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in a particular manner to the court which pays lutes her with a pretty phrase of, How now, that veneration to their friendship, and seems to Double Tripe? Upon the mention of a country. express on such an occasion the sense of the uncer-gentlewoman, whom he knows nothing of, (no one tainty of human life in general, by assuming the can imagine why) he will lay his life she is some habit of sorrow, though in the full possession of awkward ill-fashioned country toad, who, not hav triumph and royalty. ing above four dozen of hairs on her head, has adorned her baldness with a large white fruz, that she may look sparkishly in the fore-front of the king's box at an old play. Unnatural mixture of senseless common place!
N° 65. TUESDAY, MAY 15, 1711.
→ Demetri, teque Tigelli,
HOR. 1 Sat. x. 90.
Demetrius and Tigellius, know your place;
As to the generosity of his temper, he tells his poor footman, 'If he did not wait better,' he would turn him away, in the insolent phrase of, I'll uncase you.'
Now for Mrs. Harriot. She laughs at obedience to an absent mother, whose tenderness Busy describes to be very exquisite, for that she is so pleased with finding Harriot again, that she cannot chide her for being out of the way.' This witty AFTER having at large explained what wit is, and daughter, and fine lady, has so little respect for described the false appearances of it, all that la- this good woman, that she ridicules her air in tak bour seems but an useless inquiry, without some ing leave, and cries, In what struggle is my poor time be spent in considering the application of it. mother yonder! See, see, her head tottering, her The seat of wit, when one speaks as a man of the eyes staring, and her under-lip trembling.' But town and the world, is the playhouse: I shall all this is atoned for, because she has more wit therefore fill this paper with reflections upon the than is usual in her sex, and as much malice, though use of it in that place. The application of wit she is as wild as you could wish her, and has a dein the theatre has as strong an effect upon the mureness in her looks that makes it so surprising!' manners of our gentlemen, as the taste of it has Then to recommend her as a fit spouse for his upon the writings of our authors. It may, perhaps, hero, the poet makes her speak her sense of marlook like a very presumptuous work, though not riage very ingenuously: I think,' says she, 'I foreign from the duty of a Spectator, to tax the might be brought to endure him, and that is all a writings of such as have long had the general ap reasonable woman should expect in an husband.' plause of a nation; but I shall always make rea- It is methinks unnatural, that we are not made to son, truth, and nature the measures of praise and understand how, she that was bred under a silly dispraise; if those are for me, the generality of pious old mother, that would never trust her out opinion is of no consequence against me; if they of her sight, came to be so polite. are against me, the general opinion cannot long It cannot be denied, but that the negligence of every thing which engages the attention of the soWithout further preface, I am going to look in- ber and valuable part of mankind, appears very to some of our most applauded plays, and see whe-well drawn in this piece. But it is denied, that it ther they deserve the figure they at present bear is necessary to the character of a fine gentleman, in the imaginations of men, or not. that he should in that manner trample upon all orIn reflecting upon these works, I shall chiefly der and decency. As for the character of Doridwell upon that for which each respective play is mant, it is more of a coxcomb than that of Fopmost celebrated. The present paper shall be em-ling. He says of one of his companions, that a ployed upon Sir Fopling Flutter.* good correspondence between them is their mutual character of this play is, that it is the pattern of interest. Speaking of that friend he declares, genteel comedy. Dorimant and Harriot are the their being much together makes the women characters of greatest consequence; and if these think the better of his understanding, and judge are low and mean, the reputation of the play is more favourably of my reputation. It makes him very unjust. pass upon some for a man of a very good sense, I will take for granted, that a fine gentleman and me upon others for a very civil person.' should be honest in his actions, and refined in his This whole celebrated piece is a perfect contralanguage. Instead of this, our hero in this piece diction to good manners, good sense, and common is a direct knave in his designs, and a clown in his honesty; and as there is nothing in it but what is language. Bellair is his admirer and friend; in built upon the ruin of virtue and innocence, accordreturn for which, because he is forsooth a greater ing to the notion of merit in this comedy, I take wit than his said friend, he thinks it reasonable to the Shoemaker to be, in reality, the fine gentlepersuade him to marry a young lady, whose virtue, man of the play: for it seems he is an atheist, if he thinks, will last no longer than till she is awe may depend upon his character, as given by wife, and then she cannot but fall to his share, as the orange-woman, who is herself far from being he is an irresistible fine gentleman. The falsehood the lowest in the play. She says of a fine man, to Mrs. Loveit, and the barbarity of triumphing who is Dorimant's companion, there is not such over her anguish for losing him, is another instance another heathen in the town, except the Shoeof his honesty, as well as his good-nature. As to maker.' His pretension to be the hero of the his fine language; he calls the orange-woman, who, Drama appears still more in his own description of it seems, is inclined to grow fat, An overgrown his way of living with his lady. There is,' says jade, with a basket of guts before her; and sa- he, never a man in town lives more like a gentle
In the Man of Mode. Sir Fopling was Beau Hewit, son of Sir Thomas Hewit, of Pishiobury in Hertfordshire, bart. the author's own character was represented in that of Bellair; or, as some think, in Medley. Dorimant (as Davies tells us, Dram. Misc. Vol. III. 178.) was formed from two originals; the witty Earl of Dorset, and the licentious Wilmot Earl of Rochester.
man with his wife than I do; I never mind her motions; she never inquires into mine. We speak to one another civilly, hate one another heartily: and because it is vulgar to lie and soak together, we have each of us our several settle-bed. That
of soaking together' is as good as if Dorimant had voured me with, I shall further advise with you spoken it himself; and I think, since he puts hu-about the disposal of this fair forester in marriage; man nature in as ugly a form as the circumstance for I will make it no secret to you, that her person will bear, and is a staunch unbeliever, he is very and education are to be her fortune. much wronged in having no part of the good fortune bestowed in the last act.
Detenero meditatur ungui.
HOR. 3 Od. vi. 21.
Behold a ripe and melting maid
Bound 'prentice to the wanton trade;
Ionian artists, at a mighty price,
What nets to spread, where subtle baits to lay;
THE two following letters are upon a subject of
6 TO THE SPECTATOR, &c.
'I am, SIR,
'Your very humble servant,
BEING employed by Celimene to make up and send to you her letter, I make bold to recommend the case therein mentioned to your consideration, because she and I happen to differ a little in our notions. I, who am a rough man, am afraid the young girl is in a fair way to be spoiled: therefore, pray, Mr. Spectator, let us have your opinion of this fine thing called fine breeding; for I am afraid it differs too much from that plain thing called good breeding.
Your most humble servant."*
The general mistake among us in the educating our children is, that in our daughters we take care of their persons, and neglect their minds; in our sons we are so intent upon adorning their minds, that we wholly neglect their bodies. It is from this that you shall see a young lady celebrated and admired in all the assemblies about town, when her elder brother is afraid to come into a room. From this ill management it arises, that we frequently observe a man's life is half spent before he is taken notice of; and a woman in the prime of her years is out of fashion and neglected. The boy I shall consider upon some other occasion, and at present stick to the girl and I am the more inI TAKE the freedom of asking your advice in clined to this, because I have several letters which behalf of a young country kinswoman of mine, who complain to me, that my female readers have not is lately come to town, and under my care for her understood me for some days last past, and take education. She is very pretty, but you cannot themselves to be unconcerned in the present turn imagine how unformed a creature it is. She comes of my writing. When a girl is safely brought from to my hands just as nature left her, half finished, her nurse, before she is capable of forming one and without any acquired improvements. When I simple notion of any thing in life, she is delivered look on her I often think of the Belle Sauvage collar round her neck, the pretty wild thing is to the hands of her dancing-master; and with a mentioned in one of your papers. Dear Mr. Spectator, help me to make her comprehend the visi-taught a fantastical gravity of behaviour, and forcble graces of speech, and the dumb eloquence of ed to a particular way of holding her head, heav motion; for she is at present a perfect stranger to ing her breast, and moving with her whole body; both. She knows no way to express herself but and all this under pain of never having an husband, by her tongue, and that always to signify her mean- if she steps, looks, or moves awry. This gives the ing. Her eyes serve her yet only to see with, and young lady wonderful workings of imagination, she is utterly a foreigner to the language of looks what is to pass between her and this husband, that and glances. In this I fancy you could help her she is every moment told of, and for whom she better than any body. I have bestowed two seems to be educated. Thus her fancy is engaged months in teaching her to sigh when she is not to turn all her endeavours to the ornament of her concerned, and to smile when she is not pleased, in this life; and she naturally thinks, if she is tall person, as what must determine her good and ill and am ashamed to own she makes little or no improvement. Then she is no more able now to enough, she is wise enough for any thing for which walk, than she was to go at a year old. By walk- her education makes her think she is designed. ing you will easily know, I mean that regular but To make her an agreeable person is the main pureasy motion, which gives our persons so irresisti-pose of her parents; to that is all their costs, to ble a grace as if we moved to music, and is a kind that all their care directed; and from this general of disengaged figure; or, if I may so speak, reci- folly of parents we owe our present numerous tative dancing. But the want of this I cannot blame race of coquettes. These reflections puzzle me, in her, for I find she has no ear, and means no when I think of giving my advice on the subject thing by walking but to change her place. I could of managing the wild thing mentioned in the letter pardon too her blushing, if she knew how to carry herself in it, and if it did not manifestly injure her complexion.
They tell me you are a person who have seen the world, and are a judge of fine breeding; which makes me ambitious of some instructions from you for her improvement; which when you have fu
• No. 28.
of my correspondent. But sure there is a middle way to be followed; the management of a young lady's person is not to be overlooked, but the eru dition of her mind is much more to be regarded. According as this is managed, you will see the mind follow the appetites of the body, or the body express the virtues of the mind.
*This, and the preceding letter, were written by Hughes. See also Nos. 33 and 53.
Cleomira dances with all the elegance of motion surprised with that part of his entertainment which imaginable; but her eyes are so chastised with the he called French dancing. There were several simplicity and innocence of her thoughts, that she young men and women, whose limbs seemed to raises in her beholders admiration and good-will, have no other motion but purely what the music but no loose hope or wild imagination. The true gave them. After this part was over, they began art in this case is, To make the mind and body a diversion which they call country dancing, and improve together; and if possible, to make gesture wherein there were also some things not disagree. follow thought, and not let thought be employed able, and divers emblematical figures, composed, upon gesture. as I guess, by wise men, for the instruction of youth.
N° 67. THURSDAY, MAY 17, 1711.
Saltare elegantius quam necesse est proba.
Too fine a dancer for a virtuous woman.
Among the rest, I observed one, which I think they call Hunt the Squirrel," in which while the woman flies the man pursues her; but as soon as she turns, he runs away, and she is obliged to follow.
The moral of this dance does, I think, very aptly recommend modesty and discretion to the female sex
LUCIAN, in one of his dialogues, introduces a phi- 'But as the best institutions are liable to cor losopher chiding his friend for his being a lover of ruptions, so, sir, I must acquaint you, that very dancing, and a frequenter of balls. The other great abuses are crept into this entertainment. I undertakes the defence of his favourite diversion, was amazed to see my girl handed by and bandwhich, he says, was at first invented by the goddess ing young fellows with so much familiarity; and Rhea, and preserved the life of Jupiter himself, I could not have thought it had been in the child. from the cruelty of his father Saturn. He proceeds to show, that it had been approved by the greatest men in all ages; that Homer calls Merion a fine dancer; and says, that the graceful mien and great agility which he had acquired by that exercise distinguished him above the rest in the armies both of Greeks and Trojans.
He adds, that Pyrrhus gained more reputation by inventing the dance which is called after his name, than by all his other actions: that the Lace dæmonians, who were the bravest people in Greece, gave great encouragement to this diversion, and made their Hormus (a dance much resembling the French Brawl) famous over all Asia: that there were still extant some Thessalian statues erected
They very often made use of a most impudent and lascivious step called “setting,” which I know not how to describe to you, but by telling you that it is the very reverse of "back to back." At last an impudent young dog bid the fiddlers play a dance called "Moll Pately," and after having made two or three capers, ran to his partner, locked his arms in hers, and whisked her round cleverly above ground in such a manner, that I who sat upon one of the lowest benches, saw further above her shoc than I could think fit to acquaint you with. I could no longer endure these enormities; wherefore just as my girl was going to be made a whirligig, I ran in, seized on the child, and carried her home.
to the honour of their best dancers: and that he Sir, I am not yet old enough to be a fool. I wondered how his brother philosopher could de- suppose this diversion might be at first invented clare himself against the opinions of those two to keep up a good understanding between young persons, whom he professed so much to admire, men and women, and so far I am not against it; Homer and Hesiod; the latter of which compares but I shall never allow of these things. I know valour and dancing together, and says, that the gods have bestowed fortitude on some men, and on others a disposition for dancing.'
Lastly, he puts him in mind that Socrates (who, in the judgment of Apollo, was the wisest of men), was not only a professed admirer of this exercise in others, but learned it himself when he was an old man.
The morose philosopher is so much affected by these and some other authorities, that he becomes a convert to his friend, and desires he would take him with him when he went to his next ball.
not what you will say to this case at present, but am sure had you been with me, you would have seen matter of great speculation. I am
I must confess I am afraid that my correspondent had too much reason to be a little out of humour at the treatment of his daughter; but I conclude that he would have been much more so, had he seen one of those kissing dances, in which Will Honeycomb assures me they are obliged to dwell almost a minute on the fair one's lips, or they will be too quick for the music and dance quite out of time.
I love to shelter myself under the examples of great men; and, I think, I have sufficiently showed that it is not below the dignity of these my specu I am not able, however, to give my final senlations to take notice of the following letter, which, tence against this diversion; and am of Mr. CowI suppose, is sent me by some substantial trades-ley's opinion, that so much of dancing, at least, as man about 'Change.
belongs to the behaviour and an handsome carriage of the body, is extremely useful, if not absolutely necessary.
We generally form such ideas of people at first sight, as we are hardly ever persuaded to lay aside afterwards: for this reason, a man would wish to have nothing disagreeable or uncomely in his ap proaches, and to be able to enter a room with a good grace.
'I Am a man in years, and by an honest industry in the world have acquired enough to give my children a liberal education, though I was an utter stranger to it myself. My eldest daughter, a girl of sixteen, has for some time been under the tuition of Monsieur Rigadoon, a dancing-master in the city; and I was prevailed upon by her and her I might add, that a moderate knowledge in the mother to go last night to one of his balls. I must little rules of good-breeding, gives a man some own to you, sir, that never having been to any assurance, and makes him easy in all companies. such place before, I was very much pleased and For want of this, I have seen a professor of a
liberal science at a loss to salute a lady; and a
N° 68. FRIDAY, MAY 18, 1711.
Nos duo turba sumus
We two are a multitude.
OVID. Met. i. 355.
It is the proper business of a dancing-master to regulate these matters; though I take it to be a just observation, that unless you add something of your own to what these fine gentlemen teach you, and which they are wholly ignorant of themselves, you will much sooner get the character of an ONE would think that the larger the company is Taffected fop, than of a well-bred man. in which we are engaged, the greater variety of As for country dancing, it must indeed be con-thoughts and subjects would be started in discourse; Safessed, that the great familiarities between the two but instead of this, we find that conversation is sexes on this occasion may sometimes produce very never so much straitened and confined as in numedangerous consequences; and I have often thought rous assemblies. When a multitude meet together that few ladies' hearts are so obdurate as not to be on any subject of discourse, their debates are taken to melted by the charms of music, the force of mo-up chiefly with forms and general positions; nay, tion, and an handsome young fellow, who is con-if we come into a more contracted assembly of totinually playing before their eyes, and convincing men and women, the talk generally runs upon the them that he has the perfect use of all his limbs. weather, fashions, news, and the like public topics. But as this kind of dance is the particular inven-In proportion as conversation gets into clubs and tion of our own country, and as every one is more knots of friends, it descends into particulars, and or less a proficient in it, I would not discounte- grows more free and communicative': but the most hance it; but rather suppose it may be practised open, instructive, and unreserved discourse, is that innocently by others, as well as myself, who am which passes between two persons who are famioften partner to my landlady's eldest daughter. liar and intimate friends. On these occasions, a Having heard a good character of the collection man gives a loose to every passion and every of pictures which is to be exposed to sale on Friday thought that is uppermost, discovers his most renext; and concluding from the following letter tired opinions of persons and things, tries the beauty that the person who collected them is a man of no and strength of his sentiments, and exposes his unelegant taste, I will be so much his friend as to whole soul to the examination of his friend. publish it, provided the reader will only look upon it as filling up the place of an advertisement: From the Three Chairs in the Piazza, Covent-garden.
Tully was the first who observed, that friendship improves happiness and abates misery, by the doubling of our joy, and dividing of our grief; a thought in which he hath been followed by all the essayers upon friendship, that have written since 'May 18, 1711. his time. Sir Francis Bacon has finely described As you are a Spectator, I think we who make friendship; and, indeed, there is no subject of other advantages, or, as he calls them, fruits of it our business to exhibit any thing to public view, morality which has been better handled and more ought to apply ourselves to you for your appre-exhausted than this. Among the several fine things bation. I have travelled Europe to furnish out a which have been spoken of it, I shall beg leave show for you, and have brought with me what has to quote some out of a very ancient author, whose been admired in every country through which I book would be regarded by our modern wits as passed. You have declared in many papers, that one of the most shining tracts of morality that is Your greatest delights are those of the eye, which extant, if it appeared under the name of a ConI do not doubt but I shall gratify with as beautiful fucius, or of any celebrated Grecian philosopher: cjects as yours ever beheld. If castles, forests, I mean the little apocryphal treatise, entitled The rains, fine women, and graceful men, can please Wisdom of the Son of Sirach.' How finely has he you, I dare promise you much satisfaction, if you described the art of making friends, by an obliging appear at my auction on Friday next. A and affable behaviour! And laid down that preght is, I suppose, as grateful to a Spectator, as cept, which a late excellent author has delivered eat to another person, and therefore I hope you as his own, That we should have many well-wishers, will pardon this invitation from, but few friends. Sweet language will multiply friends; and a fair-speaking tongue will increase kind greetings. Be in peace with many, nevertheless have but one counsellor of a thousand.'* With what prudence does he caution us in the choice of The following Advertisement, which was subjoined to the (I could almost say of humour) has he described our friends! And with what strokes of nature mal paper, it has been thought not improper to preserve. the behaviour of a treacherous and self-interested Str. Punkethman's Pantheon, or the Temple of Heathen Gods, friend! If thou wouldest get a friend, prove vance and painting of which is beyond expression admirable. The work of several years, consisting of five pietures, the contri-him first, and be not hasty to credit him: for some presave one hundred, move their beads, legs, arms, and fin man is a friend for his own occasion, and will not saetly in what they perform, setting one foot before an- abide in the day of thy trouble. And there is a her like living creatures, that it deserves to be esteemed the under of the age. In the Little Piazza, Covent garden. friend, who being turned to enmity and strife will discover thy reproach. Again, Some friend is a companion at the table, and will not continue in the day of thy affliction: but in thy prosperity he will be as thyself, and will be bold over thy servants. If thou be brought low he will be against thee, and hide himself from thy face.' What can
'Your most obedient humble servant,
1,6; 1. and the lowest 6d. See No. 31.
Ecclus, vi. 5,B.
be more strong and pointed than the following|pected at his first entering into an intimacy with verse? Separate thyself from thine enemies, and him. There are several persons who in some certake heed of thy friends.' In the next words he tain periods of their lives are inexpressibly agreeparticularizes one of those fruits of friendship able, and in others as odious and detestable. Marwhich is described at length by the two famous tial has given us a very pretty picture of one of authors above mentioned, and falls into a general this species, in the following epigram:
• Difficilis, facilis, jucundus, acerbus es idem,
EPIG. xlvii. 12.
In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow,
N° 69. SATURDAY, MAY 19, 1711.
Hie segetes, illic veniunt felicius uvæ ;
VIRG. Georg. i. 54.
eulogium of friendship, which is very just as well as very sublime. A faithful friend is a strong defence; and be that hath found such an one, hath found a treasure. Nothing doth countervail a fa thful friend, and his excellency is unvaluable. A faithful friend is the medicine of life; and they that fear the Lord shall find him. Whoso feareth the Lord shall direct his friendship aright; for as he is, so shall his neighbour (that is his friend) be It is very unlucky for a man to be entangled in a also. I do not remember to have met with any friendship with one, who, by these changes and saying that has pleased me more than that of a vicissitudes of humour, is sometimes amiable, and friend's being the medicine of life, to express the sometimes odious; and as most men are at some efficacy of friendship in healing the pains and times in an admirable frame and disposition of anguish which naturally cleave to our existence in mind, it should be one of the greatest tasks of this world; and am wonderfully pleased with the wisdom to keep ourselves well when we are so, turn in the last sentence, that a virtuous man shall and never to go out of that which is the agreeable as a blessing meet with a friend who is as virtuous part of our character. as himself. There is another saying in the same author, which would have been very much admired in an Heathen writer: Forsake not an old friend, for the new is not comparable to him; a new friend is as new wine; when it is old thou shalt drink it with pleasure." With what strength of allusion, and force of thought, has he described the breaches and violations of friendship! Whoso casteth a stone at the birds frayeth them away; and he that upbraideth his friend, breaketh friendship. Though| thou drawest a sword at a friend, yet despair not, for there may be a returning to favour. If thou hast opened thy mouth against thy friend fear not, for there may be a reconciliation; except for upbraiding, or pride, or disclosing of secrets, or a treacherous wound; for, for these things every friend will depart.' We may observe in this and several other precepts in this author, those little familiar instances and illustrations which are so much admired in the moral writings of Horace and Epictetus, There are very beautiful instances of this nature in the following passages, which are likewise written upon the same subject: Whoso discovereth secrets, loseth his credit,and shall never find a friend to his mind. Love thy friend, and be THERE is no place in the town which I so muc faithful unto him; but if thou bewrayest his se- love to frequent as the Royal Exchange. It give crets, follow no more after him: for as a man hath me a secret satisfaction, and in some measure gra destroyed his enemy, so hast thou lost the love of tifies my vanity, as I am an Englishman, to see s thy friend; as one that letteth a bird go out of his rich an assembly of countrymen and foreigners hand, so hast thou let thy friend go, and shalt not consulting together upon the private business get him again: follow after him no more, for he is mankind, and making this metropolis a kind too far off; he is as a roe escaped out of the snare. emporium for the whole earth. I must confess As for a wound it may be bound up, and after re- look upon high-change to be a great council, viling there may be a reconciliation; but he that which all considerable nations have their repre bewrayeth secrets is without hope.'+ sentatives. Factors in the trading world are wh Among the several qualifications of a good friend, ambassadors are in the politic world; they neg this wise man has very justly singled out constancy ciate affairs, conclude treaties, and maintain and faithfulness as the principal: to these, others good correspondence between those wealthy & have added virtue, knowledge, discretion, equality cieties of men that are divided from one anothe in age and fortune, and as Cicero calls it, Morum by seas and oceans, or live on the different extr comitas,' a pleasantness of temper.' If I were to mities of a continent. I have often been please give my opinion upon such an exhausted subject, I to hear disputes adjusted between an inhabitant should join to these other qualifications a certain Japan and an alderman of London, or to see equability or evenness of behaviour. A man often subject of the Great Mogul entering into a leage contracts a friendship with one whom perhaps he with one of the Czar of Muscovy. I am infinitel does not find out till after a year's conversation; delighted in mixing with these several ministers when on a sudden some latent ill-humour breaks commerce, as they are distinguished by their diff out upon him, which he never discovered or sus-rent walks and different languages. Sometimes s
Ecclus. ix. 10.
† Ibid. ix. 20, 21, 22,
Ibid. xxvii. 10-21.
This ground with Bacchus, that with Ceres suits;
as of t
am justled among a body of Armenians; som times I am lost in a crowd of Jews; and sometimcils, make one in a group of Dutchmen. I am a Dan