1 fool what he abounds in. The wise man is happy and shedding their blood for them. Some of them, when he gains his own approbation, and the fool like the Idol in the Apocrypha, must have treats when he recommends himself to the applause of and collations prepared for them every night. It those about him. has, indeed, been known, that some of them have been used by their incensed worshippers like the Chinese Idols, who are whipped and scourged when they refuse to comply with the prayers that are offered to them. But however unreasonable and absurd this pas. sion for admiration may appear in such a creature as man, it is not wholly to be discouraged; since it often produces very good effects, not only as it restrains him from doing any thing which is mean I must here observe, that those idolaters who and contemptible, but as it pushes him to actions devote themselves to the Idols I am here speaking which are great and glorious. The principle may of, differ very much from all other kind of idolabe defective or faulty, but the consequences it pro-ters. For as others fall out because they worship duces are so good, that for the benefit of mankind different Idols, these idolaters quarrel because they it ought not to be extinguished. worship the same. It is observed by Cicero, that men of the great- The intention, therefore, of the Idol is quite conest and the most shining parts are the most actu-trary to the wishes of the idolaters; as the one ated by ambition; and if we look into the two desires to confine the Idol to himself, the whole sexes, I believe we shall find this principle of ac- business and ambition of the other is to multiply tion stronger in women than in men. adorers. This humour of an Idol is prettily de The passion for praise, which is so very vehe-scribed in a tale of Chaucer. He represents one ment in the fair sex, produces excellent effects in of them sitting at a table with three of her votaries women of sense, who desire to be admired for that about her, who are all of them courting her faonly which deserves admiration: and I think we may vour, and paying their adorations. She smiled observe, without a compliment to them, that many upon one, drank to another, and trod upon the of them do not only live in a more uniform course other's foot which was under the table. Now which of virtue, but with an infinitely greater regard to of these three, says the old bard, do you think was their honour, than what we find in the generality the favourite? In troth, says he, not one of all the of our own sex. How many instances have we of three. chastity, fidelity, devotion? How many ladies dis- The behaviour of this old Idol in Chaucer puts tinguish themselves by the education of their chil-me in mind of the beautiful Clarinda, one of the dren, care of their families, and love of their hus- greatest Idols among the moderns. She is worbands, which are the great qualities and achieve-shipped once a week by candle-light, in the midst ments of womankind! as the making of war, the of a large congregation, generally called an assem carrying on of traffic, the administration of jus- bly. Some of the gayest youths in the nation entice, are those by which men grow famous, and get deavour to plant themselves in her eye, while she themselves a name. sits in form with multitudes of tapers burning about But as this passion for admiration, when it works her. To encourage the zeal of her idolaters, she according to reason, improves the beautiful part of bestows a mark of her favour upon every one of our species in every thing that is laudable; so no-them, before they go out of her presence. She thing is more destructive to them when it is go-asks a question of one, tells a story to another, verned by vanity and folly. What I have there- glances an ogle upon a third, takes a pinch of snuff fore here to say, only regards the vain part of the from the fourth, lets her fan drop by accident to sex, whom, for certain reasons, which the reader give the fifth an occasion of taking it up. In will hereafter see at large, I shall distinguish short every one goes away satisfied with his sucby the name of Idols. An Idol is wholly taken cess, and encouraged to renew his devotions on the up in the adorning of her person. You see in same canonical hour that day sevennight. every posture of her body, air of her face, and An Idol may be undeified by many accidental motion of her head, that it is her business and em-causes. Marriage in particular is a kind of counployment to gain adorers. For this reason your ter-apotheosis, or a deification inverted. When a Idols appear in all public places and assemblies, man becomes familiar with his goddess, she quick. in order to seduce men to their worship. The ly sinks into a woman. happy being than a superannuated Idol, especially when she has contracted such airs and behaviour as are only graceful when her worshippers are about her. playhouse is very frequently filled with Idols; se- Old age is likewise a great decayer of your veral of them are carried in procession every even- Idol. The truth of it is, there is not a more uning about the ring, and several of them set up their worship even in churches. They are to be accosted in the language proper to the Deity. Life and death are in their power: joys of hea ven, and pains of hell, are at their disposal: pa- Considering, therefore, that in these and many radise is in their arms, and eternity in every mo- other cases the woman generally outlives the Idol, ment that you are present with them. Raptures, I must return to the moral of this paper, and detransports, and ecstacies, are the rewards which sire my fair readers to give a proper direction to they confer: sighs, and tears, prayers and broken their passion for being admired; in order to which, hearts, are the offerings which are paid to them they must endeavour to make themselves the ob Their smiles make men happy; their frowns drive (jects of a reasonable and lasting admiration. This them to despair. I shall only add under this head, is not to be hoped for, from beauty, or dress, or that Ovid's book of the Art of Love is a kind of fashion, but from those inward ornaments which heathen ritual, which contains all the forms of wor- are not to be defaced by time or sickness, and ship which are made use of to an Idol. which appear most amiable to those who are most acquainted with them. It would be as difficult a task to reckon up these different kinds of Idols, as Milton's was to number those that were known in Canaan, and the lands adjoining. Most of them are worshipped, like Moloch, in fires and flames. Some of them, like Baal, love to see their votaries cut and slashed, 89 No 74. FRIDAY, MAY 25, 1711. Pendent opera interrupla VIRG. En. iv. 88. "The hounds ran swiftly through the woods The nimble deer to take, And with their cries the hills and dales "Vocat ingenti clamore Citharon, 'Citharon loudly calls me to my way; Fam'd for his hills, and for his horses' breed: 'Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come, Is my last Monday's paper* I gave some general after nature. Had this old song been filled with epigrammati- 'To drive the deer with hound and horn The child may rue that is unborn The hunting of that day!' This way of considering the misfortunes which this battle would bring upon posterity, not only on those who were born immediately after the battle, and lost their fathers in it, but on those also who perished in future battles which took their rise from this quarrel of the two earls, is wonderfully beautiful, and conformable to the way of thinking among the ancient poets. Audiet pugnas vitio parentum HOR. 1 Od. ii. 23. Posterity, thinn'd by their father's crimes, What can be more sounding and poetical, or re All men of pleasant Tividale, • Adversi campo apparent, hastasque reductis Advancing in a line, they couch their spears- But to proceed: DRYDEN. 'Earl Douglas on a milk-white steed, Rode foremost of the company, Whose armour shone like gold.' 'Turnus ut anterolans tardum præcesserat agmen, &c. 'Our English archers bent their bows, 'They clos'd full fast on ev'ry side, "With that there came an arrow keen Out of an English bow, Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart, semble more the majestic simplicity of the an-Eneas was wounded after the same manner by an cients, than the following stanzas? The stout Earl of Northumberland A vow to God did make. His pleasure in the Scottish woods 'With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, Who knew full well in time of need, • No. 70. But of all the descriptive parts of this song, there viour of those women who had lost their husbands are none more beautiful than the four following on this fatal day? stanzas, which have a great force and spirit in "So thus did both these nobles die, 'He had a bow bent in his hand, The grey-goose wing that was thereon C This fight did last from break of day For when they rung the ev'ning bell One may observe, likewise, that in the catalogue of And with Earl Douglas there was slain Sir Charles Carrel, that from the field 'Sir Charles Murrel of Ratcliff too, Sir David Lamb, so well esteem'd, The familiar sound in these names destroys the ma- -Cadit et Ripheus justissimus unus Qui fuit in Teucris et servantissimus æqui, Diis aliter visum est En. ii. 426. Then Ripheus fell in the unequal fight, Just of his word, observant of the right: Heav'n thought not so." 'Next day did many widows come 'Their bodies bath'd in purple blood, They kiss'd them dead a thousand times, Thus we see how the thoughts of this poem, which naturally arise from the subject, are always simple, and sometimes exquisitely noble; that the language is often very sounding, and that the whole is writ. ten with a true poetical spirit. If this song had been written in the Gothic manner, which is the delight of all our little wits, whether writers or readers, it would not have hit the taste of so many ages, and have pleased the read. ers of all ranks and conditions. I shall only beg pardon for such a profusion of Latin quotations; which I should not have made use of, but that I feared my own judgment would have looked too singular on such a subject, had not I supported it by the practice and authority of Virgil. ADDISON. N° 75. SATURDAY, MAY 26, 1711. Omnis Aristippum decuit color, et status, et res. All fortune fitted Aristippus well. C. HOR, 1 Ep. xvii. 23. CREECH. Ir is with some mortification that I suffered the raillery of a fine lady of my acquaintance, for calling, in one of my papers, Dorimant a clown. She was so unmerciful as to take advantage of my invincible taciturnity, and on that occasion with great freedom to consider the air, the height, the face, the gesture, of him who could pretend to judge so arrogantly of gallantry. She is full of motion, janty and lively in her impertinence, and one of those that commonly pass, among the ignorant, for persons who have a great deal of humour. She had the play of Sir Fopling in her hand, and after she had said it was happy for her there was In the catalogue of the English who fell, Withernot so charming a creature as Dorimant now liv. ington's behaviour is in the same manner particu-ing, she began with a theatrical air and tone of larized very artfully, as the reader is prepared for voice to read, by way of triumph over me, some it by that account which is given of him in the be- of his speeches, "Tis she! that lovely hair, that ginning of the battle; though I am satisfied your easy shape, those wanton eyes, and all those meltlittle buffoon readers (who have seen that passage ing charms about her mouth, which Medley spoke ridiculed in Hudibras) will not be able to take the of; I'll follow the lottery, and put in for a prize beauty of it; for which reason I dare not so much with my friend Bellair.' as quote it. DRYDEN. In love the victors from the vanquish'd fly; Then turning over the leaves, she reads alternately, And you and Loveit to her cost shall find I fathom all the depths of woman-kind,' Ch the fine gentleman! But here, continues she, 'I, that I may successful prove, *No. 65. husbands , which simple, anguage IS W hic man ts, whe hit the he read nly be tations that ked te orted is 1. C Then how like a man of the town, so wild and gay beauty: by a thorough contempt of little excel is that! 'The wise will find a difference in our fate, lencies, he is perfectly master of them. This temper of mind leaves him under no necessity of studying his air, and he has this peculiar distinction, that his negligence is unaffected. What can It would have been a very wild endeavour for a man of my temper to offer any opposition to so considering this being as an uncertain one, and He that can work himself into a pleasure in nimble a speaker as my fair enemy is; but her think to reap an advantage by its discontinuance, discourse gave me very many reflections, when I is in a fair way of doing all things with a graceful had left her company. Among others, I could not unconcern, and a gentleman-like ease. Such a but consider with some attention, the false impres-one does not behold his life as a short, transient, sions the generality (the fair sex more especially) perplexing state, made up of trifling pleasures and have of what should be intended, when they say a great anxieties; but sees it in quite another light; fine gentleman; and could not help revolving his griefs are momentary, and his joys immortal. that subject in my thoughts, and settling, as it were, Reflection upon death is not a gloomy and sad an idea of that character in my own imagination. No man ought to have the esteem of the rest of in, but it is a short night followed by an endless thought of resigning every thing that he delights the world, for any actions which are disagreeable day. What I would here contend for is, that the to those maxims which prevail, as the standards of more virtuous the man is, the nearer he will natu-, behaviour in the country wherein he lives. What rally be to the character of genteel and agreeable. is opposite to the eternal rules of reason and good A man whose fortune is plentiful, shows an ease sense must be excluded from any place in the car in his countenance, and confidence in his behariage of a well-bred man. I did not, I confess, viour, which he that is under wants and difficulties explain myself enough on this subject, when I cannot assume. called Dorimant a clown, and made it an instance mind; he that governs his thoughts with the everIt is thus with the state of the of it, that he called the orange-wench Double lasting rules of reason and sense, must have someTripe: I should have shown, that humanity obliges thing so inexpressibly graceful in his words and a gentleman to give no part of humankind re-actions, that every circumstance must become him. proach, for what they, whom they reproach, may The change of persons or things around him does possibly have in common with the most virtuous not at all alter his situation, but he looks disinand worthy amongst us. When a gentleman speaks terested in the occurrences with which others are coarsely, he has dressed himself clean to no pur- distracted, because the greatest purpose of his life pose. The clothing of our minds certainly ought is to maintain an indifference both to it and all its to be regarded before that of our bodies. To be- enjoyments. In a word, to be a fine gentleman, tray in a man's talk a corrupt imagination, is a is to be a generous and a brave man. much greater offence against the conversation of make a man so much in constant good humour, gentlemen, than any negligence of dress imagin- and shine, as we call it, as to be supported by able. But this sense of the matter is so far from what can never fail him, and to believe that whatbeing received among people even of condition, ever happens to him was the best thing that could that Vocifer passes for a fine gentleman. He is possibly befal him, or else He on whom it depends, loud, haughty, gentle, soft, lewd, and obsequious would not have permitted it to have befallen him by turns, just as a little understanding and great at all! impudence prompt him at the present moment. He passes among the silly part of our women for a man of wit, because he is generally in doubt. He contradicts with a shrug, and confutes with a certain sufficiency, in professing such and such a thing is above his capacity. What makes his character the pleasanter is, that he is a professed deluder of women; and because the empty coxcomb has no regard to any thing that is of itself sacred and inviolable, I have heard an unmarried lady of fortune'say, It is pity so fine a gentleman as Vocifer THERE is nothing so common as to find a man is so great an atheist. The crowds of such incon- whom in the general observation of his carriage siderable creatures, that infest all places of assem- you take to be of an uniform temper, subject to bling, every reader will have in his eye from his such unaccountable starts of humour and passion, own observation; but would it not be worth con- that he is as much unlike himself, and differs as sidering what sort of a figure a man who formed much from the man you at first thought him, as himself upon those principles among us, which are any two distinct persons can differ from each other. agreeable to the dictates of honour and religion, This proceeds from the want of forming some law would make in the familiar and ordinary occur of life to ourselves, or fixing some notion of things hardly have observed any one fill his several as to create proper habits both in our minds and in general, which may affect us in such a manner duties of life better than Ignotus. All the under bodies. The negligence of this, leaves us exposed parts of his behaviour, and such as are exposed to not only to an unbecoming levity in our usual concommon observation, have their rise in him from versation, but also to the same instability in our great and noble motives. A firm and unshaken friendships, interests, and alliances. A man who this; humanity and good-nature, fortified by the and not engaged in commerces of any consideraexpectation of another life makes him become is but a mere Spectator of what passes around him, sense of virtue, has the same effect upon him, as tion, is but an ill judge of the secret motiens of Being firmly established in all matters of import-ated to make such visible alterations in the same the neglect of all goodness has upon many others. the heart of man, and by what degrees it is actuance, that certain inattention which makes men's person: but at the same time, when a man is no actions look easy, appears in him with greater way concerned in the effect of such inconsistencies. rences of life? STEELE. N° 76. MONDAY, MAY 28, 1711. R. Ut tu fortunam, sic nos te, Celse feremus. CREECH. 1 in the behaviour of men of the world, the specula-friends, and acquaintance. He was come to that tion must be in the utmost degree both diverting knowledge of men by long observation, that he and instructive; yet to enjoy such observations in would profess altering the whole mass of blood in the highest relish, he ought to be placed in a post some tempers, by thrice speaking to them. As of direction, and have the dealings of their fortunes fortune was in his power, he gave himself constant to them. I have therefore been wonderfully di- entertainment in managing the mere followers of verted with some pieces of secret history, which it with the treatment they deserved. He would, an antiquary, my very good friend, lent me as a by a skilful cast of his eye, and half a smile, make curiosity. They are memoirs of the private life of two fellows who hated, embrace, and fall upon Pharamond of France. Pharamond,' says my each other's necks with as much eagerness, as if author, was a prince of infinite humanity and they followed their real inclinations, and intended generosity, and at the same time the most pleasant to stifle one another. When he was in high good and facetious companion of his time. He had a humour, he would lay the scene with Eucrate, and peculiar taste in him, which would have been on a public night exercise the passions of his whole unlucky in any prince but himself; he thought court. He was pleased to see an haughty beauty there could be no exquisite pleasure in convica-watch the looks of the man she had long despised, tion, but among equals; and would pleasantly be- from observation of his being taken notice of by wail himself that he always lived in a crowd, but Pharamond; and the lover conceive higher hopes, was the only man in France that could never get than to follow the woman he was dying for the into company. This turn of mind made him de- day before. In a court, where men speak affeclight in midnight rambles, attended only with one tion in the strongest terms, and dislike in the person of his bed-chamber. He would in these ex- faintest, it was a comical mixture of incidents to cursions get acquainted with men (whose temper see disguises thrown aside in one case, and inhe had a mind to try) and recommend them pri- creased on the other, according as favour or disvately to the particular observation of his first grace attended the respective objects of men's apminister. He generally found himself neglected probation or disesteem. Pharamond, in his mirth by his new acquaintance as soon as they had hopes upon the meanness of mankind, used to say, 'As of growing great; and used on such occasions to he could take away a man's five senses, he could remark, that it was a great injustice to tax princes give him an hundred. The man in disgrace shall offorgetting themselves in their high fortunes,when immediately lose all his natural endowments, and there were so few that could with constancy bear he that finds favour have the attributes of an the favour of their very creatures.' My author, angel.' He would carry it so far as to say, 'It in these loose hints, has one passage that gives us should not be only so in the opinion of the lower a very lively idea of the uncommon genius of Pha- part of his court, but the men themselves shall ramond. He met with one man whom he had put think thus meanly or greatly of themselves, as they to all the usual proofs he had made of those he had are out, or in the good graces of a court.' a mind to know thoroughly, and found him for his A monarch who had wit and humour like Phapurpose. In discourse with him one day, he gave ramond, must have pleasures which no man else him an opportunity of saying how much would can ever have opportunity of enjoying. He gave satisfy all his wishes. The prince immediately fortune to none but those whom he knew could revealed himself, doubled the sum, and spoke to receive it without transport. He made a noble and him in this manner: Sir, you have twice what generous use of his observations, and did not regard you desired, by the favour of Pharamond; but his ministers as they were agreeable to himself, look to it, that you are satisfied with it, for it is but as they were useful to his kingdom. By this the last you shall ever receive. I from this mo-means, the king appeared in every officer of state; ment consider you as mine; and to make you truly and no man had a participation of the power, who so, I give you my royal word you shall never be had not a similitude of the virtue of Pharamond. greater or less than you are at present. Answer me not (concluded the prince smiling) but enjoy the fortune I have put you in, which is above my own condition; for you have hereafter nothing to hope or to fear.' STEELE. No 77. TUESDAY, MAY 29, 1711. Non convivere licet, nec urbe tota R. His majesty having thus well chosen and bought a friend and companion, he enjoyed alternately all the pleasures of an agreeable private man, and a great and powerful monarch. He gave himself, with his companion, the name of the Merry Tyrant; for he punished his courtiers for their insolence and folly, not by any act of public disfa My friend Will Honeycomb is one of those sort of vour, but by humorously practising upon their ima- men who are very often absent in conversation, ginations. If he observed a man untractable to and what the French call à reveur and à distrait. his inferiors, he would find an opportunity to take A little before our club-time last night, we were some favourable notice of him, and render him walking together in Somerset-garden, where Will insupportable. He knew all his own looks, words, had picked up a small pebble of so odd a make and actions had their interpretations; and his friend that he said he would present it to a friend of his, Monsieur Eucrate (for so he was called) having a an eminent virtuoso. After we had walked some great soul without ambition, he could communicate time, I made a full stop with my face towards the all his thoughts to him, and fear no artful use would west, which Will knowing to be my usual method be made of that freedom. It was no small de- of asking what's o'clock, in an afternoon, imme light when they were in private, to reflect upon diately pulled out his watch, and told me we had all which had passed in public. seven minutes good. We took a turn or two more, when to my great surprise, I saw him squir away Pharamond would often, to satisfy a vain fool of power in his country, talk to him in a full court, and with one whisper make him despise all his old See Nos. 84 and 97. |