No. 626.] THE SPECTATOR. 'Should not I be a very barbarous creature, if I did not pity a man who is always sighing for my sake?' No. been an hour in the air. I love, if I may No. 626.] THO. QUID NUNC.' Monday, November 29, 1714. -Dulcique animos novitate tenebo. Ovid, Met. Lib. 4. 284. With sweet novelty your taste I'll please.-Eusden. I HAVE seen a little work of a learned man, consisting of extemporary speculations, which owed their birth to the most trifling occurrences of life. His usual me Whether you would not advise me to thod, was to write down any sudden start run away with the poor man?' No. 'Whether you do not think, that if I will not have him, he will drown himself?' No. of thought which arose in his mind upon the sight of any odd gesticulation in a man, any whimsical mimickry of reason in a beast, or whatever appeared remarkable in any object of the visible creation. He was 'What shall I say to him the next time able to moralize upon a snuff-box, would he asks me if I will marry him?' No. The following letter requires neither introduction nor answer. flourish eloquently upon a tucker or a pair of ruffles, and draw practical inferences from a full-bottomed perriwig. This I thought fit to mention, by way of excuse, for my ingenious correspondent, who hath introduced the following letter by an image which, I will beg leave to tell him, is too ridiculous in so serious and noble a speculation. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I wonder that, in the present situation of affairs, you can take pleasure in writing any thing but news; for, in a word, who minds any thing else? The 'MR. SPECTATOR,-When I have seen pleasure of increasing in knowledge, and learning something new every hour of life, young puss playing her wanton gambols, is the noblest entertainment of a rational and with a thousand antic shapes express creature. I have a very good ear for a se- her own gayety at the same time that she cret, and am naturally of a communicative moved mine, while the old grannum hath temper; by which means I am capable of sat by with the most exemplary gravity, doing you great services in this way. In or- unmoved at all that passed; it hath made der to make myself useful, I am early in me reflect what should be the occasion of the anti-chamber, where I thrust my head humours so opposite in two creatures, beinto the thick of the press, and catch the tween whom there was no visible difference news at the opening of the door, while it is but that of age; and I have been able to rewarm. Sometimes I stand by the beef-solve it into nothing else but the force of noeaters, and take the buz as it passes by me. 'In every species of creatures, those who At other times I lay my ear close to the wall, and suck in many a valuable whisper, have been least time in the world appear as it runs in a straight line from corner to best pleased with their condition; for, becorner. When I am weary with standing, sides that to a new comer the world hath I repair to one of the neighbouring coffee- a freshness on it that strikes the sense after houses, where I sit sometimes for a whole a most agreeable manner, being itself unatday, and have the news as it comes from tended with any great variety of enjoycourt fresh and fresh. In short, sir, I spare ments, excites a sensation of pleasure: but, A as age advances, every thing seems to wither, no pains to know how the world goes. piece of news loses its flavour when it hath the senses are disgusted with their old en velty. tertainments, and existence turns flat and insipid. We may see this exemplified in mankind. The child, let him be free from pain, and gratified in his change of toys, is diverted with the smallest trifle. Nothing disturbs the mirth of the boy but a little punishment or confinement. The youth must have more violent pleasures to employ his time. The man loves the hurry of an active life, devoted to the pursuits of wealth or ambition. And, lastly, old age, having lost its capacity for these avocations, becomes its own unsupportable burden. This variety may in part be accounted for by the vivacity and decay of the faculties; but I believe is chiefly owing to this, that the longer we have been in possession of being, the less sensible is the gust we have of it; and the more it requires of adventitious amusements to relieve us from the satiety and weariness it brings along with it. what doth honour to these glorified spirits; provided still it be remembered, that their desire of more proceeds not from their disrelishing what they possess; and the pleasure of a new enjoyment is not with them measured by its novelty, (which is a thing merely foreign and accidental) but by its real intrinsic value. After an acquaintance of many thousand years with the works of God, the beauty and magnificence of the creation fills them with the same pleasing wonder and profound awe, which Adam felt himself seized with as he first opened his eyes upon this glorious scene. Truth captivates with unborrowed charms, and whatever hath once given satisfaction will always do it. In all which they have manifestly the advantage of us, who are so much governed by sickly and changeable appetites, that we can with the greatest coldness behold the stupendous displays of OmnipoAnd as novelty is of a very powerful, so tence, and be in transports at the puny it is of a most extensive influence. Moral- essays of human skill; throw aside speculaists have long since observed it to be the tions of the sublimest nature and vastest source of admiration, which lessens in pro- importance into some obscure corner of the portion to our familiarity with objects, and mind, to make room for new notions of no upon a thorough acquaintance is utterly ex- consequence at all; are even tired of health, tinguished. But I think it hath not been so because not enlivened with alternate pain; commonly remarked, that all the other pas- and prefer the first reading of an indifferent sions depend considerably on the same cir-author to the second or third perusal of one cumstance. What is it but novelty that awakens desire, enhances delight, kindles Our being thus formed serves many anger, provokes envy, inspires horror? To useful purposes in the present state. It this cause we must ascribe it, that love lan- contributes not a little to the advancement guishes with fruition, and friendship itself of learning; for, as Cicero takes notice, that is recommended by intervals of absence: which makes men willing to undergo the hence, monsters, by use, are beheld with- fatigues of philosophical disquisitions, is not out loathing, and the most enchanting beauty so much the greatness of objects as their without rapture. That emotion of the spi-novelty. It is not enough that there is field rits, in which passion consists, is usually and game for the chase, and that the unthe effect of surprise, and, as long as it con- derstanding is prompted with a restless tinues, heightens the agreeable or disagree-thirst of knowledge, effectually to rouse the able qualities of its object; but as this emo-soul, sunk into a state of sloth and indolence; tion ceases, (and it ceases with the novelty) it is also necessary that there be an uncomthings appear in another light, and affect us even less than might be expected from their proper energy, for having moved us too much before. "It may not be a useless inquiry, how far the love of novelty is the unavoidable growth of nature, and in what respects it is peculiarly adapted to the present state. To me it seems impossible, that a reasonable creature should rest absolutely satisfied in any acquisitions whatever, without endeavouring farther; for, after its highest improvements, the mind hath an idea of an infinity of things still behind, worth knowing, to the knowledge of which therefore it cannot be indifferent; as by climbing up a hill in the midst of a wide plain, a man hath h's prospect enlarged, and together with that, the bounds of his desires. Upon this account, I cannot think he detracts from the state of the blessed, who conceives them to be perpetually employed in fresh searches into nature, and to eternity advancing into the fathomless depths of the divine perfections. In this thought there is nothing but whose merit and reputation are established. mon pleasure annexed to the first appearance of truth in the mind. This pleasure being exquisite for the time it lasts, but transient, it hereby comes to pass that the mind grows into an indifference to its former notions, and passes on after new discoveries, in hope of repeating the delight. It is with knowledge as with wealth, the pleasure of which lies more in making endless additions than in taking a review of our old store. There are some inconveniences that follow this temper, if not guarded against, particularly this, that through too great an eagerness of something new, we are many times impatient of staying long enough upon a question that requires some time to resolve it; or, which is worse, persuade our selves that we are masters of the subject before we are so, only to be at the liberty of going upon a fresh scent: in Mr. Locke's words, "We see a little, presume a great deal, and so jump to the conclusion." 'A farther advantage of our inclination for novelty, as at present circumstantiated, is, that it annihilates all the boasted distinc amongst his reapers. I must inform you that his greatest pleasure was in husbandry and gardening. He had some humours which seemed inconsistent with that good sense he was otherwise master of. His uneasiness in the company of women was very remarkable in a man of such perfect goodbreeding; and his avoiding one particular walk in his garden, where he had used to pass the greatest part of his time, raised abundance of idle conjectures in the village where he lived. Upon looking over his papers we found out the reason, which he never intimated to his nearest friends. He was, it seems, a passionate lover in his youth, of which a large parcel of letters he tions among mankind. Look not up with | by walking too late in a dewy evening envy to those above thee! Sounding titles, stately buildings, fine gardens, gilded chariots, rich equipages, what are they? They dazzle every one but the possessor: to him that is accustomed to them they are cheap and regardless things; they supply him not with brighter images, or more sublime satisfactions, than the plain man may have, whose small estate will just enable him to support the charge of a simple unencumbered life. He enters heedless into his rooms of state, as you or I do under our poor sheds. The noble paintings and costly furniture are lost on him; he sees them not; as how can it be otherwise, when by custom a fabric infinitely more grand and finished, that of the universe, stands unob-left behind him are a witness. I send you a served by the inhabitants, and the everlasting lamps of heaven are lighted up in vain, for any notice that mortals take of them? Thanks to indulgent nature, which not only placed her children originally upon a level, but still, by the strength of this principle, in a great measure preserves it, in spite of all the care of man to introduce artificial distinctions. To add no more—is not this fondness for novelty, which makes us out of conceit with all we already have, a convincing proof of a future state? Either man was made in vain, or this is not the only world he was made for: for there cannot be a greater instance of vanity than that to which man is liable, to be deluded from the cradle to the grave with fleeting shadows of happiness. His pleasures, and those not considerable neither, die in the possession, and fresh enjoyments do not rise fast enough to fill up half his life with satisfaction. When I see persons sick of themselves any longer than they are called away by something that is of force to chain down the present thought; when I see them hurry from country to town, and then from the town back again into the country, continually shifting postures, and placing life in all the different lights they can think of; "Surely," say I to myself, "life is vain, and the man beyond expression stupid, or prejudiced, who from the vanity of life cannot gather that he is designed for immortality. copy of the last he ever wrote upon that subject, by which you will find that he concealed the true name of his mistress under that of Zelinda. "A long month's absence would be insupportable to me, if the business I am employed in were not for the service of my Zelinda, and of such a nature as to place her every moment in my mind. I have furnished the house exactly according to your fancy, or, if you please, my own; for I have long since learned to like nothing but what you do. The apartment designed for your use is so exact a copy of that which you live in, that I often think myself in your house when I step into it, but sigh when I find it without its proper inhabitant. You will have the most delicious prospect from your closet window that England affords: I am sure I should think it so, if the landscape that shows such variety did not at the same time suggest to me the greatness of the space that lies between us. "The gardens are laid out very beauti fully; I have dressed up every hedge in woodbines, sprinkled bowers and arbours in every corner, and made a little paradise around me: yet I am still like the first man in his solitude, but half blessed without a partner in my happiness. I have directed one walk to be made for two persons, where I promise ten thousand satisfactions to myself in your conversation. I already take my evening's turn in it, and have worn a path upon the edge of this little alley, while I soothed myself with the thought of your walking by my side. I have held many imaginary discourses with you in this retirement; and when I have been weary, have sat down with you in the midst of a row of jessamines. The many expressions of joy and rapture I use in these silent conversations have made me, for some time, the talk of the parish; but a neighbouring THE following account, which came to young fellow, who makes love to the farmy hands some time ago, may be no dis-mer's daughter, hath found me out, and agreeable entertainment to such of my made my case known to the whole neighreaders as have tender hearts, and nothing bourhood. to do. No. 627.] Wednesday, December 1, 1714. He, underneath the beaten shade, alone, 'MR. SPECTATOR,-A friend of mine died of a fever last week, which he caught "In planting of the fruit trees, I have not forgot the peach you are so fond of. I have made a walk of elms along the river side, and intend to sow all the place about | sion, As we are now in the beginning of with cowslips, which I hope you will like existence, so shall we always appear to as well as that I have heard you talk of by ourselves as if we were for ever entering your father's house in the country. "Oh! Zelinda, what a scheme of delight have I drawn up in my imagination! What day-dreams do I indulge myself in! When will the six weeks be at an end, that lie between me and my promised happiness! "How could you break off so abruptly in your last, and tell me you must go and dress for the play? If you loved as I do, you would find no more company in a crowd than I have in my solitude. I am, &c.' 'On the back of this letter is written, in the hand of the deceased, the following piece of history: "Mem. Having waited a whole week for an answer to this letter, I hurried to town, where I found the perfidious creature married to my rival. I will bear it as becomes a man, and endeavour to find out happiness for myself in that retirement which I had prepared in vain for a false, ungrateful woman. " I am, &c.' No. 628.] Friday, December 3, 1714. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-There are none of your speculations which please me more than those upon infinitude and eternity. You have already considered that part of eternity which is past, and I wish you would give us your thoughts upon that which is to come. "Your readers will perhaps receive greater pleasure from this view of eternity than the former, since we have every one of us a concern in that which is to come: whereas a speculation on that which is past is rather curious than useful, Besides, we can easily conceive it possible for successive duration never to have an end; though, as you have justly observed, that eternity which never had a beginning is altogether incomprehensible; that is, we can conceive an eternal duration which may be, though we cannot an eternal duration which hath been; or, if I may use the the philosophical terms, we may apprehend a potential though not an actual eternity. This notion of a future eternity, which is natural to the mind of man, is an unanswerable argument that he is a being designed for it; especially if we consider that he is capable of being virtuous or vicious here; that he hath faculties improvable to all eternity; and, by a proper or wrong employment of them, may be happy or miserable throughout that infinite duration. Our idea indeed of this eternity is not of an adequate or fixed nature, but is perpetually growing and enlarging itself toward the object, which is too big for human comprehen ries, some considerable things, already past, upon it. After a million or two of centumay slip out of our memory, which if it be not strengthened in a wonderful manner, may possibly forget that ever there was a sun or planets; and yet, notwithstanding the long race we shall then have run, we shall still imagine ourselves just starting from the goal, and find no proportion between that space which we know had a beginning, and what we are sure will never have an end. But I shall leave this subject to your management, and question not but you will throw it into such lights as shall at once improve and entertain your reader. I have, enclosed, sent you a translation* of the speech of Cato on this occasion, which hath accidentally fallen into my hands, and which, for conciseness, purity, and elegance of phrase, cannot be suffi ciently admired. ACT V. SCEN, I. CATO solus, &c. 'Sic, sic se habere rem necesse prorsus est, Natura? Quorsum hac dulcis expectatio; 'Quæ demigrabitur alia hinc in corpora? parta divum est vita. Periment mattis once schoolmaster, then provost of Eton, and dean of 'It must be so- -Plato, thou reason'st wellElse whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Through what variety of untry'd being, Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue; [Laying his hand on his sword. The wrecks of matter and the crush of worlds.' No. 629.] Monday, December 6, 1714. -Since none the living dare implead Arraign them in the persons of the dead.-Dryden. NEXT to the people who want a place, there are none to be pitied more than those who are solicited for one. A plain answer with a denial in it is looked upon as pride, and a civil answer as a promise. Nothing is more ridiculous than the pretensions of people upon these occasions. Every thing a man hath suffered, whilst his enemies were in play, was certainly brought about by the malice of the opposite party. A bad cause would not have been fost, if such a one had not been upon the bench; nor a profligate youth disinherited, if he had not got drunk every night by toasting an outed ministry. I remember a tory, who, having been fined in a court of justice for a prank that deserved the pillory, desired upon the merit of it to be made a justice of the peace when his friends came into power; and shall never forget a whig criminal, who, upon being indicted for a rape, told his friends You see what a man suffers for sticking to his principles.' The truth of it is, the sufferings of a man in a party are of a very doubtful nature. When they are such as have promoted a good cause, and fallen upon a man undeservedly, they have a right to be heard and recompensed beyond any other pretensions. But when they rise out of rashness or indiscretion, and the pursuit of such measures as have rather ruined than promoted the interest they aim at, which hath always VOL. II. 54 been the case of many great sufferers, they only serve to recommend them to the children of violence or folly. I have by me a bundle of memorials presented by several cavaliers upon the resto→ ration of king Charles II. which may serve as so many instances to our present purpose. Among several persons and pretensions recorded by my author, he mentions one of a very great estate, who, for having roasted an ox whole, and distributed a hogshead upon king Charles's birth-day, desired to be provided for as his majesty in his great wisdom should think fit. Another put in to be prince Henry's go in the worst of times. vernor, for having dared to drink his health A third petitioned for a colonel's commission, for having cursed Oliver Cromwell, the day before his death, on a public bowling-green. But the most whimsical petition I have met with is that of B. B., esq. who desired the honour of knighthood, for having cuckoled Sir T. W. a notorious roundhead. There is likewise the petition of one who, having let his beard grow from the martyrdom of king Charles the first, until the restoration of king Charles the second, desired in consideration thereupon to be made a privy-counsellor. I must not omit a memorial setting forth that the memorialist had, with great despatch, carried a letter from a certain lord to a certain lord, wherein, as it afterwards appeared, measures were concerted for the restoration, and without which he verily believes that happy revolution had never been effected; who thereupon humbly prays to be made postmaster-general. A certain gentleman, who seems to write with a great deal of spirit, and uses the words gallantry and gentleman-like very often in his petition, begs that (in consideration of his having worn his hat for ten years past in the royal cavalier-cock, to his great danger and detriment) he may be made a captain of the guards. I shall close my account of this collection of memorials with the copy of one petition at length, which I recommend to my reader as a very valuable piece. • The Petition of E. H. Esq. 'HUMBLY SHOWEтH, 'That your petitioner's father's brother's uncle, colonel W. H. lost the third finger of his left hand at Edgehill fight. "That your petitioner, notwithstanding the smallness of his fortune (he being a younger brother,) always kept hospitality, and drank confusion to the roundheads in half a score bumpers every Sunday in the year, as several ĥonest gentlemen (whose names are underwritten) are ready to testify. That your petitioner is remarkable in his country, for having dared to treat Sir |