As I intend in my next Paper to shew the Defects in Milton"s Paradise Lost, I thought fit to premise these few Particulars, to the End that the Reader may know I enter upon it, as on a very ungrateful Work, and that I shall just point at the Imperfections, without endeavouring to enflame them with Ridicule. I must also observe with Longinus, [5] that the Productions of a great Genius, with many Lapses and Inadvertencies, are infinitely preferable to the Works of an inferior kind of Author, which are scrupulously exact and conformable to all the Rules of correct Writing.
I shall conclude my Paper with a Story out of Boccalini [6] which sufficiently shews us the Opinion that judicious Author entertained of the sort of Criticks I have been here mentioning. A famous Critick, says he, having gathered together all the Faults of an eminent Poet, made a Present of them to Apollo, who received them very graciously, and resolved to make the Author a suitable Return for the Trouble he had been at in collecting them. In order to this, he set before him a Sack of Wheat, as it had been just threshed out of the Sheaf. He then bid him pick out the Chaff from among the Corn, and lay it aside by it self. The Critick applied himself to the Task with great Industry and Pleasure, and after having made the due Separation, was presented by Apollo with the Chaff for his Pains. [7]
L.
[Footnote 1: First published in 1690.]
[Footnote 2: Dryden accounted among critics the greatest of his age to be Boilean and Rapin. Boileau was the great master of French criticism.
Rene Rapin, born at Tours in 1621, taught Belles Lettres with extraordinary success among his own order of Jesuits, wrote famous critical works, was one of the best Latin poets of his time, and died at Paris in 1687. His Whole Critical Works were translated by Dr. Basil Kennett in two volumes, which appeared in 1705. The preface of their publisher said of Rapin that
he has long dictated in this part of letters. He is acknowledged as the great arbitrator between the merits of the best writers; and during the course of almost thirty years there have been few appeals from his sentence.
(See also a note on p. 168, vol. i. [Footnote 3 of No. 44.]) Rene le Bossu, the great French authority on Epic Poetry, born in 1631, was a regular canon of St. Genevieve, and taught the Humanities in several religious houses of his order. He died, subprior of the Abbey of St.
Jean de Cartres, in 1680. He wrote, besides his Treatise upon Epic Poetry, a parallel between the philosophies of Aristotle and Descartes, which appeared a few months earlier (in 1674) with less success. Another authority was Father Bouhours, of whom see note on p. 236, vol. i.
[Footnote 4 of No. 62.] Another was Bernard le Bovier de Fontenelle.
called by Voltaire the most universal genius of his age. He was born at Rouen in 1657, looking so delicate that he was baptized in a hurry, and at 16 was unequal to the exertion of a game at billiards, being caused by any unusual exercise to spit blood, though he lived to the age of a hundred, less one month and two days. He was taught by the Jesuits, went to the bar to please his father, pleaded a cause, lost it, and gave up the profession to devote his time wholly to literature and philosophy.
He went to Paris, wrote plays and the Dialogues of the Dead, living then with his uncle, Thomas Corneille. A discourse on the Eclogue prefixed to his pastoral poems made him an authority in this manner of composition. It was translated by Motteux for addition to the English translation of Bossu on the Epic, which had also appended to it an Essay on Satire by another of these French critics, Andre Dacier. Dacier, born at Castres in 1651, was educated at Saumur under Taneguy le Fevre, who was at the same time making a scholar of his own daughter Anne. Dacier and the young lady became warmly attached to one another, married, united in abjuring Protestantism, and were for forty years, in the happiest concord, man and wife and fellow-scholars. Dacier and his wife, as well as Fontenelle, were alive when the Spectator was appearing; his wife dying, aged 69, in 1720, the husband, aged 71, in 1722. Andre Dacier translated and annotated the Poetics of Aristotle in 1692, and that critical work was regarded as his best performance.]
[Footnote 3: Annus Mirabilis, st. 39.]
[Footnote 4: Ad Brutum. Orator. Towards the beginning:
Facile est enim verb.u.m aliquod ardens (ut ita dicam) notare, idque restinctis jam animorum incendiis, irridere.]
[Footnote 5: On the Sublime, -- 36.]
[Footnote 6: Trajan Boccalini, born at Rome in 1554, was a satirical writer famous in Italy for his fine criticism and bold satire. Cardinals Borghese and Cajetan were his patrons. His Ragguagli di Parna.s.so and la Secretaria di Parna.s.so, in which Apollo heard the complaints of the world, and dispensed justice in his court on Parna.s.sus, were received with delight. Afterwards, in his Pietra di Parangone, he satirized the Court of Spain, and, fearing consequences, retired to Venice, where in 1613 he was attacked in his bed by four ruffians, who beat him to death with sand-bags. Boccalini"s Ragguagli di Parna.s.so has been translated into English, in 1622, as News from Parna.s.sus. Also, in 1656, as Advertis.e.m.e.nts from Parna.s.sus, by H. Carey, Earl of Monmouth. This translation was reprinted in 1669 and 1674, and again in 1706 by John Hughes, one of the contributors to the Spectator.]
[Footnote 7: To this number of the Spectator, and to several numbers since that for January 8, in which it first appeared, is added an advertis.e.m.e.nt that, The First and Second Volumes of the SPECTATOR in 8vo are now ready to be delivered to the subscribers by J. Tonson, at Shakespeare"s Head, over-against Catherine Street in the Strand.]
No. 292. Monday, February 4, 1712.
Illam, quicquid agit, quoquo Vestigia flect.i.t, Componit furlim, subsequiturque decor.
Tibull. L. 4.
As no one can be said to enjoy Health, who is only not sick, without he feel within himself a lightsome and invigorating Principle, which will not suffer him to remain idle, but still spurs him on to Action: so in the Practice of every Virtue, there is some additional Grace required, to give a Claim of excelling in this or that particular Action. A Diamond may want polishing, though the Value be still intrinsically the same; and the same Good may be done with different Degrees of l.u.s.tre. No man should be contented with himself that he barely does well, but he should perform every thing in the best and most becoming Manner that he is able.
Tully tells us he wrote his Book of Offices, because there was no Time of Life in which some correspondent Duty might not be practised; nor is there a Duty without a certain Decency accompanying it, by which every Virtue tis join"d to will seem to be doubled. Another may do the same thing, and yet the Action want that Air and Beauty which distinguish it from others; like that inimitable Sun-shine t.i.tian is said to have diffused over his Landschapes; which denotes them his, and has been always unequalled by any other Person.
There is no one Action in which this Quality I am speaking of will be more sensibly perceived, than in granting a Request or doing an Office of Kindness. Mummius, by his Way of consenting to a Benefaction, shall make it lose its Name; while Carus doubles the Kindness and the Obligation: From the first the desired Request drops indeed at last, but from so doubtful a Brow, that the Obliged has almost as much Reason to resent the Manner of bestowing it, as to be thankful for the Favour it self. Carus invites with a pleasing Air, to give him an Opportunity of doing an Act of Humanity, meets the Pet.i.tion half Way, and consents to a Request with a Countenance which proclaims the Satisfaction of his Mind in a.s.sisting the Distressed.
The Decency then that is to be observed in Liberality, seems to consist in its being performed with such Cheerfulness, as may express the G.o.d-like Pleasure is to be met with in obliging ones Fellow-Creatures; that may shew Good-nature and Benevolence overflowed, and do not, as in some Men, run upon the Tilt, and taste of the Sediments of a grutching uncommunicative Disposition.
Since I have intimated that the greatest Decorum is to be preserved in the bestowing our good Offices, I will ill.u.s.trate it a little by an Example drawn from private Life, which carries with it such a Profusion of Liberality, that it can be exceeded by nothing but the Humanity and Good-nature which accompanies it. It is a Letter of Pliny"s[1] which I shall here translate, because the Action will best appear in its first Dress of Thought, without any foreign or ambitious Ornaments.
PLINY to QUINTILIAN.
Tho I am fully acquainted with the Contentment and just Moderation of your Mind, and the Conformity the Education you have given your Daughter bears to your own Character; yet since she is suddenly to be married to a Person of Distinction, whose Figure in the World makes it necessary for her to be at a more than ordinary Expence in Cloaths and Equipage suitable to her Husbands Quality; by which, tho her intrinsick Worth be not augmented, yet will it receive both Ornament and l.u.s.tre: And knowing your Estate to be as moderate as the Riches of your Mind are abundant, I must challenge to my self some part of the Burthen; and as a Parent of your Child. I present her with Twelve hundred and fifty Crowns towards these Expences; which Sum had been much larger, had I not feared the Smallness of it would be the greatest Inducement with you to accept of it. Farewell.
Thus should a Benefaction be done with a good Grace, and shine in the strongest Point of Light; it should not only answer all the Hopes and Exigencies of the Receiver, but even out-run his Wishes: Tis this happy manner of Behaviour which adds new Charms to it, and softens those Gifts of Art and Nature, which otherwise would be rather distasteful than agreeable. Without it, Valour would degenerate into Brutality, Learning into Pedantry, and the genteelest Demeanour into Affectation. Even Religion its self, unless Decency be the Handmaid which waits upon her, is apt to make People appear guilty of Sourness and ill Humour: But this shews Virtue in her first original Form, adds a Comeliness to Religion, and gives its Professors the justest t.i.tle to the Beauty of Holiness. A Man fully instructed in this Art, may a.s.sume a thousand Shapes, and please in all: He may do a thousand Actions shall become none other but himself; not that the Things themselves are different, but the Manner of doing them.
If you examine each Feature by its self, Aglaura and Callidea are equally handsome; but take them in the Whole, and you cannot suffer the Comparison: Tho one is full of numberless nameless Graces, the other of as many nameless Faults.
The Comeliness of Person, and Decency of Behaviour, add infinite Weight to what is p.r.o.nounced by any one. Tis the want of this that often makes the Rebukes and Advice of old rigid Persons of no Effect, and leave a Displeasure in the Minds of those they are directed to: But Youth and Beauty, if accompanied with a graceful and becoming Severity, is of mighty Force to raise, even in the most Profligate, a Sense of Shame. In Milton, the Devil is never described ashamed but once, and that at the Rebuke of a beauteous Angel.
So spake the Cherub, and his grave Rebuke, Severe in youthful Beauty, added Grace Invincible: Abash"d the Devil stood, And felt how awful Goodness is, and saw Virtue in her own Shape how lovely I saw, and pin"d His Loss. [2]
The Care of doing nothing unbecoming has accompanied the greatest Minds to their last Moments. They avoided even an indecent Posture in the very Article of Death. Thus Caesar gathered his Robe about him, that he might not fall in a manner unbecoming of himself: and the greatest Concern that appeared in the Behaviour of Lucretia, when she stabbed her self, was, that her Body should lie in an Att.i.tude worthy the Mind which had inhabited it.
Ne non proc.u.mbat honeste Extrema haec etiam cura, cadentis erat. [3]
Twas her last Thought, How decently to fall.
Mr. SPECTATOR, I am a young Woman without a Fortune; but of a very high Mind: That is, Good Sir, I am to the last degree Proud and Vain. I am ever railing at the Rich, for doing Things, which, upon Search into my Heart, I find I am only angry because I cannot do the same my self. I wear the hooped Petticoat, and am all in Callicoes when the finest are in Silks. It is a dreadful thing to be poor and proud; therefore if you please, a Lecture on that Subject for the Satisfaction of Your Uneasy Humble Servant, JEZEBEL.
Z.
[Footnote 1: Bk. vi. ep. 32.]
[Footnote 2: Par. L., Bk. iv. 11. 844-9.]