6 Mr. SPECTATOR, I Have writ to you three or four times, to defire you would take notice of an impertinent Custom the Women, the fine Women, have lately fallen into, of taking Snuff. This filly Trick is attended with fuch a Coquet Air in fome Ladies, and fuch a fedate masculine one in others, that I cannot tell which moft to complain of; but they are to me equally difagreeable. Mrs. Saunter is fo impatient of being without it, that she takes it as often as she does Salt at Meals; and as she 'affects a wonderful Eafe and Negligence in all her manner, an upper Lip mixed with Snuff and the Sauce, is what is presented to the Obfervation of all who have the 'honour to eat with her. The pretty Creature her Neice does all she can to be as difagreeable as her Aunt; and if fhe is not as offenfive to the Eye, fhe is quite as much to the Ear, and makes up all the wants in a confident Air, by a naufeous Rattle of the Nofe, when the Snuff is delivered, and the Fingers makes the Stops and Clofes on the Noftrils. This, perhaps, is not a very courtly Image in fpeaking of Ladies; that is very true: but where arifes the Offence? Is it in thofe who commit, or those who obferve it? As for my part, I have been fo extremely difgufted with this filthy Phyfick hanging on the Lip, that the most agreeable Converfation, or Perfon, has not been able to make up for it. As to thofe who take it for no other end but to give themfelves occafion for pretty Action, or to fill up little Intervals of Difcourfe, I can bear with them but then they must not use it when another is fpeaking, who ought to be heard with too much refpect, to admit of offering at that time from hand to hand the Snuff-Box. But Flavilla is fo far taken with her Behaviour in this kind, that fhe pulls out her Box (which is indeed full of good Brazile) in the mid<dle of the Sermon; and to fhew fhe has the Audacity of well-bred Woman, fhe offers it the Men as well as the Women who fit near her: But fince by this Time all the World knows fhe has a fine Hand, I am in hopes fhe may give her felf no further trouble in this matter. On Sunday was fevennight, when they came about for the Offering, fhe gave her Charity with a very good Air, but at the fame Time asked the Church-warden if he a E 2 ' would T would take a Pinch. Pray, Sir, think of these things in time, and you will oblige, Sir, your most humble Servant, N 345. Saturday, April 5. Sanétius his animal, mentifque capacius alta T # Ov. Met. HE Accounts which Raphael gives of the Battel of Angels, and the Creation of the World, have in them thole Qualifications which the Criticks judge requifite to an Episode, They are nearly related to the princi pal Action, and have a just Connexion with the Fable. THE eighth Book opens with a beautiful Description of the Impreffion which this Difcourfe of the Archangel made on our first Parents. Adam afterwards, by a very natural Curiofity, enquires concerning the Motions of thofe Celeftial Bodies which make the moft glorious Appearance among the fix days Works. The Poet here, with a great deal of Art, reprefents Eve as withdrawing from this part of their Converfation, to Amusements more fuitable to her Sex. He well knew, that the Episode in this Book, which is filled with Adam's Account of his Paffion and Efteem for Eve, would have been improper for her hearing, and has therefore devised very just and beautiful Reasons for her retiring. So fpake our Sire, and by his Count'nance feem'd And Grace, that won who saw to wish her Stay, Deli hted, i Delighted, or not capable her Ear Of what was high Such Pleasure the reserved, Her Husband the Relater he preferr'd Not Words alone pleas'd her. O when meet now THE Angel's returning a doubtful Anfwer to Adam's Enquiries, was not only proper for the moral Reason which the Poet affigns, but because it would have been highly abfurd to have given the Sanction of an Archangel to any particular Syftem of Philofophy. The chief Points in the Prolemaick and Copernican Hypothefis are defcribed with great Concifenefs and Perfpicuity, and at the fame time dreffed in very pleafing and poetical Images. ADAM, to detain the Angel, enters afterwards upon his own Hiftory, and relates to him the Circumstances in which he found himself upon his Creation; as alfo his Con verfation with his Maker, and his first meeting with Eve. There is no part of the Poem more apt to raife the Attention of the Reader, than this Difcourfe of our great Anceftor; as nothing can be more furprizing and delightful to us, than to hear the Sentiments that arofe in the first Man while he was yet new and fresh from the Hands of his Creator. The Poet has interwoven every thing which is delivered upon this Subject in Holy Writ with fo many beautiful Imaginations of his own, that nothing can be conceived more juft and natural than this whole Epifode. As our Author knew this Subject could not but be agreeable to his Reader, he would not throw it into the Relation of the fix days Works, but referved it for a diftinct Epifode, that he might have an opportunity of expatiating upon it more at large. Before I enter on this part of the Poem, I cannot but take notice of two fhining Paffages in the Dialogue between Adam and the Angel. The first is that wherein our Ancestor gives an account of the pleasure he took in converfing with him, which contains a very noble Moral. For while I fit with thee, I feem in Heav'n, THE other I fhall mention, is that in which the Angel gives a Reafon why he fhould be glad to hear the Story Adam was about to relate. For I that day was abfent, as befel, THERE is no queftion but our Poet drew the Image in what follows from that in Virgil's fixth Book, where, Eneas and the Sibyl ftand before the Adamantine Gates, which are there defcribed as fhut upon the Place of Torments, and liften to the Groans, the Clank of Chains, and. the Noife of Iron Whips, that were heard in thofe Regions of Pain and Sorrow. Faft we found, faft fhut The difmal Gates, and barricado'd strong; ADAM then proceeds to give an account of his Condition and Sentiments immediately after his Creation. How agreeably does he reprefent the Pofture in which he found himself, the beautiful Landskip that furrounded him, and the Gladness of Heart which grew up in him on that occafion? As new waked from foundest Sleep, Soft on the flow'ry Herb I found me laid In In balmy Sweat, which with his Beams the Sun Streight towards Heav'n my wond'ring Eyes I turn'd, And gazed awhile the ample Sky, till rais'd By quick inftinctive Motion, up 1 Sprung, As thitherward endeavouring, and upright Stood on my Feet: About me round I faw Hill, Dale, and shady Woods, and funny Plains, And liquid lapfe of murmuring Streams; by thefe Creatures that liv'd, and mov'd, and walk'd, or flew, Birds on the Branches warbling; all things fmil'd: With Fragrance, and with Foy my Heart o'erflow'd. A DA M is afterwards defcrib'd as furprized at his own Existence, and taking a Survey of himself, and of all the Works of Nature. He likewife is reprefented as difcovering by the Light of Reafon, that he and every thing about him must have been the Effect of fome Being infinitely good and powerful, and that this Being had a right to his Worship and Adoration. His first Address to the Sun, and to thofe Parts of the Creation which made the moft diftinguifhed Figure, is very natural and amufing to the Imagination. Thou Sun, faid I, fair Light, And thou enlighten'd Earth, fo fresh and gay, His HIS next Sentiment, when upon his firft going to fleep he fancies himself lofing his Existence, and falling away into nothing, can never be fufficiently admired. Dream, in which he ftill preferves the Consciousness of his Existence, together with his removal into the Garden which was prepared for his Reception, are alfo Circumftances finely imagined, and grounded upon what is delivered into Sacred Story. THESE and the like wonderful Incidents in this Part of the Work, have in them all the Beauties of Novelty, at the fame time that they have all the Graces of Nature. They are fuch as none but a great Genius could have thought of, tho', upon the perufal of them, they feem to E 4 rife |