C.

[Footnote 1: Dissertation upon Defamatory Libels. §17.]

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No. 452. Friday, August 8, 1712. Addison.

'Est natura Hominum Novitatis avida.'

Plin. apud Lill.

There is no Humour in my Countrymen, which I am more enclined to wonder at, than their general Thirst after News. There are about half a Dozen Ingenious Men, who live very plentifully upon this Curiosity of their Fellow-Subjects. They all of them receive the same Advices from abroad, and very often in the same Words; but their Way of Cooking it is so different, that there is no Citizen, who has an Eye to the publick Good, that can leave the Coffee-house with Peace of Mind before he has given every one of them a Reading. These several Dishes of News are so very agreeable to the Palate of my Countrymen, that they are not only pleased with them when they are served up hot, but when they are again set cold before them, by those penetrating Politicians, who oblige the Publick with their Reflections and Observations upon every piece of Intelligence that is sent us from abroad. The Text is given us by one set of Writers, and the Comment by another.

But notwithstanding we have the same Tale told us in so many different papers, and if occasion requires in so many Articles of the same Paper; notwithstanding a Scarcity of Foreign Posts we hear the same Story repeated, by different Advices from _Paris_, _Brussels_, the _Hague_, and from every great Town in _Europe;_ notwithstanding the Multitude of Annotations, Explanations, Reflections, and various Readings which it passes through, our Time lies heavy on our Hands till the Arrival of a fresh Mail: We long to receive further particulars, to hear what will be the next Step, or what will be the Consequences of that which has been already taken. A Westerly Wind keeps the whole Town in Suspence, and puts a Stop to Conversation.

This general Curiosity has been raised and inflamed by our late Wars, and, if rightly directed, might be of good Use to a Person who has such a Thirst awakened in him. Why should not a Man, who takes Delight in reading every thing that is new, apply himself to History, Travels, and other Writings of the same kind, where he will find perpetual Fuel for his Curiosity, and meet with much more Pleasure and Improvement, than in these Papers of the Week? An honest Tradesman, who languishes a whole Summer in Expectation of a Battel, and perhaps is balked at last, may here meet with half a dozen in a Day. He may read the News of a whole Campaign, in less time than he now bestows upon the Products of any single Post. Fights, Conquests and Revolutions lye thick together. The Reader's Curiosity is raised and satisfied every Moment, and his Passions disappointed or gratified, without being detained in a State of uncertainty from Day to Day, or lying at the Mercy of Sea [and [1]] Wind. In short, the Mind is not here kept in a perpetual Gape after Knowledge, nor punished with that Eternal Thirst, which is the Portion of all our modern News-mongers and Coffee-house Politicians.

All Matters of Fact, which a Man did not know before, are News to him; and I do not see how any Haberdasher in _Cheapside_ is more concerned in the present Quarrel of the Cantons, than he was in that of the League. At least, I believe every one will allow me, it is of more Importance to an _Englishman_ to know the History of his Ancestors, than that of his Contemporaries who live upon the Banks of the _Danube_ or the _Borysthenes_. As for those who are of another Mind, I shall recommend to them the following Letter, from a Projector, who is willing to turn a Penny by this remarkable Curiosity of his Countrymen.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'You must have observed, that Men who frequent Coffee-houses, and delight in News, are pleased with every thing that is Matter of Fact, so it be what they have not heard before. A Victory, or a Defeat, are equally agreeable to them. The shutting of a Cardinal's Mouth pleases them one Post, and the opening of it another. They are glad to hear the _French_ Court is removed to _Marli_, and are afterwards as much delighted with its Return to _Versailles_. They read the Advertisements with the same Curiosity as the Articles of publick News; and are as pleased to hear of a Pye-bald Horse that is stray'd out of a Field near _Islington_, as of a whole Troop that has been engaged in any Foreign Adventure. In short, they have a Relish for every thing that is News, let the matter of it be what it will; or to speak more properly, they are Men of a Voracious Appetite, but no Taste. Now, Sir, since the great Fountain of News, I mean the War, is very near being dried up; and since these Gentlemen have contracted such an inextinguishable Thirst after it; I have taken their Case and my own into Consideration, and have thought of a Project which may turn to the Advantage of us both. I have Thoughts of publishing a daily Paper, which shall comprehend in it all the most remarkable Occurences in every little Town, Village and Hamlet, that lye within ten Miles of _London_, or in other Words, within the Verge of the Penny-Post. I have pitched upon this Scene of Intelligence for two Reasons; first, because the Carriage of Letters will be very cheap; and secondly, because I may receive them every Day. By this means my Readers will have their News fresh and fresh, and many worthy Citizens who cannot Sleep with any Satisfaction at present, for want of being informed how the World goes, may go to Bed contentedly, it being my Design to put out my Paper every Night at nine-a-Clock precisely. I have already established Correspondences in these several Places, and received very good Intelligence.

By my last Advices from _Knights-bridge_ I hear that a Horse was clapped into the Pound on the third Instant, and that he was not released when the Letters came away.

We are informed from _Pankridge_ [1] that a dozen Weddings were lately celebrated in the Mother Church of that Place, but are referred to their next Letters for the Names of the Parties concerned.

Letters from _Brompton_ advise. That the Widow _Bligh_ had received several Visits from _John Milldew_, which affords great matter of Speculation in those Parts.

By a Fisherman which lately touched at _Hammersmith_, there is Advice from _Putney_, that a certain Person well known in that Place, is like to lose his Election for Church-warden; but this being Boat-news, we cannot give entire Credit to it.

Letters from _Paddington_ bring little more, than that _William Squeak_, the Sow-gelder, passed through that Place the 5th Instant.

They advise from _Fulham_, that things remained there in the same State they were. They had Intelligence, just as the Letters came away, of a Tub of excellent Ale just set abroach at _Parson's Green_; but this wanted Confirmation.

I have here, Sir, given you a Specimen of the News with which I intend to entertain the Town, and which, when drawn up regularly in the Form of a News Paper, will, I doubt not, be very acceptable to many of those Publick-spirited Readers, who take more delight in acquainting themselves with other People's Business than their own. I hope a Paper of this kind, which lets us know what is done near home, may be more useful to us, than those which are filled with Advices from _Zug_ and _Bender_, and make some amends for that Dearth of Intelligence, which we may justly apprehend from times of Peace. If I find that you receive this Project favourably, I will shortly trouble you with one or two more; and in the mean time am, most worthy Sir, with all due Respect,

_Your most Obedient, and most Humble Servant._

[Footnote 1: [or]]

[Footnote 2: Pancras.]

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No. 453. Saturday, August 9, 1712. Addison.

'Non usitatâ nec tenui ferar Pennâ--'

Hor.

There is not a more pleasing Exercise of the Mind than Gratitude. It is accompanied with such an inward Satisfaction, that the Duty is sufficiently rewarded by the Performance. It is not like the Practice of many other Virtues, difficult and painful, but attended with so much Pleasure, that were there no positive Command which enjoin'd it, nor any Recompence laid up for it hereafter, a generous Mind would indulge in it, for the natural Gratification that accompanies it.

If Gratitude is due from Man to Man, how much more from Man to his Maker? The Supream Being does not only confer upon us those Bounties which proceed more immediately from his Hand, but even those Benefits which are conveyed to us by others. Every Blessing we enjoy, by what Means soever it may be derived upon us, is the Gift of him who is the great Author of Good, and Father of Mercies.

If Gratitude, when exerted towards one another, naturally produces a very pleasing Sensation in the Mind of a Grateful Man; it exalts the Soul into Rapture, when it is employed on this great Object of Gratitude; on this Beneficent Being who has given us every thing we already possess, and from whom we expect every thing we yet hope for.

Most of the Works of the Pagan Poets were either direct Hymns to their Deities, or tended indirectly to the Celebration of their respective Attributes and Perfections. Those who are acquainted with the Works of the Greek and Latin Poets which are still extant, will upon Reflection find this Observation so true, that I shall not enlarge upon it. One would wonder that more of our Christian Poets have not turned their Thoughts this way, especially if we consider, that our Idea of the Supream Being is not only infinitely more Great and Noble than what could possibly enter into the Heart of an Heathen, but filled with every thing that can raise the Imagination, and give an Opportunity for the sublimest Thoughts and Conceptions.

_Plutarch_ tells of a Heathen who was singing an Hymn to _Diana_, in which he celebrated her for her Delight in Human Sacrifices, and other Instances of Cruelty and Revenge; upon which a Poet who was present at this piece of Devotion, and seems to have had a truer Idea of the Divine Nature, told the Votary, by way of Reproof, that in recompence for his Hymn, he heartily wished he might have a Daughter of the same Temper with the Goddess he celebrated. It was indeed impossible to write the Praises of one of those false Deities, according to the Pagan Creed, without a mixture of Impertinence and Absurdity.

The _Jews_, who before the Times of Christianity were the only People that had the Knowledge of the True God, have set the Christian World an Example how they ought to employ this Divine Talent of which I am speaking. As that Nation produced Men of great Genius, without considering them as inspired Writers, they have transmitted to us many Hymns and Divine Odes, which excel those that are delivered down to us by the Ancient _Greeks_ and _Romans_, in the Poetry, as much as in the Subject to which it was consecrated. This I think might easily be shewn, if there were occasion for it.

I have already communicated to the Publick some Pieces of Divine Poetry, and as they have met with a very favourable Reception, I shall from time to time publish any Work of the same nature which has not yet appeared in Print, [1] and may be acceptable to my Readers.

I. When all thy Mercies, O my God, My rising Soul surveys; Transported with the View, I'm lost In Wonder, Love, and Praise:

II. O how shall Words with equal Warmth The Gratitude declare That glows within my ravish'd Heart? But thou canst read it there.

III. Thy Providence my Life sustain'd, And all my Wants redrest, When in the silent Womb I lay, And hung upon the Breast.

IV. To all my weak Complaints and Cries, Thy Mercy lent an Ear, Ere yet my feeble Thoughts had learnt To form themselves in Pray'r.

V. Unnumbered Comforts to my Soul Thy tender Care bestow'd, Before my infant Heart conceiv'd From whom those Comforts flow'd.

VI. When in the slippery Paths of Youth With heedless Steps I ran, Thine Arm unseen convey'd me safe And led me up to Man.

VII. Through hidden Dangers, Toils, and Deaths, It gently clear'd my Way, And through the pleasing Snares of Vice, More to be fear'd than they.

VIII. When worn with Sickness oft hast thou With Health renew'd my Face, And when in Sins and Sorrows sunk Revived my Soul with Grace.

IX. Thy bounteous Hand with worldly Bliss Has made my Cup run o'er, And in a kind and faithful Friend Has doubled all my Store.

X. Ten thousand thousand precious Gifts My Daily Thanks employ, Nor is the least a chearful Heart, That tastes those Gifts with Joy.

XI. Through every Period of my Life Thy Goodness I'll pursue; And after Death in distant Worlds The Glorious Theme renew.

XII. When Nature fails, and Day and Night Divide thy Works no more, My Ever-grateful Heart, O Lord, Thy Mercy shall adore.

XIII. Through all Eternity to Thee A joyful Song I'll raise, For oh! Eternity's too short To utter all thy Praise.