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to avoid the persons he speaks of, that I been very much towards intrigue and hav shall insert his letter at length. ing intelligence with women of wit, my whole life has passed away in a series of impositions. I shall, for the benefit of the present race of young men give some account of my loves. I know not whether you have ever heard of the famous girl about town, called Kitty. This creature (for I must take shame upon myself) was my mistress in the days when keeping was in fashion. Kitty, under the appearance of being wild, thoughtless, and irregular in all her words and actions, concealed the most accomplished jilt of her time. Her negligence had to me a charm in it like that
'MR. SPECTATOR,-I do not know that you have ever touched upon a certain species of women, whom we ordinarily call jilts. You cannot possibly go upon a more useful work, than the consideration of these dangerous animals. The coquette is indeed one degree towards the jilt; but the heart of the former is bent upon admiring herself, and giving false hopes to her lovers; but the latter is not contented to be extremely amiable, but she must add to that advantage a certain delight in being a torment to others. Thus when her lover is in the full of chastity, and want of desires seemed as expectation of success, the jilt shall meet great a merit as the conquest of them. The him with a sudden indifference, and admi-air she gave herself was that of a romping ration in her face at his being surprised that girl, and whenever I talked to her with any he is received like a stranger, and a cast of turn of fondness, she would immediately her head another way with a pleasant scorn snatch off my periwig, try it upon herself in of the fellow's insolence. It is very proba- the glass, clap her arms a-kimbow, draw ble the lover goes home utterly astonished my sword, and make passes on the wall, take and dejected, sits down to his 'scrutoire, off my cravat, and seize it to make some sends her word in the most abject terms other use of the lace, or run into some other that he knows not what he has done, that unaccountable rompishness, until the time all which was desirable in this life is so sud-I had appointed to pass away with her was denly vanished from him, that the charmer over. I went from her full of pleasure at of his soul should withdraw the vital heat the reflection that I had the keeping of so from the heart which pants for her. He much beauty in a woman, who, as she was continues a mournful absence for some time, too heedless to please me, was also too unpining in secret, and out of humour with all attentive to form a design to wrong me. things which he meets with. At length he Long did I divert every hour that hung takes a resolution to try his fate, and ex- heavy upon me in the company of this creaplain with her resolutely upon her unac- ture, whom I looked upon as neither guilty countable carriage. He walks up to her nor innocent, but could laugh at myself for apartment, with a thousand inquietudes, my unaccountable pleasure in an expense and doubts in what manner he shall meet upon her, until in the end it appeared my the first cast of her eye; when, upon his pretty insensible was with child by my footfirst appearance, she flies towards him, man. wonders where he has been, accuses him of his absence, and treats him with a familiarity as surprising as her former coldness. This good correspondence continues until the lady observes the lover grows happy in it, and then she interrupts it with some new inconsistency of behaviour. For (as I just now said) the happiness of a jilt consists of behaviour, and began to make visits, freonly in the power of making others uneasy.quent assemblies, and lead out ladies from But such is the folly of this sect of women, the theatres, with all the other insignificant that they carry on this pretty, skittish be- duties which the professed servants of the haviour, until they have no charms left to fair place themselves in constant readiness render it supportable. Corinna, that used to perform. In a very little time, (having to torment all who conversed with her with a plentiful fortune,) fathers and mothers false glances, and little heedless unguarded began to regard me as a good match, and I motions, that were to betray some inclina- found easy admittance into the best famition towards the man she would insnare, lies in town to observe their daughters; but finds at present all she attempts that way I, who was born to follow the fair to no unregarded; and is obliged to indulge the purpose, have by the force of my ill stars jilt in her constitution, by laying artificial made my application to three jilts succesplots, writing perplexing letters from un- sively. known hands, and making all the young 'Hyæna is one of those who form themfellows in love with her until they find out selves into a melancholy and indolent air, who she is. Thus, as before she gave tor-and endeavour to gain admirers from their ment by disguising her inclination, she now inattention to all around them. Hyæna can is obliged to do it by hiding her person. loll in her coach, with something so fixed in her countenance, that it is impossible to conceive her meditation is employed only on her dress and her charms in that pos
"This accident roused me into a disdain against all libertine women, under what appearance soever they hid their insincerity, and I resolved after that time to converse with none but those who lived within the rules of decency and honour. To this end I formed myself into a more regular turn
'As for my own part, Mr. Spectator, it has been my unhappy fate to be jilted from my youth upward; and as my taste has
ous, the rest of the world him who is most wealthy.
When a man is in this way of thinking, I do not know what can occur to one more monstrous, than to see persons of ingenuity address their services and performances to men no way addicted to liberal arts. In these cases, the praise on one hand, and the patronage on the other, are equally the objects of ridicule. Dedications to ignorant men are as absurd as any of the speeches of Bulfinch in the Droll. Such an address one is apt to translate into other words; and when the different parties are thoroughly considered, the panegyric generally implies no more than if the author should say to the patron; 'My very good lord, you and I can never understand one another; therefore I humbly desire we may be intimate friends for the future.'
The rich may as well ask to borrow of the poor, as the man of virtue or merit to nope for addition to his character from any but such as himself. He that commends another engages so much of his own reputation as he gives to that person commended; and he that has nothing laudable in himself is not of ability to be such a surety. The wise Phocion was so sensible how dangerous it was to be touched with what the multitude approved, that upon a general acclamation made when he was making an oration, he turned to an intelligent friend who stood near him, and asked in a surprised manner, What slip have I made?'
I shall conclude this paper with a billet which has fallen into my hands, and was written to a lady from a gentleman whom she had highly commended. The author of it had formerly been her lover. When all possibility of commerce between them on the subject of love was cut off, she spoke so handsomely of him, as to give occasion for this letter.
No. 189.] Saturday, October 6, 1711.
some time since, I shall publish it in this paper, together with the letter that was inclosed in it.
MR. BUCKLEY,-Mr. Spectator having of late descanted upon the cruelty of parents to their children, I have been induced (at the request of several of Mr. Spectator's admirers,) to inclose this letter, which I assure you is the original from a father to his own son, notwithstanding the latter gave but little or no provocation. It would be wonderfully obliging to the world, if Mr. Spectator would give his opinion of it in some of his speculations, and particularly to (Mr. Buckley,) your humble servant.'
-Patriæ pietatis imago.
'SIRRAH,-You are a saucy audacious rascal, and both fool and mad, and I care not a farthing whether you comply or no; that does not raze out my impressions of your insolence, going about railing at me, and the next day to solicit my favour. These are inconsistences, such as discover thy reason depraved. To be brief, I never desire to see your face; and, sirrah, if you go to the workhouse, it is no disgrace to me for you to be supported there; and if you starve in the streets, I'll never give any thing underhand in your behalf. If I have any more of your scribbling nonsense, I'll break your head the first time I set sight on you. You are a stubborn beast; is this your gratitude for my giving you money? You rogue, I'll better your judgment, and give you a greater sense of your duty to (I regret to say) your father, &c.
'MADAM,-I should be insensible to stupidity, if I could forbear making you my acknowledgments for your late mention of me with so much applause. It is, I think, your fate to give me new sentiments: as you formerly inspired me with the true sense of love, so do you now with the true sense of glory. As desire had the least part in the passion I heretofore professed towards you, so has vanity no share in the glory to which you have now raised me. Innocence, knowledge, beauty, virtue, sincerity, and discretion, are the constant ornaments of her who has said this of me. Fame is a babbler, but I have arrived at the highest glory in this world, the commendation of the most deserving person in it.'
'P. S. It's prudence in you to keep out of my sight; for to reproach me, that Might overcomes Right, on the outside of your letter, I shall give you a great knock on the skull for it.'
Was there ever such an image of pateranal tenderness! It was usual among some of the Greeks to make their slaves drink to excess, and then expose them to their children, who by that means conceived an early aversion to a vice which makes men appear so monstrous and irrational. I have exposed this picture of an unnatural father with the same intention, that its deformity may deter others from its resemblance. If the reader has a mind to see a father of the same stamp represented in the most exquisite strokes of humour, he may meet with it in one of the finest comedies that ever appeared upon the English stage: I mean the part of Sir Sampson in Love for Love.
I must not, however, engage myself blindly on the side of the son, to whom the fond letter above written was directed. His father calls him a saucy and audacious rascal,' in the first line, and I am afraid, upon examination, he will prove but an ungracious youth. To go about railing' at his father, and to find no other place but the outside of his letter' to tell him that
might overcomes right'-if it does not dis- | the Creator, it discovers the imperfection cover his reason to be depraved,' and and degeneracy of the creature. 'that he is either fool or mad,' as the choleric old gentleman tells him, we may at least allow that the father will do very well in endeavouring to better his judgment, and give him a greater sense of his duty.' But whether this may be brought about by breaking his head, or giving him a great knock on the skull,' ought, I think, to be well considered. Upon the whole, I wish the father has not met with his match, and that he may not be as equally paired with a son, as the mother in Virgil:
-Crudelis tu quoque mater:
Crudelis mater magis, an puer improbus ille?
The obedience of children to their parents is the basis of all government, and set forth as the measure of that_obedience which we owe to those whom Providence has placed over us.
It is father Le Compte, if I am not mistaken, who tells us how want of duty in this particular is punished among the Chinese, insomuch, that if a son should be known to kill, or so much as to strike his father, not only the criminal, but his whole family would be rooted out, nay, the inhabitants of the place where he lived would be put to the sword, nay, the place itself would be razed to the ground, and its foundations sown with salt. For, say they, there must have been an utter deprivation of manners in that clan or society of people who could have bred up among them so horrid an offender. To this I shall add a passage out
Or like the crow and her egg in the Greek of the first book of Herodotus. That histo
rian, in his account of the Persian customs
Bad the crow, bad the egg.
I must here take notice of a letter which I have received from an unknown correspondent upon the subject of my paper, upon which the foregoing letter is likewise founded. The writer of it seems very much concerned lest that paper should seem to give encouragement to the disobedience of children towards their parents; but if the writer of it will take the pains to read it over again attentively, I dare say his ap- No. 190.] Monday, October 8, 1711. prehensions will vanish. Pardon and reconciliation are all the penitent daughter requests, and all that I contend for in her behalf; and in this case I may use the saying of an eminent wit, who, upon some great men's pressing him to forgive his daughter who had married against his consent, told them he could refuse nothing to their instances, but that he would have them remember there was difference between giving and forgiving.
Servitas crescit nova
I must confess, in all controversies between parents and their children, I am naturally prejudiced in favour of the former. The obligations on that side can never be acquitted, and I think it is one of the greatest reflections upon human nature, that paternal instinct should be a stronger motive to love than filial gratitude; that the receiving of favour should be a less inducement to good-will, tenderness, and commiseration, than the conferring of them; and that the taking care of any person, should endear the child or dependant more to the parent or benefactor, than the parent or benefactor to the child or dependant; yet so it happens, that for one cruel parent we meet with a thousand undutiful children. This is, indeed, wonderfully contrived (as I have formerly observed,) for the support of every living species; but at the same time that it shows the wisdom of
Hor. Lib. 2. Od. vui. 18 A slavery to former times unknown. SINCE I made some reflections upon the general negligence used in the case of regard towards women, or in other words, since I talked of wenching, I have had epistles upon this subject, which I shall, for the present entertainment, insert as they lie before me.
'MR. SPECTATOR,-As your speculations are not confined to any part of human life, but concern the wicked as well as the good, I must desire your favourable acceptance of what I, a poor strolling girl about town, have to say to you. I was told by a Roman-Catholic gentleman who picked me up last week, and who, I hope, is absolved for what passed between us; I say, I was told by such a person, who endeavoured to convert me to his own religion, that in countries where popery prevails, besides the advantage of licensed stews, there are large endowments given for the Incurabili, I think he called them, such as are past all remedy, and are allowed such maintenance and support as to keep them without farther care until they expire. This manner of treating poor sinners has, methinks, great humanity in it; and as you are a person
who pretend to carry your reflections upon | nags, when they are warranted for their all subjects whatever that occur to you, soundness. You understand by this time with candour, and act above the sense of that I was left in a brothel, and exposed to what misinterpretation you may meet with, the next bidder, who could purchase me I beg the favour of you to lay before all the of my patroness. This is so much the work world the unhappy condition of us poor of hell: the pleasure in the possession of us vagrants, who are really in the way of wenches abates in proportion to the degrees labour instead of idleness. There are we go beyond the bounds of innocence; and crowds of us whose manner of livelihood no man is gratified, if there is nothing left has long ceased to be pleasing to us; and for him to debauch. Well, sir, my first who would willingly lead a new life, if the man, when I came upon the town, was Sir rigour of the virtuous did not for ever expel Jeoffry Foible, who was extremely lavish us from coming into the world again. As to me of his money, and took such a fancy it now happens, to the eternal infamy of to me that he would have carried me off, the male sex, falsehood among you is not if my patroness would have taken any reareproachful, but credulity in woman is in- sonable terms for me; but as he was old, famous. his covetousness was his strongest passion, and poor I was soon left exposed to be the common refuse of all the rakes and debauchees in town. I cannot tell whether you will do me justice or no, till I see whether you print this or not; otherwise, as I now live with Sal,* I could give you a very just account of who and who is together in this town. You perhaps won't believe it; but I know of one who pretends to be a very good Protestant, who lies with a Roman-Catholic: but more of this hereafter, as you please me. There do come to our house the greatest politicians of the age; and Sal is more shrewd than any body thinks. No body can believe that such wise men could go to bawdy-houses out of idle purpose. I have heard them often talk of Augustus Cæsar, who had intrigues with the wives of senators, not out of wantonness but stratagem.
It is a thousand pities you should be so severely virtuous as I fear you are; otherwise, after one visit or two, you would soon understand that we women of the town are not such useless correspondents as you may imagine: you have undoubtedly heard that it was a courtesan who discovered Catiline's conspiracy. If you print this I'll tell you more; and am, in the meantime, sir, your most humble servant,
'Give me leave, sir, to give you my history. You are to know that I am a daughter of a man of good reputation, tenant to a man of quality. The heir of this great house took it in his head to cast a favourable eye upon me, and succeeded. I do not pretend to say he promised me marriage: I was not a creature silly enough to be taken by so foolish a story; but he ran away with me up to this town, and introduced me to a grave matron, with whom I boarded for a day or two with great gravity, and was not a little pleased with the change of my condition, from that of a country life to the finest company, as I believed, in the whole world. My humble servant made me understand that I should always be kept in the plentiful condition I then enjoyed; when after a very great fondness towards me, he one day took his leave of me for four or five days. In the evening of the same day, my good landlady came to me, and observing me very pensive, began to comfort me, and with a smile told me I must see the world. When I was deaf to all she could say to divert me, she began to tell me with a very frank air that I must be treated as I ought, and not to take these squeamish humours upon me, for my friend had left me to the town; and, as their phrase is, she expected I would see company, or I must be treated like what I had brought myself to. This put me into a fit of crying: and I immediately, in a true sense of my condition, threw myself on the floor, deploring my fate, calling upon all that was good and sacred to succour me. While I was in this agony, I observed a decrepid old fellow come into the room, and looking with a sense of pleasure in his face at all my vehemence and transport. In a pause of distresses I heard him say to the shameless old woman who stood by me, "She is certainly a new face, or else she acts it rarely." With that the gentlewoman, who was making her market of me, in all the turns of my person, the heaves of my passion, and the suitable change of my posture, took occasion to commend my neck, my shape, my eyes, my limbs. All this was accompanied with such speeches as you may have heard horse-coursers make in the sale of upon the town.
'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am an idle young woman that would work for my livelihood, Í but that I am kept in such a manner as cannot stir out. My tyrant is an old jealous fellow, who allows me nothing to appear in.
have but one shoe and one slipper; no head-dress, and no upper-petticoat. As you set up for a reformer, I desire you would take me out of this wicked way and keep EVE AFTERDAY.' me yourself.
'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am to complain to you of a set of impertinent coxcombs, who visit the apartments of us women of the town, only, as they call it, to see the world. I must confess to you, this to men of delicacy might have an effect to cure them; but as they are stupid, noisy, and
* A celebrated courtesan and procuress at that time