The Spectator Volume Iii Part 39

'We are somewhat more than our selves in our Sleeps, and the Slumber of the Body seems to be but the Waking of the Soul. It is the Litigation of Sense, but the Liberty of Reason; and our waking Conceptions do not match the Fancies of our Sleeps. At my Nativity my Ascendant was the watery Sign of_ Scorpius: I _was born in the Planetary Hour of_ Saturn, _and I think I have a piece of that leaden Planet in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the Mirth and Galliardize of Company; yet in one Dream I can compose a whole Comedy, behold the Action, apprehend the Jests, and laugh my self awake at the Conceits thereof. Were my Memory as faithful as my Reason is then fruitful, I would never study but in my Dreams; and this time also would I chuse for my Devotions: but our grosser Memories have then so little hold of our abstracted Understandings, that they forget the Story, and can only relate to our awaked Souls a confused and broken Tale of that that has pa.s.sed--Thus it is observed that Men sometimes, upon the Hour of their Departure, do speak and reason above themselves; for then the Soul beginning to be freed from the Ligaments of the Body, begins to reason like her self, and to discourse in a strain above Mortality.'

We may likewise observe in the third Place, that the Pa.s.sions affect the Mind with greater Strength when we are asleep, than when we are awake.

Joy and Sorrow give us more vigorous Sensations of Pain or Pleasure at this time, than at any other. Devotion likewise, as the excellent Author above-mentioned has hinted, is in a very particular manner heightned and inflamed, when it rises in the Soul at a time that the Body is thus laid at Rest. Every Man's Experience will inform him in this matter, though it is very probable, that this may happen differently, in different Const.i.tutions. I shall conclude this Head with the two following Problems, which I shall leave to the Solution of my Reader. Supposing a Man always happy in his Dreams, and miserable in his waking Thoughts, and that his Life was equally divided between them, whether would he be more happy or miserable? Were a Man a King in his Dreams, and a Beggar awake, and dreamt as consequentially, and in as continued unbroken Schemes as he thinks when awake, whether he would be in reality a King or Beggar, or rather whether he would not be both?

There is another Circ.u.mstance, which methinks gives us a very high Idea of the Nature of the Soul, in regard to what pa.s.ses in Dreams, I mean that innumerable Mult.i.tude and Variety of Ideas which then arise in her.

Were that active watchful Being only conscious of her own Existence at such a time, what a painful Solitude would her Hours of Sleep be? Were the Soul sensible of her being alone in her sleeping Moments, after the same manner that she is sensible of it while awake, the time would hang very heavy on her, as it often actually does when she Dreams that she is in such a Solitude?

'--Semperque relinqui Sola sili, semper longam incomitata videtur Ire viam--'

Virg.

But this Observation I only make by the way. What I would here remark, is that wonderful Power in the Soul, of producing her own Company on these Occasions. She converses with numberless Beings of her own Creation, and is transported into ten thousand Scenes of her own raising. She is herself the Theatre, the Actors, and the Beholder. This puts me in mind of a Saying which I am infinitely pleased with, and which _Plutarch_ ascribes to _Herac.l.i.tus, That all Men whilst they are awake are in one common World; but that each of them, when he is asleep, is in a World of his own_. [2] The waking Man is conversant in the World of Nature, when he sleeps he retires to a private World that is particular to himself. There seems something in this Consideration that intimates to us a natural Grandeur and Perfection in the Soul, which is rather to be admired than explained.

I must not omit that Argument for the Excellency of the Soul, which I have seen quoted out of _Tertullian_, [3] namely, its Power of divining in Dreams. That several such Divinations have been made, none can question, who believes the Holy Writings, or who has but the least degree of a common Historical Faith; there being innumerable Instances of this nature in several Authors, both Antient and Modern, Sacred and Profane. Whether such dark Presages, such Visions of the Night proceed from any latent Power in the Soul, during this her state of Abstraction, or from any Communication with the Supreme Being, or from any operation of Subordinate Spirits, has been a great Dispute among the Learned; the matter of Fact is, I think, incontestable, and has been looked upon as such by the greatest Writers, who have been never suspected either of Superst.i.tion or Enthusiasm.

I do not suppose, that the Soul in these Instances is entirely loose and unfettered from the Body: It is sufficient, if she is not so far sunk, and immersed in Matter, nor intangled and perplexed in her Operations, with such Motions of Blood and Spirits, as when she actuates the Machine in its waking Hours. The Corporeal Union is slackned enough to give the Mind more Play. The Soul seems gathered within herself, and recovers that Spring which is broke and weakned, when she operates more in concert with the Body.

The Speculations I have here made, if they are not Arguments, they are at least strong Intimations, not only of the Excellency of an Human Soul, but of its Independence on the Body; and if they do not prove, do at least confirm these two great Points, which are established by many other Reasons that are altogether unanswerable.

O.

[Footnote 1: Part ii. -- 11.]

[Footnote 2: The reference is in the little book 'On Superst.i.tion,'

where Plutarch quotes Herac.l.i.tus to add this comment of his own:

'But to the superst.i.tious man there is no common world, for neither does he use right reason when awake, nor is he freed, when sleeping, from his perturbations.']

[Footnote 3: Tertullian, in his book 'On the Soul,' has seven chapters (43-49) on Sleep and Dreams, with abundant recognition of divine communications to the soul in sleep, and quotations of several authors, sacred and profane.]

No. 488. Friday, September 19, 1712. Addison.

'Quanti emptae? parvi. Quanti ergo? octo a.s.sibus. Eheu!'

Hor.

I find, by several Letters which I receive daily, that many of my Readers would be better pleased to pay Three Half-Pence for my Paper, than Two-Pence. The ingenious _T. W._ tells me, that I have deprived him of the best Part of his Breakfast, for that since the rise of my Paper, he is forced every Morning to drink his Dish of Coffee by it self, without the Addition of the _Spectator_, that used to be better than Lace to it. _Eugenius_ informs me very obligingly, that he never thought he should have disliked any Pa.s.sage in my Paper, but that of late there have been two Words in every one of them, which he could heartily wish left out, _viz. Price Two-Pence_. I have a Letter from a Soap-boiler, who condoles with me very affectionately, upon the necessity we both lie under of setting an higher Price on our Commodities, since the late Tax has been laid upon them, and desiring me, when I write next on that Subject, to speak a Word or two upon the present Duties on Castile-Soap.

But there is none of these my Correspondents, who writes with a greater Turn of good Sense and Elegance of Expression, than the generous _Philomedes_, who advises me to value every _Spectator_ at Six Pence, and promises that he himself will engage for above a Hundred of his Acquaintance, who shall take it in at that Price.

Letters from the Female World are likewise come to me, in great quant.i.ties, upon the same Occasion; and as I naturally bear a great Deference to this Part of our Species, I am very glad to find that those who approve my Conduct in this Particular, are much more numerous than those who condemn it. A large Family of Daughters have drawn me up a very handsome Remonstrance, in which they set forth, that their Father having refused to take in the _Spectator_, since the additional Price was set upon it, they offered him unanimously to bate him the Article of Bread and b.u.t.ter in the Tea-Table Account, provided the _Spectator_ might be served up to them every Morning as usual. Upon this the old Gentleman, being pleased, it seems, with their Desire of improving themselves, has granted them the continuance both of the _Spectator_ and their Bread and b.u.t.ter; having given particular Orders, that the Tea-Table shall be set forth every Morning with its Customary Bill of Fare, and without any manner of Defalcation. I thought my self obliged to mention this Particular, as it does Honour to this worthy Gentleman; and if the young Lady _Laet.i.tia_, who sent me this Account, will acquaint me with his Name, I will insert it at length in one of my Papers, if he desires it.

I should be very glad to find out any Expedient that might alleviate the Expence which this my Paper brings to any of my Readers; and, in order to it, must propose two Points to their Consideration. First, that if they retrench any the smallest Particular in their ordinary Expence, it will easily make up the Half Penny a Day, which we have now under Consideration. Let a Lady sacrifice but a single Ribband to her Morning Studies, and it will be sufficient: Let a Family burn but a Candle a Night less than the usual Number, and they may take in the _Spectator_ without Detriment to their private Affairs.

In the next Place, if my Readers will not go to the Price of buying my Papers by Retail, let them have Patience, and they may buy them in the Lump, without the Burthen of a Tax upon them. My Speculations, when they are sold single, like Cherries upon the Stick, are Delights for the Rich and Wealthy; after some time they come to Market in greater Quant.i.ties, and are every ordinary Man's Money. The Truth of it is, they have a certain Flavour at their first Appearance, from several accidental Circ.u.mstances of Time, Place and Person, which they may lose if they are not taken early; but in this case every Reader is to consider, whether it is not better for him to be half a Year behind-hand with the fas.h.i.+onable and polite part of the World, than to strain himself beyond his Circ.u.mstances. My Bookseller has now about Ten Thousand of the Third and Fourth Volumes, which he is ready to publish, having already disposed of as large an Edition both of the First and Second Volume. As he is a Person whose Head is very well turned to his Business, he thinks they would be a very proper Present to be made to Persons at Christenings, Marriages, Visiting-Days, and the like joyful Solemnities, as several other Books are frequently given at Funerals. He has printed them in such a little portable Volume, that many of them may be ranged together upon a single Plate; and is of Opinion, that a Salver of _Spectators_ would be as acceptable an Entertainment to the Ladies, as a Salver of Sweetmeats.

I shall conclude this Paper with an Epigram lately sent to the Writer of the _Spectator_, after having returned my Thanks to the ingenious Author of it.

_SIR,_

'Having heard the following Epigram very much commended, I wonder that it has not yet had a place in any of your Papers: I think the Suffrage of our Poet Laureat should not be overlooked, which shews the Opinion he entertains of your Paper, whether the Notion he proceeds upon be true or false. I make bold to convey it to you, not knowing if it has yet come to your Hands.

_On the_ SPECTATOR.

By Mr. _TATE_. [1]

--Aliusque et idem Nasceris--

Hor.

'When first the_ Tatler _to a Mute was turn'd_, Great Britain _for her Censor's Silence mourn'd.

Robb'd of his sprightly Beams, she wept the Night, 'Till the _Spectator_ rose, and blaz'd as bright.

So the first Man the Sun's first Setting view'd, And sigh'd, till circling Day his Joys renew'd; Yet doubtful how that second Sun to name, Whether a bright Successor, or the same.

So we: but now from this Suspense are freed, Since all agree, who both with Judgment read, 'Tis the same Sun, and does himself succeed.'

O.

[Footnote 1: Nahum Tate, born and educated at Dublin, and befriended in his youth by Dryden and Dorset, was at this time 60 years old, and poet-laureate, having in 1692 succeeded in that office Thomas Shadwell, the Whig subst.i.tute for Dryden. Besides his version of the Psalms produced in concert with his friend Dr. Nicholas Brady, Tate produced his own notion of an improvement upon Shakespeare's King Lear and nine dramatic pieces, with other poetry, of which the above lines are a specimen. Tate was in his younger days the writer of the second part of Dryden's 'Absalom and Achithophel,' to which Dryden himself contributed only the characters of Julian Johnson as Ben Jochanan, of Shadwell as Og, and of Settle as Doeg. His salary as poet-laureate was 100 a year, and a b.u.t.t of canary. He died three years after the date of this _Spectator_ a poor man who had made his home in the Mint to escape his creditors.]