often reprehended him out of Terence, | Blanks are those who are planted in high Tuumne, obsecro te, hoc dictum erat? vetus posts, till such time as persons of greater credidi. But finding him still incorrigible, consequence can be found out to supply and having a kindness for the young cox- them. One of these Blanks is equally quacomb, who was otherwise a good-natured lified for all offices; he can serve in time of fellow, I recommended to his perusal the need for a soldier, a politician, a lawyer, or Oxford and Cambridge jests, with several what you please. I have known in my time little pieces of pleasantry of the same nature. many a brother Blank, that has been born Upon the reading of them, he was under under a lucky planet, heap up great riches, no small confusion to find that all his jokes and swell into a man of figure and importhad passed through several editions, and ance, before the grandees of his party could that what he thought a new conceit, and agree among themselves which of them had appropriated to his own use, had ap- should step into his place. Nay, I have peared in print before he or his ingenious known a Blank continue so long in one of friends were ever heard of. This had so these vacant posts, (for such it is to be good an effect upon him, that he is content reckoned all the time a Blank is in it,) that at present to pass for a man of plain sense he has grown too formidable and dangerous in his ordinary conversation, and is never to be removed. facetious but when he knows his company. I SHALL entertain my reader with two very curious letters. The first of them comes from a chimerical person, who, I believe, never writ to any body before. 'But to return to myself. Since I am so very commodious a person, and so very necessary in all well-regulated governments, I desire you will take my case into consideration, that I may be no longer made a tool of, and only employed to stop a gap. Such usage, without a pun, makes me look very blank. For all which reasons I humbly recommend myself to your protection, and am your most obedient servant, 'BLANK. 'P. S. I herewith send you a paper drawn up by a country-attorney, employed by two gentlemen, whose names he was not acquainted with, and who did not think fit to let him into the secret which they are transacting, I heard him call it a "blank instrument," and read it after the following You may see by this single inmanner. stance of what use I am to the busy world. 'SIR,-I am descended from the ancient family of the Blanks, a name well known among all men of business. It is always read in those little white spaces of writing which want to be filled up, and which for that reason are called blank spaces, as of right appertaining to our family: for I consider myself as the lord of a manor, who lays his claim to all wastes or spots of ground that are unappropriated. I am a "I, T. Blank, esquire, of Blank town, in near kinsman to a John-a-Styles and John- the county of Blank, do own myself ina-Nokes; and they, I am told, came in with debted in the sum of Blank, to Goodman the conquer. I am mentioned oftener in Blank, for the service he did me in proboth houses of parliament than any other curing for me the goods following; Blank: person in Great Britain. My name is writ- and I do hereby promise the said Blank to ten, or, more properly speaking, not writ-pay unto him the said sum of Blank, on the ten, thus: [ J. I am one that can Blank day of the month of Blank next enturn my hand to every thing, and appear suing, under the penalty and forfeiture of under any shape whatsoever. I can make | Blank."' myself man, woman, or child. I am sometimes metamorphosed into a year of our Lord, a day of the month, or an hour of the day. I very often represent a sum of money, and am generally the first subsidy that is granted to the crown. I have now and then supplied the place of several thousands of land-soldiers, and have as frequently been employed in the sea-service. 'Now, sir, my complaint is this, that I am only made use of to serve a turn, being always discarded as soon as a proper person is found out to fill up my place. 'If you have ever been in the playhouse before the curtain rises, you see the most of the front boxes filled with men of my family, who forth with turn out and resign their stations upon the appearance of those for whom they are retained. 'But the most illustrious branch of the I shall take time to consider the case of this my imaginary correspondent, and in the mean while shall present my reader with a letter which seems to come from a person that is made up of flesh and blood. 'GOOD MR. SPECTATOR,-I am married to a very honest gentleman that is exceeding good-natured, and at the same time very choleric. There is no standing before him when he is in a passion; but as soon as it is over he is the best humoured creature in the world. When he is angry he breaks all my china ware that chances to lie in his way, and the next morning sends me in twice as much as he broke the day before. I may positively say, that he has broke me a child's fortune since we were first married together. As soon as he begins to fret, down goes every thing that is within reach of his cane. | where it is darkened and eclipsed by a I once prevailed upon him never to carry a hundred other irregular passions. stick in his hand, but this saved me nothing; for upon seeing me do something that did not please him, he kicked down a great jar that cost him above ten pounds but the week before. I then laid the fragments together in a heap, and gave him his cane again, desiring him that, if he chanced to be in anger, he would spend his passion upon the china that was broke to his hand; but the very next day, upon my giving a wrong message to one of the servants, he flew into such a rage, that he swept down a dozen tea-dishes, which to my misfortune stood very convenient for a side blow. Men have either no character at all, says a celebrated author, or it is that of being inconsistent with themselves. They find it easier to join extremities, than to be uniform and of a piece. This is finely illustrated in Xenophon's life of Cyrus the Great. That author tells us, that Cyrus having taken a most beautiful lady, named Panthea, the wife of Abradatas, committed her to the custody of Araspas, a young Persian nobleman, who had a little before maintained in discourse that a mind truly virtuous was incapable of entertaining an unlawful passion. The young gentleman had not long been in possession of his fair captive, when a complaint was made to Cyrus, that he not only solicited the lady Panthea to receive him in the room of her "In short, sir, whenever he is in a pas- absent husband, but that, finding his ension he is angry at every thing that is brit-treaties had no effect, he was preparing to tle; and if on such occasions he hath nothing make use of force. Cyrus, who loved the to vent his rage upon, I do not know whe- young man, immediately sent for him, and ther my bones would be in safety. Let me in a gentle manner representing to him his beg of you, sir, to let me know whether fault, and putting him in mind of his former there be any cure for this unaccountable assertion, the unhappy youth, confounded distemper; or if not, that you will be pleased with a quick sense of his guilt and shame, to publish this letter: for my husband having burst out into a flood of tears, and spoke as a great veneration for your writings, will follows: by that means know you do not approve of his conduct. I am, &c.' I then removed all my china into a room which he never frequents; but I got nothing by this neither, for my looking-glasses immediately went to rack. IT is the work of a philosopher to be every day subduing his passions, and laying aside his prejudices. I endeavour at least to look upon men and their actions only as an impartial Spectator, without any regard to them as they happen to advance or cross my own private interest. But while I am thus employed myself, I cannot help observing how those about me suffer themselves to be blinded by prejudice and inclination, how readily they pronounce on every man's character, which they can give in two words, and make him either good for nothing, or qualified for every thing. On the contrary, those who search thoroughly into human nature will find it much more difficult to determine the value of their fellow-creatures, and that men's characters are not thus to be given in general words. There is indeed no such thing as a person entirely good or bad; virtue and vice are blended and mixed together, in a great or less proportion, in every one; and if you would search for some particular good quality in its most eminent degree of perfection, you will often find it in a mind 'Oh Cyrus, I am convinced that I have two souls. Love has taught me this piece of philosophy. If I had but one soul, it could not at the same time pant after virtue and vice, wish and abhor the same thing. It is certain therefore we have two souls: when the good soul rules, I undertake noble and virtuous actions; but, when the bad soul predominates, I am forced to do evil. All I can say at present is, that I find my good soul, encouraged by your presence, has got the better of my bad.' I know not whether my readers will allow of this piece of philosophy; but if they will not, they must confess we meet with as different passions in one and the same soul as can be supposed in two. We can hardly read the life of a great man who lived in former ages, or converse with any who is eminent among our contemporaries, that is not an instance of what I am saying. But as I have hitherto only argued against the partiality and injustice of giving our judgment upon men in gross, who are such a composition of virtues and vices, of good and evil, I might carry this reflection still farther, and make it extend to most of their actions. If on the one hand we fairly weighed every circumstance, we should frequently find them obliged to do that action we at first sight condemn, in order to avoid another we should have been much more displeased with. If on the other hand we nicely examined such actions as appear most dazzling to the eye, we should find most of them either deficient and lame in several parts, produced by a bad ambition, or directed to an ill end. The very same action may sometimes be so oddly circum Friday, July 9, 1714. stanced, that it is difficult to determine | No. 565.] whether it ought to be rewarded or punished. Those who compiled the laws of England were so sensible of this, that they have laid it down as one of their first max- For God the whole created mass inspires! ims, 'It is better suffering a mischief than Thro' heaven and earth, and ocean's depths he throws His influence round, and kindles as he goes.-Dryden. an inconvenience;' which is as much as to say, in other words, that since no law can I WAS yesterday, about sun-set, walking take in or provide for all cases, it is better in the open fields, until the night insensibly private men should have some injustice fell upon me. I at first amused myself with done them than that a public grievance all the richness and variety of colours which should not be redressed. This is usually appeared in the western parts of heaven; pleaded in defence of all those hardships in proportion as they faded away and went which fall on particular persons on particu-out, several stars and planets appeared one lar occasions, which could not be foreseen after another, until the whole firmament when a law was made. To remedy this was in a glow. The blueness of the ether however as much as possible, the court of was exceedingly heightened and enlivened chancery was erected, which frequently by the season of the year, and by the rays mitigates and breaks the teeth of the com- of all those luminaries that passed through mon law, in cases of men's properties, while it. The galaxy appeared in its most beautiin criminal cases there is a power of par-ful white. To complete the scene, the full doning still lodged in the crown. Notwithstanding this, it is perhaps impossible in a large government to distribute rewards and punishments strictly proportioned to the merits of every action. The Spartan commonwealth was indeed wonderfully exact in this particular; and I do not remember in all my reading to have met with so nice an example of justice as that recorded by Plutarch, with which I shall close my paper of this day. moon rose at length in that clouded majesty which Milton takes notice of, and opened to the eye a new picture of nature, which was more finely shaded, and disposed among softer lights than that which the sun had before discovered to us. As I was surveying the moon walking in her brightness, and taking her progress among the constellations, a thought rose in me which I believe very often perplexes and disturbs men of serious and contemplative natures. David himself fell into it in that reflection, when I consider the heavens the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast ordained; what is man that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that thou regardest him!' In the same manner, when I considered that infinite host of stars, or, to speak more philosophically, of suns which were then shining upon me, with those in The city of Sparta being unexpectedly attacked by a powerful army of Thebans, was in very great danger of falling into the hands of their enemies. The citizens suddenly gathered themselves into a body, fought with a resolution equal to the necessity of their affairs, yet no one so remarkably distinguished himself on this occasion, to the amazement of both armies, as Isidas the son of Phoebidas, who was at that time in the bloom of his youth, and very remark-numerable sets of planets or worlds which able for the comeliness of his person. He were moving round their respective suns; was coming out of the bath when the alarm when I still enlarged the idea, and supposed was given, so that he had not time to put another heaven of suns and worlds rising on his clothes, much less his armour; how- still above this which we discovered, and ever transported with a desire to serve his these still enlightened by a superior firmacountry in so great an exigency, snatching ment of luminaries, which are planted at so up a spear in one hand and a sword in the great a distance, that they may appear to other, he flung himself into the thickest the inhabitants of the former as the stars do ranks of his enemies. Nothing could with- to us; in short, while I pursued this thought, stand his fury: in what part soever he fought I could not but reflect on that little insignihe put the enemies to flight without receiv-ficant figure which I myself bore amidst ing a single wound.-Whether, says Plu- the immensity of God's works. tarch, he was the particular care of some god, who rewarded his valour that day with an extraordinary protection, or that his enemies, struck with the unusualness of his dress, and beauty of his shape, supposed him something more than man, I shall not determine. The gallantry of this action was judged so great by the Spartans, that the ephori, or chief magistrates, decreed he should be presented with a garland; but, as soon as they had done so, fined him a thousand drachmas for going out to the battle un armed. Were the sun, which enlightens this part of the creation, with all the host of planetary worlds that move about him, utterly extinguished and annihilated, they would not be missed more than a grain of sand upon the sea-shore. The space they possess is so exceedingly little in comparison of the whole, that it would scarce make a blank in the creation. The chasm would be imperceptible to an eye that could take in the whole compass of nature, and pass from one end of the creation to the other; as it is possible there may be such a sense in ourselves hereafter, or in creatures which are at pre sent more exalted than ourselves. We see supports the whole frame of nature. His many stars by the help of glasses, which creation, and every part of it, is full of him. we do not discover with our naked eyes; There is nothing he has made that is either and the finer our telescopes are, the more so distant, so little, or so inconsiderable still are our discoveries. Huygenius carries which he does not essentially inhabit. His this thought so far, that he does not think substance is within the substance of every it impossible there may be stars whose light being, whether material or immaterial, and is not yet travelled down to us since their as intimately present to it as that being is first creation. There is no question but the to itself. It would be an imperfection in universe has certain bounds set to it; but him, were he able to remove out of one when we consider that it is the work of in-place into another, or to withdraw himself finite power, prompted by infinite goodness, with an infinite space to exert itself in, how can our imagination set any bounds to it? To return therefore to my first thought: I could not but look upon myself with secret horror, as a being that was not worth the smallest regard of one who had so great a work under his care and superintendency. I was afraid of being overlooked amidst the immensity of nature, and lost among that infinite variety of creatures, which in all probability swarm through all these immeasurable regions of matter. from any thing he has created, or from any part of that space which is diffused and spread abroad to infinity. In short, to speak of him in the language of the old philosopher, he is a Being whose centre is every where, and his circumference no where. In the second place, he is omniscient as well as omnipresent. His omniscience indeed necessarily and naturally flows from his omnipresence; he cannot but be conscious of every motion that arises in the whole material world, which he thus essentially pervades, and of every thought that is stirring in the intellectual world, to every part of which he is thus intimately united. Several moralists have considered the creation as the temple of God, which he has built with his own hands, and which is filled with his presence. Others have considered infinite space as the receptacle, or rather the habitation, of the Almighty: but the noblest and most exalted way of considering this infinite space is that of Sir Isaac Newton, who calls it the sensorium of the Godhead. Brutes and men have their sensoriola, or little sensoriums, by which they apprehend the presence and perceive the actions of a few objects that lie contiguous to them. Their knowledge and observation turn within a very narrow circle. But as God Almighty cannot but perceive and know every thing in which he resides, infinite space gives room to infinite knowledge, and is, as it were, an organ to omniscience. In order to recover myself from this mortifying thought, I considered that it took its rise from those narrow conceptions which we are apt to entertain of the divine nature. We ourselves cannot attend to many different objects at the same time. If we are careful to inspect some things, we must of course neglect others. This imperfection, which we observe in ourselves, is an imperfection that cleaves in some degree to creatures of the highest capacities, as they are creatures, that is, beings of finite and limited natures. The presence of every created being is confined to a certain measure of space, and consequently his observation is stinted to a certain number of objects. The sphere in which we move, and act, and understand, is of a wider circumference to one creature than another, according as we rise one above another in the scale of existence. But the widest of these our spheres has its circumference. When, therefore, we reflect on the divine nature, we are so used and accustomed to this imperfection in ourselves, that we cannot forbear in some measure ascribing it to him in whom there is no shadow of imperfection. Our reason indeed assures us that his attributes are infinite; but the poorness of our conceptions is such, that it cannot for-round with the immensity of the Godhead. bear setting bounds to every thing it contemplates, until our reason comes again to our succour, and throws down all those little prejudices which rise in us unawares, and are natural to the mind of man. We shall therefore utterly extinguish this melancholy thought, of our being overlooked by our Maker in the multiplicity of his works, and the infinity of those objects among which he seems to be incessantly employed, if we consider, in the first place, that he is omnipresent; and, in the second, that he is omniscient. If we consider him in his omnipresence, his being passes through, actuates, and Were the soul separate from the body, and with one glance of thought should start beyond the bounds of the creation, should it for millions of years continue its progress through infinite space with the same activity, it would still find itself within the embrace of its Creator, and encompassed Whilst we are in the body he is not less present with us because he is concealed from us. "O that I knew where I might find him,' says Job. Behold I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him; on the left hand, where he does work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth himself on the right hand that I cannot see him.' In short, reason, as well as revelation assures us, that he cannot be absent from us, notwithstanding he is undiscovered by us. In this consideration of God Almighty's omnipresence and omniscience, every un comfortable thought vanishes. He cannot No. 566.] Monday, July 12, 1714. out regard every thing that has being, it is one of the best schools in the world to especially such of his creatures who fear receive a general notion of mankind in, and they are not regarded by him. He is privy a certain freedom of behaviour, which is to all their thoughts, and to that anxiety of not so easily acquired in any other place. heart in particular, which is apt to trouble At the same time I must own, that some them on this occasion: for, as it is impos- military airs are pretty extraordinary, and sible he should overlook any of his crea- that a man who goes into the army a coxtures, so we may be confident that he comb, will come out of it a sort of public regards with an eye of mercy, those who nuisance: but a man of sense, or one who endeavour to recommend themselves to his before had not been sufficiently used to a notice, and in an unfeigned humility of mixed conversation, generally takes the heart think themselves.unworthy that he true turn. The court has in all ages been should be mindful of them. allowed to be the standard of good-breeding; and I believe there is not a juster obIservation in Monsieur Rochefoucault, than that "a man who has been bred up wholly to business, can never get the air of a courtier at court, but will immediately catch it in the camp. The reason of this most certainly is, that the very essence of goodbreeding and politeness consists in several niceties, which are so minute that they escape his observation, and he falls short of the original he would copy after; but when he sees the same things charged and aggravated to a fault, he no sooner endeavours to come up to the pattern which is set before him, than, though he stops somewhat short of that, he naturally rests where in reality he ought. I was, two or three days ago, mightily pleased with the observation of a humorous gentleman upon one of his friends, who was in other respects every way an accomplished person, that " he wanted nothing but a dash of the coxcomb in him;" by which he understood a little of that alertness and unconcern in the common actions of life, which is usually so visible among gentlemen of the army, and which a campaign or two would infallibly have given him. ters. As my correspondents begin to grow pretty numerous, I think myself obliged to take some notice of them, and shall therefore make this paper a miscellany of letI have, since my re-assuming the office of Spectator, received abundance of epistles from gentlemen of the blade, who I find have been so used to action that they know not how to lie still. They seem generally to be of opinion that the fair at home ought to reward them for their services abroad, and that until the cause of their country calls them again into the field, they have a sort of right to quarter themselves upon the ladies. In order to favour their approaches, I am desired by some to enlarge upon the accomplishments of their professions, and by others to give them my advice in carrying on their attacks. But let us hear what the gentlemen say for themselves. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-Though it may look somewhat perverse amidst the arts of peace to talk too much of war, it is but gratitude to pay the last office to its manes, since even peace itself, is, in some measure, obliged to it for its being. 'You have, in your former papers, always recommended the accomplished to the favour of the fair; and I hope you will allow me to represent some part of a military life not altogether unnecessary to the forming a gentleman. I need not tell you that in France, whose fashions we have been formerly so fond of, almost every one derives his pretences to merit from the sword; and that a man has scarce the face to make his court to a lady, without some credentials from the service to recommend him. As the profession is very ancient, we have reason to think some of the greatest men among the old Romans derived many of their virtues from it, the commanders being frequently in other respects some of the most shining characters of the age. 'The army not only gives a man opportunities of exercising those two great virtues, patience and courage, but often produces them in minds where they had scarce any footing before. I must add, that You will easily guess, sir, by this my panegyric upon a military education, that I am myself a soldier, and indeed I am so. I remember, within three years after I had been in the army, I was ordered into the country a recruiting. I had very particular success in this part of the service, and was over and above assured, at my going away, that I might have taken a young lady, who was the most considerable forI pretune in the country, along with me. ferred the pursuit of fame at that time to all other considerations, and though I was not absolutely bent on a wooden leg, resolved at least to get a scar or two for the good of Europe. I have at present as much as I desire of this sort of honour, and if you could recommend me effectually, should be well enough contented to pass the remainder of my days in the arms of some dear kind creature, and upon a pretty estate in the country. This, as I take it, would be following the example of Lucius Cincinnatus, the old Roman dictator, who, at the end of a war left the camp to follow the plough. I am, sir, with all imaginable respect, your most obedient, humble servant, 'WILL WARLEY.' |