To the ingenious Spectator
, which the young Lady had de
Sir
ed him to deliver into my own Hands, and to tell me that the speedy Publication of it would not only oblige her self, but a whole Tea-Table of my Friends. I opened it therefore, with a Resolution to publish it, whatever it should contain, and am sure, if any of my Male Readers will be so severely critical as not to like it, they would have been as well pleased with it as my self, had they seen the Face of the pretty Scribe.
London, Nov.1712.Mr. SPECTATOR,'You are always ready to receive any useful Hint or Proposal, and such, I believe, you will think one that may put you in a way to employ the most idle part of the Kingdom; I mean that part of Mankind who are known by the Name of the Womens-Men or Beaus,&c. Mr.SPECTATOR, you are sensible these pretty Gentlemen are not made for any Manly Imployments, and for want of Business are often as much in the Vapours as the Ladies. Now what I propose is this, that since Knotting is again in fashion, which has been found a very pretty Amusement, that you would recommend it to these Gentlemen as something that may make them useful to the Ladies they admire. And since 'tis not inconsistent with any Game, or other Diversion, for it may be done in the Playhouse, in their Coaches, at the Tea-Table, and, in short, in all Places where they come for the sake of the Ladies (except at Church, be pleased to forbid it there, to prevent Mistakes) it will be easily complied with. 'Tis beside an Imployment that allows, as we see by the Fair Sex, of many Graces, which will make the Beaus more readily come into it; it shews a white Hand and Diamond Ring to great advantage; it leaves the Eyes at full liberty to be employed as before, as also the Thoughts, and the Tongue. In short, it seems in every respect so proper, that 'tis needless to urge it further, by speaking of the Satisfaction these Male-Knotters will find, when they see their Work mixed up in a Fringe, and worn by the fair Lady for whom and with whom it was done. Truly,Mr. SPECTATOR, I cannot but be pleased I have hit upon something that these Gentlemen are capable of; for 'tis sad so considerable a part of the Kingdom (I mean for Numbers) should be of no manner of use. I shall not trouble you farther at this time, but only to say, that I am always your Reader, and generally your Admirer, C. B.P. S.'The sooner these fine Gentlemen are set to Work the better; there being at this time several fine Fringes that stay only for more Hands.'
I shall, in the next place, present my Reader with the Description of a Set of Men who are common enough in the World, tho' I do not remember that I have yet taken notice of them, as they are drawn in the following Letter.
Mr. SPECTATOR,'Since you have lately, to so good purpose, enlarged upon Conjugal Love, it's to be hoped you'll discourage every Practice that rather proceeds from a regard to Interest, than to Happiness. Now you cannot but observe, that most of our fine young Ladies readily fall in with the Direction of the graver sort, to retain in their Service, by some small Encouragement, as great a Number as they can of supernumerary and insignificant Fellows, which they use like Whifflers, and commonly callShoeing-Horns. These are never designed to know the length of the Foot, but only, when a good Offer comes, to whet and spur him up to the Point. Nay, 'tis the Opinion of that grave Lady, MadamMatchwell, that it's absolutely convenient for every prudent Family to have several of these Implements about the House, to clap on as Occasion serves, and that every Spark ought to produce a Certificate of his being a Shoeing-Horn, before he be admitted as a Shoe. A certain Lady, whom I could name, if it was necessary, has at present more Shoeing-Horns of all Sizes, Countries, and Colours, in her Service, than ever she had new Shoes in her Life. I have known a Woman make use of a Shoeing-Horn for several Years, and finding him unsuccessful in that Function, convert him at length into a Shoe. I am mistaken if your FriendMr.William Honeycomb, was not a cast Shoeing-Horn before his late Marriage. As for my self, I must frankly declare to you, that I have been an errant Shoeing-Horn for above these twenty Years. I served my first Mistress in that Capacity above five of the Number, before she was shod. I confess, though she had many who made their Applications to her, I always thought my self the best Shoe in her Shop, and it was not till a Month before her Marriage that I discovered what I was. This had like to have broke my Heart, and raised such Suspicions in me, that I told the next I made Love to, upon receiving some unkind Usage from her, that I began to look upon my self as no more than her Shoeing-Horn. Upon which, my Dear, who was a Coquet in her Nature, told me I was Hypocondriacal, and that I might as well look upon my self to be an Egg or a Pipkin. But in a very short time after she gave me to know that I was not mistaken in my self. It would be tedious to recount to you the Life of an unfortunate Shoeing-Horn, or I might entertain you with a very long and melancholy Relation of my Sufferings. Upon the whole, I think,Sir, it would very well become a Man in your Post, to determine in what Cases a Woman may be allowed, with Honour, to make use of a Shoeing-Horn, as also to declare whether a Maid on this side Five and Twenty, or a Widow who has not been three Years in that State, may be granted such a Privilege, with other Difficulties which will naturally occur to you upon that Subject.I am,Sir,With the most profound Veneration,Yours, &c.
O.
Contents
Greek: Tou mèn gàr génos esmén—translationTo theSPECTATOR.Sir,'It has been usual to remind Persons of Rank, on great Occasions in Life, of their Race and Quality, and to what Expectations they were born; that by considering what is worthy of them, they may be withdrawn from mean Pursuits, and encouraged to laudable Undertakings. This is turning Nobility into a Principle of Virtue, and making it productive of Merit, as it is understood to have been originally a Reward of it.'It is for the like reason, I imagine, that you have in some of your Speculations asserted to your Readers theDignity of Human Nature. But you cannot be insensible that this is a controverted Doctrine; there are Authors who consider Human Nature in a very different View, and Books of Maxims have been written to shew theFalsity of all Human Virtues. The Reflections which are made on this Subject usually take some Tincture from the Tempers and Characters of those that make them. Politicians can resolve the most shining Actions among Men into Artifice and Design; others, who are soured by Discontent, Repulses, or ill Usage, are apt to mistake their Spleen for Philosophy; Men of profligate Lives, and such as find themselves incapable of rising to any Distinction among their Fellow-Creatures, are for pulling down all Appearances of Merit, which seem to upbraid them: and Satirists describe nothing but Deformity. From all these Hands we have such Draughts of Mankind as are represented in those burlesque Pictures, which theItalianscallCaracatura's; where the Art consists in preserving, amidst distorted Proportions and aggravated Features, some distinguishing Likeness of the Person, but in such a manner as to transform the most agreeable Beauty into the most odious Monster.'It is very disingenuous to level the best of Mankind with the worst, and for the Faults of Particulars to degrade the whole Species. Such Methods tend not only to remove a Man's good Opinion of others, but to destroy that Reverence for himself, which is a great Guard of Innocence, and a Spring of Virtue.'It is true indeed that there are surprizing Mixtures of Beauty and Deformity, of Wisdom and Folly, Virtue and Vice, in the Human Make; such a Disparity is found among Numbers of the same Kind, and every Individual, in some Instances, or at some Times, is so unequal to himself, thatManseems to be the most wavering and inconsistent Being in the whole Creation. So that the Question in Morality, concerning the Dignity of our Nature, may at first sight appear like some difficult Questions in Natural Philosophy, in which the Arguments on both Sides seem to be of equal Strength. But as I began with considering this Point as it relates to Action, Ishallhere borrow an admirable Reflection from MonsieurPascal, which I think sets it in its proper Light.'It is of dangerous Consequence, says he,to represent to Man how near he is to the Level of Beasts, without shewing him at the same time hisGreatness.It is likewise dangerous to let him see his Greatness, without hisMeanness.It is more dangerous yet to leave him ignorant of either; but very beneficial that he should be made sensible of both.1Whatever Imperfections we may have in our Nature, it is the Business of Religion and Virtue to rectify them, as far as is consistent with our present State. In the mean time, it is no small Encouragement to generous Minds to consider that we shall put them all off with our Mortality. That sublime Manner of Salutation with which theJewsapproached their Kings,O King,live for ever!may be addressed to the lowest and most despised Mortal among us, under all the Infirmities and Distresses with which we see him surrounded. And whoever believes theImmortality of the Soul, will not need a better Argument for the Dignity of his Nature, nor a stronger Incitement to Actions suitable to it.'I am naturally led by this Reflection to a Subject I have already touched upon in a former Letter, and cannot without pleasure call to mind the Thoughts ofCiceroto this purpose, in the close of his Book concerningOld Age. Every one who is acquainted with his Writings, will remember that the elderCatois introduced in that Discourse as the Speaker, andScipioandLeliusas his Auditors. This venerable Person is represented looking forward as it were from the Verge of extreme Old Age, into a future State, and rising into a Contemplation on the unperishable Part of his Nature, and its Existence after Death. I shall collect Part of his Discourse. And as you have formerly offered some Arguments for the Soul's Immortality, agreeable both to Reason and the Christian Doctrine, I believe your Readers will not be displeased to see how the same great Truth shines in the Pomp ofRomanEloquence."This, saysCato, my firm Persuasion, that since the human Soul exerts it self with so great Activity, since it has such a Remembrance of the Past, such a Concern for the Future, since it is enriched with so many Arts, Sciences and Discoveries, it is impossible but the Being which contains all these must be Immortal."TheelderCyrus, just before his Death, is represented byXenophonspeaking after this Manner."'Think not, my dearest Children, that when I depart from you I shall be no more, but remember, that my Soul, even while I lived among you, was invisible to you; yet by my Actions you were sensible it existed in this Body. Believe it therefore existing still, though it be still unseen. How quickly would the Honours of illustrious Men perish after Death, if their Souls performed nothing to preserve their Fame? For my own part, I never could think that the Soul while in a mortal Body, lives, but when departed out of it, dies; or that its Consciousness is lost when it is discharged out of an unconscious Habitation. But when it is freed from all corporeal Alliance, then it truly exists. Further, since the Human Frame is broken by Death, tell us what becomes of its Parts? It is visible whither the Materials of other Beings are translated, namely to the Source from whence they had their Birth. The Soul alone, neither present nor departed, is the Object of our Eyes.'2"ThusCyrus. But to proceed. No one shall persuade me,Scipio, that your worthy Father, or your GrandfathersPaulusandAfricanus, orAfricanushis Father, or Uncle, or many other excellent Men whom I need not name, performed so many Actions to be remembered by Posterity, without being sensible that Futurity was their Right. And, if I may be allowed an old Man's Privilege, to speak of my self, do you think I would have endured the Fatigue of so many wearisome Days and Nights both at home and abroad, if I imagined that the same Boundary which is set to my Life must terminate my Glory? Were it not more deSirable to have worn out my days in Ease and Tranquility, free from Labour, and without Emulation? But I know not how, my Soul has always raised it self, and looked forward on Futurity, in this View and Expectation, that when it shall depart out of Life, it shall then live for ever; and if this were not true, that the Mind is immortal, the Souls of the most worthy would not, above all others, have the strongest Impulse to Glory."What besides this is the Cause that the wisest Men die with the greatest Æquanimity, the ignorant with the greatest Concern? Does it not seem that those Minds which have the most extensive Views, foresee they are removing to a happier Condition, which those of a narrower Sight do not perceive? I, for my part, am transported with the Hope of seeing your Ancestors, whom I have honoured and loved, and am earnestly deSirous of meeting not only those excellent Persons whom I have known, but those too of whom I have heard and read, and of whom I myself have written: nor would I be detained from so pleasing a Journey. O happy Day, when I shall escape from this Croud, this Heap of Pollution, and be admitted to that Divine Assembly of exalted Spirits! When I shall go not only to those great Persons I have named, but to myCato, my Son, than whom a better Man was never born, and whose Funeral Rites I my self performed, whereas he ought rather to have attended mine. Yet has not his Soul deserted me, but, seeming to cast back a Look on me, is gone before to those Habitations to which it was sensible I should follow him. And though I might appear to have born my Loss with Courage, I was not unaffected with it, but I comforted myself in the Assurance that it would not be long before we should meet again, and be divorced no more.I am,Sir, &c."'
'It is of dangerous Consequence, says he,to represent to Man how near he is to the Level of Beasts, without shewing him at the same time hisGreatness.It is likewise dangerous to let him see his Greatness, without hisMeanness.It is more dangerous yet to leave him ignorant of either; but very beneficial that he should be made sensible of both.1
O King,live for ever!
"This, saysCato, my firm Persuasion, that since the human Soul exerts it self with so great Activity, since it has such a Remembrance of the Past, such a Concern for the Future, since it is enriched with so many Arts, Sciences and Discoveries, it is impossible but the Being which contains all these must be Immortal."TheelderCyrus, just before his Death, is represented byXenophonspeaking after this Manner."'Think not, my dearest Children, that when I depart from you I shall be no more, but remember, that my Soul, even while I lived among you, was invisible to you; yet by my Actions you were sensible it existed in this Body. Believe it therefore existing still, though it be still unseen. How quickly would the Honours of illustrious Men perish after Death, if their Souls performed nothing to preserve their Fame? For my own part, I never could think that the Soul while in a mortal Body, lives, but when departed out of it, dies; or that its Consciousness is lost when it is discharged out of an unconscious Habitation. But when it is freed from all corporeal Alliance, then it truly exists. Further, since the Human Frame is broken by Death, tell us what becomes of its Parts? It is visible whither the Materials of other Beings are translated, namely to the Source from whence they had their Birth. The Soul alone, neither present nor departed, is the Object of our Eyes.'2"ThusCyrus. But to proceed. No one shall persuade me,Scipio, that your worthy Father, or your GrandfathersPaulusandAfricanus, orAfricanushis Father, or Uncle, or many other excellent Men whom I need not name, performed so many Actions to be remembered by Posterity, without being sensible that Futurity was their Right. And, if I may be allowed an old Man's Privilege, to speak of my self, do you think I would have endured the Fatigue of so many wearisome Days and Nights both at home and abroad, if I imagined that the same Boundary which is set to my Life must terminate my Glory? Were it not more deSirable to have worn out my days in Ease and Tranquility, free from Labour, and without Emulation? But I know not how, my Soul has always raised it self, and looked forward on Futurity, in this View and Expectation, that when it shall depart out of Life, it shall then live for ever; and if this were not true, that the Mind is immortal, the Souls of the most worthy would not, above all others, have the strongest Impulse to Glory."What besides this is the Cause that the wisest Men die with the greatest Æquanimity, the ignorant with the greatest Concern? Does it not seem that those Minds which have the most extensive Views, foresee they are removing to a happier Condition, which those of a narrower Sight do not perceive? I, for my part, am transported with the Hope of seeing your Ancestors, whom I have honoured and loved, and am earnestly deSirous of meeting not only those excellent Persons whom I have known, but those too of whom I have heard and read, and of whom I myself have written: nor would I be detained from so pleasing a Journey. O happy Day, when I shall escape from this Croud, this Heap of Pollution, and be admitted to that Divine Assembly of exalted Spirits! When I shall go not only to those great Persons I have named, but to myCato, my Son, than whom a better Man was never born, and whose Funeral Rites I my self performed, whereas he ought rather to have attended mine. Yet has not his Soul deserted me, but, seeming to cast back a Look on me, is gone before to those Habitations to which it was sensible I should follow him. And though I might appear to have born my Loss with Courage, I was not unaffected with it, but I comforted myself in the Assurance that it would not be long before we should meet again, and be divorced no more.I am,Sir, &c."'
'Think not, my dearest Children, that when I depart from you I shall be no more, but remember, that my Soul, even while I lived among you, was invisible to you; yet by my Actions you were sensible it existed in this Body. Believe it therefore existing still, though it be still unseen. How quickly would the Honours of illustrious Men perish after Death, if their Souls performed nothing to preserve their Fame? For my own part, I never could think that the Soul while in a mortal Body, lives, but when departed out of it, dies; or that its Consciousness is lost when it is discharged out of an unconscious Habitation. But when it is freed from all corporeal Alliance, then it truly exists. Further, since the Human Frame is broken by Death, tell us what becomes of its Parts? It is visible whither the Materials of other Beings are translated, namely to the Source from whence they had their Birth. The Soul alone, neither present nor departed, is the Object of our Eyes.'2
I question not but my Reader will be very much pleased to hear, that the Gentleman who has obliged the World with the foregoing Letter, and who was the Author of the [Volume 2 link:210th] Speculation on the Immortality of the Soul,the [Volume 2 link:375thon Virtue in Distress, the525thon Conjugal Love, and two or three other very fine ones among those which are not lettered at the end, will soon publish a noble Poem, Intitled
An Ode to the Creator of the World,
occasioned by the Fragments of
Orpheus.
Footnote 1:
Pensées
. Part I. Art. iv. 7.
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2:
Cyropædia
, Book viii.
return
Contents
—UltraFinem tendere opus.Hor.translation
Surprize is so much the Life of Stories, that every one aims at it, who endeavours to please by telling them. Smooth Delivery, an elegant Choice of Words, and a sweet Arrangement, are all beautifying
Graces
, but not the particulars in this Point of Conversation which either long command the Attention, or strike with the Violence of a sudden Passion, or occasion the burst of Laughter which accompanies Humour. I have sometimes fancied that the Mind is in this case like a Traveller who sees a fine Seat in Haste; he acknowledges the Delightfulness of a Walk set with Regularity, but would be uneasy if he were obliged to pass it over, when the first View had let him into all its Beauties from one End to the other.
However, a knowledge of the Success which Stories will have when they are attended with a Turn of Surprize, as it has happily made the Characters of some, so has it also been the Ruin of the Characters of others. There is a Set of Men who outrage Truth, instead of affecting us with a Manner in telling it; who over-leap the Line of Probability, that they may be seen to move out of the common Road; and endeavour only to make their Hearers stare, by imposing upon them with a kind of Nonsense against the Philosophy of Nature, or such a Heap of Wonders told upon their own Knowledge, as it is not likely one Man should ever have met with.
I have been led to this Observation by a Company into which I fell accidentally. The Subject of
Antipathies
was a proper Field wherein such false Surprizes might expatiate, and there were those present who appeared very fond to shew it in its full Extent of traditional History. Some of them, in a learned manner, offered to our Consideration the miraculous Powers which the Effluviums of Cheese have over Bodies whose Pores are dispos'd to receive them in a noxious manner; others gave an account of such who could indeed bear the sight of Cheese, but not the Taste; for which they brought a Reason from the Milk of their Nurses. Others again discours'd, without endeavouring at Reasons, concerning an unconquerable Aversion which some Stomachs have against a Joint of Meat when it is whole, and the eager Inclination they have for it, when, by its being cut up, the Shape which had affected them is altered. From hence they passed to Eels, then to Parsnips, and so from one Aversion to another, till we had work'd up our selves to such a pitch of Complaisance, that when the Dinner was to come in, we enquired the name of every Dish, and hop'd it would be no Offence to any in Company, before it was admitted. When we had sat down, this Civility amongst us turned the Discourse from Eatables to other sorts of Aversions; and the eternal Cat, which plagues every Conversation of this nature, began then to engross the Subject. One had sweated at the Sight of it, another had smelled it out as it lay concealed in a very distant Cupboard; and he who crowned the whole set of these Stories, reckon'd up the Number of Times in which it had occasion'd him to swoon away. At last, says he, that you may all be satisfy'd of my invincible Aversion to a Cat, I shall give an unanswerable Instance: As I was going through a Street of
London
, where I had never been till then, I felt a general Damp and Faintness all over me, which I could not tell how to account for, till I chanced to cast my Eyes upwards, and found that I was passing under a Sign-Post on which the Picture of a Cat was hung.
The Extravagance of this Turn in the way of Surprize, gave a stop to the Talk we had been carrying on: Some were silent because they doubted, and others because they were conquered in their own Way; so that the Gentleman had Opportunity to press the Belief of it upon us, and let us see that he was rather exposing himself than ridiculing others.
I must freely own that I did not all this while disbelieve every thing that was said; but yet I thought some in the Company had been endeavouring who should pitch the Bar farthest; that it had for some time been a measuring Cast, and at last my Friend of the Cat and Sign-post had thrown beyond them all.
I then consider'd the Manner in which this Story had been received, and the Possibility that it might have pass'd for a Jest upon others, if he had not labour'd against himself. From hence, thought I, there are two Ways which the well-bred World generally takes to correct such a Practice, when they do not think fit to contradict it flatly.
The first of these is a general Silence, which I would not advise any one to interpret in his own behalf. It is often the Effect of Prudence in avoiding a Quarrel, when they see another drive so fast, that there is no stopping him without being run against; and but very seldom the Effect of Weakness in believing suddenly. The generality of Mankind are not so grossly ignorant, as some over-bearing Spirits would persuade themselves; and if the Authority of a Character or a Caution against Danger make us suppress our Opinions, yet neither of these are of force enough to suppress our Thoughts of them. If a Man who has endeavoured to amuse his Company with Improbabilities could but look into their Minds, he would find that they imagine he lightly esteems of their Sense when he thinks to impose upon them, and that he is less esteemed by them for his Attempt in doing so. His endeavour to glory at their Expence becomes a Ground of Quarrel, and the Scorn and Indifference with which they entertain it begins the immediate Punishment: And indeed (if we should even go no further) Silence, or a negligent Indifference has a deeper way of wounding than Opposition; because Opposition proceeds from an Anger that has a sort of generous Sentiment for the Adversary mingling along with it, while it shews that there is some Esteem in your Mind for him; in short, that you think him worth while to contest with: But Silence, or a negligent Indifference, proceeds from Anger, mixed with a Scorn that shews another he is thought by you too contemptible to be regarded.
The other Method which the World has taken for correcting this Practice of false Surprize, is to over-shoot such Talkers in their own Bow, or to raise the Story with further Degrees of Impossibility, and set up for a Voucher to them in such a manner as must let them see they stand detected. Thus I have heard a Discourse was once managed upon the Effects of Fear. One of the Company had given an account how it had turn'd his Friend's Hair grey in a Night, while the Terrors of a Shipwrack encompassed him. Another taking the Hint from hence, began, upon his own Knowledge, to enlarge his Instances of the like nature to such a Number, that it was not probable he could ever have met with them; and as he still grounded these upon different Causes, for the sake of Variety, it might seem at last, from his Share of the Conversation, almost impossible that any one who can feel the Passion of Fear should all his Life escape so common an Effect of it. By this time some of the Company grew negligent, or de
Sir
ous to contradict him: But one rebuked the rest with an appearance of Severity, and with the known old Story in his Head, assured them they need not scruple to believe that the Fear of any thing can make a Man's Hair grey, since he knew one whose Perriwig had suffered so by it. Thus he stopped the Talk, and made them easy. Thus is the same Method taken to bring us to Shame, which we fondly take to increase our Character. It is indeed a kind of Mimickry, by which another puts on our Air of Conversation to show us to our selves: He seems to look ridiculous before you, that you may remember how near a Resemblance you bear to him, or that you may know he will not lie under the Imputation of believing you. Then it is that you are struck dumb immediately with a conscientious Shame for what you have been saying, Then it is that you are inwardly grieved at the Sentiments which you cannot but perceive others entertain concerning you. In short, you are against your self; the Laugh of the Company runs against you; the censuring World is obliged to you for that Triumph which you have allowed them at your own Expence; and Truth, which you have injured, has a near way of being revenged on you,
when
by the bare Repetition of your Story you become a frequent Diversion for the
Publick
1
.
Mr. SPECTATOR,'The other Day, walking inPancrasChurchyard, I thought of your Paper wherein you mention Epitaphs, and am of opinion this has a Thought in it worth being communicated to your Readers.Here Innocence and Beauty lies, whose BreathWas snatch'd by early, not untimely Death.Hence did she go, just as she did beginSorrow to know, before she knew to sin.Death, that does Sin and Sorrow thus prevent,Is the next Blessing to a Life well spent.I am,Sir, Your Servant.
Here Innocence and Beauty lies, whose BreathWas snatch'd by early, not untimely Death.Hence did she go, just as she did beginSorrow to know, before she knew to sin.Death, that does Sin and Sorrow thus prevent,Is the next Blessing to a Life well spent.
Footnote 1:
Publick.I am,Sir, your Servant.
return to footnote mark
Contents
Heteroclyta sunto.—Quæ Genus.translationMr. SPECTATOR,'I am a young Widow of a good Fortune and Family, and just come to Town; where I find I have Clusters of pretty Fellows come already to visit me, some dying with Hopes, others with Fears, tho' they never saw me. Now what I would beg of you, would be to know whether I may venture to use these pert Fellows with the same Freedom as I did my Country Acquaintance. I deSire your Leave to use them as to me shall seem meet, without Imputation of a Jilt; for since I make Declaration that not one of them shall have me, I think I ought to be allowed the Liberty of insulting those who have the Vanity to believe it is in their power to make me break that Resolution. There are Schools for learning to use Foils, frequented by those who never design to fight; and this useless way of aiming at the Heart, without design to wound it on either side, is the Play with which I am resolved to divert my self: The Man who pretends to win, I shall use like him who comes into a Fencing-School to pick a Quarrel. I hope, upon this Foundation, you will give me the free use of the natural and artificial Force of my Eyes, Looks, and Gestures. As for verbal Promises, I will make none, but shall have no mercy on the conceited Interpreters of Glances and Motions. I am particularly skill'd in the downcast Eye, and the Recovery into a sudden full Aspect, and away again, as you may have seen sometimes practised by us Country Beauties beyond all that you have observed in Courts and Cities. Add to this,Sir, that I have a ruddy heedless Look, which covers Artifice the best of any thing. Tho' I can dance very well, I affect a tottering untaught way of walking, by which I appear an easy Prey and never exert my instructed Charms till I find I have engaged a Pursuer. Be pleased,Sir, to print this Letter; which will certainly begin the Chace of a rich Widow: The many Foldings, Escapes, Returns and Doublings which I make, I shall from time to time communicate to you, for the better Instruction of all Females who set up, like me, for reducing the present exorbitant Power and Insolence of Man.'I am,Sir,Your faithful Correspondent,Relicta Lovely.Dear Mr.SPECTATOR,'I depend upon your profess'd Respect for virtuous Love, for your immediate answering the Design of this Letter; which is no other than to lay before the World the Severity of certain Parents who deSire to suspend the Marriage of a discreet young Woman of eighteen, three Years longer, for no other reason but that of her being too young to enter into that State. As to the consideration of Riches, my Circumstances are such, that I cannot be suspected to make my Addresses to her on such low Motives as Avarice or Ambition. If ever Innocence, Wit and Beauty, united their utmost Charms, they have in her. I wish you would expatiate a little on this Subject, and admonish her Parents that it may be from the very Imperfection of Human Nature it self, and not any personal Frailty of her or me, that our Inclinations baffled at present may alter; and while we are arguing with our selves to put off the Enjoyment of our present Passions, our Affections may change their Objects in the Operation. It is a very delicate Subject to talk upon; but if it were but hinted, I am in hopes it would give the Parties concern'd some Reflection that might expedite our Happiness. There is a Possibility, and I hope I may say it without Imputation of Immodesty to her I love with the highest Honour; I say, there is a Possibility this Delay may be as painful to her as it is to me. If it be as much, it must be more, by reason of the severe Rules the Sex are under in being denied even the Relief of Complaint. If you oblige me in this, and I succeed, I promise you a Place at my Wedding, and a Treatment suitable to your Spectatorial Dignity.'Your most humble Servant,Eustace.Sir,'I Yesterday heard a young Gentleman, that look'd as if he was just come to the Town, and a Scarf, upon Evil-speaking; which Subject, you know, ArchbishopTillotsonhas so nobly handled in a Sermon in hisFolio. As soon as ever he had named his Text, and had opened a little the Drift of his Discourse, I was in great hopes he had been one ofSirROGER'S Chaplains. I have conceived so great an Idea of the charming Discourse above, that I should have thought one part of my Sabbath very well spent in hearing a Repetition of it. But alas! Mr. SPECTATOR, this Reverend Divine gave us his Grace's Sermon, and yet I don't know how; even I, that I am sure have read it at least twenty times, could not tell what to make of it, and was at a loss sometimes to guess what the Man aim'd at. He was so just indeed, as to give us all the Heads and the Sub-divisions of the Sermon; and farther I think there was not one beautiful Thought in it but what we had. But then,Sir, this Gentleman made so many pretty Additions; and he could never give us a Paragraph of the Sermon, but he introduced it with something which, methought, look'd more like a Design to shew his own Ingenuity, than to instruct the People. In short, he added and curtailed in such a manner that he vexed me; insomuch that I could not forbear thinking (what, I confess, I ought not to have thought of in so holy a Place) that this young Spark was as justly blameable asBullockorPenkethmanwhen they mend a noble Play ofShakespearorJohnson. Pray,Sir, take this into your Consideration; and if we must be entertained with the Works of any of those great Men, deSire these Gentlemen to give them us as they find them, that so, when we read them to our Families at home, they may the better remember they have heard them at Church.'Sir,Your humble Servant.
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—Non Deficit Alter—Virg.translationMr.SPECTATOR,'There is no Part of your Writings which I have in more Esteem than your Criticism uponMilton. It is an honourable and candid Endeavour to set the Works of our Noble Writers in the graceful Light which they deserve. You will lose much of my kind Inclination towards you, if you do not attempt the Encomium ofSpenceralso, or at least indulge my Passion for that charming Author so far as to print the loose Hints I now give you on that Subject.'Spencer's general Plan is the Representation of six Virtues, Holiness, Temperance, Chastity, Friendship, Justice and Courtesy, in six Legends by six Persons. The six Personages are supposed under proper Allegories suitable to their respective Characters, to do all that is necessary for the full Manifestation of the respective Virtues which they are to exert.'These one might undertake to shew under the several Heads, are admirably drawn; no Images improper, and most surprizingly beautiful. The Red-cross Knight runs through the whole Steps of the Christian Life;Guyondoes all that Temperance can possibly require;Britomartis(a Woman) observes the true Rules of unaffected Chastity;Arthegalis in every Respect of Life strictly and wisely just;Calidoreis rightly courteous.'In short, inFairy-Land, where Knights Errant have a full Scope to range, and to do even whatAriosto'sorOrlando'scould not do in the World without breaking into Credibility,Spencer'sKnights have, under those six Heads, given a full and a truly Poetical System of Christian, Public, and Low Life.'His Legend of Friendship is more diffuse, and yet even there the Allegory is finely drawn, only the Heads various, one Knight could not there support all the Parts.'To do honour to his Country, PrinceArthuris an Universal Hero; in Holiness, Temperance, Chastity, and Justice super-excellent. For the same Reason, and to compliment QueenElizabeth,Gloriana, Queen of Fairies, whose Court was the Asylum of the Oppressed, represents that Glorious Queen. At her Commands all these Knights set forth, and only at her's the Red-cross Knight destroys the Dragon.Guyonoverturns the Bower of Bliss,Arthegal(i. e.Justice) beats downGeryoneo(i. e.Phil.II. King ofSpain) to rescueBelge(i. e.Holland) and he beats theGrantorto(the samePhilipin another Light) to restoreIrena(i. e.Peaceto Europe.)'Chastity being the first Female Virtue,Britomartisis aBritain; her Part is fine, though it requires Explication. His stile is very Poetical; no Puns, Affectations of Wit, forced Antitheses, or any of that low Tribe.'His old Words are all trueEnglish, and numbers exquisite; and since of Words there is theMulta Renascentur, since they are all proper, such a Poem should not (any more thanMilton's) subsist all of it of common ordinary Words. See Instances of Descriptions.'Causeless Jealousy inBritomartis, V. 6, 14, in its Restlessness.Like as a wayward Child whose sounder SleepIs broken with some fearful Dream's Affright,With froward Will doth set himself to weep,Ne can be stil'd for all his Nurse's Might,But kicks, and squalls, and shrieks for fell Despight;Now scratching her, and her loose Locks misusing,Now seeking Darkness, and now seeking Light;Then craving Suck, and then the Suck refusing:Such was this Lady's Loves in her Love's fond accusing.Curiosity occasioned by Jealousy, upon occasion of her Lover's Absence.Ibid, Stan. 8, 9.Then as she looked long, at last she spy'dOne coming towards her with hasty Speed,Well ween'd she then, e'er him she plain descry'd,That it was one sent from her Love indeed;Whereat her Heart was fill'd with Hope and Dread,Ne would she stay till he in Place could come,But ran to weet him forth to know his Tidings somme;Even in the Door him meeting, she begun,And where is he, thy Lord, and how far hence?Declare at once; and hath he lost or won?Careand hisHouseare described thus, IV. 6, 33, 34, 35.Not far away, not meet for any Guest,They spy'd a little Cottage, like some poor Man's Nest.34There entring in, they found the Good-Man's self,Full busily unto his Work ybent,Who was so weel a wretched wearish Elf,With hollow Eyes and raw-bone Cheeks forspent,As if he had in Prison long been pent.Full black and griesly did his Face appear,Besmear'd with Smoke that nigh his Eye-sight blent,With rugged Beard and Hoary shaggy Heare,The which he never wont to comb, or comely shear.35Rude was his Garment and to Rags all rent,Ne better had he, ne for better cared;His blistred Hands amongst the Cinders brent,And Fingers filthy, with long Nails prepared,Right fit to rend the Food on which he fared.His Name wasCare;a Blacksmith by his Trade,That neither Day nor Night from working spared,But to small purpose Iron Wedges made:These be unquiet Thoughts that careful Minds invade.'Homer's Epithets were much admired by Antiquity: See what great Justness and Variety there is in these Epithets of the Trees in the Forest where the Red-cross Knight lostTruth, B. I. Cant. i. St. 8, 9.The sailing Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,The Vine-prop Elm, the Poplar never dry,The Builder Oak, sole King of Forests all.The Aspine good for Staves, the Cypress Funeral.The Laurel, Meed of mighty Conquerors,And Poets sage; the Fir that weepeth still,The Willow worn of forlorn Paramours,The Yew obedient to the Bender's Will.The Birch for Shafts, the Sallow for the Mill;The Myrrhe sweet bleeding in the bitter Wound,The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,The fruitful Olive, and the Plantane round,The Carver Helm, the Maple seldom inward sound.'I shall trouble you no more, but deSire you to let me conclude with these Verses, though I think they have already been quoted by you; They are Directions to young Ladies opprest with Calumny. VI. 6, 14.The best(said he)that I can you advise,Is to avoid the Occasion of the Ill;For when the Cause whence Evil doth ariseRemoved is, the Effect surceaseth still.Abstain from Pleasure, and restrain your Will,Subdue DeSire, and bridle loose Delight,Use scanted Diet, and forbear your Fill,Shun Secrecy, and talk in open Sight;So shall you soon repair your present evil Plight.
Like as a wayward Child whose sounder SleepIs broken with some fearful Dream's Affright,With froward Will doth set himself to weep,Ne can be stil'd for all his Nurse's Might,But kicks, and squalls, and shrieks for fell Despight;Now scratching her, and her loose Locks misusing,Now seeking Darkness, and now seeking Light;Then craving Suck, and then the Suck refusing:Such was this Lady's Loves in her Love's fond accusing.
Then as she looked long, at last she spy'dOne coming towards her with hasty Speed,Well ween'd she then, e'er him she plain descry'd,That it was one sent from her Love indeed;Whereat her Heart was fill'd with Hope and Dread,Ne would she stay till he in Place could come,But ran to weet him forth to know his Tidings somme;Even in the Door him meeting, she begun,And where is he, thy Lord, and how far hence?Declare at once; and hath he lost or won?
The sailing Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,The Vine-prop Elm, the Poplar never dry,The Builder Oak, sole King of Forests all.The Aspine good for Staves, the Cypress Funeral.The Laurel, Meed of mighty Conquerors,And Poets sage; the Fir that weepeth still,The Willow worn of forlorn Paramours,The Yew obedient to the Bender's Will.The Birch for Shafts, the Sallow for the Mill;The Myrrhe sweet bleeding in the bitter Wound,The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,The fruitful Olive, and the Plantane round,The Carver Helm, the Maple seldom inward sound.
The best(said he)that I can you advise,Is to avoid the Occasion of the Ill;For when the Cause whence Evil doth ariseRemoved is, the Effect surceaseth still.Abstain from Pleasure, and restrain your Will,Subdue DeSire, and bridle loose Delight,Use scanted Diet, and forbear your Fill,Shun Secrecy, and talk in open Sight;So shall you soon repair your present evil Plight.