The Tatler, Volume 3. Джозеф Аддисон

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СКАЧАТЬ in those parts, and had the satisfaction of seeing my addresses kindly received, which occasioned the perplexity I am going to relate.

      We were in a calm evening diverting ourselves upon the top of the cliff with the prospect of the sea, and trifling away the time in such little fondnesses as are most ridiculous to people in business, and most agreeable to those in love.

      In the midst of these our innocent endearments, she snatched a paper of verses out of my hand, and ran away with them. I was following her, when on a sudden the ground, though at a considerable distance from the verge of the precipice, sank under her, and threw her down from so prodigious a height upon such a range of rocks, as would have dashed her into ten thousand pieces, had her body been made of adamant. It is much easier for my reader to imagine my state of mind upon such an occasion, than for me to express it. I said to myself, "It is not in the power of heaven to relieve me!" when I awoke, equally transported and astonished, to see myself drawn out of an affliction which the very moment before appeared to me altogether inextricable.

      The impressions of grief and horror were so lively on this occasion, that while they lasted, they made me more miserable than I was at the real death of this beloved person (which happened a few months after, at a time when the match between us was concluded), inasmuch as the imaginary death was untimely, and I myself in a sort an accessory; whereas her real decease had at least these alleviations, of being natural and inevitable.

      The memory of the dream I have related still dwells so strongly upon me, that I can never read the description of Dover Cliff in Shakespeare's tragedy of "King Lear,"11 without a fresh sense of my escape. The prospect from that place is drawn with such proper incidents, that whoever can read it without growing giddy, must have a good head, or a very bad one.

      "Come on, sir, here's the place; stand still! How fearful

      And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low?

      The crows and choughs that wing the midway air,

      Show scarce as gross as beetles. Half-way down

      Hangs one that gathers samphire. Dreadful trade!

      Methinks he seems no bigger than his head.

      The fishermen that walk upon the beach,

      Appear like mice, and yond' tall anchoring bark

      Diminished to her boat12; her boat!13 a buoy

      Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge

      (That on the unnumbered idle pebble beats)

      Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,

      Lest my brain turn." 14

No. 118

[Steele. 15 From Saturday, Jan. 7, to Tuesday, Jan. 10, 1709-10

      Lusisti satis, edisti satis atque bibisti;

      Tempus abire tibi....—Hor., 2 Ep. ii. 214.

From my own Apartment, January 8

      I thought to have given over my prosecution of the dead for this season, having by me many other projects for the reformation of mankind; but I have received so many complaints from such different hands, that I shall disoblige multitudes of my correspondents, if I do not take notice of them. Some of the deceased, who I thought had been laid quietly in their graves, are such hobgoblins in public assemblies, that I must be forced to deal with them as Evander did with his triple-lived adversary, who, according to Virgil, was forced to kill him thrice over before he could despatch him.

      "Ter leto sternendus erat."16

      I am likewise informed, that several wives of my dead men have, since the decease of their husbands, been seen in many public places without mourning, or regard to common decency.

      I am further advised, that several of the defunct, contrary to the Woollen Act,17 presume to dress themselves in lace, embroidery, silks, muslins, and other ornaments forbidden to persons in their condition. These and other the like informations moving me thereunto, I must desire, for distinction-sake, and to conclude this subject for ever, that when any of these posthumous persons appear, or are spoken of, their wives may be called "widows"; their houses, "sepulchres"; their chariots, "hearses"; and their garments, "flannel": on which condition, they shall be allowed all the conveniences that dead men can in reason desire.

      As I was writing this morning on this subject, I received the following letter:

      "Mr. Bickerstaff, From the Banks of Styx.

      "I must confess I treated you very scurrilously when you first sent me hither; but you have despatched such multitudes after me to keep me in countenance, that I am very well reconciled both to you and my condition. We live very lovingly together; for as death makes us all equal, it makes us very much delight in one another's company. Our time passes away much after the same manner as it did when we were among you: eating, drinking, and sleeping, are our chief diversions. Our quidnuncs between whiles go to a coffee-house, where they have several warm liquors made of the waters of Lethe, with very good poppy tea. We that are the sprightly geniuses of the place, refresh ourselves frequently with a bottle of mum,18 and tell stories till we fall asleep. You would do well to send among us Mr. Dodwell's19 book against the immortality of the soul, which would be of great consolation to our whole fraternity, who would be very glad to find that they are dead for good and all, and would in particular make me rest for ever,

"Yours,"John Partridge.

      "P.S.—Sir James20 is just arrived here in good health."

      The foregoing letter was the more pleasing to me, because I perceive some little symptoms in it of a resuscitation; and having lately seen the predictions of this author, which are written in a true Protestant spirit of prophecy, and a particular zeal against the French king, I have some thoughts of sending for him from the Banks of Styx, and reinstating him in his own house, at the sign of the Globe in Salisbury Street. For the encouragement of him and others, I shall offer to their consideration a letter which gives me an account of the revival of one of their brethren:

      ""Sir, December 31.

      "I have perused your Tatler of this day,21 and have wept over it with great pleasure: I wish you would be more frequent in your family pieces. For as I consider you under the notion of a great designer, I think these are not your least valuable performances. I am glad to find you have given over your face painting for some time, because, I think, you have employed yourself more in grotesque figures, than in beauties; for which reason, I would rather see you work upon history pieces, than on single portraits. Your several draughts of dead men appear to me as pictures of still life, and have done great good in the place where I live. The squire of a neighbouring village, who had been a long time in the number of nonentities, is entirely recovered by them. For these several years past, there was not a hare in the county that could be at rest for him; and I think, the greatest exploit he ever boasted of, was, that when he was high sheriff of the county, he hunted a fox so far, that he could not follow him any farther by the laws of the land. All the hours he spent at home, were in swilling22 himself with October, and rehearsing the wonders he did in the field. Upon reading your papers, СКАЧАТЬ