on this fubject, which are dictated to us by the light of reason, and which may be looked upon as the creed of a philosopher in this great point. Firft, It is certain that no being could have I made itself; for if fo, it must have acted before it was, which is a contradiction. Secondly, That therefore fome being muft have exifted from all eternity. Thirdly, That whatever exifts after the manner of created beings, or according to any noti<ons which we have of existence, could not have • exifted from eternity. Fourthly, That this eternal being must there'fore be the great author of nature," the anci"ent of days," who being at an infinite diftance in his perfections from all finite and created beings, exifts in a quite different manner from them, and in a manner of which they can have no idea. I know that feveral of the schoolmen who would not be thought ignorant of any thing, have pretended to explain the manner of God's exiftence, by telling us, that he comprehends, ⚫ infinite duration in every moment; that eternity is with him a punctum flans, a fixed point; or which is as good fenfe, an infinite instant; that nothing with reference to his existence, is either past or to come: to which the ingenious Mr. Cowley alludes in his defcription of hea" ven, "Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal now does always laft." being which truly and really exifts. The an cient Platonic notion which was drawn from fpeculations of eternity, wonderfully agrees with this revelation which God has made of himself. There is nothing, fay they, which in 'reality exifts, whofe exiftence, as we call it, is pieced up of paft, prefent, and to come. Such a flitting and fucceffive existence is rather a fhadow of existence, and fomething which is like it, than exiftence itself. He only pro 'perly exifts whofe exiftence is entirely prefent; that is, in other words, who exifts in the most 'perfect manner, and in such a manner as we have no idea of. 1 fhall conclude this fpeculation with one ufeful inference. How can we fufficiently proftrate ourselves and fall down before our Ma'ker, when we confider that ineffable goodness and wifdom which contrived this existence for finite natures? What must be the over'flowings of that good-will, which prompted our Creator to adapt exiftence to beings, in whom it is heceffary? Efpecially when we confider that he himself was before in the complete poffeffion of existence and of happinefs, and in the full enjoyment of eternity. What man can think of himself as called out and feparated from nothing, of his being made a confcious, a reasonable and a happy creature, in short, of being taken in as a fharer of exiftence, and a kind of partner in eternity, without being fwallowed up in wonder, in praife, in adoration! It is indeed a thought too big for the mind of man, and rather to be entertained in the fecrecy of devotion, and in the ⚫ filence of his foul, than to be expreffed by words. The Supreme Being has not given us 'powers or faculties fufficient to extol and mag For my own part, I look upon these propofitions as words that have no ideas annexed to them; and think men had better own their ignorance, than advance doctrines by which they mean nothing, and which, indeed, arenify fuch unutterable goodness. felf-contradictory. We cannot be too modeft in our difquifitions, when we meditate on him, who is environed with fo much glory and perfection, who is the fource of being, the fourtain of all that existence, which we and his whole creation derive from him. Let us therefore with the utmost humility acknowledge, that as fome being muft neceffarily have exifted from eternity, fo this being does exist after an incomprehenfible manner, fince it is impoffible for a being to have exifted from eternity after our manner or notions of existence. Re> velation confirms these natural dictates of reafon in the accounts which it gives us of the di• vine existence, where it tells us, that he is the fame yesterday, to day, and for ever; that he is the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending; "that a thousand years are with him as one day, and one day as a thousand years; by which, and the like expreffions, we are taught, that his existence with relation to time or duration, is infinitely different from the existence of any of his creatures, and consequently that it is impoffible for us to frame any adequate conceptions of it. In the first revelation which he makes of his own being, he entitles himself, "I AM that I "AM" and when Mofes defires to know what name he shall give him in his embaffy to Pharoah, he bids him say that “I AM hath fent "you." Our great Creator, by this revelation of himself, does in a manner exclude every thing elfe from a real exiftence, and diftin! guishes himself from his creatures, as the only 5 1 It is however fome comfort to us, that we fhall be always doing what we fhall be never able to do, and that a work which cannot be finished, will however be the work of an eternity.' N° . 591. WEDNESDAY, SEPT. 8. -Tenerorum lufor, amorum, OVID. Trift. Eleg. 3. 1. 3, ver. 73. Love the foft fubject of his fportive muse. I Have just received a letter from a gentleman, who tells me he has obferved with no fmall concern, that my papers have of late been very barren in relation to love; a fubject which, when agreeably handled, can scarce fail of being well received by both fexes. If my invention therefore fhould be almost exhaufted on this head, he offers to ferve under me in the quality of a Love Cafuift; for which place he conceives himself to be thoroughly qualified, having made this paffion his principal study, and obferved it in all its different shapes and appearances, from the fifteenth to the fortyfifth year of his age. He affures me with an air of confidence, which I hope proceeds from his real abilities, that he does not doubt of giving judgment to the fatisfaction of the parties concerned, on the most nice and intricate cafes which can happen in an amour; as, How How great the contraction of the fingers must be before it amounts to a squeeze by the hand. What can be properly termed an abfolute denial from a maid, and what fro.n a widow. What advances a lover may prefume to make, after having received a pat upon his fhoulder from his miftrefs's fan. Whether a lady, at the first interview, may allow an humble fervant to kiss her hand. How far it may be permitted to carefs the maid in order to fucceed with the mistress. What conftructions a man may put upon a Imile, and in what cafes a frown goes for nothing On what occafions a sheepish look may do Tervice, &c. "Who in that lovely form, that heavenly mind, "Who with low fancy fhall approach her charms, "And never, never, from thy bosom stray." No 592. FRIDAY, SEPT. 10. -Studium fine divite venâ. As a farther proof of his skill, he also fent me feveral maxims in love, which he affures me are the refult of a long and profound reflexion, some of which I think myself obliged to communicate Art without a vein. to the public, not remembring to have seen them before in any author. There are more calamities in the world, arising from love than from hatred. Love is the daughter of idleness, but the mother of difquietude. Men of grave natures, fays Sir Francis Bacon, a e the most constant; for the faine reason men hould be more conftant than women. The gay part of mankind is most amorous, the ferious moft loving. A coquette often lofes her reputation, while the preferves her virtue. A prude often preferves her reputation when he has lost her virtue. Love refines a man's behaviour, but makes a woman's ridiculous. Love is generally accompanied with good-will in the young, intereft in the middle-aged, and a paflion too gross to name in the old. The endeavours to revive a decaying paffion generally extinguish the remains of it. A woman who from being a flattern becomes over-neat, or from being over neat becomes a flattern, is most certainly in love.' I shall make use of this gentleman's (kill, as I fee occafion; and fince I am got upon the fubject of love, thall conclude this paper with a copy of verfes which were lately fent me by an unknown hand, as I look upon them to be above the ordinary fun of fonneteers. The author tells me they were written in one of his despairing fits; and I find entertains fome hope that his mistress may ity fuch a paffion as The has defcribed, before he knows that the herfelf is Corinna. ◄ONCEAL, fond man, conceal the mighty CON Nor tell Corinna the has fir'd thy hear Hoa. Ars. Poet. ver. 409. I Look upon the play houfe as a world within itself. They have lately turnished the middle region of it with a new fet of meteors, in order to give the fublime to many modern tragedies. I was there lait winter at the first rehearsal of the new thunder, which is much more deep and fonorous than any hitherto made ufe of. They have a Salmoneus behind the fcenes who plays it off with great fuccefs. Their lightnings are made to flash more brifkly than heretofore; their clouds are also better furbelowed, and more voluminous; not to mention a violent ftorm locked up in a great cheft, that is defigned for the Tempeft. They are alfo provided with above a dozen show. ers of fnow, which, as I am informed, are the plays of many unfuccefsful poets artificially cut and fhredded for that afe. Mr. Rymer's Edgar is to fall in fnow at the next acting of King Lear, in order to heighten, or rather to alleviate, the diftrefs of that unfortunate prince; and to ferve by way of decoration to a piece which that great critic has written againít. I do not indeed wonder that the actors fhould be fuch profeffed enemies to those among our nation who are commonly known by the name of critics, fince it is a rule among thefe gentle. men to fall upon a play, not because is written, but because it takes. Several of them lay it down as a maxim, that whatever dramatic per formance has a long run, wuft of neceffity be good for nothing: as though the first precept in poetry were "not to please." Whether this rule holds good or not, I shall leave to the determination of those who are better judges than myfelf; if it does, I am fure it tends very much to the honour of thofe gentlemen who have establifhed it; few of their pieces having been difgraced by a run of three days, and most of them being fo exquifitely written, that the town would * In vain would'st thou complain, in vain pre- never give them more than one night's hearing. * tend To ask a pity which the muft not lend. I have a great esteem for a true critic, fuch as Ariftotle and Longinus among the Greeks, Horace and Quintilian among the Romans, Boileau and Dacier among the French. But it is our misfortune, that fome who fet up for profeffed critics among us are fo ftupid, that they do not know how to put ten words together with elegance or common propriety, and withal fo illi terate, that they have no taste of the learned languages, and therefore criticife upon old authors only at fecond hand. They judge of them by what others have written, and not by any no. Нора tions they have of the authors themfelves. The words unity, action, fentiment, and diction, pronounced with an air of authority, give them a figure among unlearned readers, who are apt to believe they are very deep, because they are unintelligible. The ancient critics are full of the praifes of their contemporaries; they difcover beauties which efcaped the obfervation of the vulgar, and very often find out reafons for palliating and excufing fuch little flips and overfights as were committed in the writings of eminent authors. On the contrary, moft of the fmatterers in criticifm who appear among us, make it their business to vilify and depreciate every new production that gains applaufe, to defcry imaginary blemishes, and to prove by far fetched arguments, that what pafs for beauties in any celebrated piece are faults and errors. In fhort, the writings of thefe critics, compared with those of the ancients, are like the works of the fophifts compared with thofe of the old philofophers. Envy and cavil are the natural fruits of lazi nefs and ignorance; which was probably the reafon, that in the heathen mythology Momus is faid to be the son of Nox and Somnus, of darknefs and fleep. Idle men, who have not been at the pains to accomplish or distinguish themselves, are very apt to detract from others; as ignorant men are very fubject to decry thofe beauties in a celebrated work which they have not eyes to discover. Many of our fons of Momus, who dignify themselves by the name of critics, are the genuine defcendants of thefe two illuftrious ancestors. They are often led into thofe numerous abfurdities, in which they daily inftru&t the people, by not confidering that, Firft, There is fometimes a greater judgment fhewn in' deviating from the rules of art, than in adhering to them; and, 2dly, That there is more beauty in the works of a great genius, who is ignorant of all the rules of art, than in the works of a little genius, who not only knows, but fcrupulously obferves them. Firft, We may often take notice of men who are perfectly acquainted with all the rules of good writing, and notwithstanding choose to depart from them on extraordinary occafions. I could give inftances out of all the tragic writers of antiquity who have shewn their judgment in this particular; and purpofely receded from an eftablished rule of the drama, when it has made way for a much higher beauty than the obfervation of fuch a rule would have been. Those who have furveyed the noblest pieces of architecture and ftatuary, both ancient and modern, know very well that there are frequent deviations from art in the works of the greatest mafters, which have produced a much nobler effect than a more ⚫ accurate and exact way of proceeding could have done. This often arifes from what the Italians call the Gufto grande in these arts, which is what we call the fublime in writing. In the next place, our critics do not feem fenfible that there is more beauty in the works of a great genius who is ignorant of the rules of art, than in thofe of a little genius who knows and obferves them. It is of thefe men of genius that Terence fpeaks, in oppofition to the little artificial cavillers of his time; Quorum emulari exoptat negligentiam Whofe negligence he would rather imitate, than thefe mens obfcure diligence.' A critic may have the fame confolation in the ill-fuccefs of his play, as Dr. South tells us a phyfician has at the death of a patient, that he was killed fecundum artem. Our inimitable. Shakespeare is a ftumbling-block to the whole tribe of thefe rigid critics. Who would not rather read one of his plays, where there is not a fingle rule of the ftage obferved, than any production of a modern critic, where there is not one of them violated? Shakespeare was indeed born with all the feeds of poetry, and may be com pared to the ftone in Pyrrhus's ring, which, as, Pliny tells us, had the figure of Apollo and the nine Mufes in the veins of it, produced by the fpontaneous hand of nature, without any help from art. SIN INCE we have fo little time to fpare, that none of it may be loft, I fee no reafon why we should neglect to examine thofe imaginary fcenes we are prefented with in fleep, only be'cause they have a lefs reality in them than our 'waking meditations. A traveller would bring his judgment in queftion, who fhould defpife the directions of his map for want of real roads in it, becaufe here ftands a dot inftead of a town, or a cypher inftead of a city, and it must 'be a long day's journey to travel through two or three inches. Fancy in dreams gives us 'much fuch another landskip of life as that does of countries, and though its appearances may feem ftrangely jumbled together, we may often obferve fuch traces and footsteps of noble thoughts, as, if carefully pursued, might lead us into a proper path of action. There is fo much rapture and extacy in our fancied blifs, and fomething fo difinal and fhocking in our fancied mifery, that though the inactivity of the body has given occafion for calling leep the image of death, the briskness of the fancy affords us a strong intimation of fomething within us that can never die. I have wondered that Alexander the Great, who came into the world fufficiently dreamed of by his parents, and had himfelf a tolerable knack at dreaming, fhould often fay, that' "Sleep was one thing which made him fenfible "he was mortal." I who have not fuch fields of adion in the day time to divert my attention from this matter, plainly perceive, that in thofe operations of the mind, while the body is at reft, there is a certain vaftness of conception very fuitable to the capacity, and demon⚫ftrative of the force of that divine part in our x x compofition which will laft for ever. Neither do I much doubt but had we a true account of N° 594. WEDNESDAY, SEPT. 15. the wonders the hero laft mentioned performed in his fleep, his conquering this little globe would hardly be worth mentioning. I may affirm, without vanity, that when I compare feveral actions in Quintus Curtius with fome others in my own noctuary, I appear the greater hero of the two.' I fhall clofe this fubject with obferving, that while we are awake we are at liberty to fix our thoughts on what we please, but in fleep we have not the command of them. The ideas which ftrike the fancy, arife in us without our choice. either from the occurrences of the day paft, the temper we lie down in, or it may be the direction of fome fuperior being. It is certain the imagination may be fo differently affected in fleep, that our actions of the day might be either rewarded or punished with a little age of happiness or mifery. St. Austin was of opinion, that if in Paradife there was the fame viciffitude of fleeping and waking as in the prefent world, the dreams of its inhabitants would be very happy. And fo far at prefent our dreams are in our power, that they are generally conformable to our waking thoughts, fo that it is not impoffible to convey ourfelves to a concert of mufic, the converfation of diftant friends, or any other entertainment which has been before lodged in the mind. My readers, by applying these hints, will find the neceffity of making a good day of it, if they heartily with themselves a good night. I have often confidered Marcia's prayer, and Lucius's account of Cato, in this light. "Marc. O ye immortal powers, that guard "the juft, "Watch round his couch, and foften his repofe, "Banif his forrows, and becalm his foul With eafy dreams; remember all his virtues, "And fhew mankind that goodness is your care. "Luc. Sweet are the flumbers of the virtuous "man! O Marcia, I have feen thy god-like father; "Some power invisible supports his foul, "And bears it up in all its wonted greatness. "A kind refreshing fleep is fallen upon him: "I faw him ftretch'd at ease, his fancy loft "In pleafing dreams; as I drew near his couch, "He fmil'd and cry'd, Cæfar, thou canst not "hurt me." Mr. Shadow acquaints me in a poftfcript, that he has no manner of title to the vifion which fucceeded his firft letter; but adds, that as the gentleman who wrote it, dreams very fenfibly, he shall be glad to meet him fome night or other under the great elm tree, by which Virgil has given us a fine metaphorical image of fleep, in order to turn over a few of the leaves together, and oblige the public with an account of the dreams that lie under them, -Abfentem qui rodit amicum ; He that fhall rail against his absent friends, And only to be thought a witty man; W ERE all the vexations of life put together, we should find that a great part of them proceed from thofe calumnies and reproaches which we spread abroad concerning one another. There is fcarce a man living who is not, in fome degree, guilty of this offence; though at the fame time, however we treat one another, it must be confeffed, that we all consent in speaking ill of the perfons who are notorious for this practice. It generally takes its rife either from an ill-will to mankind, a private inclination to make ourselves efteemed, an oftentation of wit, a vanity of being thought in the fecrets of the world, or from a defire of gratifying any of these difpofitions of mind in thofe perfons with whom we converfe. The publisher of fcandal is more or lefs odious to mankind, and criminal in himfelf, as he is influenced by any one or more of the foregoing motives. But whatever may be the occafion of fpreading thefe falfe reports, he ought to confider, that the effect of them is equally prejudi cial and pernicious to the perfon at whom they are aimed. The injury is the fame, though the principle from whence it proceeds may be different. As every one looks upon himself with too much indulgence, when he paffes a judgment on his own thoughts or actions, and as a very few would be thought guilty of this abominable proceeding, which is fo univerfally practised, and at the fame time, fo univerfally blamed, down three rules by which I would have a man examine and fearch into his own heart, before he ftands acquitted to himself of that evil difpofition of mind which I am here mentioning. fhall lay First of all, let him confider whether he does not take delight in hearing the faults of others. Secondly, Whether he is not too apt to believe fuch little blackening accounts, and more inclined to be credulous on the uncharitable than on the good-natured fide. Thirdly, Whether he is not ready to spread and propagate fuch reports as tend to the difreputa tion of another. These are the feveral steps by which this vice proceeds, and grows up into flander and defamation. In the first place, a man who takes delight in hearing the faults of others, fhews fufficiently that he has a true relifh of fcandal, and confequently the feeds of this vice within him. his mind is gratified with hearing the reproaches If which are caft on others, he will find the fame pleafure in relating them, and be the more apt to do it, as he will naturally imagine every one he converfes with is delighted in the fame manner with himself. A man fhould endeavour therefore to wear out of his mind this criminal curiofity, which is perpetually heightened and inflamed by listening to fuch flories as tend to the difreputation of others. In the fecond place, a man should confult his own heart, whether he be not apt to believe fuch little blackening accounts, and more inclined to be credulous on the uncharitable, than on the good-natured fide. Such a credulity is very vicious in itself, and generally arifes from a man's confcioufnefs of his own fecret corruptions. It is a pretty fayng of Thales, "Falthood is juft as far diftant "from truth, as the ears are from the eyes." By which he would intimate, that a wife man fhould not easily give credit to the report of actions which he has not feen. I fhall, under this head, mention two or three remarkable rules to be obferved by the members of the celebrated Abbey de la Trappe, as they are published in a little French book. The fathers are there ordered, never to give an ear to any accounts of bafe or criminal actions; to turn off all fuch difcourfe if poffible; but in cafe they hear any thing of this nature fo well attefted that they cannot disbelieve it, they are then to fuppofe, that the criminal action may have proceeded from a good intention in him who is guilty of it. This is, perhaps, carrying charity to an extravagance, but it is certainly much more laudable, than to fuppofe, as the ill. natured part of the world does, that indifferent and even good actions proceed from bad principles and wrong intentions. In the third place, a man fhould examine his heart, whether he does not find in it a fecret inclination to propagate fuch reports, as tend to the difreputation of another. ornaments of file, perfectly difguife the little sense they aim at. There is a grievance of this fort in the commonwealth of letters, which I have for fome time refolved to redrefs, and accordingly I have fet this day apart for juftice. What I mean is the mixture of inconfiftent metaphors, which is a fault but too often found in fearned writers, but in all the unlearned without exception. In order to fet this matter in a clear light to every reader, I shall in the first place obferve, that a metaphor is a fimile in one word, which ferves to convey the thoughts of the mind under refemblances and images which affect the fenfes. There is not any thing in the world, which may not be compared to feveral things if confidered in feveral distinet Lights; or, in other words, the fame thing may be expreffed by different metaphors. But the mischief is, that an unskilful author fhall run their metaphors fo abfurdly into one another, that there fhall be no fimile, no agreeable picture, no apt refemblance, but confufion, obfcurity, and noife. Thus I have known a hero compared to a thunderbolt, a lion, and the fea; all and each of them proper metaphors for impetuofity, courage, or force. But by bad management it hath fo happened, that the thunder-bolt hath overflowed its banks; the lion hath been darted through the skies, and the billows have rolled out of the Libyan defart. The abfurdity in this inftance is obvious. And yet every time that clashing metaphors are put together, the fault is committed more or less. It hath already been said, that metaphors are images of things which affect the fenfes. An image, therefore, taken from what acts upon the fight, cannot, without violence, be applied to the hearing; and fo of the reft. It is no lefs an impropriety to make any being in nature or art to do things in its metaphorical ftate, which it could not do in its original. I fhall illuftrate what I have faid by an inftance which I have read more than once in controverfial writers. The heavy lashes," When the difeafe of the mind, which I have faith a celebrated author, that have dropped hitherto been speaking of arifes to this degree of from your pen, &c.' I fuppofe this gentleman malignity, it difcovers itself, in its worst fymp- having frequently heard of gall dropping from tom, and is in danger of becoming incurable. I need not therefore infift upon the guilt in this laft particular, which every one cannot but difapprove, who is not void of humanity, or even common difcretion. I fhall only add, that whatever pleasure any man may take in fpreading whispers of this nature, he will find an infinitely greater fatisfaction in conquering the temptation he is under, by letting the fecret die within his own breast. a pen, and being lashed in a satire,' he was refolved to have them both at any rate, and fo uttered this complete piece of nonfenfe. It will most-effectually discover the abfurdity of these monftrous unions, if we will fuppose these metaphors or images actually painted. Imagine then a hand holding a pen, and several lathes of whipcord falling from it, and you have the true representation of this fort of eloquence. I believe, by this very rule, a reader may be able to judge of the union of all metaphors whatfoever, and determine which are homogeneous, and which heterogeneous; or to speak more plainly, which are confiftent, and which inconfiftent. There is yet one evil more which I must take notice of, and that is the running of metaphors into tedious allegories; which, though an error on the better hand, caufes confufion as much as the other. This becomes abominable, when the luftre of one word leads a writer out of his road, and makes him wander from his fubject for a page together. I remember a young fellow, of this turn, who having faid by chance that his miftrefs had a world of charms, thereupon took occafion to confider her as one poffeffed of frigid and torrid zones, and pursued her from the one pole to the other, I fall X X 2 |
