is admirably turn'd to those Embellishments of
Show
and
Scenary,
which will always have a surprizing, and powerful Effect, on the
Stage
; but
most
where they are aptly, and significantly, introduced:—And, there are not wanting
Writers,
who can contribute
Subject,
and
Occasion,
whereon to exhaust, in the most rational, as well as agreeable Manner, the sprightly Copiousness of his Invention. So that I am almost led to flatter my self, That our emasculating present Taste, of the
Italian
Luxury, and
Wantonness
of
Musick,
will give way to a more
Passionate,
and animated Kind of
Opera,
where not only the
Eye
and
Ear
may expect to be
charm'd,
but the
Heart
to be touch'd and transported.
IT will be receiv'd as the Effect of
Spleen,
or
Affectation,
to insinuate, That the Martial Spirit of our Nation, is effeminated, and gradually relax'd, by the Influence of this softening
Syren:
And yet
Cicero
(who was at least as good a Judge as most of the Members of our
ROYAL ACADEMY for Encouragement of TRIFLING)
has not scrupled to say plainly, (in his Tract
de Legibus)
—That
the Good or Evil, in a State, depends greatly on the MUSICK, that is most encourag'd in it: For, if it be too Light, and Wanton, the People are insensibly render'd foolish, and disorderly; and, on the contrary, if it be Grave and Masculine, they become modest, by its Influence.
THE
Spartan
Plainness and Austerity, have been celebrated in every Age: And Histories are full of Instances of that Wise People's Rigour, against
Innovation,
in Particulars which seem'd to threaten them (at what Distance soever) with the modish Luxuries of their Neighbours: But the strongest Impression which was ever made upon me in their Favour, was from the Decree they passed against
Timotheus,
the
Milesian,
for an
Improvement
he had introduced in
Musick,
much like the admir'd
Concerto's
of our
Italian Benefactors.
But these Grave
Men of Foresight,
discern'd the Consequences of such pretended Refinements, and provided against it, by this timely
Edict,
with
Lylius Gyraldus
has inserted, as he transcrib'd it, from
Boetius.
FORASMUCH as
Timotheus,
the
Milesian,
(receiv'd into our City) holding in Contempt the ancient
Musick,
and rejecting the
Harp with Seven Strings,
hath introduced an
Harmony of many Voices,
corrupting the Ears of our Youth, by a Multiplicity of Strings, and a Musick hitherto unknown,
Dividing the Simple Notes,
into a Variety of
Feints
and
Quaverings,
We do therefore Ordain, That he shall be
impeach'd,
and that his superfluous Strings
shall be broken:
To the End, that
Strangers,
from
his Example,
may be wary of bringing among
Spartans,
the light, and unmanly, Amusements, which are practis'd, in
less modest Countries.
WHEN I reflect on the Power of Musick, as it was practis'd among the Ancients, and consider the miraculous Instances of its Effects, on the Passions of some Princes, who were most inflexible in their Resolutions: And, when, at the same Time, I consider, That the Musick, which had this prodigious Influence, was the Reverse (as I shall presently prove) of That, which now prevails in
Europe,
and which produces none of those
transporting Effects,
What less can I conclude, than that All our boasted Additions to this heavenly Art, are rather
Enlargements
than
Improvements:
—There is a little Piece, of
Randolph
's; which, of all his Poems, I am most pleas'd with; and which gives us, as it were in
Miniature,
the whole, that can be said, of Musick!
Musick! Thou Queen of Souls;—Arise, and string
Thy powerful Lute; and some sad
Requiem
sing:
'Till
Rocks re murmur
an awaken'd
Groan,
And
list'ning Tempests
catch the mournful Tone!
Then, on a sudden, with excursive Hand,
Fly
o'er the
sounding Chords,
with
Light
command:
'Till
Oaks,
and struggling
Elms,
uprooted,
bound;
And a charm'd Forest
lives,
and dances, round!
Then,—in the
midst
of the transporting Strain,
Strike a
sad Note,
—and fix 'em
Trees
again.
I SAID, above, That the strange Effects, reported of
Musick in former Times,
were the Influence of a Practice, very different from the
modern
; and I cannot more effectually strengthen that Assertion, than by observing I am confirm'd in it, by the Opinion of Dr.
Wallis,
communicated, on this Subject, to the
Royal Society.
THE Musick of the Antients was more
extensive
than ours: For
Poetry
and
Dancing
(or measur'd Motion) were then accounted Parts of
Musick.
—Now, we know, that
Verse,
if harmonious, and passionate,
set
to a
plain Tune,
and sung by a
natural Voice,
with some
soft Instrumental Musick,
such as not drowns, or obscures, but heightens the
Emphatick
Expressions; will work strangely upon the Ear, and move all our Passions, in Proportion to the
Tune
and
Subject
; but especially, if attended with suitable
Gesture
and
Action.
For, 'tis evident, on the
Stage,
that proper
Acting
gives great
Life
to Words. Now, all this
together,
(which made up the Ancient
Musick)
must needs operate strongly on the Fancy and Affections.—For, if the deliberate Reading of a Romance (if it happens to be well penn'd) will produce
Mirth, Tears, Pity, Anger, Indignation,
according to the respective Intents of it, much more wou'd it do so, if accompined with all those powerful Assistants.
WHY may not all This be
now
done, as well as
then?
—No Doubt it
may,
and with equal
Effect
too, if the
Words
were but elegantly adapted to the
Argument,
and dispos'd in Places, proper for their
Emphasis,
pronounc'd with a tuneful
Voice,
and inlivened by expressive
Gesture,
painting naturally the Passion, or Condition, of the Mind; and
graphically delineating,
as it were, to the
Eye
(as well as addressing to the
Ear
) the Bounds, Distinctions, and peculiar Attributes, of
Joy, Grief, Wonder, Fury, Jealousy, Compassion, Fear, Love, Hatred,
and the rest of those Emotions, which the acted Mind is subject to.—This wou'd, as certainly
now,
as
then,
produce extraordinary Effects; and especially upon a
Surprize,
where Persons are not prejudic'd, or pre-engag'd; and, so lie open to the meant Impressions.
OUR modern
Musick
is no more than what the Ancients call'd
Harmonick,
which was but one Part of
Theirs,
whose
Musick,
as I said above, consisted of
Words, Verse, Voice,
Tune, Instrument,
and
Action.
—A very powerful Combination!—And can we expect, from
One Piece,
the same Influence, as from the
Whole?
—The Design of
Musick,
among
Us,
seems to aim at exciting no
particular Passion
; but, in general, to
please the Ear
; and, by a tuneful Intermixture of
different Voices
and
Parts,
with
Cadencies
and
Concords,
produce an
elegant Sound,
which only those Persons can discern, who have distinguishing
Judgment
in
Musick
; while That much larger Part of the Audience, which consists of Those who have a
rude,
and uncultivated
Ear,
remains only amus'd, and confounded, with a
great Noise,
which has Nothing distinguishable to their Capacity.
'TIS true, indeed, that even this
Compound Musick
admits of
Characters,
very different: Some are
brisk, elate
and
airy
; some
sedate
and
grave
; others
soft, resign'd
and
languid:
—But, still, That kind of Harmony which is most powerful to excite particular Passions, or Dispositions, in the Mind, is the
simple, natural,
and
uncompounded.
—How often have I been forced to go abroad when I had no mind to it, or
fall asleep,
in the middle of the Day, by a
Nurse's languid Tune,
lulling her Babe to rest, in a Room, within my hearing!—Nay, continual Reading in an
even Tone,
—the soft Murmur of a pebbly Brook,—the falling of Rain upon Trees,—shall have an irresistable Power to induce a Repose upon the Spirits.—And, on the contrary, an
derman
who is lame of the
Gout,
shall feel himself grow light, and wanton, at the briskness of a
Jig,
on a
Kit,
or
Violin,
exciting a Disposition to
dance,
that is almost too hard for his
Pain
and
Gravity.
—Nothing is plainer, therefore, than that
simple Harmony
is more operative on the
Affections,
than an elaborate
Composition
of
Full Musick.
SO that, if it is the Aim of
Musick
to
please the Ear,
the Compositions of
Italian
Masters may deserve to be
preferr'd,
as forming
sweeter Consorts
than were known to the Ancients; among whom I find no Footsteps of what we call
several Parts
or
Voices
(such as
Base, Treble, Mean,
&c. sung in Consort)
answering
each other, to diversify, and fill up, the Musick.—But, if we mean, by
Musick,
to excite Passion, and, move the Heart, to any moral, or solid Purpose, we must apply a more touching
Simplicity,
and endeavour to act
upon Nature,
in a more
natural,
and unaffected Manner. And This, I doubt not, a judicious
Composer
may so happily effect, that (allowing for those
Hyperboles,
with which the Antient Writers set off their Musick) our Modern may be found capable of producing as extraordinary Effects as theirs.—And,
This,
methinks, is a
Mine
of
Pleasure, yet unopen'd,
and may deserve to be thought on, with some Attention, by Those, whose
Profit
wou'd be the certain Consequence of introducing a
Novelty,
so powerfully attractive. But I shall say more, concerning these Things, upon some future Occasion.
The Plain Dealer. No 95
O Imitatores, servum pecus!
HOR.
—veteres—miratur, laudatque poetas—
Idem.
MONDAY,
February
15. 1725.
To the
PLAIN-DEALER.
SIR,
THERE is a dishonourable Kind of Practice, among the Men, who style themselves the
Wits,
which I can no longer forbear complaining against, as an Abuse that deserves the Notice, and Correction, of a PLAIN DEALER.—You must needs have observ'd, that our
Poets
are, like our
Politicians,
divided into opposite
Parties
; and draw their Pens, with great Sharpness, to the Defiance of each other's
Muses.
—Among these Warriors, (on both Sides) there are a turbulent Sett of People, not
Soldiers,
but
Engineers,
who are known by the Name of
Cannon-Turners:
They never trouble themselves to provide
Wit, of their own,
but are sure, by some Stratagem, to steal
That, of their Enemies;
and apply it to a Purpose, the Reverse of what it was intended for.—The only Difficulty, they are at, is to substitute the Word TORY, in the Place of the Monosyllable, WHIG, without Detriment to the
Measure
of the
Verse
; or to crowd the unpliable Stubbornness of PRESBYTERIAN, into the passive Compass of JACOBITE: For, when these little Difficulties are once happily adjusted, they have turn'd the Malice of their Adversary's Meaning directly
against Themselves;
and by killing, with this
good Husbandry,
save the Expence of Artillery.
BUT it were well, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, if these
Cannon-Turners
wou'd confine the Exercise of their invertive Talents to our private, and
Domestick,
Factions;—On the contrary, They are never so active, as when we are at
War
with any of our Neighbours. The
French,
in particular, have been very great Sufferers by them; and have complained, That these
Cannon-Turners
are the only
unfair Fighters,
that this Nation ever sent against them.
I SHALL better clear to your Apprehension, what Justice there may be in their Complaint, by producing one Example, of many, where the Wit, of their own
Magazines,
has been
purloin'd,
in a most unsoldierly Manner,
and discharg'd upon them,
to their no small Damage.
MONSIEUR
Maynard,
a
French Writer,
in the Time of Cardinal
Richlieu
's Administration, found himself forgotten, or neglected, (having been a Favourite, in the former Reign) tho' this great Cardinal was nobly liberal, in the Encouragement, which he gave to Men of Merit: Monsieur
Maynard
had a Spirit, too exalted to importune, with personal Addresses, a Minister, whose
Levees
were so over-crowded; and to whom he was no otherwise known, than by the Fame of his
Writings.
He, therefore, sent him, (in the following
Verses)
a Memorial, so full of
Praise,
without
Flattery;—Satyr,
without
Malice,
—and
Submission,
without
Meanness
; that I have never met with a Mixture of so
artful
a
Wit,
with so
delicate
a
Severity
; and it was impossible for it not to have produc'd the Effect, which was expected from it, even tho' it had been address'd to a
Chief Minister,
by many Degrees,
duller
than
Cardinal Richlieu.
I.
Sick of a
Life,
possess'd in vain,
I soon shall wait upon the
Ghost
Of our
late Monarch,
in whose Reign
None, who had
Merit,
miss'd a
Post
:
II.
Then will I charm him with
your
Name,
And all your glorious
Wonders
done!
The
Pow'r
of
FRANCE!
—The
SPANIARD's Shame!
The rising
Honours
of
His SON!
III.
Grateful, the Royal Shade will smile,
And dwell, delighted, on your Name:
Sweetly
appeas'd,
his
Griefs
beguile,
And drown
Old Losses,
in
New Fame.
IV.
But, when he asks me, in what
Post
I did your
wish'd Commands
obey;
And
how
I shar'd your
Favour most?
—What wou'd you please to have me say?
BUT now Sir, almost a
Century
after the Death of both
Poet,
and
Patron,
comes a famous
English Cannon-Turner,
or Abettor of
Cannon-Turners,
nam'd
Bernard Lintot;
and, from a Magazine, call'd
A Miscellany,
discharges all this Wit against the Honour of it's
Author's Country.
—The first Part, being
general,
it will be needless to trouble you with it; but the Three last
Stanza's
run in this Manner.
IV.
The Warriour Ghosts will round me come,
To hear of Fam'd
Ramillia
's Fight;
While the vex'd
Bourbons,
thro' the Gloom,
Retire, to inmost Realms of Night.
V.
Then, I, my Lord, will tell, how
you
With
Pensions
every Muse inspire,
Who
Marlbro
's Conquests did pursue,
And to his
Trumpets
tun'd the
Lyre.
VI.
But, shou'd some
drolling Sprite
demand,
Well, Sir!—What Place had you, I pray?
How like a
Coxcomb
shou'd I stand,
What wou'd
your Lordship
have me say?
I SHALL take up none of your Time, with Observations on the
Lower Turn,
and more
ungenteel Spirit,
with which the Application of this borrow'd
Wit
is made; which, in the Original, is so
nobly graceful!
All I wou'd say farther, on the Subject, is, That since he, who makes bold with
another Man's Money,
will naturally be suppos'd to have had
none, of his own,
I am in Pain, upon these Occasions, least, when the
French Wits
observe the Freedom we have taken with
Their Property,
they shou'd conclude us
All
to be
Poor,
rather than
some
of us
Ungenerous.
I am, SIR, Your very humble Servant,
FRANCIS FAIRPLAY.
To the
AUTHOR
of the
PLAIN DEALER.
Mr.
PLAIN DEALER,
I HAVE seen with a great deal of Pleasure some Excellent
Specimens
of the antient
Hebrew Poetry
distinguish'd in your Paper, with the Applause which is so justly due to them: For every Body, who weighs these Things with Judgment, must agree with a late Writer, That
there is nothing, so soft, so tender, and pathetick; and, at the same Time, nothing so grand, so majestick, so terrible, and so harmonious, as the Poetick Part of the
BIBLE.
I SEND you one of their
Lyrick Odes
(which is the
Song
of
Moses,
on the Overthrow of the
Egyptians,
in the
Red Sea)
and I believe it will be readily allow'd, That there is more of the
Sublime
in this
Hebrew Ode,
than can be found among the
Writings
of any
Greek,
or
Roman
Poet.
Temples, and Altars, let us raise;
Our Father's God is
Ours,
and claims our
Praise.
God is our
Strength.
—Be then that God our
Theme;
At length, proud
Pharaoh
wakes, from his
long Dream!
Wakes—and feels a
Warriour
's Hand,
Who boasts a Power, more
vast
than
His;
and
lords
it o'er
His Land!
In vain the following Foes our God defy'd,
Their rapid Wheels in vain
tore up
the Strand:
In vain they mock'd the
waving Wand.
Not
all
their
Strength
cou'd the fierce
Sea
withstand,
The
watry World
flow'd fearless o'er their Pride:
The drowning Army beat th' involving Tide:
On Sea-wash'd Chariots, half sustain'd, the trembling Captains ride!
Th' uplifted Horses
paw
their Liquid Way!
And, round 'em, o'er the foaming Flood, the floating Legions lay.
There, while they vainly felt for Sands below,
For
Sands,
where
watry Mountains
flow;
Sinking, like Rocks, they choak the Deep with Prey;
High-covering, rose the briny Surge, and swept their Rage away!
Thy glorious Hand, O God! was forceful, here,
Thy Power protects us, and forbids our Fear:
Threat'ning aloud, the thund'ring Legions rose,
And, at thy
Chosen,
shook th' extended Spear;
Behind,
amaz'd,
we saw th' o'ertaking
Foes!
And felt our Hearts
anticipate
their Blows,
But, while the Blast of cold
Despair
blew keen,
Safety,
from
Heaven,
shot down between:
Dreadful in Wrath, thy lifted Arm but shone,
And all th'
un-number'd Thousands
melt away;
Consum'd like
Stubble,
when broad
Fires
roll on,
And sweep the blazing Fields, with crackly sway.
Th' Almighty
's
Voice but spoke a
loud Command,
And, strait, th' unlinking Surges, backward, rise!
Reluctant Waves in quivering Mountains stand,
And hang their billowy Horrors in the
Skies!
With murmuring
Climb,
th' obedient
Deep
yawns wide,
And, shadowing,
lowers
aloft, from either Side!
Down, thro' the horrid Road's
dark Concave,
led,
Safe, o'er th'
emerging Vale,
bold
Israel
trod:
Refreshful Pools, in their cool passage spread,
Sprinkled their Feet, rock-fester'd and unshod:
And
Israel,
rescued,
smil'd again,
and
felt
her Guardian God.
See, from the Mountains, cry'd th' unwary Foe,
Twixt the
dividing Waves
the Cowards go!
Their
Sorcerer
cleaves the Sea, with magick Skill,
Follow, for Vengeance; and o'ertake, and kill,
—The raging Host obey the mad Command:
The shouting swarms, descending,
hide
the
Strand!
Wheel within Wheel, the Chariots,
lock'd,
gore wide the incumber'd Sand,
Mix'd
Horse
and
Foot,
in glittering
Squares
descend;
And, in broad Pomp, their
waving War
extend.
The
Oose,
new-peopled groans beneath their Weight:
And the Deep
sickens
at th'
unusual State
!
But hark!—The rolling
Thunder
gives
Command
!
Disperse, ye Waves, your watry Ranks disband.
Down, the hoarse-sounding Sea,
let loose,
pours dark, from either Hand
Hills,
over
Hills,
devour the
vanish'd
Sand!
Together,
the
encountring Uproar
flys:
And battling Waves in mixing Mountains rise.
Helpless,—Engulph'd, th'
Egyptian
Squadrons roll;
With vain Resistance wou'd the
Deep
controll:
Mix'd, in the covering
Spray,
a while they
strive,
Then like
sunk Plummets,
to the
Bottom
dive!
Of all the Gods, what God, like
ours
is found?
So
Just!
and for such
dreadful Power
renown'd!
The Plain Dealer. No 96.
—Cum vini vis penetravit
Consequitur Gravitas Membrorum, praepediuntur
Crura vacillanti, tardescit lingua, madet mens,
Nant Oculi, clamor, singultus, jurgia gliscunt.
LUCRET.
FRIDAY,
February
19. 1725.
THE following Letter, from the same learned and ingenious Hand, to which I am indebted for that which was publish'd in a former Paper (No . 60) concerning the Difference observable in Point of
Fortune,
between the Professors of Poetry, and of
Painting,
contains so useful a Lesson, against a Folly, that is become too common among us, That no Subject cou'd be more seasonable, or stand more in need of a PLAIN DEALER. The Letter, in its Original, was directed to a
particular
Friend of the Writer's: But Produc'd an Effect which renders it deserving, of a more Extensive and
Publick
Notice.
SIR,
I SHAL now according to my Promise, which I made you on the Seventh of this Instant, and which I hope came to your Hands, give you some Account of the strange Ravage which is made by
Excessive Drinking,
in the Bodies and Minds, and Affairs of those who are addicted to that
Barbarous Vice.
NATURE has contriv'd it so, That all her Children, as long as they retain their
Reason,
are fond of
Life,
and at the same Time, they all believe that Life it self of which they are so fond, is a
grievous Burthen,
without the Benefit of
Health
; but tho' all Men are satisfied of the unspeakable
Value
of
Health,
yet few are frugal Managers of it: But the
Drinking
Part of Mankind are as Prodigal of it, as the
Squanderer
is of
Money:
For no Vice whatever does so much Harm to the Body, or lays the Foundation of so many Diseases, as Excessive Drinking,
Gout, Stone, Cholick, Fevers, Consumptions, Vapours, Asthma's,
with a long
et caetera.
A CERTAIN Friend of Ours, whom we love very well, has drunk himself into no less than
Three
of them,
viz. Gout, Asthma,
and
Vapours
; and yet he goes on in his old Course, as if th
Juice of the
Grape,
like that of the
Scor
on,
could expell the Venom which befo
e it infus'd; but here I think my self oblig'd to declare, that I mean, by
excessive Drinking,
a constant, daily, or frequent Drinking, to a greater Quantity than is sufficient to cherish Nature.
ALL the rest of the Vices together, are not so often punish'd by sudden Death as excessive Drinking alone is, which sometimes happens by the Malignity of the Vice it self, oppressing and stifling Nature, and sometimes by the fatal Accidents which attend upon it as false Quarrels,
&c.
OUR Friend whom I mention'd above, has no less than
Twice,
to my Knowledge, very narrowly escap'd
sudden Death,
which had like to have happen'd
both Times,
by Excessive Drinking, once formerly in
Lincolns-Inn-Fields,
and another Time lately at
S—
Now, as a Death that gives no Time for Repentance, ought to be look'd upon as the greatest of all Punishments, Excessive Drinking, ought to be regarded as the greatest of all Vices, because we ought to believe, That Divine Justice has proportion'd
Punishments
to the
Crimes
for which they are inflicted; and because there is no Vice, by which he who uses it, so immediately Defaces or so totally Destroys, in himself, the
Image of God,
which is
Reason,
I hope that upon reading this, you will have the Goodness to admonish our Friend, who has so narrowly escap'd
twice,
to beware of a
third Time.
AS the State of the Mind depends upon that of the Body, and the Motions of that Particle of Heavenly Fire, upon the Motions of the animal Spirits, which in time of
Health,
move Vigorously, and Regularly; and Weakly, and Irregularly, in time of
Sickness
; it must necessarily be, that
That
Vice which is the Occasion of most Diseases in the Body, must be likewise the Cause of most Disorders in the Mind. And there is no Vice that is so great an Enemy to the
Understanding
as excessive Drinking, or that so often entirely
Overturns
it. Indeed, Drinking to Excess while the Fit continues, sometimes strengthens the
Imagination
; but, by the same Degrees by which it
raises
the Imagination, it
Depresses
the Judgment, the former of which is common to us with
Beasts,
and the latter with
God
and
Angels.
But then the Day
after
Drinking, the very Imagination languishes with the Judgment. And Drinking to Excess never fails,
in time,
to
Quench
the Imagination, to
impair
the Memory, and to drown the Judgment.
I DESIRE that you would admonish one of our Friend's
Capacity
to take Notice, That
Bacchus
is often a great
Leveller,
that he levels the Understandings of
Wise
Men and
Fools,
of the Blockhead, and the Man of Sense; and that therefore, as 'tis the Interest of Fools to carry on this Vice, 'tis the Interest of Men of Sense to avoid it.
I DESIRE that you would likewise put Him in mind that the same
Drunken Deity
is often
worse
than
a Leveller
; that he is often a
Subverter
of the Order of Things, and pulls down the
Rich,
and exalts the
Poor
; that is, he gives Understanding to
Fools,
and makes Men of Sense
Madmen.
For Fools having generally stronger Nerves and less volatile Spirits, than Men of great Understandings, or of Beautiful Imaginations, the same Quantity of Spiritous Liquor that will set Fire to the Phlegm of Fools and by that Means
rouse their Capacities,
will make Men of Sense either
stupid
or
frantick.
AS there is no Vice, which more impairs the Understanding and weakens the Reason, there is none which more inflames the Passions, and disorders the
Will.
Several other Vices are
Solitary,
and each of them shuns the Company of the rest; but excessive Drinking is attended with the very worst of them, that is, with those which have the directest Tendency to the Misery and Destruction of Men; as
Gaming, Quarrels, Riots, Murders,
&c.
MOST
other Vices
are
compatible
with several
Virtues,
but Drunkenness runs Counter to all the Duties of Life: A great Drinker, is, for the most part, neither a good
Husband,
nor a good
Father,
nor a good
Son,
nor a good
Brother,
nor a good
Friend.
BUT 'tis not
Virtue
only that
Detests Drunkenness;
'tis often abhorr'd even by
Vice
it self, as by
Avarice, Hypocrisie, Ambition,
Bigottry
and
Lust.
As this unnatural Sin of Drinking is attended with several that bring Misery and Destruction on those who use them, as has been said above; 'tis often shunn'd by that Human,
Natural Vice,
which tends to the Propagation of Mankind, as much as it is by
Vertue.
For there is nothing so Inconsistent or Incompatible with excessive Drinking, as the Cleanness, Elegance, and Delicacy, of a
Courtly Gallantry.
AS the Right Management of Human Affairs, requires Health of Body, and Vigour, and Serenity of Mind, we ought not to wonder, if a Vice that breaks the Rest in him, impairs the Understanding, destroys the Memory, inflames the Passions, and debauches the Will, entirely unqualifies a Man for doing what the World calls
Business.
And therefore hard Drinking has ruin'd more
English
Families, than all the rest of our Vices, put together; not by the immediate Expence which attends upon the Vice, but by altering the very
Natures
of the Heads of Families who use it, and making them unfit for the Management of their Affairs, of which they were very capable before: For other Vices, indeed make Men
worse,
but a Habitude of excessive Drinking often alters Men, to that Degree, That they become the
very Reverse
of what they were before, and differ more from their
former Selves,
than from their
present Companions.
Such a Habit, when it has been long contracted, has often made the
Ambitious
indolent, the
Prudent
inconsiderate, the
Active
idle, and the
Industrious
slothful and negligent: So that their Affairs are ruin'd for Want of
Application,
or, by being intrusted in the Hands of those, who turn them wholly to their own Advantage, and to the Ruin of those who employ them.
AS
Personal
Vices are the Cause of private Calamities, so
National
Vices are the Grounds of National Sufferings. And as no Vice does more Harm to particular Constitutions, than frequent Drinking to Excess, or lays the Foundation of more Diseases, and of more ill Humours, in them; there is none of our publick Vices, which does more Harm to our National Constitution, or occasions more Corruption in it than this pernicious Habitude. And as this Custom in particular Persons causes them to neglect their private Affairs, and either to leave them wholly undone, or to leave them to be done by those, who will make their proper Advantage of them, tho' to the Ruin of those who entrusted them, as has been said above; the same Thing is not unlike to happen to this Drinking Nation.
TO be satisfy'd of this, if we may judge of the Future by the Past, we need only cast an Eye back upon our
Elections,
in which Thousands of
English-men
(as far as in them lay) have sold their own
Liberties,
and the
Liberty
of their
Country,
for
Liquors. Esau
sold his
Birth-Right
for a
Mess
of
Pottage
; but then He sold only his
own
Birth-Right, and he sold it to his
Brother
; and he sold it to
support Nature,
in the
Extremity
of
Hunger.
But Thousands of our
Electors,
have sold, (as far as in them lay) not only their
own
Birth-Rights, their
own
Liberties, but the Liberties and Birth-Rights of
their Brethren,
for nauseous Loads to
oppress,
and
destroy Nature.
I know, indeed, very well, that upon those Occasions, in order to corrupt People, there is a little of the
Solid
made Use of sometimes, as well as a great deal of the
Liquid.
But I have a better Opinion of some of my Countrymen, than to believe, That they would
sell
their
Wives,
their
Children,
and all their
Posterity,
for a
Song,
if, at the Time when They
did
it, They were
cool
enough to consider,
What it is they are about.
THUS, my dear Friend, have I endeavour'd to shew the Mischief, which excessive Drinking does to particular Persons, in their
Bodies, Minds,
and
Affairs.
I should say something of the
unreasonable Apologies
which the
Disciples
of BACCHUS make, for themselves: But, having run into more Length than I first intended, I shall defer what I had to say farther, 'till I have heard how you relish what I have already writ.
I am,
&c.
London,
September
15, 1724.
The Plain Dealer. No 97.
—Modó Vir, modó Foemina.
VIRG.
MONDAY,
February
22. 1725.
SIR,
AS I have taken Notice, in the Course of your
Plain Dealing,
That you are perfectly appriz'd of the General Disposition among Those, whom we call
People of Quality,
to patronize, and distinguish,
Merit,
I flatter my self that you will contribute what Assistance may be in your Power, to the Encouragement of a
Work,
I am at present engag'd in; and which the World may expect to see publish'd, very speedily.—I intend, in short, To compile a HISTORY of DEDICATIONS; containing a particular Account of all Addresses, of That Kind, which have been made to the
Noble Patrons
of the present Age: Whether
Dukes, Marquesses, Earls, Viscounts, Simple
Barons, or under what Name or Title, soever known, and distinguish'd: Together with certain
Edifying Remarks,
upon their graceful Manner of
Receiving,
and judicious Liberality in
Rewarding,
such Addressers! From which a reasonable Judgment may be form'd, concerning the
unusal
Encouragement,
Polite Learning
is like to meet with, throughout the Course of the present Generation.
GREAT Numbers have already sent me in
Memoirs
of their own particular Experience: And I doubt not in the least, but that I shall be able to compose a Volume, which will not only
do Justice
to the very extraordinary Times we live in, but astonish, and inflame Posterity.—If you, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, or any of your Friends have
wherewithall
to oblige the World, on so illustrious an Occasion, be
communicative,
for the
Honour
of your Country, and confirm me, still more,
Your Friend, And constant Reader,
HUMPRHY PICKTHANK.
I MUST be plain, with my industrious Correspondent, Mr.
Pickthank,
and let him know, without Ceremony, or Circumlocution, That I have an irreconcileabe Quarrel to the
Subject
of his History: And shall contribute no
Memoirs,
to its
Ornament.
—If he is desirous to know my
Reason,
I shall give it him in the Words of a merry Friend of mine, who took Occasion, some few Years since, to
dedicate,
to a
Great Man,
his Thoughts concerning
Dedications.
YOUR
Dedicators,
says this
Wag,
are a sort of
intellectual Taylors,
that
cut out
Cloaths for a Great Man's Mind, without ever taking Measure of it.—They have but
Two Rules,
and Those they never depart from: First, The Dress must be
Gaudy:
And, Secondly, It must
never Fit.
But they must make it of a
vast Dimension,
and cover it all over with
Tinsel.
METHINKS I shou'd congratulate the Men of
Quality,
on this
Advantage,
which it must, of Necessity be, to them, to have their Characters drawn only by such as do not, or
dare not,
know them: And will, consequently, be sure not to put their
Graces,
their
Lordships,
and their
Ladyships,
out of Countenance. A convenient Piece of Good Breeding! For which I hope, They are thankful.
AS for my self, when I see a long Drift of
Excellencies
and
Talents,
cramm'd down the Throat of an
Innocent Nobleman,
who has done nothing to
deserve
such Ill Usage, I am not at all surpriz'd at it, Because I am assur'd it is not meant to the Disadvantage of the
Person
of
Honour
it is address'd to, but is a mere Declaration of the
Author's Wants,
and a heavy Complaint, against Hunger, and Nakedness.
THE only
Dedications,
therefore, which I am for encouraging, are Those, which may instruct the Receiver, that he is to consider them as
Bills
of
Exchange,
drawn by the
Witty
upon the
Great,
and payable at Sight.—And, least the Offering shou'd be misunderstood, or not recompens'd, as it ought to be, through the deplorable Ignorance of some People, whose high Quality has plac'd them above the Reach of
Knowledge,
and the Impulses of
Humanity,
I have, for the Benefit of my worthy Companions, in the Labours of the Standish, drawn up a
Form,
which I would
have
annex'd to all future
Dedications,
where the
Fortune
is, in any considerable Degree, more Elevated, than the
Understanding.
The Right Honourable
Dives,
Earl of
Widefield
Debtor, To
Paul Poorwit,
for the following Goods, Sold and Deliver'd.
 
l.
s.
d.
Imprimis,
FOR a large Stock of Learning very much wanted.
02
10
00
Item
—For a Bail of powerful Eloquence, admir'd by all the World, but never yet us'd
05
00
00
Item
—For as much Honour and Justice as a
Great Man
has Occasion for
00
00
01
Item
—For a Hogshead of Courage not at all the worse for using
10
00
00
Item
—For a Pound of Wit, and Humour
01
00
00
Item
—For a long Line of
Lineage,
Dog Cheap, and not a Farthing a Yard, by Measure
05
00
00
Item
—For praising your Lord's Ancestors, unknown
1
10
00
Item
—For admiring your Lady's Beauty, unseen
00
10
00
Item
—For a Graceful Person, entirely of my own making
02
10
00
Item
—For a Nail of a Yard of Generosity
00
02
05
Sum Total
28
02
06
My LORD,
I HAVE sent you the Goods above-mentioned; being the Best, my Warehouse affords, and at the very lowest Prices.—I hope they will please you. You will find, in the large, several Parcels, which I have not
Item'd
: Which will raise the whole
Value
to, at least,
even Thirty Pounds
; and I have drawn a Bill upon your Lordship, accordingly, which I hope you will pay at Sight.—I might have found Chapmen for these Goods, among others of the
Quality,
as unprovided as your Lordship: But out of
pure Respect,
I was resolv'd, you shou'd have the
Refusal.
I am,
My LORD,
Your Lordship's most oblig'd, Most obedient, most devoted, Most,
&c. PAUL POORWIT.
IN this plain Manner, says my ingenious Friend, and old Acquaintance, wou'd I have
Authors
treat their
Patrons.
The said Thirty Pounds may, probably, be the Poet's
whole Stock
; and
Wits
dealing the least upon
Credit,
either in buying, or selling, of any
Trading People
in the World, have the more Occasion for
Ready Money.
A LITTLE Reflection on the foregoing Particulars, will convince the laborious Mr.
Pickthank,
that nothing is more unreasonable than his Expectation of my Assistance, towards setting forth a
History
of such
Dedications,
as I can, by no means, approve the
Examples
of: But am desirous to see suppress'd in Favour of a
Juster Method,
which I have therefore recommended.
To the Gentleman that writes the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
I AM a young
Woman,
just turn'd of
Fourteen
; and my Father is a Doctor of
Physick.
But he loves
Poetry
mightily: And we have a great many
Wits
come often to dine with us. For my Part, I have no great Skill, yet, what Difference there may be between one sort of Men and another: But I listen, when any of these
Wits
are talking with my Father, because he says, They can teach me Things, That I shall be the wiser for, as long as I live.
ONE of the prettiest of them all, was reading to us, yesterday, some ingenious Copies of Verses, out of a Book of Poems, that is just come out; and I think he told us, it was writ by a Gentleman whose Name is
Baker.
—They were particularly delighted with one little Poem, among the Rest, at which They all
laugh'd,
as if they were
mad:
And said, it was one of the
Cleanest Turns
They had met with: And my Father cou'd not rest, till he had taken a Copy of it.
I OBSERV'D, that my Mother, and my Eldest Sister,
blush'd,
while they were laughing at it: But I (tho' I stole it out of my Father's Pocket, the same Night, and have read it, over and over, till I have got it by Heart) can make nothing of it, and am vex'd, because I
want Understanding
to find out the Meaning of something that my Sister (who is but three Years older) pretended to
look learnedly
at, as if she knew, forsooth! as much of the Matter as Anybody.
I AM asham'd to ask
Questions
about it at home, for Fear of being found out to be Sillier than I shou'd be at my Years.—And, therefore, I bethought my self to beg the Favour of
you,
to shew where the
Cleanness
of That
Turn
lies, that my Father, and his
Wits,
were so highly diverted with.—I know a Place where they take in your Paper, and where I shall see your
Answer,
without any Body's knowing that it was I, who writ to you about it.—I never writ to a
Man
before, but my
Father,
and therefore pray don't wonder at any Ignorance, or Mistake, in
Good SIR,
Your Admirer, and humble Servant,
NOVINDA.
The FEATHER.
IN his
Forimel
's Arms, as if quite out of B
eath,
I'll kiss thee, my Charmer! I'll kiss thee, to Death!
Cry'd
Thirsis,
in Raptures—But, soon on her Breast,
He sunk down his Head, and compos'd him to Rest!
Not long had they lain, thus unactive together,
E're the
Wanton
pluck'd out, from the Bolster, a
Feather:
And, grasping him hard, 'till he open'd his Eyes,
In a Tone of Derision, the witty One cries;—
To prevent being kill'd, in the Manner you said.
I resolve, with THIS FEATHER to chop off your Head.
P.S.
There may be
Wit
in this, for any Thing I know; but, if a Man was for
Cutting my Head off,
and had nothing in his Hand but a
Feather,
I shou'd think my self a
Great Fool,
to be
afraid,
of what he cou'd do to me.
MADAM,
WHEN a young Lady, of so lively, and industrious, a Curiosity, becomes desirous to learn
Meanings,
she makes much swifter Advances, than you can easily imagine.—Not to rob you, therefore, of the Honour of a Discovery, you cannot fail to make shortly by Virtue of your own natural Genius, Please only to wait, till the Week after your next Birth-Day, and if by That Time, you shall not be as
knowing
in this Point, as the young Lady your Eldest Sister, Command all Instruction, in the Power of,
Your most obedient Servant, The
PLAIN-DEALER.
The Plain Dealer. No 98.
—Quid non Mortalia Pectora cogis,
Auri sacra Fames!—
VIRG.
FRIDAY,
February
26. 1725.
THE Force of
Avarice
is never so conspicuous, and so much to be wonder'd at, as when it taints the Minds of Persons eminent in Quality and Circumstance, secured, as one would think, against all mean Temptations, by the large Revenues of a
State Employment.
It is no such great Matter of Surprize, when we see this Tincture of Covetousness prevailing in a
Mechanick,
one whose Birth and Education are upon a Level; one, who has undergone a State of Servitude, who has learn'd to be scraping and penurious by Habit and Example; and who, by a Conversation with Dirt and servile Gain, makes the amassing a Fortune to be the chief End of Life. But we expect from a Generous Birth, and a Liberal Education, Sentiments suitable to their Dignity.
WE see, 'tis true, this
dirty
Passion often
blotting
the
Escutcheons
of the Noblest Families: And we find at the same time our
Respect
for their
Quality
turn'd into a
Contempt
for their Persons. But how much more despicable does this Vice appear, when we find it lodg'd in the Breast of Him, whose suppos'd Merit, and the Favour of his Prince, have raised him to preside in
Justice?
We attach Idea's of Veneration to their Characters, who are
Oracles
of
Law.
We look upon them as the Storehouses of Wisdom, and the Fountains of Integrity: And were they, as it is said of the old
Persian
Emperors, to appear in Publick but once in Seven Years, the Vulgar, no doubt, would carry up their Respect to the Pitch of
Adoration.
BUT our Deference for these Great Men is taken off, when we see Frailties breaking thro' their Grandeur: When they prostitute the Sanctity of Honour and Conscience, to Wealth, and unworthy Extorsion. My Lord
COKE,
I remember, somewhere speaking of
Extortion
in a
Judge,
says, It is there worse than Robbery: For
Robbery is apparent, and hath the Face of a Crime; but Extortion puts on the Visor of Vertue, for Expedition of Justice.
IT is a very fine Aphorism, and worthy the Consideration of all Ages and Countries, That
a Judge ought to be season'd with two Sorts of Salt; the Salt of
Wisdom,
lest he should appear a
Fool,
and the Salt of
Conscience,
lest he should appear a
Devil. I cannot help recollecting, upon this Occasion, a Passage of
AELIAN,
who speaking of the
Egyptians,
tells us,
'That they boasted to have receiv'd their System of Laws from
Mercury:
And that their Judges, whenever they sate upon the Decision of Causes, wore, hanging upon their Breasts, by a Chain of Gold, a Saphire Image, which was call'd
Truth:
But,
says the Author,
I should think it better, that, instead of the
material
Image dangling at their
Bosoms,
they had the
Essence
of it stampt on their
Souls.
I WAS led into this Trace of thinking, by Perusal of those Pamphlets which have lately been publish'd, concerning the famous Lord
BACON
; and of another I met with in the Window of a
Member
of
Parliament,
which is call'd,
The
CASE
of
ORPHANS,
consider'd from Antiquity.
THE Title Page tells us, That a Part of of its Subject is,
On the Court of Chancery, having the Disposition of Orphans Money.
As I observ'd some Passages in it, concerning the unreasonable Trust which has been put in the
Masters
of
Chancery,
I shall take the Liberty of transcribing a few, and making them a Part of this Day's Entertainment.
I MUST freely confess,
(says this Author)
it is always my Opinion, That a Lord CHANCELLOR was a most proper
Trustee,
and
Guardian,
of the Interests of
Orphans,
and
Widows.
I have not altogether retracted this Opinion, but I am so diffident of my own weak Judgment, that strong Clamour, and strong Arguments, perswade me often not to be too positive or tenacious of my Sentiments. I am not so perfectly, methinks, reconcil'd to a CHANCELLOR, and his
Masters,
having too intimate an Understanding with Each Other: And I begin to suspect it a Degree of
Harmony,
in no wise essential to the Promotion of
Equity.
IT has been, as I am told, but by a very modern
Order,
that the
Suiters
Monies have been lodg'd in the Hands of the
Masters
; and it may be to be wish'd that too many have not Cause to be sorry an Order of that Kind ever took Place.
THO' there be a loud Cry of
Deficiency
in the
Suiters
Money so lodg'd, I am not taking upon me to impeach the Characters of those Gentlemen, but only to observe, That that
Order
seems to have been as absurd and unreasonable, as it has prov'd unhappy in its
Consequences.
The Posseson of large Sums of Money, and the discretionary Power of approving what Securities they shall be plac'd out on, is a Trust of such a Kind as might debauch the Principles of Minds, not the most strongly intrench'd in Honesty, against the Assaults of Avarice and Advantage. It gives a Liberty, which I hope was never taken, of making Interest of that Money in which they have no Property, and for which they are, barely Trustees; and at the same Time of not paying One Shilling of its Produce to the right Owners, under Colour that they have not had any proper Security propos'd, upon which they could certify it safe and fitting to place it out.
WERE there not the unhappy
Deficiencies,
which are at this Time talk'd of, I think several Cases of Conscience might arise upon the Possiblity of the
Masters
Conduct, with Regard to this Trust. Suppose only, for Example, during the late unaccountable Fluctuation of
Stocks,
when the
South-Sea
Frenzy was at the Height, and
Money
yielded the Interest of a
whole Year
for the Loan of a
few Hours,
any immense Fortunes had been made by the clandestine Application of those very Monies, for which no Securities could be found; or those very Monies had been lost in an unwarrantable Venture for private Profit: What Reparation should have been made to the
Suiters,
or
Orphans,
whose Estates, in either Case, were so
happily,
or
unhappily,
employ'd? Would they have reap'd the Benefit of the first
Stock-jobbing
; or was there the least Reason that they should sit down with the Loss of the
Latter?
I make this but a Case of Supposition; and as it is scarce probable that the same Frenzy should ever again possess us, yet should it, the Wisdom of our PARLIAMENT is providing, That the Monies of
Orphans
and other
Suiters,
engag'd in
Chancery,
shall not be subject to such Hazards.
BUT so much for Quotation. As I have above-mention'd the Name of the Lord
Chancellor BACON,
who was accus'd by the Nation of
Bribery
and
Extortion,
I shall add a a few Words here with Regard to his Conduct under that Accusation. It has been reckon'd very singular in his Case, and He has been look'd upon as a Man of many
Fears,
that he should desert his
Defence,
and, by a
Submission
and
Confession
of his Guilt, throw himself on the Favour of the Parliament. But my Lord
BACON,
who, as it has been observ'd, knew that all Wounds ake with laying open, and that Circumstances are sufficient to blast a Reputation, was resolv'd to avoid the Hazard of a publick Examination. It may very often be wiser to carry Defects private, than to stand too peremptorily on a Justification; wherefore I look upon the Saying to be of great Weight,
That no Man has so many Faults, as he that takes upon him to have none at all.
THIS puts me in Mind of a FABLE, that I read in my younger Years, and which I shall relate here, because I am resolv'd not to end with too much Gravity.
THERE was a Knot of good Companions that enter'd into a Club, under certain Rules and Orders for the Government of the Society. One Article among the rest, was,
"That whoever should enroll himself a Member of that
Brotherhood,
with any corporal
Maim,
or
Blemish
about him, should forfeit a Crown to the Board; and for so many Defects, so many Crowns."
It fell out, that
one
Man in the Company was observ'd to go
Limping,
and they call'd upon him for his
Forfeit.
The Man put himself upon the Test, and was found, in the Search, to have not only one Leg longer than the other, but a
Scurff
all over his Body. Upon this Discovery they demanded another Crown, and then another, for a Glass-Eye he had. They press'd him in the End so hard for the Money, that it came to
Stripping,
and upon that Struggle, they found he had a Rupture:
So that the further he push'd his Defence, his Contest become more Chargeable.
The Plain Dealer. No 99.
Animum curis nunc huc, nunc dividit illuc.—
VIRG.
MONDAY,
March
1. 1725.
To the
Author
of the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
YOU were pleas'd, in a late Paper, to thank Heaven, that
All
our Lords are not
Lords
of
Trade:
For my Part, I wish, heartily, that Eight, or Nine Gentlemen of my Acquaintance, were
All Lords!
They fall, so naturally, into
Airs
of
Grandeur,
and are already so
adroit
in the Exercise of
Authority,
that They would strangely
become
the Dignity I wish 'em possess'd of, and I shall never be truly Easy, till I see 'em preferr'd, to Offices of much less
Trouble
than their Present, and more proportion'd to their Merit, and Abilities.
YOU must know, Sir, that I am
Agent,
for one of our
American Colonies,
and owe to the Duties of that Station the Opportunity of being perfectly well acquainted with the
Patience,
the
Experience,
and indefatigable
Application,
of most of Those
Fast Friends
to the
Plantation Interest,
to the
Ease,
the
Wellfare,
add (above all) to the
Good Government
of their
Dear Brethren
in the Western World!—I have receiv'd a thousand Proofs of the surprizing
Tenderness,
and
Moderation,
with which They act, in Matters, which carry any Severity, in their Appearance: And, on the other Hand, of the kind Vigour, and Resoluti- with which They forward every Motion, that but tends to the Encouragement, or Satisfaction, of their Countrymen in those remote, but important, Settlements.—I am not able, therefore, to
express
the Gratitude, I
feel,
for Benefits, too long, and too many, to enumerate.—But because we see Things clearest, when oppos'd against their
Contraries,
Indulge me but so far, as to tell the World a
Story
for me, which will teach the Enemies of these
Great
Promoters of the Publick Good, to value them, as they ought, and see what Differences there is, between
Them,
and other People.
ONE of the
Turkish Sultans,
whose Name I have forgot, taking into his Consideration the Great Fertility of
Egypt,
was resolv'd to give Encouragement to the
Trade,
and
Plantations
of That Country; To this End he sent over to the
Bashaw
of
Grand Cairo
a SETT of SAGES, with
great Salaries,
to whom
References
were to be made upon all Transactions, of that Nature: And by whose
Reports
He was to guide himself, in
Mercantile
and
Commercial
Cases.
IT happen'd, soon after their Arrival, that a Petition was presented to the
Bashaw,
by the Planters of
Cotton,
whose whole Year's Expectation had been destroy'd by an unusual Inundation of the
Nile:
In Commiseration of which deplorable Accident, They humbly pray'd a Remission of the Tax upon Cotton, for That one Year only.—The
Bashaw
(according to His Orders) referr'd This Petition to the
Sages,
who were,
with all convenient Speed, to examine its Contents, and report their Opinion, what might fitly be done, upon the Occasion.
THE
Sages,
justly mindful that the liberal
Salaries,
which were annex'd to their Office, intitled the People, for whose Encouragement they were appointed, to the most affectionate Proofs of their
Favour,
and
Good Nature,
were not wanting to lay hold on this inviting Opportunity, to convince the Petitioners how Greatly the Establishment of so able a
Board
of
Counsellors
was like to conduce to the Interest, not only of the Cotton-Planters, but of all the Plantations, in general.—They, therefore, most humbly certified, to the
Bashaw,
That the Loss of the Cotton appear'd indeed to have been very considerable: But seem'd rather an Effect of the
Planter's own Negligence,
than of the
River's Inundation,
since they cou'd not but know, there were many
Seeds,
and
Grains,
not liable in their Growth, to receive Damage by
Inundations:
And, in particular,
Wool
they said was
Water-proof.
—They were therefore humbly of Opinion, That it wou'd be for the
Good
of the
Plantation-Interest,
that no Regard shou'd be shown to the Prayer of the Petitioners, since they ought, instead of
Cotton
to have SOWN WOOLL, and thereby secur'd themselves against the Misfortune, which had ruin'd them.
I KNOW, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, That You are a
Man
of
Business,
and will, therefore, take up no more of your Time, at present: But referr to another Occasion what Observations I intend to make, on the
Story,
which I have here sent you.
I am, SIR, Your never-failing Reader, And humble Servant,
COLON.
To the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
IF ever there was such a Thing, as the
most Charming Woman in the World,
I have found her out, and am in Love with her, beyond all
Meaning, Thought
or
Description:
I had, naturally, no Genius to Poetry, but what can't
Love
make possible?—My Mistress, whose
Wit
is as amiable as her
Beauty,
is a great Friend of the MUSES, and us'd often to reproach me, That I had never
writ Verses
upon her.—She went so far, at last, as to tell me, downright, That she would never be married to to a Man, who had not
lov'd her, to some Tune.
—I readily guess'd at her Meaning, and presented her the next Morning, with the following SONG, which, I assure you, was of my
own making.
I.
AS
Damon
sat by
Sylvia
's Side,
And watch'd her Eyes, with amorous Pride;
He gently bow'd his leaning Head;
And while It prest,
Her charming Breast,
Thus the transported Shepherd said:
II.
Thou smiling Cause of
Rest,
and
Pain!
The Youth who
loves
not, lives in vain?
What Charms have
Eyes,
where Wishes
meet!
Where Souls combine,
And Two Hearts join,
Hope
is unbounded,—
Joy
compleat.
III.
No
Lamb,
of all thy
bleating Care,
Looks
softer
than
Thy Passions
are:
Possessing
Thee,
—By Thee
possess'd,
I fear no
Pain,
I wish no
Gain,
Who, that's in
Heav'n
wou'd
MORE
be
bless'd?
NOW Sir, the Occasion of my troubling You is only to know, Whether you can teach me any Method of finding out, what a Woman has a Mind to
hide?
I can't, for my Life, guess, Whether she likes
me,
or my
Song either.
—Before I made it, she was for being
lov'd
to
some Tune:
And now, All I can get from her, is, That she will be admir'd
beyond Measure.
In my Opinion, these two Things are
Inconsistencies
; but one that is in Love, is so apt to be mistaken, that I won't take upon me to be
positive,
till I know what
You
think of it. And, so, in Hopes of hearing from You, very speedily, I
rest,
—Ah! no—I mean, I
remain,
SIR,
Your most obedient Servant,
MYRTILLO.
The Plain Dealer. No 100.
Nam dolor & morbus Lethi fabricator uterque est.—
LUCAN.
FRIDAY,
March
5. 1725.
To the
Author
of the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
A DEAR Friend of mine having lately lost a hopeful and beloved Child, and remaining inconsolable thereupon, I beg you'll please to insert for the next
Paper,
the following Abstract of
PLUTARCH's
Letter to his WIFE, on a like Occasion. The sorrowing Parent is your constant Reader, and I know no better Way to calm the Violence of her Grief, than by conveying to her, by Your Means, and under the Sanction of your Authority, so many excellent and
familiar
Things, as flow'd from that Great Man on this melancholy Occasion: Which may, at the same Time, inspire our Sex with an Ambition, to imitate the Virtues of
PLUTARCH
's Wife, and so to deserve the Applauses he gives Her. I am,
SIR,
Your constant Reader, and Admirer,
ARTEMISIA.
PLUTARCH
to his
WIFE: All Health.
THE Messenger you dispatched to tell me of the Death of my little Daughter, it seems miss'd his Way as he was going to
Athens:
But when I came to
Tanagra,
I heard of it by my Niece. I suppose, by this Time, the Funeral is over. I wish, that whatever happens, as well
now,
as
hereafter,
may create you no Dissatisfaction. But if you have designedly let any Thing alone, depending upon my Judgment, I pray let it be, without
Ceremony
and
timorous Superstition,
which I know are far from you. Only, dear Wife! let
You
and
I
bear
our
Affliction with Patience.
I KNOW very well, and comprehend,
what Loss
we have had; but if I should find you
grieve, beyond Measure,
this would trouble me more than the Thing
it self:
For I had my Birth neither from a
Stock,
nor a
Stone
; and you know it full well; I having been assistant to you in the
Educacation
of so many Children, which we brought up at
Home
under our
own Care.
THIS much lamented Daughter was born after Four Sons, which made me call her by your
own Name
; therefore, I know she was dear to you; and Grief must have a
peculiar Pungency
in a Heart
tenderly affectionate
to
Children
; especially when you call to Mind how
witty
and
innocent
she was, void of
Anger,
and not
querulous:
She was naturally
mild
and
compassionate
to a Miracle; and gave Specimens of her
Humanity
and
Gratitude
towards
any Thing
that had oblig'd her; for she would pray her Nurse to give suck not only to
other Children,
but to her very
Play-things
; as it were, courteously inviting them to
her Table,
and making the best Chear for them she could. Now, my dear Wife, I see no Reason why
these
and the
like
Things, which delighted us so much when she was alive, should, upon Remembrance of them, affect us when she is dead.
IT is but just, That the same Arguments which we have oftentimes used to
others,
should prevail upon
ourselves
at
this
so
seasonable
a Time; and that we should not supinely sit down, and overwhelm the Joys we
have tasted,
with a Multiplicity of
new Griefs.
A vertuous Woman ought thus to think with herself, That the Tempest of the Mind in violent Grief must be calmed by
Patience
; which does not intrench on the
natural
Love of Parents towards then Children, as many think, but only struggles against
disorderly
and
irregular
Passions. For, we allow this
Love
of
Children
to discover itself, in
lamenting, wishing for,
and
longing after
them when they are dead. But the
excessive Inclination
to
Grief,
which carries People on to
unseemly Exclamations
and
furious Behaviour,
is no less culpable than
luxurious Intemperance.
Yet Reason
seems
to plead in its Excuse; because, instead of
Pleasure, Sorrow
is an
Ingredient
of the
Crime.
What can be more Irrational, I pray, than to check
excessive Laughter,
and yet, give a free Course to
Tears,
which flow from the
same Fountain?
FORMERLY, you discover'd, on a
like
Occasion, great Constancy of Mind, when you lost your
Eldest
Son: And again, when the lovely
Ch
ron
left us. For I remember, when the News was brought me of my Son's Death, as I was returning Home with some
Friends
and
Guests,
when they beheld
all Things in Order,
and observ'd a
profound Silence
every where (as they afterwards declared to others) they thought
no such
Calamity had happened, but that the Report was false: So
discreetly
had you settled the Affairs of the House at that Time, when no small
Confusion
and
Disorder
might have been expected. And yet you gave
this
Son
suck
yourself, and endured the
lancing of your Breast,
to prevent the ill Effects of a Contusion.
THESE are Things worthy of a
Generous Woman,
that
loves
her
Children!
Whereas, we see most
others
receive them in their Hands as
Play-things,
with a
Feminine Mirth
and
Jollity,
and afterwards, if they chance to die, they drench themselves in
excessive Sorrow.
Not that
this
is any Effect of their
Love
(for that
gentle Passion
acts
regularly
and
discreetly!)
it proceeds from a
Desire
of
Vain-glory,
mixed with a
little natural Affection,
which renders their Mourning
barbarous
and
extravagant.
Which Thing
Aesop
knew very well, when he tells the Story of
Jupiter
's giving Honours to the Gods: For it seems
Grief
also made
her
Demands; and it was granted, That she
should be honoured,
but only by Those who were willing, of
their own Accord,
to do it.
AND, indeed,
this
is the Beginning of Sorrow: Every-body
first
gives her
free Access,
and after she is once
settled,
and become
familiar,
she will not be forced thence with their
best Endeavours.
Therefore, she must be resisted at her
first Approach,
nor must we surrender the Fort to her by any
exterior Signs,
whether of
Apparel,
or
shaving
the
Hair,
or any other
such like
Symptoms of
mournful Weakness
; which, by Degrees, so
enervate
the
Mind,
and reduce her to such Streights, that, quite
dejected
and
besieged
with
Grief,
the poor timorous Wretch
dare not
be merry, or see the Light, or eat and drink in Company. The Inconvenience is accompanied by a
Neglect
of the
Body,
with whatsoever relates to the
Elegance
of
Humane Life.
—Whereas, on the contrary, the Soul, when it is
disordered,
ought to receive
Aid
from the
Vigor
of a
healthful Body.
For the
sharpest Edge
of the
Soul's Grief,
is
rebated,
when the
Body
is in
Tranquility,
like the Sea in a Calm. But, where from an ill Course of Diet, the Body becomes
dry
and
hot,
so that it cannot supply the Soul with
commodious
and
serene Spirits
; but only breathes forth
melancholy Vapours,
which annoy her with
Sadness
; there, it is difficult for a Man (tho' never so willing) to recover the
Tranquility
of his
Mind,
after it hath been disturbed with so many
evil Affections.
BUT that which is most to be dreaded in this Case, does not at all affrighten me; to wit, The
Visits
of
foolish Women,
and their accompanying You in Your
Tears
and
Lamentations
; by which they
sharpen
Grief, not suffering it either of
itself,
or by the Help of
others,
to fade and vanish away. For, I am not ignorant how great a Combat you lately entered, when you assisted the Sister of
Theon,
and opposed the Women who came running in with
horrid Cries,
bringing
Fewel,
as it were, to her Passion. When Men see their Neighbour's
House
on Fire, every one contributes his utmost to
quench
it: But when they see the Mind inflamed with furious Passion, they bring
Fewel
to
nourish
and
increase
it. When a Man's
Eye
is in Pain, he is not suffered to touch it, tho' the Inflammation provoke him to it, nor will they that are near him meddle with it. But he who is gall'd with
Grief,
sits and exposes his Distemper to
every one,
like Waters that all may poach in; and so that which at first seem'd a
light
or
trivial Smart,
by much
Fretting
and
Provoking,
becomes
great,
and
incurable.
I WOULD have you endeavour to call to Mind
that Time,
when our Daughter was not, as yet, born to us: Then, joining
that
Time with
this,
argue thus with your self, we are
now
in the
same
Condition as
then:
Otherwise, dear Wife, we shall seem discontented at the
Birth
of our little Daughter, if we own, that our Circumstances were better
before
it. The
Two Years
of her
Life
are, by no means, to be forgotten, by us, but to be numbered amongst our
Blessings,
in that they afforded us an
agreeable Pleasure.
Shall we not esteem a
small Good
because of a
great Evil?
or, Shall we ungratefully complain against Fortune for what she has
actually given us,
because she has not added
what we wish for?
—Certainly, to speak reverently of the Gods, and to bear our
lot
with an
even
Mind,
without
accusing Fortune,
always brings with it a
fair Reward.
And he, who in such a Case, calls
prosperous Things
to Mind, and, turning his Thoughts from
dark
and
melancholy
Objects, fixes them on
bright
and
chearful
Ones; will either quite
extinguish
his
Grief,
or, by
allaying
it with
contrary
Sentiments will render it more
feeble.
TRUE
Happiness
consists in the
right Counsels
of the Mind, tending to its own
constant Establishment;
and the
Changes
of
Fortune
are of no great
Importance
to the
Felicity
of our
Life:
if we are govern'd by
exterior Things,
and, with the Vulgar, have a Regard to
Casualties,
we suffer
any kind
of Men to be Judges of our Happiness, it will certainly ill become us, to accuse our Life, if, like a
Book,
it hath but
one Blot
in it, and all the rest be
fair
and
candid.
DO not You, therefore take Notice of the Tears and Moans of
such
as
visit you,
at
present, condoling
your Misfortune; for their
Tears
and
Sighs
are but
of Course.
Rather consider, How happy every one of them esteemed you for the
Children you have,
the
House you keep,
and the
Life you lead.
For it would be an ill thing, while
others
covet
your
Fortune, tho'
sullied
with this
Affliction,
that you should exclaim against what you
enjoy
; and not be sensible, from the
Taste
of
Affliction
how grateful you ought to be for the Happiness which remains
untouched.
Or, like some, who collecting all the
defective
Verses of
Homer,
pass'd over at the same time, so many
excellent Parts
of his Poems: So shall we peevishly
complain of,
and
reckon up
the
Inconveniencies
of our Life, neglecting the
Benefits
thereof? Or, Shall we imitate
Covetous
and
Sordid
Misers, who having heap'd together much Riches, never
enjoy
what they have in
Possession,
but
bewail it
inconsolably, if it chance to be
lost.
BUT, if you lament the poor Girl, because she died
unmarried,
and without
Offspring,
you have wherewithal to comfort your self, in that
You
are defective in none of these Things, having had
Your Share:
And these are not to be esteemed
great Evils
where they are
wanted,
and
small Benefits
where they are
enjoyed.
So long as she is gone to a Place where she feels no
Pain,
she has no Need of our
Grief:
For, what
Harm
can befall
us
from
her,
when she is free from all
Hurt?
And, surely, the Loss of
great Things
abates the Grief, when it is come to this;
That there is no more Ground of Grief or Care for them.
But thy
TIMOXENA
was deprived but of
small Matters
; for she had no Knowledge but of such; neither took she Delight but in such
small Things.
How then can you say, That
that
is taken from her, which she never was
sensible
of, and which never so much as entered into her
Thoughts?
As for what you hear Others say, who persuade the
Vulgar,
That the Soul when once freed from the Body, suffers no Inconvenience or Evil, nor is sensible at all; I know, that
you
are better grounded in the Doctrines delivered down to us from our
Ancestors.
For the
Religious Symbols
are well known to us, who are of the Fraternity: Therefore, be assured, That the
Soul,
being
incapable of Death,
suffers in the Body, in the
same Manner
as
Birds
that are kept in a
Cage.
Wherefore,
Even when we first receive our Breath,
'Twere good to pass the Gates of Death;
Before too great a Love of
Earthly
Things be engendred in the Soul, and it become soft and tender by being
used
to the Body; and, as it were,
incorporated
with it.
The Plain Dealer. No 101.
Lectorem delectando, pariterque monendo.
HOR.
MONDAY,
March
8. 1725.
To the
Author
of the
PLAIN-DEALER.
SIR,
WHILE I intended to have sent you an
Essay
on
Plain-Dealing,
I fell into a Conversation, which furnished me with it, and the Narrative will be thought a more lively Entertainment. The Society was composed of some of your old standard Friends, whose agreeable Characters gave Life to your Understanding.—I was carried thither to have the Honour of being introduced to the
Plain Dealer
; but, it seems, you were taking Observations from your Watch-Tower of
Barbican,
concerning which, I make no doubt, we shall hear something to our Advantage; and so, as it happen'd, I miss'd the Pleasure which had been promised me. However, as your Admirer, I beg to be admitted into the Number of your Correspondents, while I inform you, That the Company I met, were the
Clergyman,
the
Critick,
Major
Stedfast, Ned Volatile,
and your own dear
Patty Amble.
THE good Gentleman in Black, took Occasion, from our Speaking of the Title of your Paper, to distinguish a
Plain Dealer
from a
Rough Dealer:
That is, a Man, whose Knowledge and Generosity inspire him with a Delight in befriending Mankind, from the brutal Impertinent, whose Ignorance but
affects
Meaning, and prompts him to suppose he appears Wisest, when most insufferably Shocking. The Virtues of
Plain Dealing,
said he, are, by awkard Imitators, debased into Ill-Manners, and Inhumanity. The Brute, who boasts of his
Bluntness,
is a loud Censurer of other Mens Conduct, and never right in his own.—His Eloquence is a Froth of Expression, without Depth, or Perspicuity.—While his Depravity mistakes Brutalities for Beauties, the Graces of human Life are rejected by him as Frailties! Because his own Nature is impenetrably obdurate, he calls Obstinacy
Magnanimity!
Compassion for the Afflicted, is a
Weakness in the Mind
; and a Readiness to forgive Injuries, an
Affectation,
or
Deficiency
of
Spirit.
The
Plain Dealer,
refining
Nature,
by Principle, acts the Inquisitor within himself, and throws out a Light of Example, as well as Instruction, upon the World.—The Former insults the Unfortunate with Censure; but the Latter, reproaching only the Proud and Prosperous,
corrodes
not the Wounds of the Afflicted, by insisting on past, and irretrievable Miscarriges. Yet, by some gentle Allusion to their Actions, he awakens a Reflection, that can arm them for their future Safety.—We judge of Things impartially upon a Surprize, by such Comparison; and, condemning our own Faults in others, are forced to stand self-convicted, when the
Recoil
is made upon our selves.
But the Barbarity of a
profound Pedant
is still worse, if possible, than that of a
shallow Impertinent.
The Ignorance of the one, can only move us to Contempt; but the Learning of the other, provokes our Detestation. Tho' Envy may hurt Genius, by urging it, in the Disguise of Flattery, upon too ardent and improper Essays, yet, in the dogmatizing Pedant, it has shock'd Worth much more fatally at its first setting out; and extinguish'd a Spirit, which no Encouragement could re-kindle. A Pedant ungratefully turns that Force to the Discouragement of Learning, with whic
Learning has arm'd him to make War against Ignorance.—While the
Plain Dealer
reproves, he sets
Merits
against
Errors,
and the
Lustre
of the one, deepens the
Shade
of the other! To display but the dark Side a Man, either damps him with a Terror, that incapacitates him for Action, or disgusts him into a stubborn Indulgence of those Follies he would otherwise have grown ashamed of. Roughness in Conversation, being like Persecution in Religion, Proselytes are gain'd soonest by a gentle Manner of Persuasion; and I am pleas'd with a Saying that is recorded of King
Henry the Fourth
of
France.—A Drop of Honey draws more Flies, than a Spoonful of Vinegar.
IN short, the Force of a fine Instruction ought to strike like a Flash of Lightning! As the Subtilty of the one, is said to dissolve the Bone, without bruising the Flesh; the other, with a Surprize of Influence, shoots Remorse thro' the Heart, before the Temper can be ruffled into a Disposition to repulse it. In this Light, a
Plain Dealer
is a Father, or rather a Friend, which is yet dearer.—A Father may leave us Wealth and Titles, from which we may derive Authority or Distinction; but such a Friend, can teach us to be wise, and Wisdom illustrates Obscurity, and adorns Dignity with an Eminence superior to that of Fortune; it vests us too with the noblest
Power,
for it enables us to govern our Passions.—
Alexander
justly preferr'd his Master
Aristotle
to his Father
Philip. The King,
said he,
but made me a Prince, the Philosopher made me a Man.
I OBSERV'D, That your dear
Patty Amble,
delighting to
talk much,
took little Pleasure in giving
Attention.
But that Lady urges her
Sex's Privilege,
when she declares an Antipathy to
Plain Dealing.
Ah! cried the charming
Coquet,
how preferable is Flattery to
Plain Dealing?
I know, that, in the common Cant, Flattery is said to be
gross
; that it is called, The
Craft
of the
Courtier!
The
Seducer
of
Beauty!
and, The vain Promiser of a Happiness, which it never means to bestow! But, let me tell you, they had done it more Justice, had they called it, The
Soother
of
Discontent!
The
Refiner
of
Fancy!
The
Imbellishment
of
Conversation!
The very
Inspirer
of
polite Pleasures!
—What a Delicacy of Delight should we lose, were that odious
Plain Dealing
to prevail? Mr.
Volatile
would no longer give the
Tattling
of a Lady, the complaisant Term of
Liveliness
; nor the
Major
soften our Sex's Levities with the pretty Title of,
Innocent Amusements.
Our Expence in Dress, Equipage, Masquerades, and
Opera Subscriptions,
would lose the agreeable Name of
Taste,
for that hideous one of
Extravagance
; so that our darling Modes of Thinking, which we have so long been told, are owing to our Reason and Discernment, would then be forc'd to wear a much more mortifying Title, and be called, Our downright
Vanity.
I WAS willing to take the Advantage of this Pause but could not resist the Pleasure of listening to that ever-rambling, ever-agreeable Tongue! What Lover (continued the inchanting Trifler) would not rather be
flatter'd
into Hope, then abandon'd to Despair by
Plain Dealing?
The Coxcomb delightfully deceives himself, by fancying our very
Denials
to be Tokens of our future Favours. The Man of Sense (who, when a
Lover,
is, of Course, to be
mistaken
) believes the Charmer, he admires, has a Wit as penetrating as her Eyes; and, vain of the real Worth he possesses, becomes Fool enough, in his Turn, to think
Merit
a Recommendation to the Ladies!—Thus, when you flatter
Us,
you appear agreeable, when we flatter
You,
we secure our Conquests; and when we Both flatter
Ourselves,
we consult and preserve our Quiet. These are Pleasures, which
Plain Dealing
would intirely deface, and abolish.
BUT, Madam, cried
Ned Volatile,
as Beaus and Ladies admire Things for their
Novelty,
we Men of Speculation, approve them most for their
Antiquity.
—A Man of Dress, is pleas'd with a Sword-Knot and Cane-String, after the newest Fashion; while a
Virtuoso
prefers a rusty
Roman Javelin
to the White Wand of a Lord-Treasurer.—The Herald derives the Honour of Families from their
Antiquity:
And since there can be no Doubt, but
Flattery
is more
ancient,
it must therefore be more
honourable
than
Plain Dealing.
Plain Dealing,
interrupted the
Critick,
had been more gracefully drawn, in the favourite Character of Mr.
Wicherley
's Comedy; if his good Qualities, remaining equally strong, had been soften'd, to appear more
amiable.
But his Judgment is mix'd with Partiality, and his Wit with Ill-manners. He's impatient of Contradiction, and exceeds, in Self-conceitedness, the very Coxcombs he contemns.—As a
Lover,
his Indecency checks our Regard, and seems to justifie the Ill-usage which he meets with.
COULD
Plain-Dealing
(observ'd the
Major
) be forgiven among the
Great,
it would
both adorn
and
defend
them. On the contrary,
Double Dealing,
which is an Accomplishment they are fond of, has been more dangerous to Princes, than the most open Rebellion. Had
Tarquin
never trusted the Dissimulation of the First
Brutus,
the Expulsion of his Race had been prevented: And, I think, it may easily be determined, by the Unprejudiced, how far the admired Last of that Name deviated from his boasted
Honesty,
when he conspired against the Man whose Interest he espoused, and whose particular Affection had pardon'd, promoted, and confided in him; when, in the Person of that God-like
Caesar,
he assassinated his
Father,
his
Friend,
and his
Preserver.
I HAD now an Opportunity to offer my Sentiments, in my Turn; and ventur'd to interpose as follows.—Were
Plain Dealing
a Court Vertue, it would free great Numbers from the Misery of a vain Dependance, and avoid the Resentment of those, whom
Double Dealing
disappoints, or makes Instruments of. Greatness proves often too weak a Protection; for the meanest Adversary may become
considerable
in
Mischief.
However an angry Multitude may
vary
in their Tempers, their Passions, like different Arrows, carry all the same Sharpness, and are commonly pointed at
one Mark.
—Upon the Whole, If
Wisdom
is better than
Cunning,
if
Honesty
may be allowed the
safest
Principle of
Policy
; there is then this Difference betwixt
Double Dealing
and
Plain Dealing
; The one, confounds Families and Kingdoms, and renders the Guilty, when discover'd, detestable, even in the Grave: The other confirms Justice, banishes Distrust from Correspondence, strengthens Friendship in
Private
; and in
Publick,
is the Mark of a
Patriot
; and will transmit the Possessor's Memory to the Affection of future Ages.
I am, SIR, Your most humble Servant,
R. S.
The Plain Dealer. No 102
Vilius Argentum est Auro, Virtutibus Aurum.
HOR.
FRIDAY,
March
12. 1725.
To the
PLAIN-DEALER.
Middle-Temple,
March
1. 1725.
SIR,
I AM a Young Fellow, left by my Parents without any Provision, besides that of a good Education; nor have I any Prospect of Fortune, but what I may, by the Assistance of that, hope to raise in my Profession. You will certainly think I had other Business to mind, than being
in Love
; and yet, Sir, that is the Cause of my present Application.—I must own myself not able to withstand the Charms of a certain Young Lady, who is one of your Readers. She is at once, Mistress of the greatest
Sense, Knowledge, Wit,
and
Sweetness
of
Temper
; Qualities,
each
of which by itself (possess'd to that eminent Degree, she now enjoys them
all
) were sufficient to make whomsoever she honours with her Choice,
compleatly happy!
She has, for some Time, admitted me to the Favour of visiting her, and treats me, on all Occasions, with the greatest Civility. I have heard her often say, She thought
the Law
(to which, by this Time, you perceive I belong) the most
Genteel,
and
Honourable,
of all Professions; That she never would marry for
Money
;—And a Hundred such Things, that a young Fellow, as I am, is naturally vain enough to construe into
Encouragements.
But, Sir, she is a great
Fortune
; and you know what
Ridicule
a Young Man,
without any,
meets with, who makes Addresses of that Kind, and comes off unsuccessfully.—I desire, therefore, you would take an Opportunity, in one of your Papers, to let her know, That if she has any such Thoughts, as my Wishes have flattered my Hopes into a
Suspicion
of, Her Advances ought to be a great deal
more,
than is usually judged reasonable: For while I have the least
Doubt
of her Inclinations, I had rather die a Thousand
Deaths,
than, by a mistaken Presumption, run the Hazard of losing, what alone can make
Life
valuable, to,
SIR,
Your very Humble Servant,
SYLVIO.
THE Case of my Correspondent is pretty nice, and as this seems to be a Matter of the greatest Importance to both Parties, I think I cannot bestow a Paper better, than in taking it into Consideration, and in giving some Advice, that may be of Service to all, who are in the same Circumstances.
IF we consider the Affair of
Marriage,
as it is now generally carried on in the World, there are innumerable Difficulties, which damp pursuits of that Kind, in a Young Fellow, who, let him deserve ever so well in other Respects, wants (what the World
alone
esteems
Merit)
an ESTATE.
SOME of these Difficulties arise from the
Women themselves.
—There are few among them to be found, who have any Notion of Enjoyments, beyond mere
sensual
Gratifications. A
Masquerade
affords them infinitely more Pleasure, than the brightest Conversation; a
Diamond
has more Charms, than any of the moral Virtues; and, I doubt not, there are some, who, for the Sake of riding in a Coach and Six, would Yoke themselves with a
verier Beast,
than any in their
own Equipage.
Let any one Traffick with them for the dear Delights of
Wealth,
they will
buy,
even at the
highest Price
;—That is, They will pay the Purchase in what they prize most—
Themselves.
—And, tho' hardly any Match, on these Considerations alone, has ever yet proved happy, They still go on;—Notwithstanding they are sure to
repent,
They never fail to make the
Choice.
How wretched is the faithful Youth,
Since Womens Hearts were
Bought
and
Sold!
They ask not Vows of sacred
Truth,
Whene'er they s
gh, they s
gh for
Gold.
OTHER Women there are, indeed, whose Minds, of a less mercenary Cast, consider only the
Merit
of their Admirers; who are capable of receiving that Love which flows from
Esteem,
and of tasting Happiness from
rational Enjoyments.
But, how few of these enjoy the Liberty of
choosing for themselves?
How many groan under the Tyranny of an Avaritious Parent? who would no more part with his Daughter, than his Land, to any but the
best Purchaser.
How would he
Scoff
at a Young Man's Impudence? who, instead of paying
Her Price,
should pretend to talk of Her
Happiness!
FROM thus much of the Sex, then,
Moneyless Merit
seems intirely excluded. The Woman who has
Liberty,
as well as
Capacity,
to make a prudent Choice, is the only one with whom we can hope Success. And here arise new Difficulties, from another Side; The
Men
are
now
our Hindrance, and one in my Correspondent's Circumstances, must expect
himself
to suffer for the general ill Character of his
Sex.
Men daily shew themselves as little
disinterested,
in their Pursuits, as Women.
Age, Folly,
and
Ill-Nature,
are no Impediments to them, provided there be but
Money.
—Love, and Esteem, are so frequently used as Pretences, while the real Affection is only for the Fortune, that Women are alarm'd at the first Approach; and a Young Fellow dares hardly Love, where Prudence only permits him to Love, without incurring the odious Title of a
Fortune-hunter.
IF therefore my Correspondent sincerely feels, within himself, that disinterested Affection, which he seems to act by, I would advise him to take all possible Methods to
convince
the Lady of it; I need not direct him
how
; for, if he is sincere, his Passion will discover it self in every Word and Action. But by no means let him be
hasty,
in his Addresses.—With a Lady of her Sense, his
Modesty
will add much to his
Influence.
True Love springs not upon a sudden, and should he urge his Wishes, too far, before her
Inclination
has improv'd itself into
Affection,
she might rationally construe his Forwardness to proceed from other Motives, than the genuine Effects of his personal, and disinterested, Admiration.
ON the other Side, I must take upon me to remind the Young Lady, that
Time
is more in haste, than
she
is; and I would advise her, if she is (as I presume) at her own Disposal, and if she is satisfied of the
Merit,
as well as the Affection, of our Young Lawyer (as one of the Sense he ascribes to her, may soon be) not to
demur
upon his Want of
Fortune.
Happiness in Marriage, does not depend on Suitableness of
Estates,
but of
Tempers.
If there be but a Competency on
one
Side, no matter on which it lies.—
Love,
indeed, should be
reciprocal,
but there is no Necessity, that
Fortune
should. There is
This more
to be considered, That, besides the Happiness of an agreeable Partner for Life, which she will enjoy, in
common
with
him,
she will have the Addition of a
superior
Satisfaction, in the noble, and ever-pleasing Reflection, That she has intitled herself, as well to his
Gratitude,
as his
Love,
by exalting a Man of
Worth,
into
Eminence,
and
Prosperity
; who, otherwise, for
want
only of That, which
she abounded in,
might have had his Genius depress'd, and been
lost in Obscurity.
To the
PLAIN DEALER.
Button
's,
Covent-Garden,
March
4. 1725
SIR,
THIS Place, which
once,
was the celebrated
Seat
of
Wit,
is now deserted by all that Sort of Company, and transformed into an
Old Bailey,
in
Miniature.
The
Classics
are elbowed out, by the
Constables
; and instead of
Poems,
or
Essays,
nothing is heard of, here, but
Warrants,
and
Commitments.
Most of the
good
Company is frighten'd away, to make Room for the
grave,
and those who
dare stay,
croudle about the Fire, when a
Magistrate
enters, with as much Terror, as if they saw a
Ghost.
I beg you would
deal
a little
plainly
with these Men of
Authority
; and advise them to reflect on the
Illegality
of putting His Majesty's peaceful Subjects into
bodily Dread
; if not on the
Highway,
yet in Places design'd to be as
Publick.
For they strut about the Room, and shoot out their
Mittimus
's, like
Porcupine
's
Quills
; so that unless, among other
Poetical Licences,
Wit can plead an
Exemption from their Cognizance,
they are unfit for the
Gay World's
Society, and ought to live by themselves. And you may assure them, if they provoke us much more, we will bring the dead
Lyon
to Life again, and doubt not, but with a few Days good Feeding, he will be able to treat
Masqueraders,
who flant it in his Skin, as an Ancestor of his, did their Predecessor, in
Aesop.
I am, SIR, Your Humble Servant,
TIMORET.
I find, among the Letters, which came to my Hand, in the last Packet, one Epistle, of so extraordinary a Kind, that (to confess a plain Truth) it exceeds my Capacity to judge rightly, concerning it.—I am not a Stranger to the
Tradition,
which carries so much Weight, with the
Seafaring
Part of His Majesty's
Liege-People,
that the
Apes,
and
Monkies,
of
Africa,
can
speak,
like
Men,
when they have a Mind to it:—Yet I am, naturally, not over credulous: But, since I am told there are (among the
Directors
of the
Guinea Company)
PROOFS to be met with, which make the Truth of it
unquestionable,
I am almost perswaded to give myself up to the
Belief
of a Thing which seems, indeed, to be, very clearly, made out, by my
underwritten Correspondent.
Worthy SIR,
I AM a Native of the
Western Africa
; a Subject of the King of
Tombuto:
By
Species
I am no more than a
Monkey,
; but I am in a fair Way to be made a
Man:
For a fine young Lady, of a great Fortune, is fallen desperately in Love with me, and prefers me, in the most open Manner, before all her
other
Admirers.—But, in the midst of this unhop'd Felicity, comes a Feathery Fool, called a
Parrot,
to a House, that is just over against us, and has
tattled
himself into such
Eminence,
that they talk of a Project on Foot, to remove him very shortly into a HOUSE of much more Distinction.
THE Competition I have observed, among your
great Men
(or Persons of
Quality
) who shall
bid most,
for this
empty Prater,
has provoked me to
discover a Talent,
which is
conceal'd,
with all possible
Caution,
by the Laws of our
mimick Species.
—In short, I am forced to
cry out Shame,
on these People's
unreasonable Partiality.
—If my Fop of a Rival, was
nearer a Kin
to them, than I am, I should not wonder at their Preference: But, since
Nature
has given it on
my Side,
and
my Shape, my Air, my Countenance,
and, in particular, my
Parts,
and
Disposition,
all concur to demonstrate my
Affinity,
to these unjust Judges; while
Poll,
with all his Impertinence, can pretend to no other
Resemblance,
than what lies in his
fine Cloaths,
and
everlasting Pratling,
without knowing a Word of his own Meaning; these Things, I say, duly considered, you will not, I hope, impute to
Envy,
what arises merely from a
modest Consciousness of my own Virtues:
But exert yourself in the Behalf of
overlooked
(if not
oppress'd
) Merit. I am,
Worthy SIR,
Your most Obedient Servant,
PUGG.
P.S.
MY
Mistress
takes in your Paper, and likes you mightily.—She had just called for a Pen, and Ink, to write you a Letter, about the last
Opera,
when a Lady came, and took her out, and has left me this Opportunity of sending my
Case
to the PLAIN DEALER.
The Plain Dealer. No 103.
—Falsis terroribus implet.—
HOR.
MONDAY,
March
15. 1725.
AMONG many Letters, I have lately received, the Two following will furnish my Readers with no disagreeable Entainment.
To the
PLAIN-DEALER.
SIR,
I AM seldom negligent, in my Attendance at the Coffee-House, upon those Days, when you favour the World with your Lectures;—You very prudently entertain us, with a great deal of
Variety:
Which is, doubtless, the most ready, and infallible Means of
Improvement.
For, if you altogether treated about Religious or Moral Duties, you would be disregarded by your
gay
Readers, and relish'd only by your
Rational.
But as we are ignorant of what you will discourse, 'till we take up your Papers, we may, out of Curiosity, be unawares catched, by an
Admonition
in
Masquerade,
under the Disguise of a mere Amusement.—
YOU have indulged no obscene, or immoral Reflections: But have, on the contrary, discountenanced
Vice
; and supported Religion, with Vivacity, and Frankness of Spirit; consequently, the
Inconsiderate
may, by Degrees, be awakened into an Exertion of the
Thinking Faculty
; by which chiefly we are distinguished, and support our boasted Superiority, over the
brutal
Creation. A virtuous Reader of your Paper can at worst but be render'd
chearful,
without Violation of his
Innocence.
—And your Writings being generally
pleasing,
and very often
useful,
I flatter my self, That Men are not so abandoned to Ignorance, as we are ready to imagine, since they give such a kind Acceptation to you Essays, which have no mean, or ungenerous Gratifications to recommend them.—
I LEARN, from your
Plain Dealing,
to be inoffensive in Conversation; I observe all that passes, wherever I happen to be; and endeavour, at the same Time, to
contract
or
extend
my self, till I am grown
fit
for my Company. Though, by the Way, we should resolutely preserve this most reasonable
Steadiness, on no Account whatever, to
humour a Friend at the Expence of our Health, our Reputation, or our Virtue.
FRIEND, did I say? I retract the Appellation;—For certainly, if we think right, that Person who solicites us to Actions inconsistent with Reason, with Honour, or with Decency, is undeserving of so sublime a Character.—But (this single Exception allow'd for) we should condescend to appear blind to the Weaknesses of those we converse with—And he, who acts otherwise, will justly incur the Censure of an odious, and scornful Austerity.—A Man's
first
Care should be to avoid the Reproaches of his own Heart, and his
second
to escape the ill Wishes of other People.
WE learn, with Delight, from such
Plain Dealing
as yours, That a wise Man's Business is to subdue the Roughness of Passion, into the Calmness of a tranquil Humility; And that the more his Knowledge is enlarg'd, the more he will perceive
wanting,
to be search'd after.
Tully
tells us, The Mind of a wise Man never
swells,
nor becomes
elated.
For my own Part, I fancied my self, when I was young, to be acquaint- with every Thing: But now, I can perceive my Learning contracted with a narrow Circle, and almost obscured in a
dark Point
; when compared with that infinite, and inexhaustible Number of Subjects, to which I am an utter Stranger. In a Word, I am convinced, That an ill-grounded Conceitedness of our own Abilities is the most contemptible Weakness of Nature: And, even where it may seem justified, by our real Merit, it renders odious, and supportable, the very
Virtue,
which Occasions it.
BUT, to make a Transition, from what
I learn from
you, to an Information I intend to
give you
; There is a pretty Maxim in the
Guardian,
to
think
with the
Wise,
but
talk
with the
Vulgar
: Which occurr'd strongly to my Memory, upon observing with what Pleasure your late
Cambridge
Letter, concerning some little feminine Exravagancies, was received in all Places.—Give me Leave, therefore, to entertain you with a strange, and fearful Discovery, which, it was lately my Fortune to make, upon passing a Night or Two, in a Country Village.—It was in a Ramble, last Harvest, I had the Honour to wait on a
Widow,
(as well
stor'd
as the
Fields
were) in a kind of
Progress,
to visit her Tenants.—
AFTER Dinner, one Day, I left the good Company, with their honest Entertainers, the Farmer and his narrative Family, to accompany the
Inhabitants
of the
Yard
; and enjoy the silent Serenity of a very beautiful Prospect; which was bounded by the Shade of Trees and Hills, with ruin'd Buildings, at a little Distance from the Cottage.—I was envying the Happiness, and Quiet, of these unbusy People; and had wander'd, as it were insensibly, over half a Dozen Stiles, into the Remoteness of a hollow sandy way: Where I stood with great Delight, to observe the Fall of a pretty
Rill,
which gushing out from among the Rushes above, roll'd down the sandy Bank, and shap'd it self a Passage, along the Bottom of the Road I walk'd in. The Gloominess that was spread all round, had fitted this Place, above all I had ever seen, for the Abode of fantastick Melancholly: And whilst I was busied in Thoughts of this Nature, I saw a Country Woman hasten towards me, who wav'd her Hand, as she came forward, and cried out to me, to
walk on.—For I was standing at Gooddy
Hubbard
's watering Place!
—
AS soon as the good Woman came near enough to be ask'd,
What she meant,
I found, that Gooddy
Hubbard
was a
Witch,
that lived in the Wood: And, that if any
Cow, Horse,
or other Cattle, staid long enough in that Place, to drink of its
enchanted Water,
All the Hay they should eat, from that Time forward, would be turned into
crooked Pins,
and the poor Beasts must certainly
die after it.
I begged she would go along with me, to shew me the Witch's House: To which Proposition she replied, with inexpressible Consternation,
She would not, for the World, be so presumptuous:
She added, That it was about half a Mile off, and shook her Head, and assured me, that the whole Village trembled at the Sight of this
Goody Hubbard.
That, for her own Part very lately, as she was Gleaning in a Field, by the Wood's Side, the Witch had appeared to her out of the Hedge, in the Shape of the Leaf of a Tree: And ran along before her, and play'd Gambols, over and over in her Path, all the Way, as she came home again.—I ask'd her, Whether she had found any ill Consequence, after so terrible an Accident? And she answer'd, (with great Innocence and Gravity) That she had but too much Reason to believe, she was
bewitched,
having many
strange
and
wicked Thoughts
running ever Day in her Head, about Things she had never been troubled with, (till that unfortunate Leaf fell in her way) since she was a
Maid,
or but little better.
I COULD not resist the Temptation, which these silly Stories left me under, of making a
Visit
to the formidable
Gooddy Hubbard
; whom I found, in a little Hovel, which the Charity of the Lord of the Manor had ordered to be built for her, in the Wood; because the honest People of the Village, having taken it into their Heads to make a
Witch
of the poor old Woman, fell upon her, as often as she came in their Way: And had two or three times endangered her Life, by scratching her with their Nails, till every Body had
fetch'd Blood
of her, (as the Phrase is) after which, it seems, no
Witch,
in
England,
has Power to hurt a Hair of any Person's Head, who takes this effectual Way to
disarm
her,
I CAME off, with no other Damage, than the Loss of all the Money I had in my Pocket; which the Influence of downright Compassion compelled me to leave behind, for the Comfort of an afflicted Creature, whose unsupported Age, and Wretchedness, instead of the
Relief
or
Pity,
which was due to them by
Nature,
had procur'd her the malicious Rage, and Persecution, of
unthinking Ignorance!
—I return'd to my
Widow
; and after a long and plesant Conversation, on the Subject of
Witchcraft,
agreed heartily with her, That there were
such Things as Witches
; and took upon me to assure, with a
Sigh,
and a
downcast Eye,
That I had,
my self,
suffer'd, so severely, by one of them, that I never expected to become my
own Man
again; though I should live to the Age of a
Patriarch.
—
I am, Mr.
PLAIN-DEALER,
Your very humble Servant,
PHILOTHEUS.
To the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
CASTING my Eye upon
Horace,
I found this excellent Piece of Advice,
Leges & Perscrutabere Doctos.
As I generally put in Practice what I read, in Pursuance to his Advice, I sent for a Set of your Papers, and am now carefully perusing them. I take the same Method that Lawyers generally do with their
Reports,
read the Modern Cases first, so go upward, till they come to the Fountain-Head. But, when I light upon some of your
Female
Correspondents, it puts me in Mind of the
Roman
Ladies, of old; they resemble them so much in
Spirit,
and
Passion,
that I verily believe, many of their
Great Great Grandmothers
lye buried in the
Campus Martius,
or the
Capitol.
'Tis not incredible, That, after
Caesar
had first enter'd
Britain,
some of their
Legionary Ladies,
upon the Fame of the
Britons
unwearied Courage, might make a second
Roman Invasion,
and
with as good Success as
Caesar, after
he
had opened a Passage for them.
LIVY,
some where, tells us, That when the old Gentlemen of
Rome
were contriving a Scheme to have more of their Ladies good Company at home, the
Women rose up in Arms,
to the great Surprize of the
Roman
State; That they denied the
Senators
a free Passage to the House: And, that
Cato
by Name, had like to have been
carried off
by the
Mob.
They claimed, as their ancient
Rights,
and undoubted
Privileges,
almost as strange Things, as your
Mistress
does, in her late Scheme for establishing a
Female Parliament.
However, upon a
Parly
between both Parties, the
Women
submitted the Case to the
Senate:
Where, they always carried the
Majority,
though 'tis well known, no Lady sate in
House.
Nor was that at all surprizing: For if we examine History, I believe, we shall find, the
Senate,
at that Time, consisted more of
Wits,
than of
Wise Men
; over whom, for the sake of
Politeness,
the
Women
must have most Influence; nor is it less probable, that their being in Arms might
frighten
the
old
Gentlemen.
THE Use of
Bribery
likewise, had then newly been found out; and, I dare say, there was no Lady, who had not about her,
wherewithal
to
purchase a Vote.
Such was the Courage of the
Roman
Ladies of old: And how exactly our
Moderns
imitate them, is, I believe, too plain to need describing: Happy, therefore it is, and much for the
Peace of Great Britain,
that our Parliament has never attempted the Moderation of their exorbitant
Hoops,
or the Abridgement of their
Pin-Money!
For my Part I must frankly confess, I have no Objection to make against Mrs.
Patty Amble
's Proposal. Other Men may have their
Fears,
from the supposed
Consequences
of a
Female Parliament
: But, I think, they are
out
in their
Politicks.
—If a Power grows always
weaker,
the more it is
divided,
Let
me
be a
Republican,
in
Love,
and chuse rather to pay Obebience to
Five Hundred
of these pretty COMMONS; that live a
Slave,
to
One, Sole
TYRANT; and neither
enjoy,
nor dare
talk
of, my
Liberty.
—Alas, Sir! This is exactly the present Case of
Your Humble Servant,
POLITICUS.
The Plain Dealer. No 104.
Quid deceat, quid non; quo Virtus, quo ferat Error.
HOR.
FRIDAY,
March
19. 1725.
I FELL lately into Company with a Class of young Poets, who affect to be Admirers of
Tasso,
and were Extravagant in their Praise of a
Simile,
in his
Gierusalemme,
where the
Devil,
maligning the Success of the
Christian
Arms, is said, To
bite his Lips, and spurn up the Floor of Hell, in bellowing Rage, like a wild Bull, when the Dogs are baiting him.
THEY made me promise, That I would give them my impartial Opinion; and, because they earnestly press to know it, I will borrow the Reflections of a Friend, on the Subject of
Similes, in general
; which contain whatever I would say, were I to speak concerning the Nature of this great Ornament to Poetry; than which there is nothing more capable of being made either
delightful
or
ridiculous,
according as it is used, discreetly, or at random.
THE Use, which a Poet ought to make of
Comparisons,
is to
illustrate
the Object represented; that is, to enlighten and enlarge the Apprehension of the Reader. The Nature therefore, of the Thing, which is
compared,
must correspond exactly with what it is
compared to:
There must not only be an apparent
Resemblance,
but a visible
Proportion.
A Thing
low,
and
inconsiderable,
may be
like
enough to something
great,
and
magnificent
; but then, wanting Dignity to appear in its Company, no Poet of Judgment should submit to make Use of it.—I will give the Reader an Instance of a very remarkable Fault of this Kind;—Sir
Richard Blackmore,
in his
Prince Arthur,
has been pleased to compare the Devil, looking down from a Mountain, on the
British
Camp, to a
Toad,
on the Border of a Walk looking up at the Gardener.
While, with malignant Eyes, th' Apostate view'd
Their Host, with
Octa
's Message pleas'd, he stood,
Stung deep with Malice, and with Envy torn,
While all his
Veins,
like
Aetna
's Furnace, burn.
THE
Veins
of the Devil, I suppose, were not so much owing to Sir
Richard
's Forgetfulness, that he was describing a
Spirit
; as to a politick Design of reducing
Satan
to downright
Flesh
and
Blood,
that the Reader, conceiving a more humble Opinion of him, than he had been taught in his Infancy, might be the better prepar'd for the
Toad
in the Comparison.
And Streams of Fire, from his red Eye-balls flow'd,
Like Light'ning, breaking from a low'ring Cloud:
As when a
Toad,
squat on a Border, spies
The Gard'ner passing by, his Bloodshot Eyes,
With Spite, and Rage inflam'd, dart Fire around
The verdant Walks, and on the flow'ry Ground,
The bloated Vermin loathsome Poison spits,
And swoln, and bursting with his Hatred, sits:
So
the
fall'n Angel,
&c.
FALLEN
indeed, if no abler to do Harm to Sir
Richard
's Hero, than his
Toad
to the Gardener! Where is the terrible
Power,
the wily restless
Malice,
the insatiate revengeful
Application,
of this dangerous Enemy to Mankind, in Sir
Richard
's
humble Simile?
A
Toad
may be
poisonous,
but then he may be
trod upon,
which is by no Means, the Case of the
Devil.
If a Poet, who introduces
Satan,
thus
inraged,
would imagine a Comparison, to aggrandize the Horror of his Reader's Conception, it must certainly arise from nothing, which we are to look
down
upon; no little, venomous, inconsiderable Creature; The Elements should War together, on such Occasions, as these; the Skies should blaze with Lightning; the World reel with Earthquakes; the Sea rise to Heaven; the Poles crack with Thunder; and all
Nature
groan, with Variety of Convulsions.—
Toad, Poison, Squat, Bloated, Spits, Vermin, Loathsome, Swoln, Bursting!
What Image can arise from such Expressions as these, which is either
like,
or
agreeable?
TO say Truth, no
Simile
at all should have been introduced in the Place I have been complaining against: The natural Conception of a Reader, can represent to his
Fancy
the Idea of the Devil, looking angry from a Mountain, much better, than any common Image, of Things known, can represent it to his
Memory.
A Comparison is never to be made, but where the Object to be described is less known, or less conceivable, than something else, which, being of equal Grandeur and Importance, will also illustrate, and rivet it on the Understanding.
THE Descriptions, and Similes, which we meet with in
Milton,
give us quite other Ideas of this dreadful Rebel-Angel.
Scarce had he ceas'd, when the superior Fiend
Was moving tow'rd the Shore; his pondrous Shield
Behind him cast, the broad Circumference
Hung on his Shoulders, like the
Moon,
&c.—
His Spear, to equal which, the tallest Pine,
Hewn on
Norwegian
Hills, to be the Mast
Of some great Admiral, were but a
Wand
He walk'd with, to support uneasy Steps
Over the burning Marl.
Again,
Forth came in Order the infernal Peers,
'Midst them their
mighty Paramount,
who seem'd
Alone,
th' Antagonist of Heaven! nor
less
Than Hell's dread Emperor! with Pomp supreme,
And Godlike, imitated State, Him round,
A Globe of fiery
Seraphim
inclosed.
And again,
—
Satan,
above the Rest,
In Shape, and Gesture, proudly
eminent!
Stood, like a
Tower;
nor yet his Form appear'd
Less,
than
Arch-Angel ruin'd
; and th' Excess
Of Glory obscur'd; As when the
Sun
new-ris'n,
Shorn of his Beams, looks thro' the misty Air.
Deep Scars of Thunder had
intrenc'd
his Face;
Care,
on his faded Cheeks sat, under Brows
Of dauntless Courage, and considerate Pride.
HAVING named Mr.
Milton,
I am well enough aware, That Sir
Richard
may endeavour a Justification from
that
great Poet's Example; who has made Use, in another Place, of this very Simile of a
Toad,
when
he also
is describing
Satan
; but, pray, observe with what Difference, as well in the Occasion, as the Conduct.
SATAN,
after having changed himself into many different Shapes, to avoid a Discovery, by those Angelick Guards, which were plac'd about Paradise, is met with, at last, by one of the Parties.
So saying, on he led his radiant Files,
Dazling the Moon; These to the Bower direct,
In Search of whom they sought. Him there they found,
Squat,
like a
Toad,
close at the
Ear
of
Eve.
BESIDES his Necessity of providing against
Discovery,
(of which he was in no Danger in Sir
Richard
's Poem) he takes the Shape of a
Toad,
as most proper, while
Eve
was asleep, to approach her closely, concealed among the Flowers, and sweet Herbs, on which she lay.
Assaying, by his Devilish Art, to reach
The Organs of her Fancy;
there to forge
Illusions, as he lists.—
OBSERVE here, that the Devil is in no
Rage,
when thus compared; but, on the contrary, under much
Terror,
and endeavouring to
deceive
and
circumvent,
and therefore obliged in Policy, to assume that Form, which was rather suitable to his
End,
than answerable to his
Power.
But, when he appears in his
proper Likeness,
the very Angels are represented, as terrified, and starting back, with Amazement.
Him, thus intent,
Ithuriel,
with his Spear,
Touch'd lightly, for no Falsehood can endure
Touch of Celestial Temper, but returns
Perforce to its own Likeness—Up he starts,
Discover'd, and surpriz'd! As when a Spark
Lights on a
nitrous Heap,
the smutty Grain,
With sudden Blaze diffus'd,
inflames
the
Air:
So started up, in his own Shape, the
Fiend;
Back stept the Two fair Angels, half amaz'd,
So sudden, to
behold
the
grisly King.
NOTHING of this is
little,
nothing
diminishing:
The whole is natural, terrible, majestick, surprizing, and becoming the Dignity of the Subject, it relates to.
A
Simile,
should, if possible, be
alike,
in all its Parts; It is enough, that some
one
Quality of the Comparison resemble some
one
Part, or Nature of the Object it is compared to.—
Homer
has been infinitely guilty of this Error; hurried, as it were, away with the Rapidity of his Imagination, he seldom staid to weigh any more of a Simile, than that very Part of it, which suited his Purpose; not mindful enough, that upon starting an Object, to which many Qualities are common, the Apprehension of the Reader, is not, perhaps, at Leisure to examine which
particular
Quality includes the
Resemblance,
and therefore discerns not any Likeness at all, but with such Trouble, and Application, as totally destroy the very End of a
Simile.
For if the Design of this Ornament be to
illustrate
a
Description,
it ought not certainly to be found
obscure
in
itself.
THERE is, in the noble
Greek
Poet abovementioned, a famous Comparison of
Ajax,
who retreats slow, from an overpowering Crowd of
Trojans
; to an
Ass
in an
Enclosure,
surrounded and beaten by the Sticks of the Village, but walking gravely, notwithstanding, toward the Gap, he came in at, and stopping very frequently, to
eat,
in his Way: Monsieur
Dacier, Bossu,
and all the
French
Criticks, who are not Converts to Monsieur
Perault
's Observations, have taken a great deal of Pains to justify this Simile of
Homer
's; But, in my Opinion, they are all mistaken, not only in the
Defence,
but in the very
Accusation:
It is not so much the
Ass,
that deserves Blame, since he was in those Days a
Beast
of Great
Quality:
It is rather, that the Resemblance is
partial,
where it ought to have been
total.
—The
stiff, reluctant, Receding
of
Ajax
from his Enemies, is certainly well hit, in the Obstinacy of the
Ass
; but where is that Part of the Comparison, which should enliven to our Imaginations, his frequent Return to Slaughter? His Impatience of Soul? That Fierceness, Indignation, and revengeful Intrepidity, which the Poet's
Description
had also prepared us to expect in his
Simile?
The
Ass,
without doubt, was
loth to depart,
as
Ajax,
but he was neither so apt to be
angry,
nor so dangerous, if he became so.
COMPARISONS, to conclude this Reflection, can never be proper in
Passions,
or violent Emotions of Mind; The Imagination is then too much transported, and inflamed, to cast about for
cool Resemblances.
But in the Mouth of the Poet, that is to say, in the Course of the
Narration,
and not in the
Speeches,
they are beautiful, and necessary. They
describe
Passion well, though they do not
express
it: And, to say all in a Word, Where
Description alone
appears too weak to imprint an Idea on the Mind of a Reader, there the only effectual Remedy is to have Recourse to a
Simile.
The Plain Dealer. No 105
—Est mollis flamma medullas
Interea, & tacitum vivit sub pectore Vulnus.
VIRG.
MONDAY,
March
22. 1725.
SINCE
Love,
which, in both Sexes, is the most irresistable of our Passions, has its strongest Influence on
Woman
; I cou'd never observe That Cruelty and malicious Savageness of
Jealousy,
which actuates the
Ladies,
against those whom they consider as their
Rivals,
without inwardly lamenting the Weakness of their Minds; who had rather be
lovely,
than
happy
; and while they torment their pretty Hearts with a Thousand
Alarms,
and
Suspicions,
never take it into their Heads to
discover,
That they hate the Object of their Resentment, for only
thinking,
and
loving as They do
; and that what they are
pursuing
with
Revenge,
ought, rather, to be
met,
with
Compassion.
BUT the Honour of the Sex's
Reason, Generosity,
and
Moderation,
seems to be redeem'd, in this Particular, by the noble Spirits of Two Ladies, from One of which I have had the Pleasure to receive a Letter, so intirely
new,
and writ with so much
natural
Force, and Sweetness, that it is impossible the Reader shou'd not feel the same Effect from it, that I did.—I suppress, for the sake of
Modesty,
and not without some Reluctance, and Mortification to my
Vanity,
an introductory Paragraph, fill'd with the most obliging, and gentile, Praises of the PLAIN DEALER; and hasten, at once, into the Subject of the Letter.
I AM led, (observes this charming Correspondent) to imagine
Friendship
the Favourite Passion of your Soul, because your Sentiments seem finely turn'd for it.—
Mine
too, as far as its inferior Faculties permit, is truly sensible of, and devoted to it.—But I never felt it so forcibly, as I did the other Day, in a Visit, which I made to a young Lady, a dear and intimate Friend, in the Country.
SHE retir'd from me, not long since, to indulge a silent Grief, which I, and every Body, had taken Notice of, but which she had endeavour'd to conceal from her Acquaintance, with a Care, as earnest, as it was vain. For her Eyes, and alter'd Complexion, made it evident to all, who loved her, and therefore delighted to look on her, that there was something at her Heart, too melancholy for
Solitude,
and yet too
engag'd
for
Society.
THE Privilege of our Intimacy introduced me to her Chamber, without Notice, or Ceremony; where I found her, writing, and
alone.
—The Subject, which her Thoughts were fill'd with, had fixed her in so profound an Attention, that it gave me Freedom and Opportunity, to stand a while, and observe the beautiful Distress of her Mind, which was
lost
and labour'd in a
meaning Sadness,
and prevented her from seeing, or supposing, that there was any Body so near her.
NEVER was
Sorrow
so Majestical! so sweetly
Noble!
—Her lively Features were soften'd into a
Languishment,
that was lovelier, than
Health,
and more charming, than
Transport!
—Her
Eyes
seem'd to have
conspir'd,
against the Purpose of her
Hands:
For they stream'd down
Tears
upon the Paper, as if they would
efface
the mournful Words, as fast as she had written them. And, now and then, a
Sigh,
(such as
Love alone
inspires) swell'd her conscious, and distracted, Bosom.
AT last, she saw
me,
and
trembled!
—She rose, in Confusion, and came forward, to embrace me, which while she was doing, she press'd into my Bosom, the Paper, she had been writing: And, with a violent
Burst
of Tears, breaking suddenly from my Neck, flew, down a Pair of Back-Stairs, into the Garden; and left me Speechless, with Astonishment!
I FOUND the Paper address'd to
me:
And I leave you to imagine, whether my
Surprize
was at all abated, when I perus'd in it, the following Discovery of the unguess'd
Cause
of my dear Friend's
Retirement.
OH! my ever-lov'd!—my faithful Friend!—my Heart is flowing to you, with
such
Shame, and
confessing Penitence,
as they who are serene enough to enjoy the Comforts of
Devotion,
address all-pitying
Heaven
with.—My Misery is so truly great, that nothing but the
Sin
of having
conceal'd a Thought from you,
cou'd have given it the least
Addition.
BUT, let me hasten to
impart,
to you, the only Grief, I cou'd have had a Reason for
hiding
from you—I
love
—Oh! how shall my Confusion preserve Strength to go on? while I add—That it is—
Your Husband!
—Let His
Perfection
plead for me, if you
start
at this Declaration.—And, oh!
confess,
what you have experienc'd, so undeniably,—
That none cou'd have seen him, as I have, without being as guilty, as I am.
I WAS dull enough to imagine, That
Friendship
having possess'd my Heart, wou'd have
guarded
it, against
Love:
But, oh!
That
Thought has
lost
me!
IT was the fatal Happiness of being
near you,
that discover'd to me the Beauties of his Mind,—His respectful Tenderness, for
You:
His impartial, and distinguishing Affection for his
Children!
—His Contempt of the
Proud,
and
Ignoble
; And his Compassion for the
Friendless,
and
Unhappy!
—Oh! how fatally is He accomplish'd!—and how
deserving
your Affection!
CONCEAL from him, oh, my Friend! the Knowledge, that He has made me
wretched:
For,
yet,
my Eyes, and my Actions have been so watchfully
guarded,
that
He
is as much a Stranger to it, as all the World, but
Yourself
; from whom to have
conceal'd
it, appear'd to me as
Criminal,
as
not
to have conceal'd it from your Husband.
THIS, only,
dreadful,
Cause shou'd have torn me from your lov'd Society.—Suffer me,
here,
to bury myself, in the
Innocence
of
Solitude
; till Absence, or Death, shall have put an End to the Tyranny, with which
Love
has triumph'd over me.
I KNOW you are too generous to expect, on this sad Occasion, any dull, or mean,
Excuses.
—Where the
Will
is not guilty, the
Misfortune
is sufficient
Atonement.
But, tho' you have no Pretence for
Pardoning,
I flatter myself, you will
weep for
me; and, in Pity, now and then,
see
your ever faithful, unhappy, Friend,
&c.
I leave Her noble Letter, and the Influence it had, on my Soul, to your beautiful Imagination, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, who may convert it to the
Use,
and
Pleasure,
of your Readers.—Truth itself takes new Graces from your Pen: And even
Trifles
become of Importance, when you adapt 'em to your Purposes.—Do me the Honour of your Advice, on so
tender
an Occasion. And, when I hear how I
ought
to have acted, you shall know, in a second Letter, how I really
did act
; and its Consequences.—I am, with all
Duty,
(for, methinks, there is a Kind of
filial Reverence,
due to such a PLAIN DEALER as you are)
SIR,
Your most Obedient, Humble Servant,
ANGELETTA.
I CONFESS, there is something, so peculiarly refined! so great minded! and so generous! in both these Ladies, that I am
lost,
in
Admiration.
—All that I am able to say, under my present Amazement, is, That the Man must be
infinitely Happy,
who is
so belov'd,
by Two,
such, Lovers!
—He will become the
Envy
of my Readers; and, I am afraid, He is
mine,
already.—When I hear of such
Women
as
These,
I own, I wish my self
Young
again—There is a justifiable Delight in the Admiration of
Beauty,
thus
glorify'd!
—These are the delicate Spirits, that adorn, and ennoble, History. The Vertues of
such
Charmers will flow down and extend their Conquests over the Hearts of
unborn Posterity.
LET
Virgil,
if he pleases, boast of his PENTHESILEA's, and CAMILLA's: and
Tasso
of his CLORINDA's—For my Part, I am no Admirer of those
martial Ladies,
who have
led Armies
; and, instead of increasing,
unpeopled Kingdoms.
—Let
me adore
the Female
Greatness,
that can triumph over
Nature
; despise the Motives of
Self-Love
and
Vanity
; and smile at the Assaults of
Malice, Ingratitude,
or
Jealousy
; Faults, which, sometimes, are to be met with, in the
softest,
and fairest Bosoms!
I SHALL devote a future Paper to Reflection on these generous Friends:—I am, now, interrupted, by a Letter, of so different a Turn, that what most vexes me concernining it, is, That
This too,
was writ, by a
Woman.
To the
PLANE DEELAUR.
SUR,
I MUST infoorm you, I am
just mared
to a
Husband
as will not let me
dow
as I us'd, and as I
will dow,
in spite of his
Noze.
—I
wud
have him to
no,
as I
guvern'd
a
Famuly, befour
this
illnater'd
Man
com'd
cross me;
Both Servants, Mother,
and
Father.
—Bot thare was
alwase
more
adow
with
won
Fool, than with many. So, I
desier,
to
no,
if
thare
is not
sum
way to be
parted!
For He is not only
Obstinacious,
but a
Papish
besides, and a
Non-jewrer
; and
caant indoor
KING GEORGE, in his
Hert, thof
He has
swar'd
to be
trew
to the
Guvarnmont.
—We
kepe
a Shop, not sur from
Poles.—Prai wright some Advies
to
Your
unfartunent Sarvant,
SHUTTLECOCK FLUTTER-WING.
THE
Orthography
of this Lady is admirable!—I recommend to her immature Understanding, the Study of
Modesty,
and
Silence,
which, I hope, will offend
no Party.
—I cannot but deplore the little Care, which our
Marriage Adventurers
seem to take, of their
Happiness.
They are ready enough, in their
shorter Journies,
to inquire,
what Company?
and wou'd chuse
Solitude,
rather than
Bad.
—What
bold Man
is there, who has
Courage
enough to
travel
with an
Ape:
Or a
Nurse,
with three or four
Children,
loaded with Bells, Rattles, Drums, Bird-Calls, and squeaking Trumpets!—Yet, all
These
are
Musick,
when compar'd with the Voice of Mrs.
Flutter-wing.
I WOU'D not accompany her,
one Mile,
of the
Stage
of
Life,
for all the
Gugaws
in her Shop.—Tho' I am thought to be
Old,
for a
Batchelor,
I have the utmost
Honour
for the
Ladies:
But, I hope,
This
cannot be
call
'd one.—I am so
angry
with her, that I can write no more!
The Plain Dealer. No 106.
—Dei quantum instar in illo!—
VIDA.
FRIDAY,
March
26. 1725.
THE CZAR of
RUSSIA
is
dead!
—I tell it not, as
News
; but I speak it, with
Astonishment!
—The
greatest Spirit,
that ever glorified, and exalted humane Nature, has stept out of
Time
into
Eternity
: And yet the
World
looks still the
same!
The Sun shines not
paler!
—The Season advances and blooms out, with its usual
Regularity!
And every Thing (above and below) wears the very Face, which it was
us'd
to wear, before the
Death
of This, almost
adorable
Monarch, seem'd to call for a Night of universal
Sadness,
upon the Lustre of
Created
Glory!
ALAS! how inconsiderable a Wretch
am I, then!
—What imports it, how a
Million
of
us, common Thinkers, live!
or where, or when, we
die!
—Since this
Godlike Establisher, and Adorner, of Empire,
can have
left
Nature as
unconcern'd
for him, as he
found
her: And the
World,
which seem'd to tremble, under the Weight of his
living
Pressure, bears no
Changes
in her Form or Motion, to distinguish such a
Death
as
His
was!
WHAT a mortifying
Check
upon the Extravagance of humane
Ambition,
is the
Shortness
of that
Life,
which must give
Limits
to our noblest Purposes!—We are sure to
expire,
by the natural Course of our Days, before the
Event
of any
vast
Undertaking can have taught us,
to what End we labour'd.
—While we mediate the
Superstructure,
we
sink,
and
die,
upon the
Foundation:
And leave Posterity the License of
supposing, examining,
and
deciding upon,
our Schemes and Actions, with a Latitude, which, could it be foreknown, would curb the Sallies of great Minds, and teach
Heroick Virtue
to be
asham'd
of a Reward, so
precarious,
as
Fame
; and so dependant on the Disposition of Souls, too
narrow
to take in
Purposes,
where
Events
are left imperfect.
HOW infinite had been the Progress of this prodigious Prince's Glory, could He have looked forward on such a
Length
of
Life,
as was allotted to the Ancient
Patriarchs!
—But, in
this,
as in
all
Objects of Reflection, it is easy for us to trace the
Wisdom
of
Almighty Power,
that proportions
Blessings
to
Necessities:
And neither grants, nor withholds, in
vain
; but adapts, whatever
is,
to that which
ough to be.
—In the early Ages of the World, when
Arts
and
Qualities,
were yet unknown, there was a visible Necessity, that Men should
live,
those many Hundred Years, which, now, we think of, with Amazement; because their
Ignorance
requir'd a frequent
Return
of
Observation
; and
Connexions
of
re-iterated Experience,
to establish even the
Rudiments
of all that Variety of Knowledge, which served their
Posterity
as
Scaffolding,
to stand upon; and, so (by lifting them, at once, the whole
Height,
which
themselves
had climb'd to) made their
Business in Life
so much
less,
that Life requir'd to be, proportionably,
shorter.
BUT, be this as it will, the most sparkling Ornament of
Mortality,
is now become
immortal!
—The Soul of PETER the GREAT, perhaps associates and compares itself with Those of CAESAR, and of ALEXANDER!—There is
Scope enough,
upon the Shoreless Ocean of
Eternity,
for all its Sails to spread themselves; and make new Way for Ever, into
Knowledge
and
Discovery!
—This Earth (however large a Part of it, He honoured with His Influence)
restrain'd, imprison'd
and
held short,
his Genius:—He seem'd to struggle, like a
close cag'd Eagle,
for Enlargement more proportioned to the
Vastness
of his
Qualities.
—He was,
truly
GOD's VICEGERENT, and irradiated the
Human
Nature, with such lively Beamings of the
Divine,
that, as
He obey'd, He resembled,
the Deity!—He could not, indeed,
create
Men; But he
new-moulded,
and
inspir'd
them.
DETACH'D, and
single Attributes
of Virtues, which
met,
full and perfect, in the
Russian Monarch's
Character, have eterniz'd the Memory of
Ancient Heroes
; and swell'd History with their Praises:—The Invention of
New Arts,
The Establishment of
New Laws,
The Adornment, or Enrichment, of their Country; The reducing
Barbarism,
into civiliz'd Society: The Encouragement of Learning, The Punishment of Oppression; The Deliverance of their own Country, or, The Conquest of others:—Each of these,
seperately,
has been thought sufficient in all Ages, to
make,
and
immortalize,
a HERO.—What
Name,
then shall the grateful World invent, and bestow, to distinguish the
Possessor
of
more
than
all
these Virtues,
united!
LET us consider him, distinctly and impartially, in the varied Lights of His
Patience,
His
Application,
His
Wisdom,
His
Justice,
His
Generosity,
His aspiring
Magnanimity,
and the intrepid Firmness of His invincible
Resolution!
—In every one of these Views, we shall see him
equal
with the noblest Spirits of Antiquity: And, in
some
of them,
superior
to all, who have been call'd
Great,
before him.
WHAT he has
done,
can either,
never
be
equall'd,
or, equall'd only by what he has
suffer'd!
—To look back upon the
Beginning
of a Life of continued
Wonders!
What Dangers, Reproaches, Rebellions, and Ingratitude, did He not meet with
at home?
And (
abroad
) what
Insults, Contempt
and
Mortifycation?
—Yet, such was the stedfast Patience and Moderation, of his Nature, that instead of being inflam'd by His
Pride,
into rash and sudden Resentment, He was only stimulated by His
Reason,
into a generous Determination, to make himself too
dreadful
for
Scorn
; and become the
Protector
of His
Despisers.
—That arrogant
Contempt,
which was shewn (by the late King of
Sweden
's Permission) to the
Czar,
when he pass'd by
Riga,
in the Beginning of his
meaning Travels!
let it be weigh'd against the God-like
Forgiveness, Generosity,
and noble
Compassion,
with which this very
Czar
interpos'd, afterwards, (and even to the Check of his own Victories) prevented the impending Ruin of that King of
Sweden
's Hostile Country!—Let One of these Considerations, I say, be weigh'd against the other; and then, point out any Example, from History, of so
amiable a Greatness!
so
sincere,
and
sweet,
a
Magnanimity!
LET His
Application
be measured by the Success of His unwearied Labours!—They, who look into
Russia,
as it now
is,
and remember what it
was,
within
Twenty
Years past, will scarce believe themseves free from the Influence of some
Enchantment,
when they see Cities of
Sixty thousand Houses,
covering the Shoar, where (so lately) a few Fishermen dried their Nets!—When they behold a
Sea
filled with
His Ships of War,
whom they can remember, when He was not Master of
One single Harbour!
—When they see
Nature
reduc'd by
Art,
to yield Occasions, she was most
repugnant
to!—Distant Seas taught to
incorporate!
Mountains forc'd to give Way to
Rivers!
New Engines, and Arts of War, as well offensive, as defensive!—New Customs! New Trades! New
Souls!
And a Face of universal Knowledge and Politeness, smiling in all Parts of a Land, which was so lately over-run with the darkest Ignorance, and Barbarity!—And, when they shall be told, That all these astonishing Changes, are the mere Effects of
One
Man's prodigious, and unbounded, Mind, what less can they say, in
Answer,
than, That
such a Man
had been a
God,
could His
Body
have been rendered, but as
immortal,
as His
Fame
is?
WAS there an
Oppressor,
in
Europe,
whom His Resolution did not mortify? or an
injur'd,
or
afflicted, Prince,
whom His Generosity did not
pity?
The Wings of His aspiring
Eagle,
shadow'd both Extreams of the
Christian World:
And the
Turks
look'd, with Horror, on the Vengeance, which they saw so
near
them.—And, in this only Particular, I am sorry to observe, that the Author of the NORTHEN STAR, was less a
Prophet,
than he imagin'd.—
Death
intercepted the glorious Race, when the
Goal
was just in View, and left the GREEKS not,
yet,
so
happy,
as that Writer had foretold them.
Grecia
's lost Fame shall be restor'd, by
Thee;
O Monarch!—born, to
set an EMPIRE free!
'Twill be
—Prophetick
reece
re-hopes
Her own:
And
hails her Caesar,
on the
Russian
Throne.
ATHENS
again shall
teach—CORINTH aspire:
And
THEBAN
Breasts glow with
rekindling
Fire!
Once more,
Byzantium,
destin'd, long, to
shine,
Shall
rear
the ruin'd Name of
CONSTANTINE.
BUT, that I may make the Author of the Poem some Atonement for the
false
Prophecy I have charg'd him with, in the above-cited Verses, I acknowledge, that he was more
truly
a
Prophet,
in the
Czar
's Attempt upon
Persia,
by Way of the
Caspian Sea:
—As also in the present Design of
Discovering the North-East Passage:
Nothing of which had been heard of, 'till long after that Poem was written: The
First Edition
of which, was publish'd in the Year 1716.
The
Virgin Caspian
this bold Lover
woo's,
Nor
vainly,
for her envied Favour sues:
In Secret, won, she has her
Love
confess'd,
And giv'n him Leave to
wander o'er her Breast.
Persia
's heap'd Wealth
shall her vast Portion be;
And
Eastern Kings,
shall give
her Lord
the Knee.
Zembla
's hige Cliffs,—Eternal
Hoards
of
Frost!
Where proud
Discovery
has, so oft, been
lost,
Thro' all the Ages of the World, 'till
now,
Have
check'd
the
Keels,
which would those Oceans plow:
Reserv'd by Fate, and for
Thy Reign
design'd,
Thy piercing Eye,
shall the wish'd Passage find;
Or, to the
Western
World, the
Eastern join,
And see the
Profit,
and the
Glory, THINE!
I perceive, by the Advertisements, that a
Third Edition
of this POEM is about to be published. It is needless, therefore, to quote more of it, to the Purpose mentioned: But I will take the Liberty, however, of concluding my Paper with the End of it, because it
speaks,
but what I
mean,
when I meditate the Praise of that great Monarch, whom I have the Honour to be writing of.
Thou! Russian Star!
That mak'st the
Pole
out shine
The torrid Brightness of the Burning
Line!
Drawn by thy
beamy
Worth, I, still, would
gaze,
But my Eyes
ake,
beneath th'
oppressive
Blaze.
Descend, rash Muse, from the bold Theme
retire;
Thy
Fall
were dang'rous, if thy
Flight
were
higher.
Forbear,
Great Prince!
nor with such
Swiftness, BLESS,
Shook by our
Fears,
we wish Thy Glory
less:
Lest
Heav'n
should scarce Thy now mourn'd Absence
bear,
When
Earth
yields no
new
Labour, worth Thy Care.
Hard the Decision,
Which
most Glory won,
Thy
Actions?
or the
Speed,
with which they're
done?
When
Rome,
that glitt'ring, that immortal Name!
Aspir'd to
Rule,
and panted after
Fame;
Age, copying Age, strove, with
progressive
Will,
To push the
same Design,
with equal Skill;
And, when
Eight Hundred
lab'ring
Years
were past,
The
late propitious Fortune
smil'd, at last.—
Not such
slow
Rise, O Prince! Thy
Russia
fears;
Thou
seest not
Glory,
through such
Depth
of
Years!
At once
resolv'd,
at once the Columns
rise,
Which lift Thy
dreadful Fabrick,
to the
Skies
!
Forms
and
Degrees,
let
Earth-born
Spirits need,
Thy
Soul,
excentric,
moves with
inbred
Speed:
Makes Nature
shake;
—and raises, in a
Day,
What, with
less Ease,
in
Ages
shall
decay!
So, when
young Time,
in Chains,
Existence
kept,
And
huddled Nature,
in dark
Chaos,
slept;
Th'
Eternal Word,
to set
Distinction
free,
But spoke th' Almighty
Fiat—LET THERE BE
!
Millions of Ways, the
starting Atoms
flew:
Like
clung to
Like;
and sudden
Order
grew.
Struggling in Clouds, a while,
Confusion
lay;
Then
dy'd,
at once—and
lost
it self in
Day:
The Plain Dealer. No 107.
Multa gemens, magno
que
animum labefactus amore.
VIRG.
MONDAY,
March
29. 1725.
To the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
THERE are none of your Essays, which more intitle you to my Esteem, than those, which you have been inspir'd with, by the most generous, and gentle, Passion, that acts on, and adorns Humanity.—I need not tell you, after this, that the Passion, I mean, is LOVE.—You have eonfess'd yourself a
Lover
; and, if you
had not,
I should have
guess'd it,
by the Warmth, and Spirit, of your Sentiments, when you attempt any thing, on that Subject.—A
Warmth,
and
Spirit,
Mr. PLAIN DEALER, which agree so ill, with your
Grand Climacterick,
that (if it were not for the
implicite Reverence,
with which I conclude myself
mistaken,
when you assert, what I find
difficult
to
believe
) I should suppose your
Age,
as chimerical, as your
Situation
; and no more look for you, among the
Old,
than upon the
Watch-Tower
of
Barbican.
BUT, let
that
pass: No matter, whether you are
Old,
or
no,
since I will admit, that you are
Venerable.
—I reverence
you,
for that Reverence, with which you speak of
Love,
and the
Ladies.
The
light World,
Mr. PLAIN DEALER, have no Taste for the refined Ideas, which almost
deify
this sacred Passion. But, let me perish, if I would exchange the
Enjoyment
of my
Mistress's Soul,
for the most unbounded Property, in her
angelick Body.
The Blessing is
fullest,
I confess, when
both
these go
together:
But the
First,
without the
Last,
can give me
Tenderness, Endearment,
and the Delight of sweet
Reflection
; whereas the
Last,
without the
First,
would (in spite of all its Transports) carry with it an unsatisfying, and reluctant,
Void
of
Thought,
which would rob it, of its
finest
Relish: For who would
dare
to
think,
at all, when (if he thinks) he must be sensible, that he is receiving, from an
unconsenting Heart,
the last, and dearest,
Obligation,
which can spring from
Love,
and
Gratitude?
THE
Cold,
and
Grave,
perhaps, may think, That there is
Levity
in
Loving,
to such sweet Excess, as I do: I, too, once, thought, as they think!—But Time, and the remember'd Converse of a Woman,
softer,
than the
First Idea's
of her Sex's Innocence! and
wiser,
and more
solid,
than their
last Reflections,
when they
leave
a World that flatter'd them! have taught me, that there is no Joy on Earth, so
real,
and so
lasting,
as the Union of a Soul, so charm'd, as mine is, with the Soul, that has so charm'd it!—
Absence,
Mr. PLAIN DEALER, and a Thousand Obstacles, I dare not name, have interposed their cruel Influence: And I have, almost, Cause to
fear,
my Tenderness, and Constancy, are
doubted,
even by the lovely
Object
of them: And, yet, I never pass a Moment, which takes not its
Pain,
or
Pleasure,
chiefly, from the Part,
Her
ever-present Image bears, in the Occasion. The Memory of
Her
dear Interest in me, gives
Spirit
to my
Hope, Mitigation
to my
Sorrow,
and
Moderation
to my
Anger.
If I
fear,
it is
for Her:
And, if I
wish,
it is to
make her happy.
—She
alleviates
all my
Cares
; and, yet, she
quickens,
and
increases
them! She is my
Business,
when I have
Leisure,
and my
Leisure,
when I am in the midst of
Business.
She is the
Paradox,
and
Riddle,
of my Life! I have the Misfortune to live,
absent
from her, yet is she never
out of my Company!
I am not—must not—cannot be
Her's
; and yet,
am only Her's,
for Ever!
I REMEMBER, when, I had the Blessing of seeing her oft'ner, I once painted my Soul's full Meaning, in the following Copy of Verses to her, or something, not much unlike them.—Be so good, as to
insert
them; she, sometimes, sees your Paper, and they may awaken the Remembrance of a Passion, she, perhaps,
relaxes from.
—I hope, Her Soul does Justice to the Impression which
mine
glows with: But, let Her Thoughts of
Me,
be
kind,
or
less partial,
than they
have been,
I must never expect the Power, which, I am sure, I shall never
wish for,
of redeeming myself from that sweet Captivity, in which Her Image holds the Heart of,
SIR,
Her faithful Lover, And Your Servant,
CONSTANTIUS.
To the Lovely BELLADORA.
SWEET
Enslaver!
can you tell,
E'er I learnt to
love,
so well,
How my
wishless
Hours could
move,
All
unbusied,
by my
Love?
'Tis Amazement,
now,
to me,
What
could,
then,
a
Pleasure
be!
But,
since You smil'd,
new
Sense
to give,
From that sweet Hour, I
feel,
I live.
OH! what
Fires
his
Bosom
warm,
Whom
Soul,
and
Body,
join, to charm!
Endless Transports, dance along,
Nobly soft! or sweetly strong!
Flaming Fancy, cool Reflection;
Fierce Desire, and aw'd Subjection:
Aking Hope;—and
Fear
increasing;
Struggling Passions, never ceasing:
Wishing, trembling, Soul adoring;
Ever-blest, and still imploring!
TELL the
Cold,
the
Dull,
the
Tame,
(Who these dear Disorders
blame
)
Tell 'em, That in
Honour
's Race,
Charm'd by some such Heav'nly
Face,
Lovers,
still, the
foremost,
ran:
Love's a Second
Soul
to Man!
EASE
is languid, low, and base;
Love excites an
active
Chace:
Glory, Wealth, Ambition, Wit;
Thoughts'
for boundless
Empire
fit!
All,
at
Love
's Approach, are fir'd;
Ever
bent,
and never
tir'd.
He,
who feels not
Love
's sweet Pain,
Lives at
Ease
—but lives,
in vain.
LITTLE dream you, what is
due,
Angel Form! to
Love,
and
You!
'Tis from You, I
Joy
possess;
'Tis by You, my
Grief
grows
less.
Sadly pensive, when,
alone,
I the
Shades
of Life bemoan;
If some Voice,
your Name
impart,
Care lies
lighten'd
at my Heart:
Ev'ry
Woe
disarms its Sting;
And ev'ry
starting Hope
takes Wing!
WHEN my Fancy brings to View,
Works, which
Wealth,
or
Power,
could do;
All my spurr'd Excitements wake;
And
Fortune
charms me, for your
Sake:
Oh! I cry, 'twere
Heav'n possess'd,
To make her
Great,
who makes me
Bless'd!
IN the Morning, when I rise,
If the
Sunshine
strikes my Eyes;
All, that
pleases,
in its View,
Is my Hope, 'twill shew me
YOU.
WHEN the sable Sweep of
Night,
Drowns
Distinction
from my Sight,
I
no inward
Darkness find;
You
are
Day-light,
to my
Mind.
ALL my
Dreams,
are
Lives
of
Joy,
Which, in
waking,
I destroy:
You,
a Slave to
Custom
made,
Are of empty
Forms
afraid;
But your happier
Image,
free
From
fantastick
Tyranny,
Independent, kind, and wise,
Shuns
Restraint,
and knows no
Ties.
Oh! the dear, delightful,
Pain!
Who, that
sleeps, thus,
would
wake again?
IT is lucky, for this pleasant Spark, that his
Poetry
is more agreeable to me, than his
Purpose
;—An extraordinary
Use,
truly, he has found out, to put the Gravity of the PLAIN DEALER to! If it were, not
some Comfort,
that he appears to
think,
like a
modest Lover,
I should have been out of all Patience, to have had my Sobriety so artfully made a
stalking Horse
to the
amorous Plots
of these young
Fellows,
and their
Sweethearts,
who tell one another their Minds, under Pretence of
writing to the
PLAIN DEALER! But, as it is, I forgive the
Stratagem,
merely for the sake of the
Poetry
; which, I own, I am pleas'd with, because it is
natural,
and seems to have flow'd from the
Heart,
which is a warmer Inspirer, than
Helicon.
The Plain Dealer. No 108.
Justum & Tenacem propositi Virum.—
HOR.
FRIDAY,
April
2. 1725.
DESIGNING to be grave to Day, on the sober Subject of RESOLUTION, I will bribe my Reader's Attention, to a Discourse, less
gay,
than
useful,
by telling them a short
Story,
in the very Front of my Paper.
SALADIN,
the
Soldan
of
Aegypt,
tho' he had Dominions enough, of his own, was always ready, when Occasion offered, to
make free
with other People's.—At his Return without Success, from the Siege of
Mosoul,
in
Syria,
he seized into his Hands the whole Lordship of
Emessa,
in Prejudice to the Right of
Nasir Eddin,
the young Prince, who claimed it. And
this
he did, upon Pretence, That the late
Father
of the Youth had
forfeited,
by giving Countenance to Consederacies against the
Soldan
's Interest.
SALADIN,
however, ordered, That proper Care should be taken, of the injur'd Prince's Education: and being desirous to observe, what Progress he made in his Studies, he was brought, one Day, before the
Soldan
; who asked him, with much Gravity,
In what Part of the Alcoran he was Reading?
—I am come, reply'd the young Prince (to the
Surprize of all,
who were near him) to that Verse, which informs me, That
He
who
devours
the
Estates
of ORPHANS, is not a
King,
but a
Tyrant.
THE
Soldan
was much startled at the Turn, and Spirit, of his
Repartee
; but, after some Pause, and Recollection, return'd the Youth this generous Answer.—He, who
speaks,
with such
Resolution,
would
act
with so much
Courage,
that I
restore
you to your Father's Possessions, lest I should be thought to stand in
Fear
of a Virtue, which I only
reverence.
SUCH an Influence has
Firmness,
even in
Words,
and
Appearance!
But, when reduced into
Practice,
it is productive of
innumerable Benefits:
So that, were I to be asked by a Man of Sense,
Which would be his shortest Road, to Felicity
; My Answer should be, The Path, which leads thro'
Constancy
and
Resolution:
No other
Road,
but this! and no other
Guide,
than
Conscience,
can carry him
through
his Journey, and bring him
safe
to the
End
he aims at.
RESOLUTION in
Life,
is like
Action
in
Oratory
; as
Demosthenes
described it: It is the
First, Second,
and
Third
Thing necessary. The Soul is endowed with Three powerful Faculties; the
Understanding,
the
Memory,
and the
Will
; but, with regard to
moral Life,
they all Three lie
dead,
without the Help of
Resolution.
Resolution is their
Parent,
their
Midwife,
and their
Nurse.
It first impregnates them with
Activity
; then
delivers
them in their
Labours
; and
nourishes
the Effects of those Labours with
Perseverance.
What imports it, to
know
either the
Good
or the
Proper,
if we
forget
or
over-look
that Knowledge? Or, to what End do we
remember,
what is Great, and Heroick in others, if
Resolution
does not conform our Will to co-operate with our Understanding!
RESOLUTION therefore is the spiritual Union of the Mind's best Faculties: and may, not improperly, be called the
Soul
of the very
Soul
itself.—It exercises the Understanding into
Meditation
; Meditation gives Life to Memory; and reduces
Good Will
into Habit; and Habitual Good Will inspires the Memory and Understanding to break beautifully forth, into a Series of
good Actions.
FOR this Reason I have often reflected, that we stand more in Need of being
reminded,
than of being
taught
; and that, whoever would lead Men to be
good,
that is, to be
happy
; should rather inspire them with Resolution to
do
what they know to be right, than to learn,
what it is
to do rightly. Moral Arguments should be chiefly applied to the
Memory,
and are
Incentives
to the
Will,
rather than
Aids
to the
Understanding.
THIS is evident, methinks, from the following Considerations;
Wisdom,
as it regards practical Life, is no more than a Faculty of discerning what is Good, from what is Evil; what is to be embraced, and what rejected.—Now if the wisest Man upon Earth, by the Dint only of
Resolution,
could bring himself to
practise,
what a Man of the most moderate Faculties
comprehends
and
distinguishes,
he would indeed, be a
wise Man,
according to the genuine Signification. But, as the World goes, were we strictly to measure the Capacities, even of the
Wisest,
by their
Actions,
we should be mortified into a Necessity of considering this vast Globe, but as a Stage full of
busy Fools,
with scarce a steady Purpose among them. And, however the Philosophers may have declared a
Vacuum
an Absurdity in
Nature
; we should, plainly, discover one, in
Sense,
among the Agents of the intellectual World: We must therefore conclude, That the Fault lies not in the
Understanding,
but the
Will
; nor proceeds from Want of Knowledge, but Deficiency of Firmness, and Resolution. Mr. DRYDEN, speaking of Men in their
thinking
and
contemplative
Faculty, says somewhere, to the Praise of the
meanest
Writers, That he never read any Argument so
indifferently
handled, out of which a
wise
Man might not gather something that was
valuable:
And
Cardinal
RICHLIEU, has observ'd, concerning
active
and
political
Life, That he knew many, to whom the Direction of great
Kingdoms
might be happily committed in the
Morning,
whom, yet, in the
Afternoon,
he would scarce trust with the
Administration
of his
Hen-roost.
A LITTLE common Thief knows he
should not
commit Injustice; and understands well enough, when he commits it—but, wanting
Resolution
to be
publickly needy,
rather than
privately dishonest,
he deviates from the
real
Good; and ventures upon the
appearing.
—How often has the
Judge
acted the
Felon
upon the Bench, and robb'd before
their
Faces, who
accuse Robbers
at his Tribunal! He
dares commit
the very Crime which he is seated there, to condemn; But he wants
Resolution
to despise the Bribe, though he has not the Felon's
Necessity
to plead in Excuse of it: The poor Thief in this Case, as
silly
as he looks at the
Bar,
stands in Need of no
Instructor.
But the Judge himself, as
wise
as he appears, in his
Furs,
wants a
Remembrancer
at his Elbow, to put him in Mind of his Duty.
COMMON Gamesters,
know so well the Ignominy of giving
false Judgment,
at a publick
Hazard-Table,
that they have generally
Resolution
enough to resist very great secret Temptations that Way; and have seldom been found guilty, though
Custom,
and not
Conscience,
is the Motive of their Forbearance. But, how
little History
need we read, to know, That we have had Dispensers of Equity, who have been in the utmost
Necessity
of Plain-dealing
Monitors,
not indeed to
instruct
them; but to put them in
Mind,
that
Equity was not Iniquity.
—We
all
of us
know,
but
few,
or
none
of us
think.
—We distinguish not the Things that lie
before
us, through the
Mistiness
of
Avarice,
or any other intervening Passion. It cannot be said, that we are unable to
see:
But that we
see
without
Discernment.
—The
Understanding
has
Eyes,
but
Irresolution
has
jaundic'd
them.
HOW does
Ambition
reduce and mislead those, whom we call
wise
Men, into aukward Condescensions, which make them cheap in the very Eyes of the
Vulgar?
How often have we seen
Pride,
and
Insolence
assume the Flexure of the
sneaking Candidate,
in order to
strut
immediately after, in the Abuse of intrusted
Office?
The
Farce of
DOCTOR FAUSTUS has been represented as
light,
and
ridiculous,
because, its
Plot
is
no more,
than that, while the
Conjurer
enjoys his
Wand,
he enjoys his Wishes:
That Wand
converts every Thing into the Accomplishment of his Purposes: But no sooner is his
Term,
of holding that
White Staff, expired;
than the
Conjuration expires
with it; and he is the poorest, weakest, most despairing, and most abandon'd Wretch alive. This, every Spectator sees
through,
and
laughs
at; and yet, how happy might it have been for some other
Wand-holders,
of this Kingdom, if that poor
Farce
had been acted before them, instead of
their
duller
State Interludes,
in order to serve as a useful
Memorial,
that they should not misuse
those Wands
like FAUSTUS; that is, play Tricks, till their
Time is out,
and then be
delivered up
to the
Devil.
AS
little
Men become
great
by
Resolution,
and
great Men
degenerate into
little
ones without it; so
Admonitions,
to those Duties, which every
little Man
knows, are
necessary
notwithstanding, to the
Wisest
; Of this ALEXANDER's Father, PHILIP, demonstrated himself very sensible; That Prince's
Servant, knew,
no doubt, as well as his
Master,
that a
King
was no more than a
Man:
But PHILIP, mindful, that high Fortune had often made
light Heads forget
themselves, commanded this Servant to wake him every Morning, by this well-known Lesson in his Ear;—
Remember thou art but a Man.
—Now, many would be apt to imagine, that little Profit could arise from such constant Repetition of this short and needless Intimation: Yet Sir FRANCIS BACON, who
knew
well both the
great
World and the
little,
has left us the following
Axiom
concerning it:
"All (
monitorial
) Precepts concerning
Kings,
are, in Effect, comprehended in these Two
Remembrances;—Remember thou art a Man;—Remember thou art
GOD
's Vicegerent.
The
one
bridleth their
Power,
the other their
Will.
"
—In Truth, if ALEXANDER had affected to be no more than he was, the Son of PHILIP, instead of aspiring to Divinity and the Title of AMMON; he would have
more
than conquer'd the World; for he would have conquered the very Conqueror of it.
RESOLUTION then, is the only Means to make a Man compleatly
happy
; and frequent
Admonition
serves to keep
Resolution
alive. The
Lowest
can scarce stand in Need of a moral
Instruction
; but the
Highest
may be greatly indebted for
Admonition
; and consequently, all young Men, who propose to make any Figure in publick Employments, should give Ear, to a
Plain Dealer,
who dares put them in Mind of their Weakness.—A Man who has Firmness enough to
see
the
Worst
of his own Soul, will soon have the Satisfaction to find the Prospect much
better'd.
He will learn Patience in
ill
Fortune, and Abstinence in
good
; He will be fortified with
Resolution,
to be
humble, just,
and
charitable,
amidst the strongest
Inflations,
and Indulgements of
Prosperity:
and disdain to be found
envious, dejected,
or
revengeful,
amidst the
bitterest
Resentments, and Sollicitations of
Calamity.
Such a Man shall not only preserve an inward Tranquility; but, whatever the Colour of his Fortune may be, he will owe a Lustre to
Himself,
and cast it round him upon
Others.
He will not only be
followed,
but
beloved
in his
Prosperity
; and in his
Adversity
he will be
lamented.
The Plain Dealer. No 109.
Glaucumque, Medontaque, Thersilochumque.
VIRG.
MONDAY,
April
5. 1725.
To the
PLAIN-DEALER.
SIR,
IT is with no small Expectation, that I observe you, in some of your Papers, making Excursions into the Province of
Criticism:
It is a Subject, not only
Entertaining,
but
Instructive:
And there is no kind of Knowledge, in which those gay Spirits, who are loudest, and most ready, in giving Judgment, are so contemptibly and lamentably Deficient, as in the Art of
Judging rightly.
TWO Improvements might be hop'd for, in the Taste of most Readers, from a more general Propagation of the Knowledge of
distinguishing clearly:
We should neither be ashamed to praise the Merit of the Obscurest rest of our
Cotemporaries
; nor afraid to censure the Errors of the most Popular among
ancient
Writers.
HOMER
's famous Catalogue, of
Grecian
Ships, and their Commanders, would, then, I am apt to believe, cease to pass for one of his Sublimest, and most Poetical Beauties. Its Geographieal Exactness would no longer be pleaded as a Ballance, against the Dryness, and Tediousness, of its Historical Enumeration: Since it is no Part of a
Poet's
Business, to teach the Situation, Bounds, and Quality, of Countries. Little, occasional Descriptions of that kind, 'tis true, may sometimes, be necessary; and, being artfully introduced, and handled, might not only
diversify
a Poem; but also render it
delightful:
Without which last Quality, the whole Labour is lost. And nothing, certainly, can
delight,
that is
tiresom,
and
heavy.
BUT the Bigotry of a Succession of unpoetical
Commentators,
Men of Learning, without Genius; has heap'd upon this Catalogue, such profuse and ill-judg'd
Encomium,
that the whole Herd of Imitators, from the
Tasso
's of
Italy,
down to the
Blackmore
's of
Britain,
have lengthen'd out their hostile
Muster-Rolls,
to the Terror and Provocation, even of the most patient of their gentle Readers. And some of these have been fortunate enough to meet with Applause, more extravagant, even than
Homer
's: For they have been compar'd with and
preferr'd
to
Homer
's. Witness
Ben Johnson
's commendatory
Vision,
printed before the old Edition of DRAYTON
's
Battle of
Agincourt.
There,
Thou art
Homer,
—Pray thee
use
the Style
Thou hast
deserv'd;
and let me read, the while,
Thy
CATALOUE of SHIPS, cxceeding his!
THE Catalogue, here meant, is of those Ships, which transported the
English
Forces, in our
Henry the Fifth's
first Attempt upon
France.
—I will entertain the Reader with this (so highly applauded) Catalogue; because it may deserve to stand, as a
Proof,
what poor Products we are to expect, from a servile and implicite Imitation.
And, first, Seven Ships, from
Rochester,
are sent,
The
Bonadventure, George,
and the
Expence;
Antilope, Henry, Elephant, Defence:
Bottoms, as good, as ever
spread
a
Clue!
All having Charge, their Voyge having been,
Before
Southampton,
to take Soldiers in.
Twelve Merchant Ships, of mighty Burthen all,
New, off the Stocks, that had been rigg'd for
Stoad,
Riding in
Thames,
by
Limehouse,
and
Black-wall,
That ready were, their Merchandize to load.
Eight goodly Ships from
Bristol,
ready made,
With
Spanish Wine,
which they for Ballast lade;
And, as these Eight the
Severn
Sea do stem,
Five more, from
Padstow,
came along with them.
From
Plymouth
next, came in the
Blazing-Star,
And
Fiery Dragon,
to take in their Fraught,
With other Four, especial Men of War,
That in the Bay of
Portugal
had fought:
The
Hare
of
Loo,
a right good Ship, well known,
That twice, the Year before, the Streights had past;
Two wealthy
Spanish
Merchants did her own,
Who, then, but newly had repair'd her waste:
And, from
Mount's-Bay,
Six more, that still in Sight.
Waited with her before the
Isle of Wight.
Nine Ships, for the Nobility, there went
Of able Men, the Enterprize to aid;
Northumberland,
and
Westmoreland,
in sent
Fourscore at Arms apiece, and themselves laid
At Sixscore Archers each; as
Suffolk
shows
Twenty tall Men at Arms, and Forty Bows.
Darcy,
and
Camois,
zealous for the King,
Lovel, Fitzwater, Willoughby,
and
Ross,
Berkly, Powis, Burrel,
fast together cling,
Seymour,
and
St. John,
for the Business close,
Each Twenty Horse, and Forty Foot do bring,
More, to Nine hundred, 'mounting in the Gross,
In those Nine Ships; and fitly them bestow'd,
With which the other fall into the Road.
From
Holland, Zealand,
and from
Flanders,
won
By weekly Pay, Threescore Twelve Bottoms came,
From Fifty upward, to Five Hundred Tun,
For every Ʋ se, a Mariner could name:
Their glitt'ring Flags, against the radiant Sun,
Show'd, as if all the Sea had been on Flame;
Then Skiffs, Crays, Scallops, and the like, why these,
From every small Creek, cover'd all the Seas.
THIS, though a bald, and unlovely Imitation of
Homer,
is better I think, in one Sense, than the Original, by so much, as it is
shorter
; for no Man of Reason will be perswaded to believe, that in a Poem of this kind, such a tedious, and dry List of a Fleet, though it preserves a particular Piece of Antiquity (which is the Commentators weak Defence for
Homer
) can stand agreeably in the Place of Invention, Spirit, Fancy, and the Energy of Poetry.
SUCH a barren, and distinct Enumeration gives a wearisom Satiety to the Mind, and drags too hard on the Attention. When I read, for so many Leaves together, not what Persons
do,
but who they
are,
and whence they
came
; without any of that enlivening Variety of Circumstance, or Description, which should relieve the Imagination, it puts me in Mind of our Ancestors simple
Epitaphs
: Honest People! who thought it Merit enough to have lived, married, and got Children, without loading their Tomb-stones with the Weight of their
Actions!
Of
Wiliam Wilson, Joan
his Wife,
And
Alice,
their Daughter dear,
These Lines be left, to give Report,
Those Three lie burid here;
And
Alice
was
Henry Deacon
's Wife,
Which
Henry
lives on Earth;
And is the Serjeant-Plummer
unto
Queen
Elizabeth.
With whom our
Alice
left Issue here,
Her virtuous Daughter
Joan,
To be his Comfort, every-where,
Now
joyful Alice
is gone.
And again,
Here the good Lady
Margaret North
In Tomb doth
quiet
lie;
Of Husbands
Four
the
able
Spouse,
Whose Fame shall never die:
One
Andrew Frances
was the First;
The Second
Robert
hight,
Surnamed
Chartsey,
Alderman;
Sir
David Brook,
a Knight:
But then comes he, that passed all,
And was, in Number, Fourth,
One, for his
Virtue,
made a
Lord,
And call'd Sir
Edward North.
AMONG all these copious Particularities, there is nothing, that deserv'd the telling, if we except the great Rarity, that comes in the Rear; A Man made a
Lord
for his
Virtue!
That, indeed must be own'd to have been a Wonder worth recording: It was consider'd too, it seems, as an Accident so unusual, that the good Man appears, by the last Verse, to have been ashamed of his Singularity; and rather chose to stick fast to his old knightly Title of Sir
Edward,
than be pointed at, as he passed the Streets, for a kind of Miracle. But here follows something, which no Poet's List among them all, can compare with, for Exactness.
This Life hath on Earth no certain While,
Example by
John, Mary,
and
Oliver Stile;
Who, under this Stone,
lieth
buried in the Dust,
And
putteth
you in Memory, that
all
die
must.
John Stile,
born
1582,
the
22
d of May;
Died
1583, June
the
25
th Day:
The 5th of
October
1583,
Mary Stile
born
was:
August
the
5
th
1585,
out of this Life she did
pass.
Oliver Stile
the
25
th of
February 1584,
this mortal Life begun,
And ended the same
August
the
9
th
1585,
his Course being then run.
NOW, Sir, bating, as is necessary, for the Difference between the
Verses,
a Man is apt to conclude, That a Poet, too prolix in the Lists, I have been speaking of, has as little to say for the Actions of the greatest Part of his Captains, as these very exact
Epitaphs,
for the
Oliver
's,
Alice
's,
Joan
's, and
Andrew
's, who occasioned them.
I am, SIR, Your Constant Reader, And Humble Servant,
&c.
The Plain Dealer. No. 110.
Nos populo damus.—
SEN.
FRIDAY,
April
9. 1725.
To the
Author
of the
PLAIN-DEALER.
Oh Dear! Mr.
PLAIN DEALER,
MANY a Lady has been charm'd into a Passion for her future Lover, upon Sight only of his
Picture:
But my Fate is the very Reverse of This; For, before I saw the
Picture
of my
Florello,
I was almost in Love with the
Original:
Whereas, now, I am fallen absolutely in Love with the Picture, and can scarce bear the Sight of That odious Lover of mine, who
sat
for it.
THE Picture, you must know, is a Kind of Paradox: For it is drawn but in
Black,
and
White
; and yet glows, with the liveliest Force; and most natural Mixture of strong
Colouring!
It is
One,
of a valuable
Collection,
which was expos'd to Publick Sale last Week; under Title of
The
UNIVERSAL PASSION,
Part
II.—Wou'd to Heaven I knew the Painter! A Hand, so exquisite at
Touching,
should
take me,
as often as I cou'd possibly sit to him. Nay, I wou'd sooner be drawn by
Him,
than by
Apelles,
or
Titian,
or
Lilly,
or
Vandike
; or by any Pencil ancient, or modern;
except that only,
to which we owe so many envy-raising Pictures of my Friend Mrs.
Arabella Farmor.
NOT but there is infinite Difference, between the Two Pieces; and the
Lines,
indeed, are strikingly distinguish'd, in both:—In the
Lady
's, They are
sweet, soft, delicate!
In my
Florello
's, They are
strong, bold, glaring! Florello
's very
Life
is not half so
lively,
as this fine Painter's
speaking Representation
of it.—See! the
Figure,
and the
Spirit!
the
Grace!
and
Passion,
of the Picture!
OF late, at
White
's, was young
Florello
seen,
How
blank
his Look! how
discompos'd
his Mien!
(In
Grief Sincere,
so hard it proves to feign!)
Sunk were his Spirits! for his
Coat
was
plain.
NEXT Day, his Breast regain'd its wonted Peace,
His Health was mended with a
Silver Lace!
A curious Artist, long inur'd to Toils,
Of gentler sort, with Combs, and fragrant Oils,
Whether by
Chance,
or by some
God
inspir'd,
So touch'd his
Curls,
his mighty
Soul
was fir'd!
The well-swoln
Tyes
an
equal
Homage claim,
And either Shoulder has its Share, of
Fame.
His sumptuous
Watch-Case,
tho'
conceal'd
it lies,
Like a
good Conscience,
solid Joys supplies.
He only thinks himself (so
far
from vain!
St—pe
in Wit, in Breeding,
D—l—ne.
Whene'er by seeming Chance, he throws his Eye,
On
Mirrors,
flushing with his
Tyrian Dye,
With how sublime a Transport leaps his Heart?
But Fate ordains, that
dearest Friends must part.
In active Measures, brought from
France
he wheels;
And triumphs, conscious of his
learned Heels!
TO deal plainly with the PLAIN DEALER, just after I had been reading this mortifying Description of the Man, whom I had been weak enough to feel some little Tenderness for, His Evil Genius danc'd in with him; and I blush'd, to my very Forehead, to reflect, that I shou'd owe to the lively
Painting
of a
Satire,
my first Discovery, that the
Florello,
who had been so intimately my Acquaintance, was the Reverse of a
Fine Gentleman!
PRAY publish This Extraordinary
Cure,
in Justice to the Skill, and Reputation, of the Learned
Doctor,
who effected it: And assist, thereby, the good Wishes, and the Gratitude of,
Dear Mr.
PLAIN DEALER,
Your unknown, humble Servant,
CLARASTELLA.
Friday, March
19. 1724.
Mr.
PLAIN-DEALER,
AS You are a Gentleman of Penetration, and capable of rendring every Thing that is offer'd to You in a brighter Capacity than I am, (which occurr'd to me, upon reading your Paper of
Friday, March
the 12th, in Relation to PUGG
's Complaint,
against that
Feathery Fool,
called a PARROT, in a House that is just over against him) I I desire, that in your next, you would only give Caution to a certain Lady, whose Lodgings are opposite to mine, That she does not indulge PUGG, as I have seen her, in all that provoking and unmerited Freedom, of
pawing
her upon the
Mouth
and
Bosom.
Flesh, and Blood, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, is not able to bear it; and if we must not cast the
Food
of
Man
to
Dogs,
I am sure it is much less lawful to bestow His Right upon an
ugly Monkey.
—In short, I am out of all manner of
Patience
; and if this Lady will not be so kind as to keep my Rival out of my Sight, I must be forc'd to
brick up my Windows,
or remove to a
new Lodging:
For I wou'd not, methinks, be so unreasonable, as to quarrel with PUGG
Himself
about it: Since, He looks (to confess the Truth) as if He was
born
to be the
Lady's Favourite.
I am, SIR, Your afflicted Reader,
P. A.
March,
25, 1724.
SIR,
YOU will much oblige one of your constant Readers, and very great Admirers; if you will but answer me this Quere,
viz.
In your Excellent PLAIN DEALER, of
August
the 24th, 1724, No 45, treating of
Love,
wherein is contain'd, part of that lovely POEM on the same Subject, I find these Lines;
Absent from
Her,
in whom alone we
live,
Life grows a
Bankrupt,
and no
Bliss
can give:
Friends are
IMPORTUNATE,
and Pleasures
lost,
&c.
NOW all the Question is, Whether that is not a Mistake of the Printer's; putting
Importunate
for
Impertinent?
or, Whether I, in Justice to you, for giving this Trouble, shou'd not write myself,
Want-of-
WIT?
TO a
Lover,
who retires to
Solitude,
for a quiet, and uninterrupted, Indulgment of his Passion, the very
Civilities,
and
good Offices,
of Friendship, are unwelcome; and the Pressure of them is
Importunately
troublesome; and this was doubtless the Sense, in which the Author of that Poem made use of the Word
Importunate.—Impertinent
had been less applicable, as well as less elegant; because it is the
Duty
of a Friend to be solicitous in advising, and comforting us, however
uneasy
he makes us, by the Effect of his disrelish'd Intention. So that my Correspondent, will
name
himself more justly, if, in the next Letter he favours me with, he changes his Subscription from
Want-of
-WIT, only to
Want-of-
ATTENTION.
To the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
I HAVE perceived, quite through the Course of your Papers, that your Tendency, is not only to
Delight
your Readers; but to
Inform,
and
Refine
them. Upon this Consideration, I must persuade myself, you will set the following Subject in the strongest Light; which, the more effectually to recommend it to you, I assure you it is not fictitious, but real Matter of Fact.—There is a certain Widow, who has two Sons, and two Daughters, the former of which, are arrived to the State, which writes them
Men,
both brought up to creditable Employments; but neither of them capable of proceeding in their Business, without her Assistance; which, tho' very able to give, she
refuses
them.
YOU will be more than a little surprized, when I tell you, there is a Person, beyond Description, rustical, and unlovely, who makes his aukward Addresses to the
Wealth
of this Widow: And that this is the
Consideration
which she prefers to the Welfare of her Children, who have urg'd her, on their Knees, to regard, not only
Their Good,
but what the World will say of
herself.
—Deaf to all their Intercessions, she continually repulses them, and is unalterably determined, on her
own
and
their
Ruin.
NOW, I would beg of you, to tell me, What Motive can induce her to this? And to account for it in a
Physical
Manner? Should not the moving Wants and Dependance of her own Children, prevail more upon her
Nature,
than the interested Addresses of a
Stranger
? For I am afraid, there are no Incentives to
Love,
on either Side, and I am loth to give it its
other Name.
If, Sir, you insert this as soon as you can in your Paper, you may do a real Good, and at the same Time you will oblige one of your constanr Readers.
I am, SIR,
&c.
MY good Friend,
Tony Jyngle,
whom I have not seen till lately, since the Death of Sir
Portly Rufus,
of which I gave my Readers the melancholy History, in one of my former Papers; was just come to visit me, as I had received this Letter, from the Publisher: And, upon hearing it read, told me, with much Force of Politeness, and Penetration, That there were
certain Politick Reasons,
against accounting in a
Physical
Manner, for the
Motive,
which
induces
this
unmanageable Widow
: But he was of Opinion, it might do as as well, if I accounted for it
Poetically:
And, to that end, he favour'd me, within, Fifteen Minutes, and a Half quarter, with the following Copy of Verses, which he intitles,
WOMAN'S RESOLUTION.
OH!—cry'd
Arsenia,
long in Wedlock
blest,
Her Head reclining on her Husband's Breast;
"Shou'd
Death
divide thee from thy
doating Wife,
"What
Comfort
cou'd be found, in
widow'd Life?
"How the
Thought
shakes me!—Heav'n my
Strephon
save,
"Or give the
lost Arsenia
half his Grave!
JOVE
heard the lovely Mourner, and approv'd:
"And shou'd not
Wives like this,
(said he) be
lov'd?
"Take the
soft Sorrower
at her Word; and
try
"How
deeply rooted
Woman's Vows can lie?
'Twas said, and done—the tender
Strephon dy'd;
Arsenia,
Two
long
Months—t' outlive him
try'd:
But, in the Third—alas!—
became a BRIDE.
The Plain Dealer. No 111
—Jovis omnia Plena—
VIRG.
MONDAY,
April
12. 1725.
To the Author of the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
THE astonishing Structure, the immense, but beautiful, Extent, and Order of
Creation,
demand, not the
Notice
only, but, the
Veneration
of every reasonable Being. No less than
infinite Wisdom
could conceive the Plan; nor less than
Almighty Power
erect the Fabrick! Our Sight is struck with Amazement, when we look but upon a stately Building, the mere Effect of Human Invention; And, yet, (to the Shame of our Stupidity be it spoken) we can consider the
Earth,
we live on, with
Indifference
;—we can walk under the
Lamps
of
Heaven,
without being inlightened by the smallest Glimmering of Divine Reflection! nor (to many) do they argue any thing greater than
Chance,
which, in other Words, is
Nothing.
YET, certainly, no Knowledge can be so
delightful,
to the Soul, as
This,
which is, at the same Time, the
noblest,
and most
useful,
that can busy us, in our short Pilgrimage through the
Body.
Nay, The excellent Mr.
Ray
has very pleasingly imagined, that it may be Part of our Business and Employment, to all Eternity, to discover still, deeper and deeper, into the unfathomable Works of God; and contemplate the Glory of his Wisdom, Power, and Goodness.
I AM sensible, You concur with me, that the
Honour
due to
God,
should excite the noblest of our Thoughts, and Actions; because You have endeavour'd to make our Lives, in their good Purposes, and their Lustre, resemble the Coelestial Bodies; and
move,
for their
own,
and for
other's
Benefit. And since you have not refused to exert your Genius toward refining, inlarging, and advancing, our Ideas of Divine Greatness: So, doubtless, you will oblige your Readers, in the Sequel of this Letter, with a Trace of Reflections, for which we are indebted to the Author of that excellent Discourse,
The Religion of Nature Delineated.
I am, SIR, Your Humble Servant,
PHILOTHEUS.
WHAT a vast Field for Contemplation is opened in those Regions of
Matter,
about us, in which there is not the least Particle, but carries with it an Argument of God's Existence; not the smallest Trifle but shews it; nor the slightest Motion produced, the softest Whisper of the Air, but tells it.—The Frame and Constitution of the World, the astonishing Magnificence of it, the various Kinds of Beings, and the Constancy observed in the Productions of Things, and the Uses for which they are produc'd, do all shew, that there is some
Almighty Designer
at the Top of all these Things: Such
Marks
they
bear
of his Power, and Wisdom.
IN order to prove, to any Doubter, the the Grandeur of this Fabrick, we need only bid him consider the
Sun,
with that insupportable Glory that surrounds it: The vast Distance, Magnitude, and Heat of it! The Planets periodically moving in their several Orbits, about it, with all their
Regular Variety
of Aspects, guarded, some of them, by
secondary Planets,
and, as it were,
emulating
the State of the
Sun
; and, probably, all These, possess'd by distinct and proper
Inhabitants!
—Let him think of those surprizing Visits the
Comets
make us; the large Trains of uncommon Splendor, which attend them; the
far Country
they come from, and the Curiosity and Horror they excite, not only among
us,
but in the Inhabitants of the Worlds about us; who also may be
up,
as we are, to see the
Entry,
and
Progress,
of these new Ministers of the Almighty:—Let him direct his Eye and Contemplation, through those azure Regions above him, up to the
fixed Stars,
that radiant, and numberless
Host
of
Heaven
; and reflect but, how unlikely it is, that they should be placed there, only to adorn, and bespangle, our Canopy! He will, then, instruct himself, that they are so many
other
SUNS, with their several Regions, and and dependant Planets, about them! He will further discern, by the Help of Glasses, still more and more of these
fixed Lights,
and exalt himself to an Apprehension of their unaccountable Numbers, and of the Immensity of those Spaces, that lie retired beyond, not our
Ken
only, but even our
Imagination.
Here, on light Fancy's saily Wings, I rise,
Aw'd, and confounded, thro' deep
Wilds
of
Air!
Millions of op'ning Wonders strike my Eyes;
And
Reason
's finite View is
dazzled
there!
Globes, behind Globes, un-number'd, hence appear.
The twinkling
Stars,
that from dim Earth,
remote,
Seem heav'n-set
Gems,
and
scatter'd Seeds of Day;
Here,
(Buoyant
Worlds!)
midst Seas of
Aether
flote,
And, o'er
blue Kingdoms,
hold a fiery Sway.
In distant Orbits, round each reigning Star,
Huge
Earths,
and
Moons,
their cirly Homage pay:
Millions of countless Miles are
lost between,
And sick'ning
Thought
grows
tir'd,
to stretch so far!
How
brightly vast
each concave
Sphere
is seen!
Th'
enormous Vaults,
with wheeling Worlds
glow
round;
Rolling
oblique,
yet none their Paths
confound
:
Their crossing Currents cause no clashing
Jars;
Nor one the other's Progress
bars.
Wide round their central
Suns
their
Tours
they make;
Yet no proud Planet dares his
Line
forsake:
Partial, an intercepted Ray to break.
They
take,
and
lend,
by Turns, the streaming Light;
And form, in solemn Silence,
Day,
and
Night.
WE need only consider these Things, which are now known almost to every Body; and, by them, we shall be taught, that a Structure, so infinite, must be the Work of an infinite Architect.—But, if we could take a particular View of all that astonishing Compass, which we have thus hastily run over, how would
Wonders multiply
upon us? Every Part of every World, is, as it were, made up of
other
Worlds. If we examine
This our Earth,
what Scope is here for Admiration?—What Variety of Mountains, Hills, Valleys, Plains, Rivers, Seas, Trees, Plants! What numberless Tribes of different Animals is it stock'd with! How unwearied are the Inventions, and Works of
one
of these; which is MAN! And yet, when they are all survey'd, as nicely as they can be, whether by our unassisted Senses, or the Help of
Telescopical
Glasses; the Assistance of
Microscopes,
in the
smallest
Parts of
Matter,
will go on to discover as many new Wonders, as those which have already been made known to us. New Kingdoms of Animals; new Architecture, and Curiosity of Workmanship, and Oeconomy. So that as,
before,
our Conception fainted, in those boundless Journeys we were obliged to take through the expansive Vastness of the Universe; here, on the other Hand, we tire ourselves with fruitless Researches into the Principles and constituent Parts of it. Both the
Beginnings
and the
End
of Things, the
Least
and the
Greatest,
all conspire to perplex us: And which every way we prosecute our Inquiries, we still fall in with fresh Subjects of Amazement, and fresh Reasons to believe, that there are more and more behind, that will for ever escape our eagerest and most successful Penetration. We have
Philosophy,
indeed, but, the Misfortune is, it dwells but in the
Surface
of Nature.—
IT appears, then, plainly enough, in the Parts and Model of the World, that there is a
Contrivance,
and a Respect to certain
Reasons,
and
Ends.
Why else is the Sun posited near the Middle of our
System
; but for the more convenient dispensing of his Influence to the Planets, moving about him? Why else does the Plan of the Earth's
Aequator,
intersect that of her
Orbit,
and make a proper
Angle
with it, but in order to diversify the Year, and create a useful
Variety
of
Seasons.
Many other Things of this kind, tho' a thousand Times repeated, will be always delightful Observations to good Men and true Scholars: None of whom can observe those Vapours which ascend from the Sea, to meet in
Clouds
above, and fall back again, after
Condensation,
without understanding the Purpose of this providential
Distillation
to be a Division of the Water from its grosser
Salts,
that, by Rains, and Dews, it may return upon and supply the Fountains, and refreshing Rivers, nourishing the Vegetables by Showers, which therefore descend not in Cataracts, but kindly Drops, as from a Waterpot, upon a Garden!
WHO can view the Structure of a
Plant
or an
Animal
; the indefinite Number of their
Fibres,
and fine
Vessels,
their Dependance upon
larger,
and the several Members upon
them,
and the apt Disposition of all these; the Provision that is made for Reception and Distribution of Nourishment; the Effect of this Nourishment, in Extension of the Vessels, stretching the
Vegetable,
or
Animal,
gradually, to its full and determinate Growth; maintaining the Motion of the several
Fluids,
repairing the Decays of the Body; and comforting and preserving Life? Who can take Notice of the various
Faculties
of Animals, their Arts of saving, and providing for themselves, or the Means by which they are provided for; the Uses of
Plants
to Animals, and of some Animals to
others,
and of the Generality of them to
Mankind
; the Propagation of the several Species out of their
proper
Seeds (without Confusion!) the strong Inclinations implanted for that Purpose; and the Tenderness, even of the Fiercest to their
Young:
Who, I say, can view all this, and not confess a
Design,
and an
omnipotent Designer?
The meanest Insect, which scarce appears, at all, to our naked Eye, will, when viewed through a Microscope, present a Prospect, a Thousand Times more curious, and surprizing, than the finest Piece of
Mechanism,
that ever was made by
Man!
For my own Part, as I cannot but acknowledge, that I am
fearfully,
and
wonderfully formed;
I likewise believe, as firmly, that some superintendent Hand hath
conducted
and
protected me,
from my Birth, to this present Moment; or that, in the Words of the most Sacred of all
Writings.—There is a God, in whom I live, move, and have my Being.
WHO, then, that judges of this God, by his
Works
and his
Mercy,
will be afraid of that
Death,
which must bring us one Stage
nearer
him? Nay, who knows, but that what we
call
DEATH, may be our real, and proper, LIFE, and this, which we think our
Life,
a kind of
dark,
and
dreaming, Interval,
which Death only comes to
awaken,
and
redeem
us from? For my Part, I look forward on the Hour of my
Dissolution,
with the Hope, and Expectation, of escaping
Mariners,
who having been sinking all Night long, in a Rudderless, and Foundring Vessel, discover, with the Dawn of the Morning, the opening Coast of some
lovely,
though
unknown
Country! I support
Life,
as my
Duty,
rather than enjoy it, as my
Wish:
And will borrow another
Stanza,
from the same Poem, whence I took that above to express the Sentiments I feel in my self, after such a Trace of serious Reflections, as those which compose this Paper.
But murmur not, proud Heart! if here delay'd,
A wandring Pilgrim, through this Life's cold Shade,
I must not
yet,
in Heaven's wide Search rejoyce:
O! be the Will of
God,
not
mine,
obey'd!
Wait, my impatient Soul,
His
wiser Choice:
Trust the strong Hand, by which
those Worlds
were made;
And to
His Pleasure
tune thy willing Voice.
If I not yet
shake off
this
earthly Load,
Sure there
is Business,
worth my Life's best Aim;
And he who
tires,
tho' on a
length'ning
Road,
Is faintly Soul'd, nor
Inn
's, at last, in
Fame.
For me, suffice it, to have taught my Muse,
The
tuneful Triflings
of our Tribe to shun;
And rais'd her Warmth, such
heavenly Themes
to chuse,
As, in past Ages, Her
best Garlands,
won.
He who, beyond the Power of
Man
cou'd
WRITE,
Wou'd,
still,
fall short of
Him,
who
ACTED
well:
To flow in Sound, or turn a Period right,
Is but in
Fairy Towers
of Praise to dwell.
But
Wrongs
to
PARDON,
or
good Deeds REQUITE
Is, (in
substantial Meaning
) to
excel,
What, tho' my
WISHES strain
beyond my
POWER,
That
shou'd but
urge
my
Speed,
to reach its
GOAL
Whence, on the
Wretched
I may
Comfort
shower,
And, with
eas'd Pity,
feast my hungry Soul.
Be
ACTION,
then, henceforth, my Life's wide Sphere;
Oh! there are Things, my Heart even
burns
to
DO:
All has been
SAID,
that's worth a wise Man's Ear;
But much may be
PERFORM'D,
that's
greatly New!
The Plain Dealer. No 112.
Quid mentem traxisse polo? Quid profuit altum
Erexisse caput? Pecudum si more pererrant.
CLAUD.
FRIDAY,
April
16. 1725.
I AM, though a great Lover of
Trade,
a declar'd Enemy to the Company of
Vintners
; and profess, That my Indignation daily rises against them more and more, in proportion as they daily deviate from their first laudable Institution. Taverns were intended, at their primitive Erection, as publick
Refectories,
where Men, whose Business called them Abroad from their Families, and single Gentlemen, who had no Familes at all, might resort for a chearful and necessary Refreshment. So that
Taverns
stood in this Town for much the same End, as
Inns
are commodiously situated up and down the Country: But, by the Use they are now converted to, Men are not
refresh'd
there, but
debauch'd,
and taken off from the Pursuit of their Business.
I WAS led into this Subject, on the Eve of a late drunken Holiday, when, returning Home in a melancholy Disposition, at a later Hour than usual, I was unexpectedly saluted with an unlucky Piece of News, that a Kinsman, who, notwithstanding all that a famous Predecessor of mine had wittily remark'd, in Ridicule of that silly Practice, wou'd try to drive to himself Home on the
Coach-box
; when he was scarce able to get into the
Coach,
without the Help of its
proper Driver
; had, by the Way, got so dangerous a Fall, that he was thrown almost out of the World: And just as I was plung'd into a profound Meditation on this ill Accident, Word was brought me, That
Literatus
and
Urbanus,
two Bosom Intimates, having drank together, to Excess, the latter lost his
Civility,
and the former his
Wits,
so far as to push on a Dispute about a mere Trifle, 'till one of them was killed, and his
Friend
and
Murderer,
left behind, to imbitter his surviving Days with a
Remorse,
which the other's
Death
was preserable to.—I was lost in the startling Thought, how dreadful it must be, to drop out of a
Temporary
into an
Eternal
Existence, in so deplorable, and unprepar'd a State! which brought immediately to my Remembrance, what the old King says to
Hamlet
in the Tragedy.
Thus was I—
Cut off, ev'n in the
Blossoms
of my Sin,
No
Reck'ning
made, but sent to my
Account,
With all my Imperfections on my Head.
Oh Horrible!
most
Horrible!
THIS sensible and moving Complaint, so awfully placed in the Mouth of a
Ghost,
strikes a considerate Auditor with Terror, and leaves him
warn'd
and
astonish'd:
But, there is a Scene in a Comedy, call'd
The Lying Lovers,
That comes more immediately to this Subject, of a Gentleman's Stabbing his Friend in the Fury of his Drunkenness; and which, if it had been read or heard with Attention, by
Urbanus,
would probably have prevented his own becoming a too real Example of
this unhappy Truth,
That a Man, who in the present Moment, is Master of the strongest Reason, Possessor of the greatest Honour, and adorn'd with the finest Sentiments of Religion, Friendship and Humanity, may, in two or three Hours
drinking,
be push'd forward, by the Rage of Wine, to act unheard-of
Brutalities,
in direct Opposition to the Impulse of all its Virtues. I recommend this useful Scene to the Perusal of those indanger'd Adventurers, who are apt to be quarrelsome in their Cups, and yet dare rashly addict themselves to an habitual Intemperance.
THE Fatigue of so melancholy a Meditation, cast me into a disorder'd kind of Sleep, in which it furnished me (as
Shakespear
says) with
the Stuff of which Dreams are made.
My Imagination, working busily upon the Traces of my waking Thoughts, brought me into the Company of a Hoary and Venerable Matron, whose Eyes were so
piercing bright,
that they seem'd to have increas'd by Age, their Faculty of Penetration. She told me, That her Name was CAUTION, and bidding me follow her, she conducted me, as the Prophetess did
Aeneas,
into one of the Regions of the
nether World,
where the Shades of all those, who depart this Life, in the Guilt of their Debauches, are doom'd to inhabit.
I FOUND my self, without being able to describe the Method of my speedy Conveyance thither, in a vast Place like an Island, incompass'd with a Moat of Liquid Fire, where different Crowds of People, were under the Torment of being
forced
to
drink,
every Moment, till they were deprived of their Senses, and betrayed into Extravagancies, which never failed to fill their Hearts with Pain and Remorse, for some enormous Transgression or other, committed by them when so disorder'd.—Then the Fury that administer'd the Liquor, had a Power of recovering them, by representing their past Actions, in a Glass, that serv'd them instead of
Memory.
—When they had suffer'd the full Pangs of Sobriety, and pain'd their Observation with what they
might
have been, and what they
were
; the Fury drench'd them afresh, with the Intoxicating Tide of Torture; and this was the Repetition of a Life, whose Circle compos'd a Round of Misery, that never was to know an End. Each Crowd was thus attended, by some Deputy of infernal Vengeance,
THE first, I took Notice of, was a Company of Gentlemen, who, before they began to drink, were of robust Make of Body; they had Sanguine Complexions, and carried
Health
in their whole Appearance: Before these, a
Devil,
in the Dress of a
Drawer,
had placed a vast Barrel of Liquor, of which when each had got his Dose, the Effects of the Poison began to work differently upon these poor Patients, that seem'd lately in a State so florid. Some, that were of the most gigantick Size, like
Father Dominick
in the
Spanish Fryer,
sunk two Yards and a Half in the
Wetting.
Others again, who were
thin
Men, were bloated by Dropsies, into the Dimensions which the former had shrunk from.—They, who just before, had Vigour enough to out-voice their own Hunting-Horns, were, by a Dose or two of that strange, alterative Liquor, brought to
squeak
like those
Pipes,
which the
Boys
make of an
Oat-straw.
—They, who used to leap Five-bar-Gates, Quickset-Hedges, and Park-Palings, could not wag a Hand, or a Foot, without crying out of the Gout, or the Rheumatism: These had been called in the World, COUNTRY 'SQUIRES, and were active Men in their Time, at the Hunting down of a
Fox,
or crying up of a
Burgess.
—But it was dismal to behold, what Faces they made now, when the Fury shew'd them their own Figures, in the startling Glass of Reflection!
THE next Place, that old Mother CAUTION conducted me to, was a gloomy Walk, which the farther we penetrated into it, was the deeper darkened with the Shade of
Juniper
and
Eugh
Trees: In the midst, was a Little Thatch'd House, as full as it could hold, of Earthen Vessels, stor'd with a
Juice,
that was but one Remove from
Poyson:
The poor Wretches, who frequented this dark Hovel, where mostly
English,
and pleaded the Privililege of their
Liberty,
for getting rid of their Senses, as
freely,
as their Countrymen, of higher Quality, who paid
dearer
for the same
Right,
in proportion to their better Circumstances, and dealt in Poysons of a slower Operation. Many Customers went in here but half Dress'd, and came out again Naked; Most of them labour'd under Miseries and Diseases without a Name; and some of them endeavour'd to hang themselves on the Trees that gave a Name to the fatal Liquor.—
BUT, I was
transported
in the next Place I came to, and flatter'd my Imagination, that I was got out of the infernal Regions, into those, which were form'd for Delight, and, by the Ancients, called, The
Elysian Fields.
I was led into a noble Edifice, adorn'd with the most magnificent Furniture, Gildings, Sculptures, Paintings, Glass-Sconces, with hundreds of Wax Tapers lighted in them; the Roofs ecchoed and re-sounded, with the finest Musick, that cou'd arise from the most elegant Variety of the sweetest Instruments. Here was an Assembly of the most active and fineshap'd Gentlemen, together with a Set of the most seemingly modest and beautiful Women, that ever my Eyes beheld;—when, immediately, two
Devils,
in
Masquerade, appear'd
to the Company, with the most complaisant and inviting Airs imaginable.—One of them led the Gentlemen to a luxurious Table, adorn'd with Crystals, replenished with the strongest and richest Wines, of all Growths and Climates, and dealt Glasses round with Profusion: The other, which was a
She Devil,
conducted the Ladies, in like Manner, to another Table, richly ornamented with Silver Equipages, and Vases of the finest
China,
which were filled, as she pretended, with Liquors, that promoted
Sobriety,
but had really so different an Effect, that the Fumes and Vapours arising from their
Brimmers,
forced me to remove to a greater Distance.
This
drinking
Scene being finished, the Word was given to
Mask
and
Dance
;—But, instead of forming a regular Motion, the whole Company, Male and Female, without Distinction of Sex, Age or Condition, fell, jumbled, into one promiscuous Heap, upon which ensued horrid Outcries, and a confus'd Clash of Swords, from Men, who were murdering one another, about Daughters, Wives and Sisters: So that in a Moment, methought, like the shifting of a Scene in Dr.
Faustus,
this fine Apartment was chang'd into an
Hospital,
distinguish'd into little Closets, like Cells.—In these unhappy little Cells, were Ladies under a Course of Torment, (a Fury always holding before their Eyes, a Picture of their departed Beauty:) I took Notice of
One,
whose Picture represented the smoothest, Satten Skin, with the finest Tincture imaginable, while the blubbering Original was melting away in Tears, with Cheeks swell'd into Carbuncles, and spotted over with purple Pimples: Another, whose Portrait display'd a Loveliness, almost Angelical, was staring on it with bloodshot Eyes, and a Face, so distorted with Convulsions, that she look'd, methought, more frightful than the
Fury,
that attended her.—I begg'd of CAUTION to let me retreat from this melancholy Mansion, because it fill'd me with more Horror than I was able to support, to see the Effects of such seeming Pleasantry, producing Despair and real Misery; and such alluring Beauty, betray'd into such hideous and frightful Deformity.
CAUTION was so obliging, as to grant my Petition in Part; but told me, That as I must carry
Warning
with me, when I return'd to the upper Regions, she was under a Necessity of conducting me to several other Places. This made it impossible for me to hasten out of my Dream, and will not, I hope, expose me to the Censure, which we old People sometimes lie under, of being
tedious
in our
Story-telling,
and talking rather by
Rule
than by
Measure.
—In short, I find I must
Dream on,
'till I come to the End of my next Paper.
The Plain Dealer. No 113.
—Tollite Barbarum
Morem, Verecundumque Bacchum,
Sanguineis prohibete rixis.
HOR.
MONDAY,
April
19. 1725.
The
VISION
continued.
I WAS as much deceiv'd in the next Place, that Old Mother CAUTION convey'd me to, as I had been in the last.—A magnificent
Square
open'd to my View, whose four Sides were form'd by the finest Architecture. Those Stately Palaces, my Guide told me, were inhabited by Persons of the highest Rank and Fortune, and who were reckoned to have the most
delicate
Taste of
Living.
She carry'd me into one, that appear'd the noblest in the Quadrangle; and, there, from a Window towards the Garden, which is situated on an Eminence, that borders on delicious Fields, and commands an opening Extent of Country, she shew'd me, by the Help of a Prospective Glass, a Dozen fair
Manor-Towns,
all surrounded by a pleasant Variety of Hills and Dales, Plains and Woods, Green Meadows and Corn Fields, richly waving with a promis'd Harvest: Gardens, and sweet
Parterres,
with Fish Ponds and Canals that glitter'd thro' the Trees; All which, she said, was but a small Portion of the Earth, enjoy'd by this Son of Fortune, who was Master of that fine Palace we stood in—This House had been, it seems, every Day, in the Afternoon, and every Night, and all the Night long, crowded from Top to Bottom, with People of all Sexes, Ages, and Countries; who, provided they had the Merit of
wanting nothing,
were welcome to partake of all the Abundance of this Place; where nothing appear'd, but what was noble and delightful. The Earth, from Pole to Pole, was ransack'd (as were the
Air
and
Water
) to supply this House with Delicacies.
BUT the Owner (who gloried in his Hospitality, without esteeming any one of his Guests, but in proportion as he profess'd an Admiration of this Ostentatious Magnificence of Living) valued himself most upon the Variety of his tasteful
Wines,
which Merchants, from all Quarters of the World, were Hourly emptying in upon him. They were distinguish'd by such different Names, that it would require as much
Study,
as would make a
Scholar
in any other Science, to Register, and do Justice to their
Titles, Colours, Tastes,
and the happy Places which produc'd them. Different Companies in every Apartment, had their
Signals,
and
gave Fire
together; and, by their Number, it was reckon'd, That every
leading Glass,
that was turn'd up by the gay
Master,
pour'd out about a
Tun,
including Servants Computations, by way of
Perquisite,
and
Emolument.
CAUTION, at the
Sound
of every
Health,
bid me view the Manors from the Garden Window; and I perceiv'd a Man in a Black Gown, presenting a Roll of Parchment to another, who was a Jolly kind of Fellow, and
Steward,
it seems, to the Landlord, arm'd with a
Letter
of
Attorney,
to sign what Deeds he should
find necessary.
—No sooner was this Parchment return'd to the Man in Black, but immediately the Prospect shorten'd, by the Length of one whole Village, which, vanishing from our Sight, left us no other Land Mark, where it stood, but a vast and fruitful
Crab Tree.
—The Healths went round so frequently, and so merrily, that the Villages and Manor-Towns, disappear'd like Mists, in a Sunny Morning; till at last, the Gentleman in Black, with a Train of frightful Monsters at his Heels, enter'd fiercely the
Mansion-House,
whence all the Company ran hastily away; and the louder the Master call'd after them, so much the faster they continued running.
AS soon as we were got into the
Square
(alas!
fuit Ilium!
) I mean the Spot, where the Square
had stood
; all the Palaces, were vanish'd; and turn'd, methought, into an
Orchard
of
Crab-Trees:
With whose Fruit, a Croud of
fine Gentlemen,
who were running away in their Shirts, were pelted without Mercy, by red
Furies,
to whose
Favourites
(a Number of
Vintners
and
lucky Gamesters
) they had, but just before, transferr'd their
Birth-right.
IT is impossible to express the Anguish, the Despair, of these
unlanded
Gentlemen; some tore down Branches, and accusing one another for the Seduction of ill Example, form'd a Battle with dismember'd
Crab-Trees:
others hang'd themselves among the Boughs, at the Approach of ill-look'd Ruffians, who surrounded them in their New
Orchard.
THE next was an Assembly of Men of
Wit
; consisting of a
Poet,
an
Orator,
a
Philosopher,
a
Mathematician,
a
Divine,
a
Military
Officer,
the
fine Gentleman,
who entertain'd them all, and an
Eunnch,
who sung in the
Opera.
—The
Poet
recited a
Hymn
to
Bacchus
of his own Composing—The
Orator,
with great Gracefulness, harangu'd upon the Force of
Eloquence,
which he attributed to the Warmth of
Wine
—The
Philosopher
set
Cato
's
Virtue
before them, as held
steady,
by the
Strength
of
Drinking.
—The
Divine
averr'd, That,
Solomon
said,
Wine made the Face of a Man to
SHINE, and prov'd it very
soberly,
by shewing its
Effects
upon his own
illuminated
Countenance.—The
Mathematician
produc'd a
Pun,
and said, He lov'd a full
Gage,
because it was the
Perfection
of
Measure:
And to measure exactly, was the
Duty
of his Prosession.—The
Officer
commended
Wine,
as a great Inflamer of
Courage
; and quoted a
Dutch
Author, in Defence of the Use of
Drinking,
in Times of
War:
And the faithful Service of
Auxillary Brandy.
—The
fine Gentleman
expatiated on the Advantage to be reap'd by entertaining such polite Company, when assembled over a
Bottle
; and ordered the
Fury
that attended them, to put round the Glass: At which the
Eunuch
began to
sing,
and the whole Company clapped their Hands, and roar'd out
Encore,
and
Bravo.
NO sooner had the Glass gone round, but the
Orator
propos'd
Method
to be the Foundation of
Argument
; and insisted, that All should talk in their
Turns
; which, as soon as any began to do, he broke in upon his own Rule; and gallop'd, with a bawling Voice, through
Divisions
and
Subdivisions,
'till he had
disunited
the whole Company.—The
Poet,
thought he had equal Right to the Use of his Tongue, and rose to assert it, in an exorbitant Manner, just as he found he had lost the Use of it.—The
Philosopher
cried out, in vain, That Men must labour to subdue their Passions; and, to convince them how easy it was, fell into so
violent
a one himself, that he knock'd down the poor
Poet,
with a Club, called
Argumentum Baccilinum
; For, says he, there is no
other
Way of
disputing
against those who deny
first Principles;
—The
Divine,
seeing a
Philosopher
turn
Murderer,
and talk, at the same Time of
Principles,
thunder'd out
Anathema
's against
Disputing at all,
where the Business, they met for, was
Drinking.
—The
Mathematician
was muttering
Problems,
and tracing out a
Globe
upon the Table, with his
Fingers
dipt in the
Liquor
that the Scufflers had
spilt
upon it; and the
fine-bred Gentleman
to assist the Depth of his important Designs, was pouring more Wine, to that which was spilt already, lest he might want a Supply of Liquor; But just as the Figure was upon the Point of being finished, the Officer swore it made
dull Company,
and rubb'd it out with his Sleeve: The
Mathematician
seeing his
Globe defac'd,
cried, The
World was at an
End
; to which the
Philosopher
and
Divine
agreeing, and the rest of the Company denying it, they fell all together by the Ears, and squeezed the
Eunuch
to Death, while he was trying the Influence of his
Musick
against
Madness.
WHEN the Fury was just going to restore them to their Senses again, that they might perform over the same Exercise, (which they do, it seems, every Hour, just as strange Sights are shewn in Fairs, or as Drunken Men renew their waking Debauches, after a little Interval of Sleep in their Lifetimes) I left them, with a pungent Regret, that there should be in Liquor such a Power of turning
Strength
into
Weakness, Health
into
Sickness, Beauty
into
Deformity, Riches
into
Poverty, Friendship
into
Murder, Wisdom
into
Folly,
and
Wit
into
Madness!
I WAK'D, with no small Wonder at this sleeping Ramble of my Imagination: But turning over a Collection of Old News-Papers, bound up in Volumes, from the
Restoration,
gradually downward, I found them fill'd with Yearly Proofs, that Men act the very same Follies,
waking
in this World, that I had been Dreaming were done in the other.
THERE I found Accounts of Men of great Estates, dead in a Prison, from the Effects of Drinking:—Quarrels every jot as fantastical as any I have been describing—There were Accounts of Men casting Lots, in their Liquor, which should be
hang'd,
and which the
Hangman
;—Here were fine Histories of others, who, in a ridiculous Bravado, had drank the Health of the
Devil,
in a Punch-bowl season'd with
Opium,
and launch'd down, while the Humour was on 'em, to pay a Visit to their grateful Patron.—I look'd back as far as the Time, when certain wild Beasts, called
Mohocks,
had broke loose, here in
London
; and I found that it was no new Thing for Generals, and Common Soldiers, Lords, Watchmen, and Drawers, Counts, Coblers and Hackney-Coachmen, to engage in
no unequal
Matches together, and fight with all the
Triumph
of
Drunkenness
; nay, what is more, I found all this as duly
repeated here,
as I dreamt it to be in the Lower Regions.
WHILE I was thus poring over my News Papers, and reflecting, that the
Life
of
Man,
tallied exactly (as to its Extravagance) with the Dreams of his disorder'd
Fancy,
I heard a Noise in the Street, as if all
Barbican
were in an Uproar, and looking out of my Window, I saw Men with gilded Staves, and an Air of exerted Magistracy, knocking down a Set of roaring little
Heroes,
with
Leeks
in their Hats.—Inquiring into the Matter, I was told, by an Arch-Wag (smiling, as if he derided my Ignorance) That it was nothing, but a few
Welshmen
; who were got
Loyally
Drunk,
and did sober People a Mischief, in Honour of the good Saint, their
Patron.
I RESOLV'D then (as extravagant as my Thoughts seem'd to me before, and perfectly
remov'd
out of Nature) to pen them down; since I found, such Persons did
really exist,
as I had believ'd, Imagination could only
shadow,
in the preposterous Inconsistence of a Dream.—It may, thought I, be of
Use,
to shew Men, who are addicted to this Vice, their Pictures, plac'd in the fullest Point of Absurdity: And, since most of them take
Hell
to be a
Dream,
it is natural enough to expect, that a
Dream
of
Hell
may divert them.
The Plain Dealer. No 114.
Pulvis & Umbra sumus.—
HOR.
FRIDAY,
April
23. 1725.
AMONG a numberless Variety of
Similitudes,
by which the Different Wits of Poets, Satirists, Philosophers, and Divines, have endeavour'd to express the Shortness, and Insignificance, of Humane Life, I am most pleas'd with that of
Lucian,
where he compares it to those little Bubbles, which are made by a Shower of Rain, that falls upon some Lake or River; where they are broken, as fast as they are form'd, and give way to others, that immediately follow them.
THERE is, in this Comparison, the
Emptiness,
the
Smoke,
and the
Bustle,
as well as the
Weakness,
and
Brevity
of Life: It is, methinks, a very mortifying Picture of that
Step, half stridden,
That
Sporting-Field of Fortune,
which St.
Augustin
has, so comprehensively, explain'd himself upon, when he says,
"It is a Life, ebbing with Doubts, flowing with Hopes, and beaten by Miseries; puff'd up with Luxury, and made lean by Abstinence: Distracted by Wishes, sharpen'd by Cares, and blunted by Indolence; arrogant in Youth, peevish in Age; restless in Health, and impatient in Sickness: And, at last, so over-clouded by
Death,
that,
Ceasing to be,
one would think,
It never was,
I WAS insensibly attracted to this Subject, by my Perusal of Three
Epitaphs,
widely different in their Designs: For the First excites
Humility
in High-Life, The Second advises
Retirement,
and The Third inflames to
Glory.
THAT which recommends Humility to the Possessors of Power and Dignity, is the Translation of a
Latin
Inscription, on the Monument of a Duke of
Brunswick,
in the Cathedral Church of that City.
Here, Great, and Good,
Duke HENRY
buried lies:
O'er their dead
Founder
these proud Arches rise.
His pious
Consort,
too (the
Poor
's safe Guide)
Mix'd with his
Dust,
clings
closer
to his Side:
MATILDA,
Daughter to Great
England
's King!
Whose Virtues, spite of
Death,
still
bloom
in Spring.
King
OTHO,
too, their Son, here shares their Rest;
By both fond Parents Arms, again possess'd.
And, here,—O Grief of Beauty! near him, lies,
The
Charmer
of his
Heart,
and all Mens
Eyes!
That lovely Form, whose Smiles
inflam'd Desire,
Here, Food for Worms, can no
soft Woes
inspire.
Thou, Passenger, whose Eyes this
Marble
view,
Learn to be
Wise;
nor
fleeting
Hopes pursue:
Life is an Evening Breeze; a murm'ring Breath;
That blows, till
Sun-set,
then grows
calm,
in Death.
THE Second
Epitaph
(which recommends, as I said, a
retir'd Life)
is that of
Similis,
a Military Officer, of great Experience, in the Time of the Emperor
Adrian
; who obtain'd Leave, with no small Difficulty, to retire, at last, into the Country; and living there, but
Seven Years,
in a quiet and peaceful Privacy, enjoyed more solid Satisfaction, than he had ever reap'd before, from all his long Life, spent in Hurry, Danger, and Distinction: So that, coming, at last, to
die,
he appointed by his
Will,
this
Epitaph.
Shou'd Curious Readers wish to know,
Whose Dust their Feet are pressing;
SIMILIS,
fam'd in War, lies low,
His Country's Boast, and Blessing.
Long did he Toil, and Grasp, and Strive,
Yet
lost
his
Time,
he fears;
For, tho', till
Seventy-Six, ALIVE,
He
LIV'd,
but
Seven
short Years.
THE Third
Epitaph,
to give it at once, the highest praise which
can
be given it, is worthy its illustrious Subject, the Great CZAR of RUSSIA. It was sent me by a Gentleman, to whose Hands it came, in
Latin.
But I was so justly charm'd with the Sublimity of the Sentiments, that I could not resist the Temptation of giving it to the Ladies, and other
English
Readers, in their own native Language; because I would have none of them robb'd of the Pleasure, which I receiv'd, in perusing it.
Hic jacent Reliquiae, vix mortales, PETRI ALEXOWITZ, RUSSIARUM IMPERATORIS haud opus est dicere, Honorem enim isti Diademati addidit, non recepit. Taceat Antiquitas, Cedat ALEXANDER, Cedat CAESAR; Se facilem praebet Victoria Heroum Ductoribus, Milites vinci nescios Imperantibus; Sed ILLE, Qui in morte solâ requiescit, Non Famae avidos, Non Bello peritissimos, Non homines Mortem temnentes, Sed Bruta, vix
que
humani nominis dignos Subditos Invenit; Etiamhos, compatriis ursis simillimos, & aversantes, Expolivit; Barbaritatis Haereditariae tenebras ille Phoebus fugavit; Et propriâ virtute Germanorum Victores vicit. Alii felicissimè Exercitus duxerunt, Hic creavi
. Erubesce, Ars! Hic Vir Maximus tibi nihil debuit: Exulta; Natura! Hoc Stupendium tuum est.
Here under Deposited Lies All that cou'd die, of a Man Immortal;
PETER ALEXIOVITZ:
It is almost superfluous to add,
GREAT EMPEROR OF RUSSIA:
A Title! Which, instead of adding to his Glory, Became Glorious by His wearing it. Let Antiquity be dumb, Nor boast her
ALEXANDER,
Or her
CAESAR.
How easy was Victory To Leaders, who were follow'd by Heroes! And whose Soldiers felt a noble Disdain, To be thought less awake than their Generals! But HE, Who, in this Place, first, knew Rest, Found Subjects Base, and Unactive, Unwarlike, Unlearn'd, Untractable, Neither covetous of Fame, Nor liberal of Danger; Creatures, with the Names of Men, But with Qualities rather Brutal than Rational: Yet, even These, He polish'd from their Native Ruggedness, And, breaking out, like a New
SUN,
To illuminate the Minds of a People, Dispell'd their Night of Hereditary Darkness: 'Till, by Force of His invincible Influence, He had taugnt them to conquer, Even the Conquerors of
Germany.
Other Princes have commanded victorious Armies, This Commander created them! Blush, O
ART!
At a Hero, who ow'd Thee Nothing. Exult, O
NATURE!
For Thine was This Prodigy.
I will End with a short Collection of Sentences, which a Writer, of the last Century, assures us, he had copied out of the Pocket-Book of an
Elector,
of the
German
Empire; where he found it inserted, in That Prince's own Hand-writing.—LIFE
is short,
BEAUTY
Deceitful,
RICHES
Uncertain,
DOMINION
Invidious,
VICTORY
Doubtful,
YOUTH
Restless,
OLD AGE
Miserable
; DEATH,
only, is
HAPPY,
and the
FAME
of
WISDOM
Everlasting!
The Plain Dealer. No 115.
Scribimus indocti, doctique.—
HOR.
MONDAY,
April
26. 1725.
THE Three following Letters being long enough to fill one Paper, it must be referred to another, to say what may be necessary in Answer to them.
To the Author of the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
PERCEIVING, that it is customary, for you, to receive Letters from our Sex, I am willing to throw myself into your Protection, in Hopes of meeting with a favourable Regard from you, and that you may assist me in my Distress.
I AM a young Woman of some Fortune, and of no mean Extraction; and was, some Months ago, the
Happiest Woman in the World:
My Story, in short, is this: There was a young Gentleman, every way superior to myself, thought fit to make his Addresses to me. At first I concluded, from the Inequality of our Fortunes, that he did it purely for a little Diversion; but, by I know not what kind of Infatuation, I was soon perswaded, to believe he was just and sincere in his Pretensions. From hence, there sprang an Intimacy between us, which lasted a considerable Time, and which, I never thought would have a Period, 'till Death had separated us for ever: But, behold the Vicissitudes and Changes of Life! the unexpected Turns of Fortune! which no Humnn Foresight can prevent: When I thought myself almost arrived to the highest Perfection of earthly Happiness,
Strephon,
the unkind
Strephon!
forsook me, and bereft me of all my Joys, and Hopes, at once.
IT is to me very surprizing, that so intimate a Correspondence, which was carried on with so much pretended Satisfaction, on his Part, shou'd now be so irksome to him, as to make him avoid my Company, and even the very Sight of me. I cannot pretend to penetrate into his
Thoughts,
but I am sure his
Actions
always carried in them the Marks of a real and unfeigned Passion. He seem'd ever studious, to
divert
and
please
me; and treated me, with a
Civility
and
Respect,
which is not common, even in the most
passionate Lover.
It is now, I think, two Months since he payed me a Visit; nor have I heard from him, to let me know the Reason of his Absence, which, together with some private Intimations I have had from others, gives me sufficient Grounds to believe he is
false.
AND is it possible! after such an uncommon Behaviour, he should abandon, nay,
despise
the Person he once appear'd so much to admire! Are these his Protestations of
eternal Love!
Is
this
his
Friendship?
Has he so soon forgot his Vows, of Constancy and Fidelity?
Who,
even of the most
Wise
and
Prudent,
could have suspected, much less discern'd
Deceit,
under the fair Appearance of so much seeming
Honour
and
Sincerity?
I was so far from distrusting him, whom, I thought, the
Virtuous
and
Generous Strephon,
that I put my whole Confidence in him, and was innocently betray'd, by the irresistable Charms of his Eloquence.
I HAVE wrote to him, several Times, since he has left me; but either my Letters were intercepted, or he is wholly regardless of them; for I have not, as yet, received an Answer; nor can I, by any Means, inform myself, what has been the Cause of his unkind Separation. For this Reason, I take this publick Opportunity, both to ask your Advice, in so critical a Juncture, and to convince him, of his disingenuous Treatment of one, for whom he pretended, once, to have the most unalterable Veneration. If you think fit, to give this Letter a Place, in one of your Papers, I know it will come to his Hands; and, perhaps, such a Memorial, under your Authority and Protection, may have a greater Influence over him than any common Epistle. I desire therefore you will insert it, and oblige your most humble Servant,
DELIA.
Pray correct it before it is Printed.
To the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
IT is a common Observation, That Trees that
Blossom soonest,
are liable to be soonest Frost nipt. As if Nature, by observing the full Growth of such forward Virtues, mistook the Progress of Years, and measured
Maturity
not by
Age,
but by
Character.
I MOURN the Misery, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, of having lately lost a
Friend,
whose Picture I will present you with, as it is drawn to the Life, in my Memory!—
IN Business there was a
Pleasure,
always triumphing over his Hurry; such a Suavity and Complacence in his Behaviour, as attracted the
Heart,
before the
Head
could have Time to
weigh
him. He was subservient to no Passion, but
Love,
which made him a Friend to all Mankind, nor could those narrow Limits of Soul, which contract Mens
Friendships
to their
Interests,
restrain his boundless Generosity, which made him
Every Body's,
who had
Miseries,
within the Compass of his Easing. He had so feverish a
Thirst
of
Obliging,
that an Enemy would have call'd his Liberality rather his
Disease
than his
Ornament.
He sought for no Reward, but the
Prosperity
of those he favour'd; and if at any Time it was not in his Power to
grant,
he was more asham'd, and unsatisfied, than the Person whom he disappointed; and, by way of Atonement, injoined himself the Penance of
watching
for some
happier
Opportunity, when he cou'd meet the Wish above half way, and prevent its Explanation.
NOR did this Benevolence of his Nature extend only to those within the Sphere of his Acquaintance; whose-ever Misfortunes came to his Knowledge, made an equal, and noble Impression;—For he
impropriated
all Mens Griefs, till he had lessen'd them, by
Comforts.
IF there were any so Ungenerous as to make him their
Enemy,
he was as willing to forgive, as they to offer the Injury.—Judge, then, how happy must those few have been, who were blest with his Intimacy! Whatever Tenderness is conceived in Nature from Mothers to their new-born Infants, may deserve to pass as some faint Image of his Sweetness:—His Faith, and his Friendships, were as lasting as his
Life
was.
WITH all these Advantages, never had Man an humbler Opinion of himself; which was an Armor that defended him, against the
Flattery
of Fortune, as his Steadiness despis'd her
Malice.
To
Him,
to be
High
or
Low,
were Accidents merely indifferent: The one cou'd neither exalt, nor cou'd the other depress his Sentiments: And had Heaven thought fit to have exempted his Body, like his Mind, from Infirmities, He had been as well
Immortal
as
Inestimable.
The fashionable Vanities which allure and captivate young Hearts, could never get Admittance into his masculine, and discerning Bosom, always guarded by Reason and Virtue. He renounc'd, in the Pride of his Youth, those Enjoyments which others content themselves with disclaiming, when the Power of possessing them is either lost or abated; Oh! I am left in a
Desart,
without this Guide, that my fond Soul hung upon! And nothing remains, but the Influence of his
Example,
that can be worth the Wish of any Man, who had the Blessing to be acquainted with him.—
IN Justice to his Memory, allow this little Specimen of my departed Friend, a Place in one of your Papers, and you will much oblige,
Your Constant Reader, And Well-Wisher,
NED MOURNFULL.
To the Worshipful Master
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
I HAVE had such an Over-mind to see you, that I came to Town on purpose, being a Kind of
Plain Dealer
myself. For tho'f I am a Country Fellow, and no
Latin
Scollard, yet I reckon myself the wisest in our whole Parish, except (mayhap) the Parson: And he is so churlish, that one dare not
deal plainly
with him. I believe you to be no proud Man, and that made me so bold as to come to seek you out, being in hopes to have told our Parson, that I had conversed, in my Time, with as
Learned
a Man as he.
GOOD Master PLAIN DEALER, be so kind as to tell a Body, in your next Paper, where you may be sound, and rather than lose the Sight of so good-natur'd, an old Man, I will come once more on purpose, tho'f I shou'd have no other Business. When I enquired after you, I thought I shou'd ne'er have found you out; but then, at last, I was told, by a very young Man, that you was to be met with, at the
Tower
of
Barbican.
—Z'lids, I was never so so glad in all my Life-time; but soon after I found I had nothing to be glad on, and I doubt the Rogue put the
City-Bite
upon me; for I have searched every Crick and Corner to find out such a
Tower,
and could get no News of it:
Barbican
I did find, and the
Tower
I did find; but I cou'd find no
Tower
of
Barbican.
I have worn out two Shooes by the Bargain, that were as good as any two Pair I can get hereabouts. Pray, if there be any such
Tower,
and you live in it, I beseech you to order Matters so, that I may come to find it out.
I READ your Papers, and understand them as well as most other Folks, all but your
Top Sentences,
which are generally so hard, that they puzzle all our Parish. The best Scollards of us put our Heads together to find out their Meaning; and, when we can't agree about it, we go to consult our Parson; and, I am sorry to say it, he pronounces a hard Judgment upon them.—He does not think it
worth his Trouble
(he says) to
understand
Heathen
Authors,
because those Men were seldom good
Christians.
—But this shall not prevent my Reading your Papers, for I have a better Opinion of you, than to think so prophanely of any of your Friends and Acquaintance. Being in over-great Haste for the Country, have but just Time to put you in mind of me, and, wishing you in good Health, as I am at this present Writing (blessed be God for it) remain,
Worshipful SIR,
Your very Sincere Friend,
George Gardener.
The Plain Dealer. No. 116.
Pro captu Lectoris habent sua fata Libelli.
MONDAY,
May
3. 1725.
To the Author of the
PLAIN DEALER.
SIR,
TURNING over the Works of
Shakespear,
lately usher'd into the World by an extravagant Subscription, and finding the Six Volumes, tho' called
Shakespear
's Works, contained not his VENUS and ADONIS, his TARQUIN and LUCRECE, and numberless other Miscellaneous Pieces, which, for Richness of Fancy, and the many beautiful Descriptions that adorn them, are far from being inferior to some of his more celebrated Labours; I thought my self obliged to become a Purchaser of the Seventh Volume also, which appears to me, to have no Demerit to occasion its Exclusion.
YOU, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, whose Lucubrations are so justly admir'd by all good Judges of Wit and Taste, will indulge me the Transcription of a few of those numberless natural Beauties, which shine every where thro' these charming Pieces; and the rather, because I have been inform'd, That this Volume, which is so necessary and essential a Part of the Works of that inimitable Author, has not, by some of the Wits in
Leading-Strings,
been look'd upon with equal Favour; because this Edition of it was not midwif'd into the World, by the
great Names
that have condescended, for the
Emolument
of the
Publick,
to shine in the Title Page of the First Six Volumes: But as this may take up more Room, than you will have to spare in one Paper, I shall now and then occasionally beg Leave, by your Means, to recommend to the
Implicite Witlings
of the Age, those Beauties which might otherwise escape their Observation.
AND as it is impossible, where ever I open the Book, not to be surprized with the Beauties of this great Genius, I will present your Readers with the first that offer'd it self; the Exclamation the violated
Lucrece
makes upon OPPORTUNITY and TIME, for contributing to her Undoing.
O! OPPORTUNITY! Thy Guilt is great;
'Tis thou that
execut'st
the
Traitor
's Treason:
Thou sett'st the
Wolf
where he the
Lamb
may get:
Whoever
plots
the
Sin,
Thou
point'st
the
Season:
'Tis Thou that spurn'st at
Right,
at
Law,
at
Reason
;
And in thy
shady Cell,
where none may spy her,
Sits SIN, to seize the Souls, that wander by her.
Thou mak'st the
Vestal
violate her
Oath
;
Thou
blow'st
the
Fire,
when
Temperance
is
thaw'd:
Thou smother'st
Honesty
; Thou murder'st
Troth
;
Thou foul Abbettor! Thou notorious Bawd!
Thou plantest
Scandal,
and displacest
Land:
Thou
Ravisher!
Thou
Traitor!
Thou
false Thief!
Thy
Honey
turns to
Gall,
thy
Joy
to
Grief.
Thy
secret
Pleasure turns to
open
Shame;
Thy
private
Feasting to a
publick
Fast;
Thy
smoth'ring
Titles to a
ragged
Name;
Thy
sugar'd
Tongue to
bitter
Wormwood Taste:
Thy
violent
Vanities can never
last:
How comes it then, vile OPPORTUNITY!
Being so
bad,
such
Numbers
seek for Thee?
When wilt Thou be the
humble Suppliant
's Friend,
And bring him where his
Suit
may be obtain'd?
When wilt thou
sort
an
Hour
great
Strifes
to end?
Or
free
that Soul, which
Wretchedness
hath
chain'd?
Give
Physick
to the
Sick, Ease
to the
Pain'd?
The
Poor, Lame, Blind, cry out, halt, creep
for Thee,
But
They
ne'er meet with OPPORTUNITY.
The
Patient dies,
while the
Physician sleeps;
The
Orphan pines,
while the
Oppressor feeds:
Justice
is
feasting,
while the
Widow weeps;
Advice
is sporting, while
Infection
breeds:
Thou grant'st no
Time
for
charitable Deeds:
Wrath, Envy, Treason, Rape,
and
Murder
rages;
Thy
heinous Hours
wait on them, as their
Pages.
Guilty Thou art of
Murder,
and of
Theft
;
Guilty of
Perjury,
and
Subornation;
Guilty of
Treason, Forgery,
and
Shift;
Guilty of
Incest,
that Abomination;
An
Accessary,
by thine
Inclination,
To all
Sins past,
and all that are to
come,
From the
Creation,
to the
General Doom.
Mishapen TIME!
Copes-mate
of
ugly Night;
Swift, subtle
Post, Carrier
of grisly
Care
;
Eater of
Youth; false Slave
to
false Delight;
Base
Watch
of
Woes, Sin's Pack-Horse, Virtue's Snare:
Thou
nursest
All, and
murder'st
All that are:
O hear me then,
injurious, shifting
TIME!
Be guilty of my
Death,
since of my
Crime!
Why hath thy
Servant
OPPORTUNITY,
Betray'd the Hours, thou gav'st me to
repose?
Cancell'd my
Fortunes,
and inchained me
To
endless
Date of
never-ending
Woes?
TIME's Office is, To find the
Hate
of
Foes,
To
eat
up
Error,
by
Opinion
bred;
Nor spend the
Dowry
of a
Lawful Bed.
TIME's Glory is, To calm contending Kings,
To unmask
Falshood,
and bring
Truth
to
light
;
To stamp the
Seal
of
Time
on
aged Things;
To
wake
the
Morn,
and
centinel
the
Night
;
To wrong the Wronger, 'till he render
Right
;
To ruinate proud Buildings with thy
Hours,
And
smear
with
Dust,
their glittering, golden Tow'rs:
To fill with
Worm-holes
stately
Monuments:
To feed
Oblivion
with
Decay
of Things;
To blot
old Books,
and alter their
Contents
;
To pluck the
Quills
from ancient
Ravens
Wings;
To dry the
old Oak's Sap,
and cherish
Springs
;
To spoil
Antiquities
of
hammer'd Steel,
And turn the
giddy Round
of
Fortune
's
Wheel:
Why work'st thou
Mischief
in thy
Pilgrimage,
Unless thou could'st
return
to make
Amends?
One
poor
retiring Minute
in an
Age,
Would purchase Thee a
thousand thousand
Friends;
Lending him
Wit,
that to
bad Debtors
lends.
O! this dread Night! would'st Thou
one Hour
come back,
I could prevent this
Storm,
and shun this
Wrack!
WITH this admirable Flow of Fancy, and lively Imagery, does this unbounded Genius, forgetful indeed of her unfit Condition for Oratory, whom he represents as thus Copious, while he is forciby carried away by the Stream of his own charming Imagination. I shall only mention, That the Description the Poet gives of her Rising to the Morn, her Last Will, her Parley with her Maid, the Maid's sympathizing Behaviour; and his admirable Description of the Groom she sent to
Collatine,
are Beauties, in their Way, that have no Equal, but in the same Author. But I cannot forbear recommending his Description of the Picture he makes the unhappy Lady turn her Eyes to, of
Troy
beleagur'd by the
Greeks,
to avenge the Rape of
Hellen
; which, for Strength of Description, surpasses any Thing of the like Kind; and shews the Excellency of the
Poet
's Art above that of the
Painter
(as the
Soul
is to the
Body
) since 'tis impossible the Pencil of the latter can come up to what follows.
A thousand lamentable Objects there,
In
Scorn
of
Nature, Art
gave
lifeless Life:
Many a dire
Drop
seem'd a
Weeping Tear,
Shed, for the
slaughter'd Husband,
by the
Wife.
The red Blood
reek'd,
to shew the
Painter's Strife;
And
dying Eyes
gleam'd forth their
ashy Lights,
Like
dying Coals,
burnt out in
tedious Nights.
There might you see the
labouring Pioneer
Begrim'd
with
Sweat,
and
smeared
all with
Dust:
And from the Tow'rs of
Troy
there would appear
The
very Eyes
of
Men,
thro'
Loop-holes
thrust,
Gazing upon the
Greeks
with
little Lust.
Such sweet Observance in this Work was had,
That one might see those
far-off Eyes
look
sad.
In great Commanders,
Grace
and
Majesty
You might behold, triumphing in their
Faces:
In
Youth, Quick bearing,
and
Dexterity;
And, here and there, the
Painter
interlaces
Pale Cowards,
marching on, with
trembling Paces;
Which
heartless Peasants
did so well resemble,
That one wou'd swear, He
saw
them
quake
and tremble.
In AJAX and ULYSSES, O! what Art
Of
Physiognomy
might one behold!
The
Face
of
either,
cypher'd
either
's
Heart
;
Their
Face
their
Manners
most expresly told:
In AJAX's Eyes
blunt Rage
and
Rigor
roll'd.
But the
mild Glance
that she ULYSSES lent,
Shew'd
deep Regard,
and
smiling Government.
There, pleading, might you see grave NESTOR stand,
As 'twere,
incouraging
the
Greeks
to fight,
Making such
sober Actions
with his
Hand,
That it beguil'd
Attention,
charm'd the
Sight:
In
Speech,
it seem'd, his
Beard,
all
Silver white,
Wagg'd up and down; and from his
Lips
did fly
Thin, winding
Breath,
which
purl'd up to
the the Sky.
About him were a Press of
gaping Faces,
Which seem'd to
swallow up
his
sound Advice;
All
jointly
list'ning, but with
several
Graces,
As if some
Syren
did their
Ears
intice;
Some
high,
some
low,
the Painter was so nice:
The
Scalps
of many, almost hid behind,
To
jump up
higher, seem'd to
mock
the
Mind.
Here
one
Man's Hand lean'd on
another
's Head,
His Nose
being shadow'd by his
Neighbour
's
Ear
;
Here
one,
being
throng'd,
bears back, all
swoln
and
red
;
Another,
smother'd,
seems to
pelt
and
swear
;
And in their Rage, (such
Signs
of
Rage
they bear,
As, but for Loss of NESTOR's golden Words,
It seems, they would debate with angry Swords.
For much
imaginary
Work was there;
Conceit deceitful; so
compact,
so
kind,
That for ACHILLES'
Image,
stood his
Spear,
Grip'd in an
armed Hand,
himself behind
Was left
unseen,
save in the
Eye of Mind;
A
Hand,
a
Foot,
a
Face,
a
Leg,
a
Head,
Stood for the
Whole
to be imagined.
And from the Walls of strong besieged
Troy,
When their brave Hope, bold
Hector,
march'd to Field,
Stood many
Trojan Mothers,
sharing
Joy
To see their
youthful Sons
bright Weapons wield;
And to their
Hope,
they such
odd Action
yield,
That thro' their
light Joy
seemed to appear
(Like
bright
Things
stain'd
) a kind of
heavy Fear.
I SHOULD transcribe the whole Piece, were I to give all the Beauties of this admirable Performance. I shall only add, That the Description of HECUBA, and that of the deceitful SINON, and the different Passions and Reflections of LUCRETIA, on viewing the different Figures, are such Master-pieces that they leave us without Words to express the Wonder they inspire at the Force of that Genius, whose Production and Glory they are. Your Paper, Mr.
Plain Dealer,
crowded as it generally is, with Beauties, will not be disgrac'd by these Quotations; so that I have nothing by way of Apology to say; but only to assure you, That I am
Your constant Reader and Admirer,
R. S.
The Plain Dealer. No 117.
—Pendent Opera interrupta.—
VIRG.
FRIDAY,
May
7. 1725.
I AM sorry, after so kind a Reception as has been given to my Speculations, that any Necessity shou'd arise, for my parting, a little precipitately, with my good-natur'd Readers: But
Love,
however fashionable it is, among sage Writers, to call it a
Weakness,
is well known to act with a
Strength,
that is irresistable: And I need not inform Those, who have perus'd me, long, or with any tolerable Degree of Attention, that
Patty Amble
holds an Influence over me, that is too hard for all my Gravity; and breaks, like a Butterfly, thro' my Cobweb Resolutions.
NO longer ago than Yesterday Morning, there was nothing farther from my Thoughts than the Discontinuance of my Weekly Labours: But, about an Hour before Dinner, all my Purposes received new Colours; and, I am, now, no longer what I
was,
before this short Billet metamorphos'd me.
Dear Slavy,
AT length, I have determin'd, to be
only yours,
for ever, and, in Gratitude for all those, scarce deserv'd, fine Things, your Letter of last Week, oblig'd me with, I will say after you, next
Saturday
Morning, whatever Words you wish most ardently to hear me answer in.—But this is absolutely, upon
Condition,
that you put an End, immediately, to your
Plain-Dealing.
It is the most odious Quality you have, and, you know, I could never bear it.—I have given you, perhaps, too short a Warning; but you must do as well as you can: For, pray Heaven I hold in the Mind, if you take me not in the present Humour, of
Your
Mistress,
one Day more, And then, alas! your Servant,
MARTHA AMBLE.
IT would be unreasonable for any of my
Christian
Readers to expect a better Excuse than This, for my taking Leave of them, so abruptly.—It is possible, however, that, when our
first Hurry of Business
is a little over, I may have Leisure, more than enough, to
talk on,
as I have done hitherto: But under what
Name,
or
Shape,
I shall make my Appearance, is a Matter I am wholly
dark
in.—This only I am sure of, and agree heartily with
Her,
in, That it must be any Thing rather than a
Plain Dealer
; the Aversion, if I am not mistaken, of every
Wife,
in Christendom!
BUT to soften as much as possible the Abruptness of my Departure, it may not be amiss to spend a little Conversation upon those agreeable Correspondents, and indulgent Readers, which, in the Course of this Work, I have met with: Next to the Pleasure of doing Good, the greatest, is to meet with Approbation and Assistance in our Attempts towards it: This has been my Happiness, and I hope it cannot be attributed to any reproachable Weakness, when I confess I feel a Pang at parting with it. Barely to acknowledge amounts to Gratitude in those People whom Fortune does not enable to return a Benefit; that is, at present, my Case: My approaching Fate will allow me to make no better a Payment than Thanks, which therefore I desire may be candidly accepted.
WHEN I had written thus far, an Acquaintance, whom in some of the preceding Discourses I have recommended to the publick for a Pertness of Conceit and Flippancy of Tongue, happened to come into my Room, and taking up the Paper ran it hastily over, then throwing it down with a petulant Sneer, and a brisk Voice, cry'd out,
"Foregad, considering your Sentiments, and Circumstances, grave Sir, I can't help comparing you to a Criminal taking leave of the Bye-Standers with Tears in his Eyes, before his Execution.—Faith, I long to see thee turn'd off, thoul't make the prettiest Figure of a
Dangler:
ha, ha,"
—Then, changing his Allegory, continued his Impertinence thus,
"Matrimony, my good Friend, is a long and tiresome Journey, and the worst Road that ever you travell'd in—You seem uneasy, but sure you cannot in Conscience be displeased that I should take up
Plain-Dealing
just where you left it off—If you are, to make you Amends, I promise never to imitate you in any Thing, particularly your last Resolution of committing that dreadful Sin of Matrimony—Believe me, Friend, the Man that signs Marriage Articles, gives it under his Hand that he's a Fool."
TO this I answered very gravely, That before I left off
Plain Dealing
absolutely, I was resolved to give him one Lesson which might be of use to him in his Practice.
"You are to remember, continued I, that he who gives Advice, should always take Care to do it in such a Manner, that his Advice may not appear to be an Insult upon the Character or Understanding of the Person advised:
Good Breeding
embellishes
Good Sense
; and
True Politeness
is no more than
civiliz'd Plain Dealing.
"
BUT to pass by this volatile Spark, who if I divine aright, will in every respect act like a modern fine Gentleman, that is, continue a Batchelor till Sixty, to shew his
Wit,
and then marry his House-Keeper, to shew his
Judgment
; let me return to the Conversation which he interrupted, tho' I must take so much Notice of his Opinion, that I promise my Readers if ever I appear again in Publick, I shall amply and impartially consider it, by which Time perhaps my own Observations and Experience will better enable me to make a clear and satisfactory Comment upon it.
FAREWELL, then, Gentle Readers, be happy as I am shortly to be; I have, on my part, endeavour'd to please; and you on yours have shewn some Regard for my Endeavours: Till I can again attend you, I wish you heartily a more agreeable Instructor; but think not my persuading you to
good Humour
at Parting, an Inconsistence in my Character; for tho' I always abhorr'd Flattery, yet I never thought Truth the worse for being agreeably dress'd: The common Forms of Civility, tho' they are often the Disguises of Insincerity, are no Disgrace to an honest Heart, and a good Intention. Where they are made use of to
conceal
our Sentiments, they are wicked and abominable; where only to
adorn,
innocent and agreeable: At worst you ought only to consider me as one, who without losing his Sincerity, is by degrees ceasing to be
The PLAIN DEALER.
FINIS.
THE CONTENTS OF THE Second VOLUME.
No LVIII. Page 1. L ETTER from
Lucinda,
pathetically acknowledging a violent Passion which too rigid Custom forbids her to discover to the beloved Object A Discourse against that unreasonable Constraint, and in Praise of that moving Epistle, each Line whereof speaks its Writer's Merit.
No LXIX. p. 10. The deplorable Corruption of the Theaters Observations on a Puppet-Show,
&c
with a Parallel between the Natural and Artificial Actors,
&c. Cibber
in
Egypt.
Notable Remarks on some Artists in Machinery, Actors of Wood, and Wooden Actors.
No LX. p. 20. Poets and Painters compared. Letter on that Topic.
No LXI. p. 28. The Genealogy of Labour and Pleasure.
No LXII. p. 38. Letter from
Aspatia,
dubious how to Educate two young Ladies, her Wards, of different Dispositions. Rules for the Education of Youth.
No LXIII. p. 45. Of Detraction.
Apelles
's Picture of it.
No LXIV. p. 51. Of Divination by Coffee Grounds,
&c.
practis'd by our Females Letter from
Walter Worshipful,
giving divers particular and amazing Instances of his Wife
Snubsy
's profound Skill in Chiromancy.
No LXV. p. 60. Letter from
Fergus Bruce,
relating to
Edinburgh.
The ill Effects of obstinate adhering to some Opinions,
&c.
The Benefit of Society. Advantages of the Union.
English
Language well understood in
Scotland.
A Remark on our Language.
No LXVI. p. 69. Letter, from
Amanda,
complaining of the Persecution She undergoes from a hated Suitor, who is authorized to be her Tormentor. The Folly and Ungenerous Unreasonableness of such Perseverance, and the unhappy Fruits of a Man's insisting to make a Wife of a Person to whom he is odious. Epitaph on a discording Couple in one Grave.
No LXVII. p. 77 Advantages accruing to the Nation from the
African
Trade. How improveable it is. Noble Character of the Duke of
Chandos.
No LXVIII. p. 87. Of Epitaphs.
Dryden, Pope,
a fine Genius. Epitaph by him. Remark thereon. Version of an Epitaph on Cardinal
Richelieu.
Ditto on a
Spanish
Lady. Remarks on both those fine Turns of Thought. Odd, contradictory Flights and Ideas in a Sonnet. Epigram on Queen
Dido,
with its Version. Another with its Version on Cardinal
Richelieu.
What does and does not make a Poet.
English
Laureats; their Performances adequate to their Salaries. On
Lewis
XIV. Its Version. Version of an extravagant Flight of a
Portugueze
Poet.
No LXIX. p. 97. Letter from
Patty Amble,
merrily describing her Penance in a Hackney-Coach; inviting the
Plain Dealer
to a private Meeting, and imparting her Project of a Female Parliament,
&c.
No LXX. p. 107. Of Stile and Oratory.
Montaigne
's Sentiments of
Ciceronian
Elocution.
Plain Dealer
ashamed of certain of his youthful Attempts that Way. Some Instances of Verboseness, censured. Conciseness recommended.
Tacitus
applauded for it. The powerful Effect of Oratory; instanced in a Captain, who fairly harangued his Men from their Colours.
No LXXI. p. 116. Letter, from
Nigrella,
severely rallying the
Plain Dealer
for criticising on a Poet who wrote in Praise of Black Eyes. Verses to Lady
Somerville,
on her Nuptials. Ditto on the Death of the Countess of
Grantham.
No LXXII. p. 124. Arguments against Revenge. Encomium on the Emperor
Adrian
's generously pardoning an Enemy. That noble Example ill followed. None revengeful but the Proud and the Pusillanimous.
Ogtai Khan
's memorable Reprimand to his mear-spirited Minister. A Story, half as good, of Queen
Elizabeth,
her Treasurer, and
Spencer
the Poet.
No LXXIII. p. 134. Writers encouraged by a
Turkish
Emperor. No such Practice among us. Dedication Books, being not understood, returned.
Ali Basha
's Method of rewarding Authors. He rewards a certain unreasonable Poet by Measure, who expected Weight. Of Authors and Patrons. These last not numerous, and why. The Happy Man, a Poem, by Mr.
Richard Savage,
with a Letter from him, relating to Miscellaneous Performances in Poesy, by him proposed by Subscription. Some Remarks on the Author.
No LXXIV. p. 142. The
English
sing not well at Church.
David
's Psalms wretchedly Translated. A Quotation. Our Sectarians fond of the insufferable old Version. A fine Version of the 104th Psalm.
No LXXV. p. 149. Northern Lyon. The growing Power of
Russia
to be dreaded. Vanity of thinking too well of one's Self, so as to contemn our Neighbour, with Instances. Absolute Princes, whose Subjects despise Learning, most formidable. Who bids fairest for Victory. A bold and remarkable Reply of a
Gaul
to a King of
Macedon.
No Advantage to a Prince to be deemed powerful.
No LXXVI p. 157. Letter from
Laetitia Gambol,
intimating what more concerns her than the
African
Trade,
&c.
Romp, whence derived. Females soon ripe between the Tropicks. Their Liberties, and what most recommends them to Husbands. Too light to sink. How they mourn. Their Charity. Moral Sentiments of a Negro Prince.
No LXXVII. p 165. Saying of an Emir. Farther Discourse against Redundancy in Writing. Wonderful Agility,
&c.
of a German. What Sights the
Plain Dealer
expects to see upon our Stages.
No LXXVIII. p. 172. The
Plain Dealer,
because Old, not regarded by the Females. Five Things, says a Mahometan, are useless. What they are. Letter from
Priscilla Sparkley,
who is very angry at Womens being termed Manufactures Ditto, from a Love-sick Apprentice. Ditto, from
Pamphiophilus,
relating the Conduct of the jilting
Olivia.
No LXXIX. p. 180. Of a Bell that tolls of it self. Dying Words of Sir
Portly Rufus.
Abstract of Mrs
E. Singer
's Poem on the Death of her Husband.
No LXXX. p. 189. Of our modern Theatrical Performances.
Shepherd
in
Newgate Caesar
in
Aegypt,
and its Author, remarked on.
English
Firmness of Face. In what our News-Writers differ from those of
France
and
Holland
Some subsist from Gibbets Our Criminals not suffer'd to rest, even when the Hangman and Surgeons have done with them. Further Remarks.
No LXXXI. p 196. Letter from
J. H.
a Mercer, complaining of the troublesome Impertinence of certain unprofitable Female Customers. Ditto, from the Black Eunuch, animadverting on some indecent Liberties assumed by our Females. Ditto, from
Eugenio,
communicating his Dream or Vision of Coquets, Prudes, Hibernians, Pretty Gentlemen,
&c
flocking to the Temple of
Hymen.
No LXXXII. p. 204. An applicable Story of
Laplanders
metamorphos'd into Bears. How they were Boarded by their Keepers. In what our Companies of Comedians differ from the
South-Sea, Bank,
and other acting Companies. How the first came to have only Directors, but no Governor. Consequences of the Death of Mr.
Rich,
the former Patentee. Mr.
Dennis
chuses a Play of Mr.
Congreve
's for his Benefit. Of Prejudice, and Dread of Criticks. This last instanced in a Bell-Man. Unreasonable Prepossession of some against Mr.
Dennis.
Exhortations to encourage that deserving Gentleman.
No LXXXIII. p. 214. Of an
Eastern
Prince, who never met with Truth till he found it in a Cottage. Ministers and Minions, in what they differ.
Aristotle
's Observation on Government. A Tyrannical
Arab
Governor dealt plainly with by a Dervice. Further Remarks on Ministers,
&c.
Story of a
Chinese
Emperor and his injured Subjects.
No LXXXIV. p. 223. The Effects of Pride and Vanity; which occasion out deeming every triffing Disappointment a Misfortune. Letter from
B. B.
intreating Counsel in an Affair wherein in there is a Struggle between Friendship and Gratitude. Of Friendship. Difference between it and its Shadow. What is said of a Friend by Mr.
Dryden
and Mr.
Spencer.
No LXXXV. p. 231. Letter, from
Patricius,
shewing and instancing that Trade is not only Profitable but Honourable; a Profession preferable to either Arms or the Law; Defects and Abuses in the latter. Observations on some Persons of Birth, who want nothing else. Reply of a Man of Quality to a Trading Knight. What is to be wish'd. A remarkable and exemplary Passage of Queen
Elizabeth,
from Sir
Walter Raleigh.
No LXXXVI. p. 240. Version of
Solon
's Divisions of the Ages of Human Life. Notable Soliloquy of a
Venetian
Nobleman, concerning the Vanity of Life, and all Worldy Affairs.
No LXXXVII. p. 249. Excellency of the Holy Scriptures, in Comparison with other Writings. Reflexions on the bad Versions thereof; and on the Majesty of the
Hebrew
Poesy; exemplified in Part of the 18th Psalm, finely Englished by Mr.
Dennis,
The same compared with a lofty Passage from the
Iliad
Farther Instances of the Sublimity of the
Hebrew
Stile, from
Habakkuk
; with Exhortations to read Divine Writ.
No LXXXVIII. p. 259. No Theme to write on more lofty than Storms and Shipwrecks; a Subject which has employ'd the most eminent Pens. Fine Examples from King
David
and
Homer.
Letter, from
G. B—r,
in Praise of Sailors, with a moving Relation of a Sea Captain and his Wife.
No LXXXIX p. 267. Letter, from
J. W.
grievously complaining of the immoderate Vertue of his Wife, who, because she does not Cuckold him, assumes the Liberty of using him outragiously. The Order of Angels, a proj
ct
d Society of Ladies; what they aim at therein. Other plaintive Letters.
No XC. p. 275. Letter, from
Terentius,
including a Discourse how they deal, and ought to behave towards their Female Customers; describing also the Methods used by Watermen to get a Fare, particularly those they know to be not
Londoners.
No XCI. p. 282. Verses on Love, shewing that Passion to be undiscribable. Letter, from
C. K.
being a Declaration of his Love for
Emelia
Picture of Death's Approaches. Farther Description of Death. Ditto, beautifully delineated by
Spencer.
No XCII p. 291. Letter, from
Favonius,
relating how he got into Favour with his churlish Uncle; and how Folks get the Gout Letter, of Advice, with an Application, from
Aminadab.
Ditto, from
Hezekiah Horney,
asking Counsel how to proceed in a Case of Importance, Petition of
Luke Thoroughstitch,
desiring a Course may be taken with some Females Remarkers on the Goodness of his Stomach. Letter, from
Gracchus,
with satyrical Extracts from the
Universal Passion,
on worthless Lords, and rural 'Squires.
No XCIII. p. 300. Letter, from
Aemilius,
giving Account of the profound Knowledge his Mistress has in Occult Sciences, with other remarkable Particulars.
No XCIV. p. 309. Mr.
Rich
's great Genius in a Scenary Way. His Design in attempting to restore Opera to its pristine Dignity applauded. Discourse on Musick; with its different Effects. Verses, on Musick, by
Randolph.
The Extensiveness of the Musick of the Ancients, in Comparison with that of Moderns, according to Dr.
Wallis.
The Subject continued.
No XCV. p. 317. Letter, from
Francis Fairplay,
treating of the unfair Practices of
Cannon
-Turners; with some notable Instances. A beautiful Lyric Ode, being a Version of the Song of
Moses,
on the Destruction of the
Egyptians
in the Red-Sea.
No XCVI. p. 325. The dire Effects of excessive Drinking.
No XCVII. p. 333. Letter, from
Humphrey Pickthank,
declaring his Design of compil
ng a History of the great Success of Dedications in this encouraging Age. The
Plain Dealer
dislikes the Subject, and why; Dedicators defined. Some Thoughts on the same.
Paul Poorwit
's Bill and Letter to the Earl of
Widefield.
Letter, from
Novinda,
desiring to know where lies the much-talked of clean Turn of Wit, in a Copy of Verses intitled,
The Feather.
Answer to the same.
No XXVIII. p. 342. Avarice, in the Great, odious, but Extortion in Judges most detestable. Sayings thereupon; with an Extract from a Pamphlet, intitled,
The Case of Orphans,
considered from Antiquity. Some Observations on Lord
Bacon
's Case. A Fable, which is not unapplicable.
No XCIX p. 349. Letter, from
Colon,
relating to Trade and Plantations; with a wise and conscientious Report made to a Turkish Emperor by the Inspectors sent into
Egypt
to improve and encourage the Growth of Cotton. Ditto, with a Sonnet from
Myrtillo,
on his Mistress; with certain Queries.
No C. p. 355. Letter, from
Artemisia,
with Part of
Plutarch
's Consolatory Epistle to his Wife, on the Death of their young Daughter.
No CI. p. 365. Letter from
R. S.
acquainting the
Plain Dealer
with a Conversation during his Absence, at his own usual Club; what Company was there. A Parallel between a
Plain Dealer
and a
Rough Dealer
; with entertaining Arguments,
pro
and
con,
upon that and other Subjects.
No CII. p. 373. Letter, from
Sylvio,
impatient for an Answer fom his Mistress, yet dares not put the Question. Moneyless Merit disregarded by most of the Women of this Age; such as think better have seldom the Liberty of making their own Choice. Avarice of Parents. All these attended with the worst Effects. Advice to young Ladies, whose Fortunes and Persons are at their own Disposal. Ditto, from
Timoret,
of the deplorable Transformation at
Button
's Coffee-House. Ditto, from
Pugg,
relating the Transmigrations he has undergone.
No CIII. p. 382. Letter, from
Philotheus,
relating the Superstitious Reports made him concerning a reputed Witch, whom he visited. Ditto, from
Politicus,
shewing the
Roman
and
British
Women and Senates to be very analogous.
No CIV. p. 391. Pictures and Descriptions of the Devil, by
Tasso,
Sir
Richard Blackmore,
Mr.
Milton
and
Homer,
remarked on.
No CV. p. 399. The Origin of Jealousy. Part of a Letter from an Anonymous Lady, inclosing one to her, from
Angeletta,
owning the resistless Inclination she has towards her Friend's Husband; being a beautiful Instance of Friendship's Triumph over a criminal Passion. Encomium thereon. Ditto, from
Shuttlecock Flutterwing
; an Original; with proper Animadversions.
No CVI. p. 407. Noble Character of
Peter
the Great, late Czar of
Russia.
Extracts of a Panegyrick on that prodigious Genius, intituled,
The Northern Star,
a Poem.
No CVII. p. 416. Letter, from
Constantius,
with Verses, both in rapturous Praise of the Perfections of his Mistress, the lovely
Belladora.
Observation thereon.
No CVIII. p. 423. Smart and resolute Reply of a young Prince to
Soladin,
Sultan of
Egypt,
who had him absolutely in his Power. Discourse in Praise of Resolution, and of the evil Effects of Irresolution.
No CIX. p. 431. Letter from an Anonymous Author, insinuating the Usefulness and other Advantages of Criticism; that
Homer
's Catalogue of the
Grecian
Ships will bear it, and why; what an ill Precedent he has given to his Successors; instanced particularly in
Drayton
's Catalogue of an
English
Fleet sent against
France,
which, tho' bald and dry, is in some respects preferable to
Homer
's; compared with some old
English
Epitaphs; in one of which it appears, that Sir
Edward North
was made a Lord for his Vertue! Another Original Epitaph, which will very well bear Criticism.
No CX. p. 438. Letter, from
Clarastella,
cured of her growing Passion for
Florello
by reading his Character in the
Universal Passion.
Ditto, from
P A.
complaining of the Freedoms a Lady he admires allows to her Monkey. A Quere answered. Complaint against a certain Husband-wanting Widow's Resolution.
No CXI p. 446. Letter, from
Philotheus,
reflecting on the amazing Work of the Creation,
&c.
with a fine Discourse on the Subject, from the
Religion of Nature delineated.
No CXII. p. 452. The primitive Design of Taverns. How corrupted. Some unhappy Fruits of drinking to Excess. An applicable Vision.
No CXIII. p. 460. Continuation of the Vision.
No CXIV. p. 169. The Nothingness of Human Life. A Saying of St.
Austin
on that Topick. Version of a
Latin
Inscription on the Monument of a Duke of
Brunswick.
Epitaph of a
Roman
Officer, English'd. Ditto, in
Latin,
with its
English
Version on the renowned
Peter Alexowitz,
late Emperor of
Russia.
Notable Sentences.
No CXV. p. 475. Letter, from
Delia,
complaining, That her Lover has forsaken her. Ditto, from
Ned Mournful,
characterizing his deceased Friend. Ditto, from
George Gardener,
giving Account of his having travelled up to Town purposely to see the
Plain Dealer.
No CXVI. p. 483. Letter in Commendation of
Shakespeare
's Poems, which are not commonly sold with his Dramatick Performances. Two beautiful Extracts from his
Tarquin
and
Lucretia.
No CXVII. The
Plain Dealer
takes Leave of his Readers. His Reason for the same. Marrying
Patty Amble.
Rally'd thereupon by a pert Friend. His Advice to the Sneerer in Return. Usual Conduct of our modern Fine Gentlemen, or Marriage-Haters. When the Common Forms of Civility are Censurable, and when Laudable.
A CATALOGUE of BOOKS Printed for and Sold by
A. Bettesworth,
at the
Red-Lion
in
Pater-Noster-Row.
 
l.
s.
d.
A
 
 
 
ATalantis, 4. Vol. 12ves.
00
09
00
Apuleius's Golden Ass, 2 Vol. 12ves.
00
06
00
Atlas Manuale: Or, A Sett of small Maps. By Moll. 8vo.
00
05
00
Athenian Oracle, now in the Press, 8vo.
 
 
 
Acta Regia: Or, An Abridgment of Mr. Rymer's Foedera. Publish'd Monthly, at 1 s. each.
 
 
 
Apollo's Feast, 12ves.
00
01
00
Art of Pleasing in Conversation, in French and English. By Cardinal Richlieu. 12ves.
00
03
00
Agreeable Variety, 8vo.
00
03
06
Art of Thinking. Translated by Ozell. 12ves.
00
03
06
Arabian Nights Entertainment, Compleat, 6 Vol. 12ves.
00
15
00
Abridgment Statutes, 6 Vol. 8vo.
01
10
00
Addison's Travels, 12ves.
00
03
00
Addison's Works, 3 Vol. 12ves.
00
09
00
Addison's Works, 4 Vol. 4to.
03
00
00
Accomplish'd Conveyancer, 3 Vol. 8vo.
00
18
00
B
 
 
 
BRidgman's Conveyancer, Folio.
01
10
00
Bishop Blackhall's Works, 2 Vol. Folio.
01
12
00
Bishop Burnet on the Thirty nine Articles, Folio.
00
12
00
Bishop Burnet Abridgment of his History of the Reformation, 3 Vol. 12ves.
00
09
00
Dr. Barrow's Works, 2 Vol. Fol.
02
02
00
Book of Homiles, Folio, 1726.
00
12
00
Boyce on the Thirty nine Articles, Folio.
00
09
00
Burnet's Theory of the Earth, 2 Vol. 8vo.
00
12
00
Dr. Bates Works, Folio, 1724.
01
07
06
Burnet's (Dr. Thomas) Sermons at Boyle's Lectures, for the Years 1724, 1725, 2 Vol.
00
09
00
Burnet's (Dr. Thomas) Essay upon Government, 8vo.
00
01
06
Burnet's (Dr. Thomas) Scripture Trinity, 8vo.
00
02
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Blackmore's (Sir Richard) Essays, 2 Vol. 8vo.
00
11
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Blackmore's (Sir Richard) Creation, a Poem, 12ves.
00
02
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Blackmore's (Sir Richard) Redemption, a Poem; being a Supplement to the Creation, 8vo.
00
04
00
Buchanan's History of Scotland, 2 Vol. English, with curious Cuts, 8vo.
00
11
00
Boyer's French and English Dictionary, 8vo.
00
07
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Boyer's Telemachus, 2 Vol. 12ves.
00
05
06
Bailey's Etymological English Dictionary
00
07
00
Bailey's Translation of Erasmus Colloquies.
00
05
06
Bruyere's Works, 2 Vol. Translated from the French, 8vo.
00
09
00
Betterton's Life with the Amorous Widow.
00
03
06
Behn's Novels, 2 Vol. 12ves.
00
05
00
Behn's Plays, 4 Vol. 12ves.
00
12
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Boerhave's Aphorisms, Translated into English, 8vo.
00
05
06
Mrs. Barker's Novels, 2 Vol. 12ves.
00
05
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Mrs. Barker's Patchwork Screen, 2 Vol. 12ves.
00
05
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British Apollo, 3 Vol. 12ves. containing two Thoushand Answers to Curious Questions in most Arts and Sciences, 12ves.
00
09
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British Compendium: Containing the Descents of the English, Scotch, and Irish Nobility, with their Arms curiously Engraven, 3 Vols. 12ves.
01
02
06
Builders Dictionary, 8vo.
00
04
00
Dr. Brown of Cold Baths. 12ves.
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01
06
Boileau's Art of Poetry, 4 Canto's, 12ves.
00
01
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Boileau's Lutrin: An Heroi-Comical Poem.
00
01
06
Bulstrode (Whitlock) Essays, 8vo.
00
04
06
Bridges of Fractions, 12ves.
00
01
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Bradley's New Improvements in Planting and Gardening, 8vo.
00
06
06
Byshe's Art of Poetry, 2 Vol.
00
05
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Blackmore's Ecclesiastical Antiquity, abridg'd from Bingham, 2 Vol.
00
11
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Ball's Astrology improv'd
00
02
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Burkett of the New Testament, Folio.
01
03
00
Beveridge's Private Thoughts, 8vo.
00
09
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Beveridge's Ditto, 12ves.
00
01
06
Beveridge's Prayer, 8vo.
00
03
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Beveridge's Ditto, 12ves.
00
01
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Blackmore on Consumptions, 8vo.
00
03
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Blackmore on the Spleen
00
05
06
Blackmore on the Gout and Rheumatism
00
03
06
Blackmore on the Vapours.
00
04
06
Bingham's Antiquities, 2 Vols. Folio.
02
10
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Brown (Tho.) Works, 5 Vols. 12ves.
00
12
06
Bishop's Sermons at Lady Moyer's Lecture, 8vo.
00
05
00
Baynard of Hot and Cold Baths, 8vo.
00
05
06
C
 
 
 
CAssandra: A fam'd Romance, 5 Vols. 12ves
00
15
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Cook of Forest Trees, 8vo.
00
03
06
Bishop Cumberland, De Legibus Naturae, 8vo.
00
06
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Cato's Letters, 4 Vols. 12ves
00
10
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Cave's Primitive Christianity, 8vo.
00
04
06
Calamy's (Benj.) Sermons, 8vo.
00
04
06
Clark's Body of Divinity, 2 Vol. 8vo.
00
09
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Cocker's English Dictionary, 8vo.
00
02
00
Cocker's Decimal Arithmetick, 8vo.
00
03
06
Countess of Morton's Devotions, 24s.
00
00
06
Dr. Comber's Companion to the Altar, 8vo.
00
04
06
Christian Pattern, Translated from the Latin of Tho. a Kempis, 24o .
00
01
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Culpeper's English Physician Enlarg'd
00
02
06
Culpeper's Midwife, 12ves.
00
02
06
Culpeper's Dispensatory, 12ves.
00
02
06
Courtier, Translated from the Italian.
00
05
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Cap of Gray Hairs for a Green Head, 8vo.
00
01
06
Croxall's Aesop's Fables, 12ves.
00
03
00
Cox's History of Carolina, 8vo.
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02
06
Cruso's Life abridg'd, in a neat Pocket Volume, 12ves.
00
02
06
Cambray's Private Thoughts upon Religion, 12ves.
00
02
06
Cornelius Nepos, English'd by several Hands, 12ves.
00
02
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Cockman's Tully's Offices, 12ves.
00
02
06
Christian's Companion to the Closet and Altar, 12ves.
00
02
06
Chevalier de Vaudray, a Novel, 12ves.
00
02
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Cole's Latin and English Dictionary, 8vo.
00
06
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Caesar ex Recensione, Tho. Parsell, 12ves.
00
02
06
Caesar Cum Notis Delphini, 8vo.
00
06
06
Constitutions, Canons, and Articles, of the Church of England, 8vo.
00
02
06
Clark's Answer so the Religion of Nature delineated, 8vo.
00
01
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Clark's Ditto, against Hutchinson's Ideas of Beauty, 8vo.
00
01
06
Clarendon's (Lord) History of the Rebellion, 6 Vols. 8vo.
01
10
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Cases against the Dissenters, 3 Vols. 8vo.
00
15
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Clark, (Dr. Samuel) on the Attributes, 8vo.
00
06
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Clark, (Dr. Samuel) Seventeen Sermons at St. James's, 8vo.
00
06
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Clark, (Dr. Samuel) on the Gospels, 2 Vols. 8vo.
00
11
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Cheyne (Dr.) on Health and Long Life, 8vo.
00
04
06
Congreve's Plays and Poems, 3 Vols. 12ves.
00
09
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Critical History of England, 2 Vols. 8vo.
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11
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Cheselden's Anatomy, 8vo.
00
06
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Cambden's Britannia, 2 Vols. Folio.
03
10
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Churches no Charnel Houses, proving the Indecency of Burying in Churches and Church-Yards.
00
01
 
Carcase's Book of Rates, Folio. 1726.
01
05
 
Comical History of Francion, 2 Vols. 12ves.
00
05
06
Chambers's Dictionary of Arts and Sciences, 2 Vols. Folio.
 
 
 
Chillingworth's Works, Folio, 1726.
00
12
06
Chandler (Bishop) Defence of Christianity, 8vo.
00
05
06
Collier's Sacred Interpreter, 2 Vol. 8vo.
00
10
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Cambray of the Being and Existence of God, 12ves.
00
03
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Clarendon and Whitlock compared, 8vo.
00
05
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Collier's Antoninus, 8vo.
00
04
06
D
 
 
 
DOmat's Civil Law in its Natural Order, Translated by Dr. Strahan, 2 Vols. Fol.
02
02
00
Dupin's Method of Studying Divinity, 8vo.
00
05
00
Dionis's Midwifry, English, 8vo.
00
04
06
Devout Christian's Companion, 2 Vols. 12ves.
00
06
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Dacier's Abridgment of Plato's Works. Translated from the French, 2 Vols. 12ves.
00
05
00
Drelincourt of Death, 8vo.
00
05
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Dictionarium Rusticum & Urbanicum: Or, A Dictionary of Country Affairs, 2 Vols. 8vo.
00
09
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Defoe's Works, 2 Vols. 8vo.
00
10
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Drexelius's Hourly Companion, 12ves.
00
01
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Derham's Physico-Theology, 8vo.
00
06
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Derham's Astro-Theology, 8vo.
00
04
06
Dupin's History of the Church, abridg'd, in four neat Pocket-Volumes, 12ves.
00
10
00
Dryden's Plays, in 6 Vols. 12ves.
01
00
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Dryden's Miscellanies, 6 Vols. 12ves.
00
18
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Dryden's Virgil, with Cuts, 3 Vols. 12ves.
00
11
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Dryden's Juvenal, 12ves.
00
03
06
Dryden's Fables.
00
03
06
Ditton, on the Resurrection, 8vo.
00
05
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Ditton, on Fluids, 8vo.
00
03
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Defence of the Female Sex.
00
03
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Dalton's Country Justice, with large Additions, by W. Nelson,
Esq
Folio, 1726.
01
05
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Danois's Tales of the Fairies, 3 Vol. 12ves.
00
07
06
Dictionary of all Religions, 8vo.
00
04
06
Degolls on Worms, 8vo.
00
01
06
Ductor Historicus, 2 Vols. 8vo.
00
10
00
E
 
 
 
ENgland's Interest: Or, The Gentleman and Farmer's Friend.
00
01
06
English Liberties: Or, The Free-born Subjects Inheritance. By W. Nelson,
Esq
00
04
06
Essay on the Transmutation of the Blood, 8vo.
00
01
00
Eutropius, in Usum Delphini, 8vo.
00
02
06
Echard's History of England, Folio.
01
16
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Echard's Roman History, 5 Vols. 8vo.
01
05
00
Echard's Ecclesiastical History, 2Vols. 8vo.
00
09
00
Echard's Gazetteer, in Two Parts, 12ves.
00
03
06
Echard's Terence, 12ves.
00
02
06
Echard's History of the Revolution, 8vo.
00
04
06
Eusebius's Ecclesiastical History, English, Folie.
01
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Clark's Florus, 8vo.
Clark's Nepos, 8vo.
Clark's Eutropius, 8vo. All with Literal Translations.
Clark's Erasmus, 12 ves. All with Literal Translations.
Clark's Corderius 12ves. All with Literal Translations.
Castalio's Latin Bible, in 4 neat Vols.
Castalio's Latin Testament, 12ves.
Cornelius Nepos, 12ves.
Celsar, 12ves.
Demosthenes, 12ves
Dyche's Vocabulary, 8vo.
Dyche's Youth's Guide to the Latin Tongue, 12ves.
Dyche's English Particles Latiniz'd, 8vo.
Dyche's Phaedrus, 12ves.
Electa Majora, 8vo.
Electa Minora, 8vo.
Eutropius, 12ves.
Epigrammatum Delectus, 12ves.
Erasmus, Dublin, 12ves.
Familiar Form, 12ves.
Farnaby's Rhetorick, 8vo. English and Latin.
Garretson's English Exercises, 12ves.
Gradus ad Parnassum, 8vo.
Gregory's Nomenclatura, 8vo.
Hederici Lexicon, 4to.
Homeri Ilias, Greek and Latin, 8vo.
Helvici Colloquia, 12ves.
Hoadley's Phaedrus, 12ves.
Horace, 12ves. sine Notis.
King's Heathen Gods, 12ves.
Lock's Aesop Interlineary, English and Latin.
Leed's Greek Grammar, 12ves.
London Vocabulary, by Greenwood, 12ves.
Leusden's Compendium, 8vo.
Martialis Epigrammata, 12ves.
More's English Examples, for the Use of Bury School, 8vo.
Pantheon. By Tooke, 8vo. with Cuts.
Phaedrus Delphini, 8vo.
Ray's Nomenclatura. 8vo.
Royal Grammar, 12ves.
Urmston's Help to the Accidence, 8vo.
Urmston's London Spelling Book, 12ves.
Walker's Art of Teaching, 12ves.
Walker's Engl. Examples, 12ves.
Walker's Particles, 8vo.
Wettenhall's Gr. Grammar, 12ves.
Well's Dionysius, 8vo.
Ware's Practical Grammar, 8vo.
Xenophon de Cyri Institutione, Greek and Latin.
Most of the Classicks in Usum Delphini.
BOOKS lately publish'd.
I. THE Entertaining Novels of Mrs. Jane Barker. Containing, 1. Exil
us: Or, The Banish'd Roman. 2. Clelia and Marcellus: Or, The Constant Lovers. 3. The Reward of Virtue: Or, The Adventures of Clarinthia and Lysander. 4. The Lucky Escape: Or, The Fate of Ismenus. 5. Clodius and Scipiana: Or, The Beautiful Captive. 6. Piso: Or, The Leud Courtier. 7. The Happy Recluse: Or, The Charms of Liberty. 8. The Fair Widow: Or, False Friend. 9. The Amours of B
svill and Galesia. The 2d. Edition. In 2 Vols. Price 5 s.
II. A Patchwork Screen for the Ladies: Or, Love and Virtue recommended, in a Collection of Instructive Novels, related after a Manner entirely New, and interspers'd with Rural Poems, describing the Innocence of a Country Life. Price 2 s. 6d.
III. A Lining for the Patchwork Screen: Designed for the farther Entertainment of the Ladies. Price 2 s. 6 d. These Two by Mrs. Barker.
IV. The Life of Charlotta du Pont, an English Lady, taken from her own Memoirs: Giving an Account how she was trapa
d by her Step-Mother to Virginia; how the Ship was taken by some Madagascar Pyrates, and retaken by a Spanish Man of War; of her Marriage in the Spanish West-Indies, and Adventures while she resided there, with her Return to England; and the History of several Gentlemen and Ladies whom she met withal in her Travels, some of whom had been Slaves in Barbary, and others cast on Shore on the Barbarous Coasts up the great River Oroonoque; with their Escape thence, and safe Return to France and Spain. A History that contains the greatest Variety of Events ever yet publish'd. By Mrs. Aubin. Price 2 s.
V. The Tragical History of the Chevalier de Vaudray and the Countess de Vergi. In Two Parts. To which is annex'd a short Novel, entitled, The Inhuman Husband. Done from the French by Mr. Morgan. Price 2 s.
VI. The Agreeable Variety: Being a miscellaneous Collection in Prose and Verse, from the Works of the most Celebrated Authors. In Two Parts, viz. Part I. Containing Instructive Discourses on the most useful Subjects, for the happy Conduct of human Life. 2. Characters of the most Illustrious Personages of both Sexes, of our own, and other Nations, particularly the remarkable Manner of Life of the excellent Princess of Parma. Written by herself, and found among her Papers after her Decease. 3. Choice Poems, and Select Passages, extracted from the most Celebrated Poets. Part II Containing Original Poems; Sixty familiar Letters upon Education, Love, Friendship, &c. none of which ever before Publish'd. The Whole Collected and Publish'd by a Lady. Price 3 s. 6 d. The 2d Edition.
VII. Miscellanea Aurea: Or, The Golden Medley. Consisting of, 1. A Voyage to the Mountains of the Moon, under the Aequator: Or, Parnassus reform'd. 2. The Fortunate Ship-wreck: Or, A Description of New Athens, being an Account of the Laws, Manners, Religion, and Customs of that Country. By Morris Williams, Gent. who resided there above twenty Years. 3. Alberoni: Or, A Vindication of that Cardinal. 4. The Secret History of the Amours of Don Alonzo Duke of Lerma, and Grandee of Spain. 5. The Garden of Adonis: Or, Love to no Purpose; being about twenty Copies of Verses and Love Letters. By a Lady. 6. Mahomet no Impostor; written in Arabick, by Abdulla-Mahunied Omer. 7. An Account or Bid and Good Women, antient and modern. With several other Epistolary Essays in Prose and Verse. By Mr. Milton; the Lady W—, Mr. Philips, and several Others. In Octavo. Price 4 s.
VIII. The four Years Voyage of Captain George Roberts; Being a Series of uncommon Events, which befel him in a Voyage to the Islands of the Canaries, Cape de Verde, and Barbadoes, from whence he was bound to the Coast of Guinea; the Manner of his being taken by three Pirate Ships, Commanded by Low, Russel,, and Spriggs, who after having plundered him, and detained him ten Days, put him aboard his own Sloop without Provisions, Water, &c. and with only two Boys, one of eighteen, and the other of eight Years of Age; the Hardships he endured for above twenty Days, till he arriv'd at the Island of St. Nicholas, from whence he was blown off to Sea (before he could get any Sustenance) without his biggest Boy and Boat, whom he had sent ashore; and after four Days Difficulty and Distress, was Ship-wreck'd on the unfrequented Island of St. John; where, after he had remained near two Years, he built a Vessel to bring himself off. With a particular and curious Description and Draught of the Cape de Verd Islands, their Roads, anchoring Places, Nature and Production of the Soil; the Kindness and Hospitality of the Natives to Strangers, their Religion, Manners, Customs, and Superstitions, &c. Together with Observations on the Minerals, Mineral Waters, Metals, and Salts, and of the Nitre, with which some of those Islands abound. Written by himself now living at Shad-Thames, 1726. Price 5 s.
IX. The Travels of an English Gentleman from London to Rome on Foot: Containing a Comical Description of what he met with Remarkable in every City, Town, and Religious House, in his whole Journey: Also an Account of their ridiculous Processions, and Ceremonies, in their Churches, through their Streets, and in the Woods. Likewise the Debauch'd Lives, and Amorous Intriegues of the Priests and Nuns: With a pleasant Account of the Opening the Holy Gate of St. Peter's Church. Also Reflections upon the Superstition and Foppish Pageantry of the whole Ceremony of the last Grand Jubilee at Rome. The 4th Edition. Now Publish'd for the Diversion and Information of the Protestants of England. Price 1 s. 6 d.
X. Saducissimus Triumphatus: Or, A full and plain Evidence concerning Witches and Apparitions. In Two Parts. The First treating of their Possibility; the Second of their real Existence. By Joseph Glanvill, Chaplain in Ordinary to King Charles II. and F. R. S. The 4th Edition, with Additions. With some Account of Mr. Glanvill's Life and Writings. Price 6 s. 1726.
XI. The Works of the Honourable Sir Philip Sidney, Knt. In Prose and Verse. Containing, 1. The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia. 2. The Defence of Poesy. 3. Astrophel and Stella. 4. The Remedy of Love. 5. The Lady of May: A Masque. 6. The Life of the Author. The 14th Edition. In Three Vols. 8vo. 1725. Price 13 s. 6 d.
XII. The New Description and Present State of the Kingdom of France. Containing, 1. An Historical Account of its Kings, their Antiquity, Prerogatives, &c. With a Description of all the Royal Palaces, and of the Paintings, Statues, and other Curiosities therein contained. 2. Of the Parliament, and all Officers, Civil and Military, belonging to his Majesty, and the Princes of the Blood. 3. Of the Bishopricks, other Church Dignities, Monasteries, and Clergy; of the Universities, Faculties therein studied, and of the French Academy. 4. The Peerage of France; the three Orders of Knighthood; the Nobility and Marshals; and the Coats of Arms of each respective Family truly Emblazoned. 5. A Description of the City of Paris, and all the Publick Buildings, Churches, Libraries, and Collection of Rarities, and whatsoever else is remarkable. 6. The Roads from one Town to another, with the exact Distances from Place to Place, not only in France, but from thence through Spain, Italy, Germany, and the Netherlands. In Two Volumes, 12ves. The 2d Edition, 1726. Price 6 s.
XIII. Mechanical Essays on the Animal Oeconomy; wherein not only the Conduct of Nature in Animal Secretion, but Sensation and human Generation, are distinctly consider'd, and Anatomically explain'd; as also the particular Manner of the Operation of a Medicine is accounted for, and many other Curious and Uncommon Subjects are treated of; necessary for all that study Nature, and particularly those that make Physick or Surgery their Practice. By James Handley, Surgeon, Author of Colloquia Chirurgica, 8vo. Price 5 s.
XIV. England's Interest: Or, The Gentleman and Farmer's Friend: Shewing 1. How Land may be improv'd from 20s. to 8 l. and so to 100 l. per Acre, per Annum, with great Ease, and for an inconsiderable Charge. 2. The best and quickest Way of raising a Nursery. 3. How to make Cyder, Perry, Cherry, Currant, Gooseberry, Mulberry, and Birch Wiues, as Strong and Wholsome as French and Spanish Wines; and the Cyders and Wines so made to be sold at 3d. per Quart, tho' as good as Wine now sold for 18 d. 4. Directions for Brewing the finest Malt Liquors, better and cheaper than hitherto known. 5. Instructions for Breeding Horses, Husbandry of Bees, and ordering Fish and Fish-Ponds. Lastly, Physick for Families; containing many useful Medicines for several Distempers, particularly the Plague. By Sir J. Moore, 12 ves. Price 1 s. 6 d.
XV. English Liberties: Or, The Free-born Subject's Inheritance. Containing Magna Charta, Charta de Foresta, the Statute de Tallagio non Concedendo, the Habeas Corpus Act; with several other Statutes, and Comments on each of them: Likewise the Proceedings in Appeals of Murder, of Ship-Money, of Tunnage and Poundage, of Parliaments, of the Three Estates, and of the Settlement of the Crown by Parliament. Together with a short History of the Succession, not by any Hereditary Right; also a Declaration of the Liberty of the Subject, the Petition of Right; with a short, but impartial Relation of the Difference between King Charles I. and the Long Parliament; of Tryals by Juries, and of the Qualifications of Jurors, their Punishment for Misbehaviour, and of Challenges to them. Lastly, Of Justices of the Peace, Coroners, Constables, Church-Wardens, Overseers of the Poor, Surveyors of the Highway, &c. With many Law-Cases throughout the Whole. Compiled first by Henry Care, and now continued with large Additions. By W. Nelson, of the Middle-Temple,
Esq
The 4th Edition. Price 4 s. 6 d.
XVI. A Crown of Glory, the Reward of the Righteous: Being Meditations upon the Vicissitude and Uncertainty of all Sublunary Enjoyments, viz. 1. Honour, Riches, and Pleasure. 2. The Nature and Cause of Afflictions. 3. The great Benefit of Afflictions. 4. Of our Resignation to the Will of God. To which is added, A Manual of Devotions for Times of Trouble and Affliction; also Meditations and Prayers for the Holy Communion, both before, at, and after receiving; with some general Rules and Directions for our Daily Practice. Compos'd for the Use of a Noble Family. By the Right Reverend Dr. Thomas Kenn, late Lord Bishop of Bath and Wells. Price 2 s. 6d.
XVII. The Devout Christian's Hourly Companion: Consisting of Holy Prayers, and Divine Meditations. Done into English from that Spiritual Drexelius. The 3d Edition, in 12ves. Price 1 s.
XVIII. The Gentleman Angler: Containing short, plain, and easy Instructions, whereby the most ignorant Beginner may, in a little Time, become a perfect Artist in Argling for Salmon, Salmon-Peal, Trout, Pike, Carp, Perch, Barbell, Tench, Bream, Chub, Greyling, Mullets, Flounders, Roach, Dace, Gudgeon, &c. With several Observations on Angling, Angle-Rods, and Artificial Flies; how to choose the best Hair, and Indian Grass; of the proper Times and Seasons for River and Pond Fithing. To which is added, The Angler's new Song, the Laws of Angling, and the Form of a Licence and Deputation for Angling. Together with an Appendix: Containing the Method of Rock and Sea Fishing; an Explanation of Technical Words used in the Art of Angling; choice Receipts for dressing Fish; and how to improve Barren Ground, by turning it into Fish-Ponds. By a Gentleman, who made Angling his Diversion upwards of twenty eight Years, 1726. Price 1 s. 6 d.
XIX. A Practical Discourse of Religious Assemblies, under the following Heads: 1. Of Religion in general. 2. What Religious Worship is. 3. Of Publick Worship, and the Danger of forsaking Publick Assemblies. 4. The Seasonableness of this Discourse. 5. Concerning Speculative Atheists. 6. The Inclination of Human Nature to Religious Worship. 7. Atheists should not wholly forsake Religious Assemblies. 8. Nor intermeddle in the Disputes of Religion. 9. Concerning the Practical Atheist. 10. The Danger of Irreligion, both with respect to this World and the next. 11. Concerning Parochial Communion. 12. Concerning the Neglect of the Publick Prayers of the Church. 13. Concerning the great Neglect of the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. By William Sherlock, D. D. late Dean of St. Paul's. The 4th Edition, 1726. Price 4 s.
XX. Spiritual Communion Recommended and Enforced from Scripture, from the Primitive Fathers and Councils, from Reason, and from Experience, in an Examination and Defence of the Doctrine, Worship, Rites, and Ceremonies of the Church of England. In Two Parts. By a Lay Hand, 8vo. 1725. Price 2 s. 6 d.
XXI. Arithmetick in the Plainest and most Concise Method hitherto extant; with new Improvements for Dispatch of Business in all the several Rules; as also Fractions, Vulgar and Decimal, wrought together after a new Method that renders both easy to be understood in their Nature and Use. The Whole perused and approved of by the most Eminent Accomptants in the several Offices of the Revenues, viz. Customs, Excise, &c. as the only Book of its Kind, for Variety of Rules, and Brevity of Work. By Geo. Fisher, Accomptant. The 2d Edition, with large Additions and Improvements, 12ves. 1725. Price 2 s. 6 d.
XXII. A new Method of treating Consumptions; wherein all the Decays incident to Human Bodies are mechanically accounted for, with some Considerations, touching the Difference between Consumptions, and those Decays that naturally attend Old Age. To which are added, Arguments in Defence of the Possibility of curing Ulcers in the Lungs; as also Reasons demonstrating that the irregular Discharges of all the Evacuations in Consumptions, arise from the Resistance of the Heart not decaying in a simple Proportion to the Resistance of the other Parts. 8vo. Price 5s.
XXIII. A compleat Treatise of the Gravel and Stone, with all their Causes, Symptoms and Cures accounted for. To which are added, Propositions demonstrating that the Stone may be safely dissolved without any Detriment to the Body, drawn from Reason, Experiments, and Anatomical Observations. The 2d Edition, with large Additions. 8vo. Price 4s. These two by Nicholas Robinson, M. D.
XXIV. An Essay towards a Natural History of the Earth, and Terrestrial Bodies, especially Minerals; as also of the Sea, Rivers, and Springs: With an Account of the Universal Deluge, and of the Effects it had on the Earth. By John Woodward, M. D. Professor of Physick in Gresham College. The 3d Edition. Price 4s.
XXV. The Demonstration of True Religion, in a Chain of Consequences from certain and undeniable Principles; wherein the Necessity and Certainty of Natural and Revealed Religion, with the Nature and Reason of both are proved and explained; and in particular the Authority of the Christian Revelation is established, not only from the Natures and Reasons of Things, but also from the Relation it bears to the Scriptures of the Old Testament. In 16 Sermons preached at Bow Church in the Years 1724, and 1725, for the Lecture founded by the Honourable Robert Boyle,
Esq
In two Volumes, 8vo. Price 9 s.
XXVI. An Essay upon Government: Or, The Natural Notions of Government, demonstated in a Chain of Consequences from the fundamental Principles of Society. By which all the nicest Cases of Conscience relating to Government, may be, and many of them are here resolved, with respect to the Authority of Government in general, the End and Manner of making and executing Laws, the Measures of Submission to Princes, and the Lawfulness or Unlawfulness of Revolutions; in a Method altogether new. Price 1 s. 6d. The two last by Thomas Burnett, D. D. Prebendary of Sarum, and Rector of Westhington in Wiltshire.
PLAYS, on Elzevir Letter, at One Shilling each.
ABramule,
All for Love,
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Biter,
Boarding School,
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on,
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Busy Body,
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Fall of Saguntum,
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Jane Shore,
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King Lear,
London Cuckolds,
Love and a Bottle,
Love for Money,
Love makes a Man,
Love's last Shift,
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Measure for Measure,
Merry Wives of Windsor,
Northern Heiress,
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Oroonoko,
Orphan,
Othello,
Phaedra and Hippolitus,
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Plain Dealer,
Provok'd Wife,
Recruiting Officer,
Rehearsal and Chances,
Relapse,
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Royal Convert,
Rule a Wife,
She Gallant,
Sauney the Scot,
She wou'd and she wou'd'nt,
She wou'd if she cou'd,
Siege of Damascus,
Sophonisba,
Spartan Dame,
'Squire of Alsatia,
Tamerlane,
Theodosius,
Tunbridge Wells,
Twin-Rivals,
Venice preserv'd,
Ulysses,
Sir Walter Raleigh,
Wife's Excuse.
Wonder.
With great Variety of Plays, Poetry, Novels,
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