Durate, & vofmet rebus fervate fecundis. Virg. Hold out, and preferve yourselves for Profperity. N° 117. W Saturday, January 7, 1709. Sheer-Lane, January 6. HEN I look into the Frame and Conftitution of my own Mind, there is no Part of it which I obferve with greater. Satisfaction, than that Tenderness and Concern which it bears for the Good and Happinefs of Mankind. My own Cireumftances are indeed fo narrow and scanty, that I fhould taste but very little Pleafure, could I receive it only from those Enjoyments which are in my own Poffeffion; but by this great Tincture of Humanity, which I find in all my Thoughts and Reflections. I am happier than any fingle Perfon can be, with all the Wealth, Strength, Beauty and Succefs, that can be conferred upon a Mortal, if he only relishes fuch a Proportion of thefe Bleffings as is vefted in himself, and in his own private Property. By this Means, every Man that does himself any real Service, does me a Kindness. I come in for my Share in all the Good that happens to a Man of Merit and Virtue, and partake of many Gifts of Fortune and Power that I was never born to. There is nothing in particular in which I fo much rejoice as the Deliverance of good and generous Spirits out of Dangers, Difficulties and Diftreffes. And because the World does not fupply Inftances of this Kind to furnish out fufficient Entertainments for fuch an Humanity and Benevolence of Temper, I have ever delighted in reading the Hiftory of Ages paft, which draws together into a narrow Compass the great Occurrences and Events that are but thinly fown in those Tracts of Time, which lie within our own Knowledge and Observation. When I fee the Life of a great Man, Man, who deferved well of his Country, after having ftruggled through all the Oppofitions of Prejudice and Envy, breaking out with Luftre, and fhining forth in allthe Splendor of Succefs, I clofe my Book, and am an happy Man for a whole Evening. BUT fince in Hiftory, Events are of a mixed Nature, and often happen alike to the Worthlefs and the Deferving, infomuch that we frequently fee a virtuous Man dying in the Midft of Difappointments and Calamities, and the vicious ending their Days in Profperity and Peace; I love to amufe myself with the Accounts I meet with in fabulous Hiftories and Fictions: For in this Kind of Writings we have always the Pleasure of feeing Vice punished, and Virtue rewarded: Indeed, were we able to view a Man in the whole Circle of his Existence, we fhould have the Satisfaction of seeing it close with Happiness or Mifery, according to his proper Merit: But though our View of him is interrupted by Death before the Finishing of his Adventures, (if I may fo fpeak) we may be fure that the Conclufion and Catastrophe is altogether fuitable to his Behaviour. On the contrary, the whole Being of a Man, confidered as an Hero, or a Knight Errant, is comprehended within the Limits of a Poem or Romance, and therefore always ends to our Satisfaction; fo that Inventions of this Kind are like Food and Exercise to a good-natur'd Difpofition, which they' please and gratify at the fame Time that they nourish and ftrengthen. The greater the Affliction is in which we fee our Favourites in these Relations engaged, the greater: is the Pleasure we take in feeing them relieved. AMONG the many feign'd Hiftories which I have met with in my Reading, there is none in which the Hero's Perplexity is greater, and the Winding out of it more: difficult, than that in a French Author whofe Name I have forgot. It fo happens, that the Hero's Mistress was the Sister of his most intimate Friend, who for certain Reasons was given out to be dead, while he was preparing to leave his Country in queft of Adventures. The Hero having heard of his Friend's Death, immediately repaired to his Mistress, to condole with her, and comfort her. Upon his Arrival in her Garden, he discovered! at a Distance a Man clafp'd in her Arms, and embraced ་ What should he with the most endearing Tenderness. do? It did not confift with the Gentleness of a KnightErrant either to kill his Mistress, or the Man whom the was pleased to favour. At the fame Time, it would have fpoiled a Romance, fhould he have laid violent Hands on himself. In fhort, he immediately entered upon his Adventures; and after a long Series of Exploits, found out by Degrees, that the Perfon he faw in his Miftrefs's Arms was her own Brother, taking Leave of her before he left his Country, and the Embrace fhe gave him nothing else but the affectionate Farewel of a Sifter: So that he had at once the two greatest Satisfactions that could enter into the Heart of Man, in finding his Friend alive, whom he thought dead; and his Mistress faithful, whom he had believed inconftant. THERE are indeed fome Difafters fo very fatal, that it is impoffible for any Accidents to rectify them. Of this Kind was that of poor Lucretia; and yet we fee Ovid has found an Expedient even in this Cafe. He defcribes a beautiful and royal Virgin walking on the Seafhore, where she was discovered by Neptune, and violated after a long and unfuccefsful Importunity. To mitigate her Sorrow, he offers her whatever' fhe could wish for. Never certainly was the Wit of Woman more puzzled in finding out a Stratagem to retrieve her Honour. Had fhe defired to be changed into a Stock or Stone, a Beast, Fish or Fowl, fhe would have been a Lofer by it: Or had the defired to have been made a Sea-Nymph, or a Goddefs, her Immortality would but have perpetuated her Difgrace. Give me therefore, faid fhe, fuch a Shape as may make me incapable of fuffering again the like Calamity, or of being reproached for what I have already fuffered. To be fhort, fhe was turned into a Man, and by that only Means avoided the Danger and Imputation fhe fo much dreaded. I was once myself in Agonies of Grief that are unutterable, and in fo great a Diftraction of Mind, that thought myself even out of the Poffibility of receiving Comfort. The Occafion was as follows: When I was a Youth in a Part of the Army which was then quarter'd Dover, I fell in Love with an agreeable young Wo of a good Family in thofe Parts, and. had the Satif faction faction of feeing my Addresses kindly received, which occafioned the Perplexity I am going to relate. WE were in a calm Evening diverting ourselves upon the Top of the Cliff with the Profpect of the Sea, and trifling away the Time in fuch little Fondneffes as are moft ridiculous to People in Bufinefs, and moft agreeable to thofe in Love. IN the midst of these our innocent Endearments, fhe fnatch'd a Paper of Verfes out of my Hand and ran away with them. I was following her, when on a fudden the Ground, though at a confiderable Distance from the Verge of the Precipice, funk under her, and threw her down from fo prodigious an Height upon fuch a Range of Rocks, as would have dafhed her into ten thousand Pieces, had her Body been made of Adamant. It is much easier for my Reader to imagine my State of Mind upon fuch an Occafion, than for me to express it. I faid to myself, It is not in the Power of Heaven to relieve me! When I awaked, equally tranfported and aftonished, to see myfelf drawn out of an Affliction which the very Moment before appeared to me altogether inextricable. THE Impreffions of Grief and Horror were fo lively on this Occafion, that while they lafted, they made me more miserable than I was at the real Death of this beloved Perfon, (which happened a few Months after, at a Time when the Match between us was concluded) inafmuch as the imaginary Death was untimely, and I myself in a Sort an Acceffary; whereas her real Deceafe had at least these Alleviations, of being natural and inevitable. THE Memory of the Dream I have related, ftill dwells fo ftrongly upon me, that I can never read the Defcription of Dover Cliff in Shakespear's Tragedy of King Lear, without a fresh Senfe of my Efcape. The Profpect from that Place is drawn with fuch proper Incidents, that whoever can read it without growing giddy, must have a good Head, or a very bad one. Come on, Sir, here's the Place; ftand fill! How fearful Hat Hangs one that gathers Samphire-Dreadful Trade! Lufifti fatis, edifti fatis, atque bibifti, Tempus abire tibi. Hor. You have play'd enough, eat enough, and drank enough 'tis Time you now were gone. N° 118. Tuesday, January 10, 1709. I From my own Apartment, January 8. THOUGHT to have given over my Profecution of the Dead for this Seafon, having by me many other Projects for the Reformation of Mankind; but I have received fo many Complaints from fuch different Hands, that I fhall difoblige Multitudes of my Correfpondents, if I do not take Notice of them. Some of the Deceased, who I thought had been laid quietly in their Graves, are fuch Hobgoblins in publick Affemblies, that I muft be forced to deal with them as Evander did with his triplelived Adversary, who, according to Virgil, was forced to kill him thrice over, before he could dispatch him. Ter Letho fernendus erat. |