The Spectator Volume Iii Part 33

No. 476. Friday, September 5, 1712. Addison.

'--lucidus Ordo--'

Hor.

Among my Daily-Papers which I bestow on the Publick, there are some which are written with Regularity and Method, and others that run out into the Wildness of those Compositions which go by the Names of _Essays_. As for the first, I have the whole Scheme of the Discourse in my Mind before I set Pen to Paper. In the other kind of Writing, it is sufficient that I have several Thoughts on a Subject, without troubling my self to range them in such order, that they may seem to grow out of one another, and be disposed under the proper Heads. _Seneca_ and _Montaigne_ are Patterns for Writing in this last kind, as _Tully_ and _Aristotle_ excel in the other. When I read an Author of Genius who writes without Method, I fancy myself in a Wood that abounds with a great many n.o.ble Objects, rising among one another in the greatest Confusion and Disorder. When I read a methodical Discourse, I am in a regular Plantation, and can place my self in its several Centres, so as to take a view of all the Lines and Walks that are struck from them. You may ramble in the one a whole Day together, and every Moment discover something or other that is new to you; but when you have done, you will have but a confused imperfect Notion of the Place: In the other, your Eye commands the whole Prospect, and gives you such an Idea of it, as is not easily worn out of the Memory.

Irregularity and want of Method are only supportable in Men of great Learning or Genius, who are often too full to be exact, and therefore chuse to throw down their Pearls in Heaps before the Reader, rather than be at the Pains of stringing them.

Method is of advantage to a Work, both in respect to the Writer and the Reader. In regard to the first, it is a great help to his Invention.

When a Man has plann'd his Discourse, he finds a great many Thoughts rising out of every Head, that do not offer themselves upon the general Survey of a Subject. His Thoughts are at the same time more intelligible, and better discover their Drift and Meaning, when they are placed in their proper Lights, and follow one another in a regular Series, than when they are thrown together without Order and Connexion.

There is always an Obscurity in Confusion, and the same Sentence that would have enlightened the Reader in one part of a Discourse, perplexes him in another. For the same reason likewise every Thought in a methodical Discourse shews [it [1]] self in its greatest Beauty, as the several Figures in a piece of Painting receive new Grace from their Disposition in the Picture. The Advantages of a Reader from a methodical Discourse, are correspondent with those of the Writer. He comprehends every thing easily, takes it in with Pleasure, and retains it long.

Method is not less requisite in ordinary Conversation than in Writing, provided a Man would talk to make himself understood. I, who hear a thousand Coffee-house Debates every Day, am very sensible of this want of Method in the Thoughts of my honest Countrymen. There is not one Dispute in ten which is managed in those Schools of Politicks, where, after the three first Sentences, the Question is not entirely lost. Our Disputants put me in mind of the Cuttle-Fish, that when he is unable to extricate himself, blackens all the Water about him till he becomes invisible. The Man who does not know how to methodize his Thoughts, has always, to borrow a Phrase from the Dispensary, _a barren Superfluity of Words;_ [2] the Fruit is lost amidst the Exuberance of Leaves.

_Tom Puzzle_ is one of the most Eminent Immethodical Disputants of any that has fallen under my Observation. _Tom_ has read enough to make him very Impertinent; his Knowledge is sufficient to raise Doubts, but not to clear them. It is pity that he has so much Learning, or that he has not a great deal more. With these Qualifications _Tom_ sets up for a Free-thinker, finds a great many things to blame in the Const.i.tution of his Country, and gives shrewd Intimations that he does not believe another World. In short, _Puzzle_ is an Atheist as much as his Parts will give him leave. He has got about half a dozen common-place Topicks, into which he never fails to turn the Conversation, whatever was the Occasion of it: Tho' the matter in debate be about _Doway_ or _Denain_, it is ten to one but half his Discourse runs upon the Unreasonableness of Bigottry and Priest-craft. This makes Mr. _Puzzle_ the Admiration of all those who have less Sense than himself, and the Contempt of those who have more. There is none in Town whom _Tom_ dreads so much as my Friend _Will Dry_. _Will_, who is acquainted with _Tom's_ Logick, when he finds him running off the Question, cuts him short with a _What then?

We allow all this to be true, but what is it to our present Purpose?_ I have known _Tom_ eloquent half an hour together, and triumphing, as he thought, in the Superiority of the Argument, when he has been non-plus'd on a sudden by Mr. _Dry's_ desiring him to tell the Company what it was that he endeavoured to prove. In short, _Dry_ is a Man of a clear methodical Head, but few Words, and gains the same Advantage over _Puzzle_, that a small Body of regular Troops would gain over a numberless undisciplined Militia.

C.

[Footnote 1: [its]]

[Footnote 2: It is said of Colon in the second Canto,

'Hourly his learn'd Impertinence affords A barren Superfinity of Words.']

No. 477. Sat.u.r.day, September 6, 1712. Addison.

'--An me ludit amabilis Insania? audire et videor pios Errare per lucos, amoenae Quos et aquae subeunt et aurae.'

Hor.

_SIR_,

Having lately read your Essay on the Pleasures of the Imagination, I was so taken with your Thoughts upon some of our _English_ Gardens, that I cannot forbear troubling you with a Letter upon that Subject. I am one, you must know, who am looked upon as an Humorist in Gardening.

I have several Acres about my House, which I call my Garden, and which a skilful Gardener would not know what to call. It is a Confusion of Kitchin and Parterre, Orchard and Flower-Garden, which lie so mixt and interwoven with one another, that if a Foreigner who had seen nothing of our Country should be convey'd into my Garden at his first landing, he would look upon it as a natural Wilderness, and one of the uncultivated Parts of our Country. My Flowers grow up in several Parts of the Garden in the greatest Luxuriancy and Profusion. I am so far from being fond of any particular one, by reason of its Rarity, that if I meet with any one in a Field which pleases me, I give it a place in my Garden. By this means, when a Stranger walks with me, he is surprized to see several large Spots of Ground cover'd with ten thousand different Colours, and has often singled out Flowers that he might have met with under a common Hedge, in a Field, or in a Meadow, as some of the greatest Beauties of the Place. The only Method I observe in this Particular, is to range in the same Quarter the Products of the same Season, that they may make their Appearance together, and compose a Picture of the greatest Variety. There is the same Irregularity in my Plantations, which run into as great a Wildness as their Natures will permit. I take in none that do not naturally rejoice in the Soil, and am pleased when I am walking in a Labyrinth of my own raising, not to know whether the next Tree I shall meet with is an Apple or an Oak, an Elm or a Pear-Tree. My Kitchin has likewise its particular Quarters a.s.signed it; for besides the wholesome Luxury which that Place abounds with, I have always thought a Kitchin-Garden a more pleasant Sight than the finest Orangery, or artificial Greenhouse. I love to see everything in its Perfection, and am more pleased to survey my Rows of Coleworts and Cabbages, with a thousand nameless Pot-herbs, springing up in their full Fragrancy and Verdure, than to see the tender Plants of Foreign Countries kept alive by artificial Heats, or withering in an Air and Soil that are not adapted to them. I must not omit, that there is a Fountain rising in the upper part of my Garden, which forms a little wandring Rill, and administers to the Pleasure as well as the Plenty of the Place. I have so conducted it, that it visits most of my Plantations; and have taken particular Care to let it run in the same manner as it would do in an open Field, so that it generally pa.s.ses through Banks of Violets and Primroses, Plats of Willow, or other Plants, that seem to be of its own producing. There is another Circ.u.mstance in which I am very particular, or, as my Neighbours call me, very whimsical: As my Garden invites into it all the Birds of the Country, by offering them the Conveniency of Springs and Shades, Solitude and Shelter, I do not suffer any one to destroy their Nests in the Spring, or drive them from their usual Haunts in Fruit-time. I value my Garden more for being full of Blackbirds than Cherries, and very frankly give them Fruit for their Songs. By this means I have always the Musick of the Season in its Perfection, and am highly delighted to see the Jay or the Thrush hopping about my Walks, and shooting before my Eye across the several little Glades and Alleys that I pa.s.s thro'. I think there are as many kinds of Gardening as of Poetry: Your Makers of Parterres and Flower-Gardens, are Epigrammatists and Sonneteers in this Art: Contrivers of Bowers and Grotto's, Treillages and Cascades, are Romance Writers. _Wise_ and _London_ are our heroick Poets; and if, as a Critick, I may single out any Pa.s.sage of their Works to commend, I shall take notice of that Part in the upper Garden at _Kensington_, which was at first nothing but a Gravel-Pit. It must have been a fine Genius for Gardening, that could have thought of forming such an unsightly Hollow into so beautiful an Area, and to have hit the Eye with so uncommon and agreeable a Scene as that which it is now wrought into. To give this particular Spot of Ground the greater Effect, they have made a very pleasing Contrast; for as on one side of the Walk you see this hollow Basin, with its several little Plantations lying so conveniently under the Eye of the Beholder; on the other side of it there appears a seeming Mount, made up of Trees rising one higher than another in proportion as they approach the Center. A Spectator, who has not heard this Account of it, would think this Circular Mount was not only a real one, but that it had been actually scooped out of that hollow s.p.a.ce which I have before mention'd. I never yet met with any one who had walked in this Garden, who was not struck with that Part of it which I have here mention'd. As for my self, you will find, by the Account which I have already given you, that my Compositions in Gardening are altogether after the _Pindarick_ Manner, and run into the beautiful Wildness of Nature, without affecting the nicer Elegancies of Art. What I am now going to mention, will, perhaps, deserve your Attention more than any thing I have yet said. I find that in the Discourse which I spoke of at the Beginning of my Letter, you are against filling an _English_ Garden with Ever-Greens; and indeed I am so far of your Opinion, that I can by no means think the Verdure of an Ever-Green comparable to that which shoots out annually, and clothes our Trees in the Summer-Season. But I have often wonder'd that those who are like my self, and love to live in Gardens, have never thought of contriving a _Winter Garden_, which would consist of such Trees only as never cast their Leaves. We have very often little s.n.a.t.c.hes of Suns.h.i.+ne and fair Weather in the most uncomfortable Parts of the Year; and have frequently several Days in _November_ and _January_ that are as agreeable as any in the finest Months. At such times, therefore, I think there could not be a greater Pleasure, than to walk in such a _Winter-Garden_ as I have proposed. In the Summer-Season the whole Country blooms, and is a kind of Garden, for which reason we are not so sensible of those Beauties that at this time may be every where met with; but when Nature is in her Desolation, and presents us with nothing but bleak and barren Prospects, there is something unspeakably chearful in a Spot of Ground which is covered with Trees that smile amidst all the Rigours of Winter, and give us a View of the most gay Season in the midst of that which is the most dead and melancholy. I have so far indulged my self in this Thought, that I have set apart a whole Acre of Ground for the executing of it. The Walls are covered with Ivy instead of Vines. The Laurel, the Hornbeam, and the Holly, with many other Trees and Plants of the same nature, grow so thick in it, that you cannot imagine a more lively Scene. The glowing Redness of the Berries, with which they are hung at this time, vies with the Verdure of their Leaves, and are apt to inspire the Heart of the Beholder with that vernal Delight which you have somewhere taken notice of in your former papers. [1] It is very pleasant, at the same time, to see the several kinds of Birds retiring into this little Green Spot, and enjoying themselves among the Branches and Foliage, when my great Garden, which I have before mention'd to you, does not afford a single Leaf for their Shelter.

You must know, Sir, that I look upon the Pleasure which we take in a Garden, as one of the most innocent Delights in Human Life. A Garden was the Habitation of our first Parents before the Fall. It is naturally apt to fill the Mind with Calmness and Tranquillity, and to lay all its turbulent Pa.s.sions at rest. It gives us a great insight into the Contrivance and Wisdom of Providence, and suggests innumerable Subjects for Meditation. I cannot but think the very Complacency and Satisfaction which a Man takes in these Works of Nature, to be a laudable, if not a virtuous Habit of Mind. For all which Reasons I hope you will pardon the Length of my present Letter.

_I am,_ _SIR, &c._

C.

[Footnote 1: In No. 393.]

No. 478. Monday, September 8, 1712. Steele.

'--Usus Quem penes Arbitrium est, et Jus et Norma--'

Mr. SPECTATOR,

It happened lately, that a Friend of mine, who had many things to buy for his Family, would oblige me to walk with him to the Shops. He was very nice in his way, and fond of having every thing shewn, which at first made me very uneasy; but as his Humour still continu'd, the things which I had been staring at along with him, began to fill my Head, and led me into a Set of amusing Thoughts concerning them.

I fancied it must be very surprizing to any one who enters into a detail of Fas.h.i.+ons, to consider how far the Vanity of Mankind has laid it self out in Dress, what a prodigious number of People it maintains, and what a Circulation of Money it occasions. Providence in this Case makes use of the Folly which we will not give up, and it becomes instrumental to the Support of those who are willing to labour. Hence it is that Fringe-Makers, Lace-Men, Tire-Women, and a number of other Trades, which would be useless in a simple State of Nature, draw their Subsistence; tho' it is seldom seen that such as these are extremely rich, because their original Fault of being founded upon Vanity, keeps them poor by the light Inconstancy of its Nature. The Variableness of Fas.h.i.+on turns the Stream of Business which flows from it now into one Channel, and anon into another; so that different Sets of People sink or flourish in their turns by it.

From the Shops we retir'd to the Tavern, where I found my Friend express so much satisfaction for the Bargains he had made, that my moral Reflections, (if I had told them) might have pa.s.s'd for a Reproof; so I chose rather to fall in with him, and let the Discourse run upon the use of Fas.h.i.+ons.

Here we remembred how much Man is govern'd by his Senses, how lively he is struck by the Objects which appear to him in an agreeable manner, how much Clothes contribute to make us agreeable Objects, and how much we owe it to our selves that we should appear so.

We considered Man as belonging to Societies; Societies as form'd of different Ranks; and different Ranks distinguished by Habits, that all proper Duty or Respect might attend their Appearance.

We took notice of several Advantages which are met with in the Occurrences of Conversation. How the bashful Man has been sometimes so rais'd, as to express himself with an Air of Freedom, when he imagines that his Habit introduces him to Company with a becoming Manner: And again, how a Fool in fine Clothes shall be suddenly heard with Attention, till he has betray'd himself; whereas a Man of Sense appearing with a Dress of Negligence, shall be but coldly received, till he be proved by Time, and established in a Character. Such things as these we cou'd recollect to have happen'd to our knowledge so very often, that we concluded the Author had his Reasons, who advises his Son to go in Dress rather above his Fortune than under it.