The Tatler (Vol 4)

There is no study more becoming a rational creature than that of natural philosophy; but as several of our modern virtuosos manage it, their speculations do not so much tend to open and enlarge the mind, as to contract and fix it upon trifles.

This in England is in a great measure owing to the worthy elections that are so frequently made in our Royal Society.[140 - For previous attacks on the Royal Society by Addison, see Nos. 119, 216, and 221.] They seem to be in a confederacy against men of polite genius, noble thought, and diffusive learning; and choose into their assemblies such as have no pretence to wisdom, but want of wit; or to natural knowledge, but ignorance of everything else. I have made observations in this matter so long, that when I meet with a young fellow that is a humble admirer of the sciences, but more dull than the rest of the company, I conclude him to be a Fellow of the Royal Society.

No. 237. [? Steele.[141 - Nichols thought this paper was written by Addison, or with his assistance. "The Tatler upon Milton's 'spear' is not mine, madam. What a puzzle there was between you and your judgment! In general you may sometimes be sure of things, as that about Style [Tatler, No. 230], because it is what I have frequently spoken of; but guessing is mine; – and I defy mankind if I please" (Swift's "Journal to Stella," Nov. 8, 1710).]

From Thursday, Oct. 12, to Saturday, Oct. 14, 1710

In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas
Corpora. —

    Ovid, Met. i. 1.

From my own Apartment, Oct. 13

Coming home last night before my usual hour, I took a book into my hand, in order to divert myself with it till bed-time. Milton chanced to be my author, whose admirable poem of "Paradise Lost" serves, at once, to fill the mind with pleasing ideas, and with good thoughts, and was therefore the most proper book for my purpose. I was amusing myself with that beautiful passage in which the poet represents Eve sleeping by Adam's side, with the devil sitting at her ear, and inspiring evil thoughts under the shape of a toad. Ithuriel, one of the guardian angels of the place, walking his nightly rounds, saw the great enemy of mankind hid in this loathsome animal, which he touched with his spear. This spear being of a celestial temper, had such a secret virtue in it, that whatever it was applied to, immediately flung off all disguise, and appeared in its natural figure. I am afraid the reader will not pardon me if I content myself with explaining the passage in prose, without giving it in the author's own inimitable words:

– On he led his radiant files,
Dazzling the morn: these to the bower direct,
In search of whom they sought. Him there they found,
Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve;
Essaying by his devilish art to reach
The organs of her fancy, and with them forge
Illusions as he list, phantasms and dreams;
Or if, inspiring venom, he might taint
The animal spirits (that from pure blood arise
Like gentle breaths from rivers pure), thence raise
At least distempered, discontented thoughts,
Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires,
Blown up with high conceits, engendering pride.
Him thus intent, Ithuriel with his spear
Touched lightly; for no falsehood can endure
Touch of celestial temper, but returns
Of force to his own likeness. Up he starts,
Discovered and surprised. As when a spark
Lights on a heap of nitrous powder, laid
Fit for the tun, some magazine to store
Against a rumoured war, the smutty grain,
With sudden blaze diffused, inflames the air;
So started up in his own shape the fiend.[142 - "Paradise Lost," iv. 797-819.]

I could not forbear thinking how happy a man would be in the possession of this spear; or what an advantage it would be to a Minister of State, were he master of such a white staff. It would let him discover his friends from his enemies, men of abilities from pretenders: it would hinder him from being imposed upon by appearances and professions, and might be made use of as a kind of State test, which no artifice could elude.

These thoughts made very lively impressions on my imagination, which were improved, instead of being defaced by sleep, and produced in me the following dream: I was no sooner fallen asleep, but, methought, the angel Ithuriel appeared to me, and with a smile that still added to his celestial beauty, made me a present of the spear which he held in his hand, and disappeared. To make trials of it, I went into a place of public resort.

The first person that passed by me, was a lady that had a particular shyness in the cast of her eye, and a more than ordinary reservedness in all the parts of her behaviour. She seemed to look upon man as an obscene creature, with a certain scorn and fear of him. In the height of her airs I touched her gently with my wand, when, to my unspeakable surprise, she fell upon her back, and kicked up her heels in such a manner as made me blush in my sleep. As I was hasting away from this undisguised prude, I saw a lady in earnest discourse with another, and overheard her say with some vehemence, "Never tell me of him, for I am resolved to die a virgin!" I had a curiosity to try her; but as soon as I laid my wand upon her head, she immediately fell in labour. My eyes were diverted from her by a man and his wife, who walked near me hand-in-hand after a very loving manner. I gave each of them a gentle tap, and the next instant saw the woman in breeches, and the man with a fan in his hand. It would be tedious to describe the long series of metamorphoses that I entertained myself with in my night's adventure, of Whigs disguised in Tories, and Tories in Whigs; men in red coats that denounced terror in their countenances, trembling at the touch of my spear; others in black with peace in their mouths, but swords in their hands. I could tell stories of noblemen changed into usurers, and magistrates into beadles; of free-thinkers into penitents, and reformers into whoremasters. I must not, however, omit the mention of a grave citizen that passed by me with a huge clasped Bible under his arm, and a band of most immoderate breadth; but upon a touch on the shoulder, he let drop his book, and fell a-picking my pocket.

In the general I observed, that those who appeared good, often disappointed my expectation; but that, on the contrary, those who appeared very bad, still grew worse upon the experiment; as the toad in Milton, which one would have thought the most deformed part of the creation, at Ithuriel's stroke, became more deformed, and started up into a devil.

Among all the persons that I touched, there was but one who stood the test of my wand; and after many repetitions of the stroke, stuck to his form, and remained steady and fixed in his first appearance. This was a young man who boasted of foul distempers, wild debauches, insults upon holy men, and affronts to religion.

My heart was extremely troubled at this vision: the contemplation of the whole species, so entirely sunk in corruption, filled my mind with a melancholy that is inexpressible, and my discoveries still added to my affliction.

In the midst of these sorrows which I had in my heart, methought there passed by me a couple of coaches with purple liveries. There sat in each of them a person with a very venerable aspect. At the appearance of them, the people who were gathered round me in great multitudes divided into parties, as they were disposed to favour either of those reverend persons. The enemies of one of them begged me to touch him with my wand, and assured me, I should see his lawn converted into a cloak. The opposite party told me with as much assurance, that if I laid my wand upon the other, I should see his garments embroidered with fleurs-de-lis, and his head covered with a cardinal's cap. I made the experiment, and, to my great joy, saw them both, without any change, distributing their blessings to the people, and praying for those who had reviled them. Is it possible, thought I, that good men, who are so few in number, should be divided among themselves, and give better quarter to the vicious that are in their party, than the most strictly virtuous who are out of it? Are the ties of faction above those of religion? – I was going on in my soliloquies, but some sudden accident awakened me, when I found my hand grasped, but my spear gone. The reflection on so very odd a dream made me figure to myself, what a strange face the world would bear, should all mankind appear in their proper shapes and characters, without hypocrisy and disguise? I am afraid the earth we live upon would appear to other intellectual beings no better than a planet peopled with monsters. This should, methinks, inspire us with an honest ambition of recommending ourselves to those invisible spies, and of being what we would appear. There was one circumstance in my foregoing dream which I at first intended to conceal; but upon second thoughts, I cannot look upon myself as a candid and impartial historian, if I do not acquaint my reader, that upon taking Ithuriel's spear into my hand, though I was before an old decrepid fellow, I appeared a very handsome, jolly, black man. But I know my enemies will say, this is praising my own beauty, for which reason I will speak no more of it.

No. 238. [Steele and Swift.[143 - "I am going to work at another Tatler" (Swift's "Journal," Oct. 4, 1710). "And now I am going in charity to send Steele another Tatler, who is very low of late" (Ib., Oct. 7, 1710). "I am now writing my poetical description of a 'Shower in London,' and will send it to the Tatler" (Ib., Oct. 10, 1710). "I have finished my poem on the 'Shower,' all but the beginning; and am going on with my Tatler" (Ib., Oct. 12, 1710). "This day came out the Tatler, made up wholly of my 'Shower,' and a preface to it. They say it is the best thing I ever wrote, and I think so too. I suppose the Bishop of Clogher will show it you. Pray tell me how you like it" (Ib., Oct. 17, 1710). "They both [Rowe and Prior] fell commending my 'Shower' beyond anything that has been written of the kind; there never was such a 'Shower' since Danae's," &c. "You must tell me how it is liked among you" (Ib., Oct. 27, 1710). "The Bishop of Clogher says, I bid him read the London 'Shaver,' and that you both swore it was 'Shaver,' and not 'Shower.' You all lie, and you are puppies, and can't read Presto's hand" (Ib., Nov. 28, 1710). "My 'Shower' admired with you; why the Bishop of Clogher says, he has seen something of mine of the same sort, better than the 'Shower.' I suppose he means 'The Morning'; but it is not half so good" (Ib., Nov. 30, 1710).]

From Saturday, Oct. 14, to Tuesday, Oct. 17, 1710

– Poetica surgit
Tempestas —

    Juv., Sat. xii. 23.

From my own Apartment, Oct. 16

Storms at sea are so frequently described by the ancient poets, and copied by the moderns, that whenever I find the winds begin to rise in a new heroic poem, I generally skip a leaf or two till I come into fair weather. Virgil's Tempest is a masterpiece in this kind, and is indeed so naturally drawn, that one who has made a voyage can scarce read it without being sea-sick.

Land showers are no less frequent among the poets than the former, but I remember none of them which have not fallen in the country; for which reason they are generally filled with the lowings of oxen and the bleatings of sheep, and very often embellished with a rainbow.

Virgil's Land Shower is likewise the best in its kind: it is indeed a shower of consequence, and contributes to the main design of the poem, by cutting off a tedious ceremonial, and bringing matters to a speedy conclusion between two potentates of different sexes. My ingenious kinsman, Mr. Humphrey Wagstaff, who treats of every subject after a manner that no other author has done, and better than any other can do, has sent me the description of a City Shower. I do not question but the reader remembers my cousin's description of the Morning as it breaks in town, which is printed in the ninth Tatler, and is another exquisite piece of this local poetry:

Careful observers may foretell the hour
(By sure prognostics) when to dread a shower:
While rain depends, the pensive cat gives o'er
Her frolics, and pursues her tail no more.
Returning home at night, you'll find the sink
Strike your offended sense with double stink.
If you be wise, then go not far to dine,
You'll spend in coach-hire more than save in wine.
A coming shower your shooting corns presage,
Old aches throb,[144 - Altered in Johnson's "Poets," and other editions, to "old aches will throb"; otherwise "aches" must be pronounced as a dissyllable.] your hollow tooth will rage.
Saunt'ring in coffee-house is Dulman seen;
He damns the climate, and complains of spleen.

Meanwhile the south rising with dabbled wings,
A sable cloud athwart the welkin flings,
That swilled more liquor than it could contain,
And like a drunkard gives it up again.
Brisk Susan whips her linen from the rope,
While the first drizzling shower is borne aslope.
Such is that sprinkling which some careless quean
Flirts on you from her mop, but not so clean.
You fly, invoke the gods; then turning, stop
To rail; she singing, still whirls on her mop.
Not yet the dust had shunned th'unequal strife,
But aided by the wind, fought still for life;
And wafted with its foe by violent gust,
'Twas doubtful which was rain and which was dust.
Ah! where must needy poet seek for aid,