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to let the world see we are so.” I do not know as Supreme Being, more endearing notions of one
more dreadful menace in the wholly writings, than that which is pronounced against those who have this perverted modesty, to be ashamed before men in a particular of such unspeakable importance.
- Quicquid dignum sapiente boneque est.
— What befits the wise and good.
... Religion may be considered under two general
another, and a truer state of ourselves, both in regard to the grandeur and vileness of our natures. Fourthly, By showing us the blackness and deformity of vice, which in the Christian system is so very great, that he who is possessed of all perfection, and the sovereign judge of it, is represented by several of our divines as hating sin to the same degree that he loves the sacred person who was . made the propitiation of it. Fifthly, In being the ordinary and prescribed method of making morality effectual to salvation. I have only touched on these several heads, which every one who is conversant in discourses of this nature will easily enlarge upon in his own thoughts, and draw conclusions from them which may be useful to him in the conduct of his life. One I am sure is so obvious, that he cannot miss it, namely, that a man cannot be perfect in his scheme of morality, who does not strengthen and support it with that of the Christian faith. Besides this, I shall lay down two or three other maxims which I think we may deduce from what has been said. First, That we should be particularly cautious of making any thing an article of faith, which does not contribute to the confirmation or improvement of morality. Secondly, That no article of faith can be true and authentic, which weakens or subverts the practical part of religion, or what I have hitherto called morality. Thirdly, That the greatest friend of morality or natural religion, cannot possibly apprehend any danger from embracing Christianity, as it is preserved pure and uncorrupt in the doctrines of our national church. There is likewise another maxim which I think may be drawn from the foregoing considerations, which is this, that we should, in all dubious points, consider any ill consequences that may arise from them, supposing they should be erroneous, before we give up our assent to thern. f For example, in that disputable point of prosecuting men for conscience sake, besides the embittering their minds with hatred, indignation and all the vehemence of resentment, and ensnaring them to profess what they do not believe; we cut them off from the pleasures and advantages of society, afflict their bodies, distress their fortunes, hurt their reputations, ruin their families, make their lives painful, or put an end to them. Sure when I see such dreadful consequences rising from a o I would be as fully convinced of the truth of it, as of a mathematical demonstration, before I would venture to act upon it, or make it a part of my religion. In this case the injury done our neighbour is plain and evident; the principal that puts us upon doing it, of a dubious and disputable nature. Mo. rality seems highly violated by the one ; and whether or no a zeal for what a man thinks the true system of faith may justify it, is very uncertain. I cannot but think, if our religion produces charity as well as zeal, it will not be for showing itself by such cruel instances. But to conclude with the words of an excellent author,” “We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another.”
condly, In furnishing new and stronger mo-
• Supposed to be Archbishop Tillotson
Ocm defects and follies are too often unknown to
the sky to which he pointed, and observed at in blue prospect, which cleared as mountains in summer morning when the mistsgo off, and these lace of Vanity appeared to sight. The foundation hardly seemed a foundation, but a set of curling clouds, which it stood upon by m. gical contrivance. The way by which we ascended was painted like a rainbow; and as we went to breeze that played about us bewitched the sensei The walls were gilded all for show; the lowest: of pillars were .# the slight fine Corinthian orde, and the top of the building being rounded, boro far the resemblance of a bubble, At the gate the travellers neither met withaso ter, nor waited till one should appear; every go thought his merits a sufficient passport, and pres: forward. In the hall we met with several toms, that roved amongst us, and ranged the com: pany according to their sentiments. There wo decreasing Honour, that had nothing to showit but an old coat of his ancestor's achievement. There was Ostentation, that made himself his on constant subject, and Gallantry strutting upon's tip-toes. At the upper end of the hall stood. throne, whose canopy glittered with alo riches that Gaiety could contrive to lavish on to and between the gilded arms sat Vanity, do in the peacock's feathers, and acknowledged" another Venus by her votaries. The boy whoslo beside her for a Cupid, and who made the * to bow before her, was called Self-conceit * eyes had every now and then a cast inwards* neglect of all objects about him; and the * which he made use offorconquest, were bono from those against whom he had a design. To arrow which he shot at the soldier, was floo from his own plume of feathers, the dartoo rected against the man of wit, was winged to the quills he writ with; and that which he?" against those who presumed upon their richo.” headed with gold out of their treasuries. Hen nets for statesmen from their own contrio he took fire from the eyesofiadies, with who melted their hearts; and lightning from the to of the eloquent, to inflame them with theiro glories. At the foot of the throne sat three * graces; Flattery with a shell of paint; Affect” with a mirror to practise at, and Fashion." changing the posture of her clothes. Theo plied themselvestosecure the conquests which: conceit had gotten, and had each of them tht! particular polities. Flattery gave new colou". complexions to all things; Áffectation newal" appearances, which, as she said, were not of and Fashion both concealed some home do and added some foreign external beauties As I was reflecting upon what I saw, ho voice in the crowd bemoaning the condi. f mankind, which is thus managed by the bread Opinion, deluded by Error, fired by Self-conco and given up to be trained in all the cour* Vanity, till Scorn or Poverty come up" These expressions were no sooner handed.” but I immediately saw a general disordes, last there was a parting in one place, and a old man, decent and resolute, was led for" be punished for the words he had uttered of peared inclined to have spoken in his owndo: not observe that any one was ". . Vanity cast a scorn
would have it, that at least he must be Ill-manners. Thus slighted and despised by all, he was driven out for abusing people of merit and figure; and I heard it firinly resolved, that he should be used no better wherever they met with him hereafter. I had already seen the meaning of most part of that warning which he had given, and was considering how the latter words should be fulfilled, when a mighty noise was heard without, and the door was blackened by a numerous train of harpies crowding in upon us. Folly and Broken-credit were seen in the house before they entered. Trouble, Shame, Infamy, Scorn, and Poverty, brought up the rear. Vanity, with her Cupid and Graces, disappeared; her subjects ran into holes and corners'; but many of them were found and carried off (as I was told by one who stood near o me) either to prisons or cellars, solitude or little * company, the mean arts or the viler crafts of life. * “But these,” added he with a disdainful air, are such who would fondly live here, when their merits neither matched the iustre of the place, nor their riches its expenses. We have seen such scenes as these before now ; the glory you saw will all return when the hurry is over.' I thanked him for his information, and believing him so incorrigible as that he would stay till it was his turn to be taken, ** I made off to the door, and overtook some few, of who, though they would not hearken to Plainso dealing, were now terrified to good purpose by the - example of others. But when they had touched the threshold, it was a strange shock to them to find that the delusion of Error was gone, and they plainly discerned the building to hang a little up in the air without any real foundation. At first we saw nothing but a desperate leap remained for us, and I a thousand times blamed my unmeaning cori, sity that had brought me into so much danger. But is they began to sink lower in their own minds, mohought the palace sunk along with us, till they were rived at he due point of esseem which they o, it to have for themselves; then the part of to so I or which they stood touched the earth, as we porting out, it retired from our eyes. , or they who stayed in the palace were s: "ie of this discent, I cannot tell; it was then in opinion that they were not. However it
f more solemnly engaged; at least it was an acknowledgment that they ought to have been so. I have been told the same even of the Mahometans, with relation to the propriety of their demeanour in the conventions of their erroneous worship ; and I cannot but think either of them sufficient and laudable patterns of our imitation in this particular. ‘I cannot help, upon this occasion, remarking on the excellent memories of those devotionists, who, upon returning from church, shall give a particular account how two or three hundred people were dressed; a thing, by reason of its variety, so difficult to be digested and fixed in the head, that it is a miracle to me how two poor hours of divine service can be time sufficient for so elaborate an undertaking, the duty of the place too being jointly, and no doubt oft pathetically, performed along with it. When it is said in sacred writ, that “the wo. man ought to have a covering on her head because of the angels,” that last word is by some thought to be metaphorically used, and to signify young men, Allowing this interpretation to be right, the text 'nay not appear to be wholly foreign to our present purpose. “When you are in a disposition proper for writing on such a subject, I earnestly recommend this to you; and am,
But I discern their flatt'ry from their praise.
DRYDEN. Fon want of time to substitute something else in the room of them, I am at present obliged to publish compliments above my desert in the following letters. It is no small satisfaction to have given occasion to ingenious men to employ their thoughts upon sacred subjects from the approbation of such pieces of poetry as they have seen in my Saturday’s papers. I shall never publish verse on that
le, aly dream broke up at it, and has given me coasion all my life to reflect upon the fatal consequences of following the suggestions of Vanity."
‘Mr. spect Aron, ‘I wore to you to desire, that you would againf touch apon a certain enormity, which is chiefly in use among the politer and better-bred part of mankind; mean the ceremonies, bows, curtsies, whisperii gs, smiles, winks, nods, with other familiar arts of salutation, which take up in our churches so moch time, that might be better employed, and which seem so utterly inconsistent with the duty and true intent of our entering into those religious assemblies. The resemblance which this bears to our indeed proper behavior in theatres, may be some instance of its incongruity in the above-menioned places. In Roman catholic churches and hapels abroad, I myself have observed, more than once, persons of the first quality, of the nearest elation, and intimatest acquaintance, passing by no another unknowing as it were, and unknown, nd with so little notice of each other, that it oked like having their minds more suitably and
day but what is written by the same hand;" yet shall I not accompany those writings with eulogiums, but leave them to speak for themselves.
* Fort rhE specTATort.
* MR. specTAton, ‘You very much promote the interests of virtue, while you reform the taste of a profane age ; and persuade us to be entertained with divine poems, whilst we are distinguished by so many thousand humours, and split into so many different sects and parties; yet persons of every party, sect, and humour, are fond of conforming their taste to yours. You can transfuse your own relish of a poem into all your readers, according to their capacity to receive; and when you recommend the pious passion that reigns in the verse, we seem to feel the devotion, and grow proud and pleased inwardly, that we have souls capable of relishing what the Spectator approves. “Upon reading the hymns that you have published in some late papers, I had a mind §§ yesterday whether 1 could write one. The criyt
' This vision was written by Dr. Parmell. See also No. 601. See No. 25°.
psalm appears to me an admirable ode, and I began to turn it into our language. As I was describing the journey of Israel from Egypt, and added the divine presence amongst them, I perceived a beauty in this psalm, which was entirely new to me, and which I was going to lose ; and that is, that the poet utterly conceals the presence of God in the beginning of it, and rather lets a possessive pronoun go without a substantive, than he will so much as mention any thing of divinity there. “Judah was his sanctuary, and Israel his dominion, or kingdom.” The reason now seems evident, and this conduct necessary : for, if God had appeared before, there could be no wonder why the mountains should leap, and the sea retire ; therefore that this convulsion of nature may be brought in with due surprise, his name is not mentioned till afterward, and then with a very agreeable turn of thought God is introduced at once in all his majesty. This is what I have attempted to imitate in a translation without paraphrase, and to preserve what I could of the spirit of the sacred author.
“If the following essay be not too incorrigible, bestow upon it a few brightenings from your genius, that I may learn how to write better, or to write no more.
‘Your daily admirer and
• MR. spect Aton, “Theae are those who take the advantage of your putting a halfpenny value upon yourself above the rest of our daily writers, to defame you in public conversation, and strive to make you unpopular upon the account of this said halfpenny. But, if I were you, I would insist upon that small acknow. ledgment for the superior merit of yours, as being a work of invention. Give me leave, therefore, to do you justice, and say in your behalf, what you cannot yourself, which is, that your writings have made learning a more necessary part of good. breeding than it was before you appeared: that modesty has become fashionable, and impudence tands in need of some wit...since you have put them both in their proper lights. Profaneness,
breaks his word upon all occasions, both to
yet the very women end their freedom of disco
honour, civility, good-breeding, or *
- o he is a very pleasant fellow,” when this quo o conspicuous in a man who has, to accompo o many and virtuous sentiments, there canno. 1 S. th tainly be any thing which can give so pleaso so gratification as the gaiety of such a person; o when it is alone, and serves only to gildo o of ill qualities, there is no man so much.” o avoided as your pleasant fellow. A very pleo. d fellow shali turn your good name to a jes', your character contemptible, debauch yout . or daughter, and yet be received by the resto. world with welcome wherever he appears. " o very ordinary with those of this character,” on attentive only to their own satisfactions, and” ...], very little bowels for the concerns or sorro” ** other men; nay, they are capable of purch” loo, their own pleasures at the expense of going. . . . to others. But they who do not considentholo
insinuations. The author of the following letter carries the matter so high, as to intimate that the liberties of England have been at the mercy of a prince merely as he was of this pleasant character.
* MR. spectator, “Thenk is no one passion which all mankind so naturally give into as pride, nor any other passion which appears in such different disguises. It is to be found in all habits and complexions. Is it not a question, whether it does more harm or good in the world; and if there be not such a thing as what we may call a virtuous and laudable pride “It is this passion alone, when misapplied, that lays usso open to flatterers; and he who can agreeably condescend to sooth our humour or temper, finds always an open avenue to our soul; especially if the flatterer happen to be our superior. ‘One might give many instances of this in a late English monarch, under the title of “The Gaieties of King Charles II.” This prince was by nature extremely familiar, of very easy access, and much delighted to see and be seen; and this happy temper, which in the highest degree gratified his people's vanity, did him more service with his loving subjects than all his other virtues, though it must be confessed he had many. He delighted, though a mighty king, to give and take a jest, as they say: and a prince of this fortunate disposition, who were inclined to make an ill use of his power, may have any thing of his people, be it never so much to their prejudice. But this good king made generally a very innocent use, as to the public, of this ensnaring temper; for it is well known, he pursued pleasure more than ambition. He seemed to glory in being the first man at cock: matches, horse-races, balls, and plays: he appeared . delighted, on those occasions, and never failed to warm and gladden the heart of every spectator. He more than once dined with his good citizens of London on their lord mayor's day, and did so the year that Sir Robert Viner was mayor. Sir Robert was a very loyal man, and, if you will allow the expression, very fond of his sovereign; but, what with the joy he felt at heart for the homour done him by his prince, and through the warmth he was in with continual toasting healths to the royal family, his lordship grew a little fond of his majesty, and entered into a familiarity not altogether so graceful in so public a place. The king understood very well how to extricate himself in all kinds of difficulties, and, with an hint to the company to avoid ceremony, stole off and made towards his coach, which stood ready for him in Guildhall-yard. But the mayor liked his company so well, and was grown so intimate, that he pursued him hastily, and catching him fast by the hand, cried out with a vehement oath and accent, "Sir, you shall stay and take t'other bottle.” The iry monarch looked kindly at him over his shoul!er, and with a smile and graceful air (for I saw tim at the time, and do now) repeated this live of he old song,
“He that is drunk is as great as a king,”
nd immediately returned back and complied with islandlord.
“I give you this story, Mr. Spectator, because, I said, I saw the passage; and I assure you it very true, and yet no common one; and when I ll you the sequel, you will say I have a better ason for it. This very mayor afterwards erected
a statue of his merry monarch in Stocks-market," and did the crown many and great services; and it was owing to this humour of the king, that his family had so great a fortune shut up in the exchequer of their pleasant sovereign. The many goodnatured condescensions of this prince are vulgarly known; and it is excellently said of him by a great handf which writ his character, that he was not a king a quarter of an hour together in his whole reign. He would receive visits even from fools and half madmen; and at times I have met with people who have boxed, fought at back-sword, and taken poison, before King Charles II. In a word, he was so pleasant a man, that no one could be sorrowful under his government. This made him capable of baffling, with the greatest ease imaginable, all suggestions of jealousy; and the people could not entertain notions of any thing terrible in him whom they saw every way agreeable. This scrap of the familiar part of that prince’s history I thought fit to send you, in compliance to the request you lately made to your correspondents. ‘I am, sin, * Your most humble servant.”
No 463. THURSDAY, AUGUST 21, 1712.
Omnia quar sensu valvuntur vota diurno,
In sleep, when fancy is let loose to play,
I was lately entertaining myself with comparin Homer's balance, in which Jupiter is o as weighing the fates of Hector and Achilles, with a passage of Virgil, wherein that deity is introduced as weighing the fates of Turnus and Æneas. I then considered how the same way of thinking prevailed in the eastern parts of the world, as in those noble passages of scripture, wherein we are told that the great king of Babylon, the day before
• This equestrian statue was originally made for John Sobieski, King of PCland, but by some accident it had been left on the workman's hands to save time and expense, the Polander was converted into a Britain, and the Turk underneath his horse into oliver Cromwell to couplete the coa pliment. Unfortunately, the turban on the Turk’s head was overlooked, and left an undeniable proof of this story. See Stow's Survey, &c. ed. 1755, vol. p. 517. ‘I his statue. for , , d of white marble, was erected on a noat conduit, in 1675; but when, in 1735, the city-council fixed on stocks-market for the site of a house of residence for the lord mayors of London, the statue was removed. to make way for the Mansion-house: the first stone of which was laid Qotobor, 25 1733, by Micajah Perry, Esq. then lord mayor-on the 28th o May, 1779, Rollert Viner, Esq. applied to the cous.*, *non concil to have this statue (whih had been erected by his ocestor) delivered to him for his use; and the court complied with the request. Where it is now, we do not know..., ----Shorted, duke of Buckingham, said, that on Poitation charies is could not act to part of a king for ****