The Spectator
Chapter 379 : No. 615. Wednesday, November 3, 1714.'--Qui Deorum Muneribus sapienter uti, Duram

No. 615. Wednesday, November 3, 1714.

'--Qui Deorum Muneribus sapienter uti, Duramque callet pauperiem pati, Pejusque letho flagitium timet: Non ille pro caris amicis Aut patria timidus perire.'

Hor.

It must be owned that Fear is a very powerful Pa.s.sion, since it is esteemed one of the greatest of Virtues to subdue it. It being implanted in us for our Preservation, it is no Wonder it sticks close to us, as long as we have any thing we are willing to preserve. But as Life, and all its Enjoyments, would be scarce worth the keeping, if we were under a perpetual Dread of losing them; it is the Business of Religion and Philosophy to free us from all unnecessary Anxieties, and direct our Fear to its proper Object.

If we consider the Painfulness of this Pa.s.sion, and the violent Effects it produces, we shall see how dangerous it is to give way to it upon slight Occasions. Some have frightened themselves into Madness, others have given up their Lives to these Apprehensions. The Story of a Man who grew grey in the s.p.a.ce of one Night's Anxiety is very famous;

'O! Nox, quam longa es, quae facis una Senem.'

These Apprehensions, if they proceed from a Consciousness of Guilt, are the sad Warnings of Reason; and may excite our Pity, but admit of no Remedy. When the Hand of the Almighty is visibly lifted against the Impious, the Heart of mortal Man cannot withstand him. We have this Pa.s.sion sublimely represented in the Punishment of the _Egyptians_, tormented with the Plague of Darkness, in the _Apocryphal_ Book. of _Wisdom_ ascribed to _Solomon_.

'For when unrighteous Men thought to oppress the holy Nation; they being shut up in their Houses, the Prisoners of Darkness, and fetter'd with the Bonds of a long Night, lay here exiled from the eternal Providence. For while they supposed to lye hid in their secret Sins, they were scattered under a dark Veil of Forgetfulness, being horribly astonished and troubled with strange Apparitions--For Wickedness, condemned by her own Witness, is very timorous, and being oppressed with Conscience, always forecasteth grievous things. For Fear is nothing else but a betraying of the Succours which Reason offereth--For the whole World s.h.i.+ned with clear Light, and none were hindered in their Labour. Over them only was spread a heavy Night, an Image of that Darkness which should afterwards receive them; but yet were they unto themselves more grievous than the Darkness.' [1]

To Fear, so justly grounded, no Remedy can be proposed; but a Man (who hath no great Guilt hanging upon his Mind, who walks in the plain Path of Justice and Integrity, and yet either by natural Complection, or confirmed Prejudices, or Neglect of serious Reflection, suffers himself to be moved by this abject and unmanly Pa.s.sion) would do well to consider, That there is nothing which deserves his Fear, but that beneficent Being who is his Friend, his Protector, his Father. Were this one Thought strongly fixed in the Mind, what Calamity would be dreadful?

What Load can Infamy lay upon us when we are sure of the Approbation of him, who will repay the Disgrace of a Moment with the Glory of Eternity?

What Sharpness is there in Pain and Diseases, when they only hasten us on to the Pleasures that will never fade? What sting is in Death, when we are a.s.sured that it is only the Beginning of Life? A Man who lives so, as not to fear to die, is inconsistent with himself, if he delivers himself up to any incidental Anxiety.

The Intrepidity of a just good Man is so n.o.bly set forth by _Horace_, that it cannot be too often repeated.

'The Man resolved and steady to his Trust, Inflexible to Ill, and obstinately just, May the rude Rabble's Insolence despise, Their senseless Clamours and tumultuous Cries; The Tyrant's Fierceness he beguiles, And the stern Brow, and the harsh Voice defies, And with superior Greatness smiles.

Not the rough Whirlwind, that deforms_ Adria's _black Gulf, and vexes it with Storms, The stubborn Virtue of his Soul can move; Not the Red Arm of angry Jove, That flings the Thunder from the Sky, And gives it Rage to roar, and Strength to fly.

Should the whole Frame of Nature round him break, In Ruin and Confusion hurl'd, He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty Crack, And Stand secure amidst a falling World.' [2]

The Vanity of Fear may be yet farther ill.u.s.trated, if we reflect,

_First_, What we fear may not come to pa.s.s. No human Scheme can be so accurately projected, but some little Circ.u.mstance intervening may spoil it. He, who directs the Heart of Man at his Pleasure, and understands the Thoughts long before, may by ten thousand Accidents, or an immediate Change in the Inclinations of Men, disconcert the most subtle Project, and turn it to the Benefit of his own Servants.

In the next Place we should consider, though the Evil we imagine should come to pa.s.s, it may be much more supportable than it appeared to be. As there is no prosperous State of Life without its Calamities, so there is no Adversity without its Benefits, Ask the Great and Powerful, if they do not feel the Pangs of Envy and Ambition. Enquire of the Poor and Needy, if they have not tasted the Sweets of Quiet and Contentment. Even under the Pains of Body; the Infidelity of Friends; or the Misconstructions put upon our laudable Actions, our Minds (when for some Time accustomed to these Pressures) are sensible of secret Flowings of Comfort, the present Reward of a pious Resignation. The Evils of this Life appear like Rocks and Precipices, rugged and barren at a Distance, but at our nearer Approach, we find little fruitful Spots, and refres.h.i.+ng Springs, mixed with the Harshness and Deformities of Nature.

In the last Place, we may comfort our selves with this Consideration; that, as the Thing feared may not reach us, so we may not reach what we fear: Our Lives may not extend to that dreadful Point which we have in View. He who knows all our Failings, and will not suffer us to be tempted beyond our Strength, is often pleased in his tender Severity, to separate the Soul from its Body and Miseries together.

If we look forward to him for Help, we shall never be in Danger of falling down those Precipices which our Imagination is apt to create.

Like those who walk upon a Line, if we keep our Eye fixed upon one Point, we may step forward securely; whereas an imprudent or cowardly Glance on either Side will infallibly destroy us.

[Footnote 1: Wisd. xvii. _pa.s.sim_.]

[Footnote 2: Horace, Bk III. Od. 3.]

No. 616. Friday, November 5, 1714.

'Qui bellus h.o.m.o est, Cotta, pusillus h.o.m.o est.'

Martial.

_Cicero_ hath observed, that a Jest is never uttered with a better Grace, than when it is accompanied with a serious Countenance. When a pleasant Thought plays in the Features, before it discovers it self in Words, it raises too great an Expectation, and loses the Advantage of giving Surprize. Wit and Humour are no less poorly recommended by a Levity of Phrase, and that kind of Language which may be distinguished by the Name of _Cant_. Ridicule is never more strong, than when it is concealed in Gravity. True Humour lies in the Thought, and arises from the Representation of Images in odd Circ.u.mstances, and uncommon Lights.

A pleasant Thought strikes us by the Force of its natural Beauty; and the Mirth of it is generally rather palled, than heightened by that ridiculous Phraseology, which is so much in Fas.h.i.+on among the Pretenders to Humour and Pleasantry. This Tribe of Men are like our Mountebanks; they make a Man a Wit, by putting him in a fantastick Habit.

Our little Burlesque Authors, who are the Delight of ordinary Readers, generally abound in these pert Phrases, which have in them more Vivacity than Wit.

I lately saw an Instance of this kind of Writing, which gave me so lively an Idea of it, that I could not forbear begging a Copy of the Letter from the Gentleman who shew'd it to me. It is written by a Country Wit, upon the Occasion of the Rejoycings on the Day of the King's Coronation.

_Dear_ Jack, (_Past two a Clock and a frosty Morning_.) [1]

I have just left the Right Wors.h.i.+pful and his Myrmidons about a Sneaker of Five Gallons. The whole Magistracy was pretty well disguised before I gave 'em the Slip. Our Friend the Alderman was half Seas over before the Bonfire was out. We had with us the Attorney, and two or three other bright Fellows. The Doctor plays least in Sight.

At Nine a Clock in the Evening we set Fire to the Wh.o.r.e of _Babylon_.

The Devil acted his Part to a Miracle. He has made his Fortune by it.

We equip'd the young Dog with a Tester a-piece. Honest old _Brown_ of _England_ was very drunk, and showed his Loyalty to the Tune of a hundred Rockets. The Mob drank the King's Health, on their Marrow-bones, in Mother _Day's_ Double. They whip'd us half a dozen Hogsheads. Poor _Tom Tyler_ had like to have been demolished with the End of a Sky-Rocket, that fell upon the Bridge of his Nose as he was drinking the King's Health, and spoiled his Tip. The Mob were very loyal 'till about Midnight, when they grew a little mutinous for more Liquor. They had like to have dumfounded the Justice; but his Clerk came in to his a.s.sistance, and took them all down in Black and White.

When I had been huzza'd out of my Seven Senses, I made a Visit to the Women, who were guzzling very comfortably. Mrs. Mayoress clip'd the King's _English_. Clack was the Word.

I forgot to tell thee, that every one of the Posse had his Hat c.o.c.ked with a Distich: The Senators sent us down a Cargo of Ribbon and Metre for the Occasion.