Into the clouds; their tops ascend the sky: 1 2 We have also the rising of the whole vegetable world described in this day's work, which is filled with all the graces that other poets have lavished on their description of the spring, and leads the reader's imagination into a theatre equally surprising and beautiful. The several glories of the heavens make their appearance on the fourth day. First in his east the glorious lamp was seen, His longitude through heaven's high road: the grey His mirror, with full face borrowing her light 3 One would wonder how the poet could be so concise in his description of the six days' works as to comprehend them within the bounds of an episode, and at the same time so particular, as to give us a lively idea of them. This is still more remarkable in his account of the fifth and sixth days, in which 1 Paradise Lost,' vii. 285-290. 2 Ibid., vii. 309-338. 3 Ibid., vii. 370-384. he has drawn out to our view the whole animal creation, from the reptile to the behemoth. As the lion and the leviathan are two of the noblest productions in the world of living creatures, the reader will find a most exquisite spirit of poetry in the account which our author gives us of them. The sixth day concludes with the formation of man, upon which the angel takes occasion, as he did after the battle in heaven, to remind Adam of his obedience, which was the principal design of this his visit. 3 The poet afterwards represents the Messiah returning into heaven, and taking a survey of His great work. There is something inexpressibly sublime in this part of the poem, where the author describes that great period of time, filled with so many glorious circumstances; when the heavens and earth were finished; when the Messiah ascended up in triumph through the everlasting gates; when He looked down with pleasure upon its new creation; when every part of nature seemed to rejoice in its existence; when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy. So even and morn accomplished the sixth day : Resounding (thou rememberest, for thou heardst), 1 Paradise Lost,' vii. 387 seq. 2 Ibid., vii. 463-466, 412-416. Ibid., vii. 519-547 The heavens and all the constellations rung, I cannot conclude this book upon the Creation without mentioning a poem which has lately appeared under that title.2 The work was undertaken with so good an intention, and is executed with so great a mastery, that it deserves to be looked upon as one of the most useful and noble productions in our English verse. The reader cannot but be pleased to find the depths of philosophy enlivened with all the charms of poetry, and to see so great a strength of reason amidst so beautiful a redundancy of the imagination. The author has shown us that design in all the works of nature, which necessarily leads us to the knowledge of its first cause. In short, he has illustrated, by numberless and incontestable instances, that divine wisdom, which the son of Sirach has so nobly ascribed to the Supreme Being in His formation of the world, when he tells us that 'He created her, and saw her, and numbered her, and poured her out upon all His works.' 1 Paradise Lost,' vii. 550-568. L. 2 Sir Richard Blackmore's dull poem, The Creation,' 1712, was described on the title-page as a philosophical poem, demonstrating the existence and providence of a God.' The good intentions of the author led Addison to praise unduly his abilities, and caused Dr. Johnson to say that if Blackmore had written nothing else it would have transmitted him to posterity among the first favourites of the English muse.' s Ecclesiasticus i. 9. No. 340. Monday, March 31, 1712 I [STEELE. Quis novus hic nostris successit sedibus hospes! TAKE it to be the highest instance of a noble mind to bear great qualities without discovering in a man's behaviour any consciousness that he is superior to the rest of the world; or, to say it otherwise, it is the duty of a great person so to demean himself as that whatever endowments he may have, he may appear to value himself upon no qualities but such as any man may arrive at; he ought to think no man valuable but for his public spirit, justice, and integrity; and all other endowments to be esteemed only as they contribute to the exerting those virtues. Such a man, if he is wise or valiant, knows it is of no consideration to other men that he is so, but as he employs those high talents for their use and service. He who affects the applauses and addresses of a multitude, or assumes to himself a pre-eminence upon any other consideration, must soon turn admiration into contempt. It is certain that there can be no merit in any man who is not conscious of it; but the sense that it is valuable only according to the application of it, makes that superiority amiable which would otherwise be invidious. In this light it is considered as a thing in which every man bears a share it annexes the ideas of dignity, power, and fame, in an agreeable and familiar manner to him who is possessor of it; and all men who were strangers to him are naturally incited to indulge a curiosity in beholding the person, behaviour, feature, and shape of him, in whose character, perhaps, each man had formed something in common with himself. Whether such, or any other, are the causes, all men have a yearning curiosity to behold a man of heroic worth; and I have had many letters from all parts of this kingdom, that request I would give them an exact account of the stature, the mien, the aspect of the prince who lately visited England, and has done such wonders for the liberty of Europe.1 It would puzzle the most curious to form to himself the sort of man my several correspondents expect to hear of by the action mentioned when they desire a description of him: there is always something that concerns themselves, and growing out of their own circumstances, in all their inquiries. A friend of mine in Wales beseeches me to be very exact in my account of that wonderful man, who had marched an army and all its baggage over the Alps; and, if possible, to learn whether the peasant who showed him the way, and is drawn in the map, be yet living. A gentleman from the university, who is deeply intent on the study of humanity, desires me to be as particular, if I had opportunity in observing the whole interview between his highness and our late general. Thus do men's fancies work according to their several educations and circumstances; but all pay a respect, mixed 1 See No. 269. Prince Eugene of Savoy was born in 1663. After fighting under the Emperor and in Italy, he was with Marlborough at the battle of Blenheim and elsewhere. Steele's third child was born in March 1712, during the prince's visit to England, and was christened Eugene. The praise of the prince in this paper was quoted at length by the author of Eugene's Annals' (1714): As for his highness's character, you cannot have a brighter nor a juster one than what was given him while the prince was here by that inimitable author, Mr. Steele.' |