NUMB. 80. SATURDAY, December 22, 1750. Vides ut alta ftet nive candidum Behold yon mountain's hoary height Again behold the winter's weight Opprefs the lab'ring woods below. HOR. DRYDEN. AS providence has made the human foul an active being, always impatient for novelty, and struggling for fomething yet unenjoyed with unwearied progreffion, the world feems to have been eminently adapted to this difpofition of the mind; it is formed to raise expectations by conftant viciffitudes, and to obviate fatiety by perpetual change. Wherever we turn our eyes, we find fomething to revive our curiofity, and engage our attention. In the dusk of the morning we watch the rifing of the fun, and fee the day diverfify the clouds, and open new prospects in its gradual advance, After a few hours, we see the shades lengthen, and the light decline, till the fky is refigned to a multitude of fhining orbs different from each other in magnitude and fplendour. The earth varies its appearance as we move upon it; the woods offer their fhades, and the fields their harvefts; the hill flatters with an extenfive view, and the valley invites with fhelter, fragrance and flowers. The poets have numbered among the felicities of the golden age, an exemption from the change of seasons, feafons, and a perpetuity of fpring; but I am not certain that in this ftate of imaginary happinefs they have made fufficient provifion for that infatiable demand of new gratifications, which feems particularly to characterize the nature of man. Our fenfe of delight is in a great measure comparative, and arifes at once from the fenfations which we feel, and those which we remember: Thus eafe after torment is pleasure for a time, and we are very agreeably recreated, when the body, chilled with the weather, is gradually recovering its natural tepidity; but the joy ceases when we have forgot the cold: we must fall below ease again, if we defire to rife above it, and purchase new felicity by voluntary pain. It is therefore not unlikely, that however the fancy may. be amufed with the defcription of regions in which no wind is heard but the gentle zephyr, and no scenes are displayed but vallies enamelled with unfading flowers, and woods waving their perennial verdure, we should foon grow weary of uniformity, find our thoughts languifh for want of other fubjects, call on heaven for our wonted round of feafons, and think ourselves liberally recompenfed for the inconveniencies of fummer and winter, by new perceptions of the calmnefs and mildness of the intermediate variations. Every feafon has its particular power of striking the mind. The nakedness and asperity of the wintry world always fill the beholder with penfive and profound astonishment; as the variety of the scene is leffened, its grandeur is increased; and the mind is swelled at once by the mingled ideas of the present and the past, of the beauties which have vanished from the eyes, and the waste and defolation that are now before them. It is obferved by Milton, that he who neglects to vifit the country in spring, and rejects the pleasures that are then in their firft bloom and fragrance, is guilty of fullenness against nature. If we allot different duties to different feafons, he may be charged with equal difobedience to the voice of nature, who looks on the bleak hills and leaflefs woods, without seriousness and awe. Spring is the feafon of gaiety, and winter of terror; in fpring the heart of tranquillity dances to the melody of the groves, and the eye of benevolence fparkles at the fight of happiness and plenty In the winter, compaffion melts at univerfal calamity, and the tear of softness starts at the wailings of hunger, and the cries of the creation in distress. Few minds have much inclination to indulge heavinefs and forrow, nor do I recommend them beyond the degree neceffary to maintain in its full vigour that habitual fympathy and tenderness, which, in a world of fo much mifery, is neceffary to the ready discharge of our most important duties. The winter therefore is generally celebrated as the proper feafon for domestick merriment and gaiety. We are feldom invited by the votaries of pleasure to look abroad for any other purpose, than that we may fhrink back with more fatisfaction to our coverts, and when we have heard the howl of the tempeft, and felt the gripe of the froft, congratulate each other with more gladnefs upon a clofe room, an easy chair, a large fire, and a fmoaking dinner. Winter brings natural inducements to jollity and converfation. Differences, we know, are never so effectually fectually laid asleep, as by fome common calamity : An enemy unites all to whom he threatens danger. The rigour of winter brings generally to the fame fire-fide, those, who, by the oppofition of inclinations, or difference of employment, moved in various directions through the other parts of the year; and when they have met, and find it their mutual interest to remain together, they endear each other by mutual compliances, and often wish for the continuance of the focial season, with all its bleakness and all its severities. To the men of study and imagination the winter is generally the chief time of labour. Gloom and filence produce compofure of mind, and concentration of ideas; and the privation of external pleasure naturally causes an effort to effort to find entertainment within. This is the time in which thofe whom literature enables to find amufements for themselves, have more than common convictions of their own happiness. When they are condemned by the ele. ments to retirement, and debarred from most of the diverfions which are called in to affift the flight of time, they can find new subjects of enquiry, and preferve themselves from that weariness which hangs always flagging upon the vacant mind. It cannot indeed be expected of all to be poets and philofophers; it is neceffary that the greater part of mankind should be employed in the minute business of common life; minute, indeed, not if we confider its influence upon our happiness, but if we refpect the abilities requifite to conduct it. These must neceffarily be more dependent on accident for the means of spending agreeably thofe hours which their occupations I occupations leave unengaged, or nature obliges them to allow to relaxation. Yet even on these I would willingly impress fuch a sense of the value of time, as may incline them to find out for their carelefs hours amufements of more ufe and dignity than the common games, which not only weary the mind without improving it, but strengthen the paffions of envy and avarice, and often lead to fraud and to profufion, to corruption and to ruin. It is unworthy of a reafon. able being to spend any of the little time allotted us, without fome tendency, either direct or oblique, to the end of our existence. And though every moment cannot be laid out on the formal and regular improvement of our knowledge, or in the ftated practice of a moral or religious duty, yet none should be fo spent as to exclude wisdom or virtue, or pafs without poffibility of qualifying us more or lefs for the better employment of those which are to come. It is fcarcely poffible to pafs an hour in honeft converfation, without being able, when we rife from it, to please ourselves with having given or received fome advantages; but a man may fhuffle cards, or rattle dice, from noon to midnight, without tracing any new idea in his mind, or being able to recollect the day by any other token than his gain or lofs, and a confufed remembrance of agitated paffions, and clamorous altercations. However, as experience is of more weight than precept, any of my readers, who are contriving how to fpend the dreary months before them, may confider which of their past amusements fills them now with the greatest fatisfaction, and refolve to repeat those gratifications of which the pleasure is most durable. |
