46 than I do ; I never mind her motions; she never "They tell me you are a person who have seen inquires into mine. We speak to one another the world, and are a judge of fine breeding; which civilly, hate one another heartily; and because it is makes me ambitious of some instructions from you vulgar to lie and soak together, we have each of us for her improvement: which when you have faour several settle-bed." That of "soaking toge-voured me with, I shall farther advise with you ther" is as good as if Dorimant had spoken it him- about the disposal of this fair forester in marriage: self; and I think, since he puts human nature in as for I will make it no secret to you, that her person ugly a form as the circumstance will bear, and is a and education are to be her fortune. staunch unbeliever, he is very much wronged in "I am Sir, having no part of the good fortune bestowed in the last act. To speak plain of this whole work, I think nothing but being lost to a sense of innocence and virtue, can make any one see this comedy, without observing more frequent occasion to move sorrow and indignation, than mirth and laughter. At the same time I allow it to be nature, but it is nature in its utmost corruption and degeneracy.*—R. No. 66. WEDNESDAY, MAY 16, 1711. De tenero meditatur ungui.-HOR. 1 Od. vi. 21. Behold a ripe and melting maid THE two following letters are upon a subject of very great importance, though expressed without any air of gravity. "SIB, "TO THE SPECTATOR. "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 From elder brother is afraid to come into a room. 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 inclined to this, because I have several letters which complain to me, that my female readers have not understood me for some days last past, and take themselves to be unconcerned in the present turn of my writing. -When a girl is safely brought from her nurse, before she is capable of forming one single notion of any thing in life, she is delivered to the hands of her dancing master; and with a collar round her neck, the pretty wild thing is taught a fantastical gravity of behaviour, and forced to a particular way of holding her head, heaving her breast, and moving with her whole body; and all this under pain of never having a husband, if she steps, looks, or moves awry. This gives the young lady wonderful workings of imagination, what is to pass between her and this husband, that she is every moment told of, and for whom she seems to be educated. Thus her fancy is engaged to turn all her endeavours to the ornament of her person, as what must determine her good and ill in this life: and she naturally thinks, if she is tall enough, she is wise enough, for any thing for which her education makes her think she is designed To make her an agreeable person is the main purpose of her parents; to that is all their cost, to that all their care directed; and from this general folly of parents we owe our present numerous race of coquettes. These reflections puzzle me, when I think of giving my advice on the subject of managing the wild thing mentioned in the letter of my correspondent. How could it be otherwise, when the author of this play sure there is a middle way to be followed; the ma "I take the freedom of asking your advice in behalf of a young country kinswoman of mine who is lately come to town, and under my care for her education. She is very pretty, but you cannot imagine how unformed a creature it is. She comes to my hands just as nature left her, half finished, and without any acquired improvements. When I look on her I often think of the Belle Sauvage mentioned in one of your papers. Dear Mr. Spectator, help me to make her comprehend the visible graces of speech, and the dumb eloquence of motion; for she is at present a perfect stranger to both. She knows no way to express herself but by her tongue, and that always to signify her meaning. Her eyes serve her only to see with, and she is utterly a foreigner to the language of looks and glances. In this I fancy you could help her better than any body. I have bestowed two months in teaching her to sigh when she is not concerned, and to smile when she is not pleased, and am ashamed to own she makes little or no improvement. Then she is no more able now to walk, than she was to go at a year old. By walking, you will easily know I mean that regular but easy motion which gives our persons so irresistible a grace as if we moved to music, and is a kind of disengaged figure; or, if I may so speak, recitative dancing. But the want of this I cannot blame in her, for I find she has no ear, and means nothing by walking but to change her place. I could pardon too her blushing, if she knew how to carry herself in it, and if it did not manifestly injure her complexion. was Sir George Etheridge, and the character of Dorimant that of Wilmot, Earl of Rochester? But nagement of a young lady's person is not to be over looked, but the erudition 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. Cleomira dances with all the elegance of motion imaginable; but her eyes are so chastised with the simplicity and innocence of her thoughts, that she raises in her beholders admiration and good-will, but no loose hope or wild imagination. The true art in this case is, to make the mind and body improve together; and, if possible, to make gesture follow thought, and not let thought be employed upon gesture.-R. No. 67.] THURSDAY, MAY 17, 1711. LUCIAN, in one of his dialogues, introduces a philosopher chiding his friend for his being a lover of dancing and a frequenter of balls. The other undertakes the defence of his favourite diversion, which, he says, was at first invented by the goddess Rhea, and preserved the life of Jupiter himself 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 Lacedæmonians, 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 all over Asia: that there were still extant some Thessalonian statues erected to the honour of their best dancers; and that he wondered how his brother philosopher could declare himself against the opinions of those two persons whom he professed so much to admire-Homer and Hesiod; the latter of which compares 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. 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 speculations to take notice of the following letter, which I suppose is sent me by some substantial tradesman about 'Change. and I was prevailed upon by her and her mother to go last night to one of his balls. I must own to you, Sir, that having never been to such a place before, I was very much pleased and surprised with that part of his entertainment which he called French Dancing. There were several young men and women whose limbs seemed to have no other motion but purely what the music gave them. After this part was over, they began a diversion which they call country dancing, and wherein there were also some things not disagreeable, and divers emblematical figures, composed, as I guess, by wise men, for the instruction of youth. "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. I was "But as the best institutions are liable to corruption, so, Sir, I must acquaint you, that very great abuses are crept into this entertainment. amazed to see my girl handed by and handing young fellows with so much familiarity; and I could not have thought it had been in the child. 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 farther above her shoe than I can think fit to acquaint you with. I could no longer endure those enormities; wherefore, just as my girl was going to be made a whirligig, I ran in, seized on the child, and carried her home. 'Sir, I am not yet old enough to be a fool. I suppose this diversion might be first invented to keep up a good understanding between young men and women, and so far I am not against it; but I shall never allow of these things. I know 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, yours," &c. 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 am not able, however to give my final sentence against this diversion; and am of Mr. Cowley's opinion, that so much of dancing, at least, as belongs to the behaviour and a handsome carriage of the body, is extremely useful, if not absolutely ne cessary. We generally form such ideas of people at first sight, as we are hardly ever persuaded to lay aside afterward; for this reason, a man would wish to have nothing disagreeable or uncomely in his approaches, and to be able to enter a room with a good grace. little rules of good breeding, gives a man some asI might add, that a moderate knowledge in the surance, and makes him easy in all companies. For science at a loss to salute a lady; and a most excelwant of this, I have seen a professor of a liberal lent mathematician not able to determine whether he should stand or sit while my lord drank to him.. 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 affected fop than a well-bred man. As for country dancing, it must indeed be confessed that the great familiarities between the two sexes on this occasion may sometimes produce very dangerous consequences; and I have often thought that few ladies' hearts are so obdurate as not to be melted by the charms of music, the force of motion, and a handsome young fellow, who is continually playing before their eyes, and convincing them that he has the perfect use of all his limbs. But as this kind of dance is the particular invention of our own country, and as every one is more or less a proficient in it, I would not discountenance it; but rather suppose it may be practised innocently by others as well as myself, who am often partner to my landlady's eldest daughter. POSTSCRIPT. Having heard a good character of the collection of pictures which is to be exposed to sale on Friday next; and concluding from the following letter, that the person who collected them is a man of no inelegant taste, I will be so much his friend as to publish it, provided the reader will only look upon it as filling up the place of an advertisement: From the Three Chairs, in the Piazzas, Covent Garden. "As you are a spectator, I think we who make it our business to exhibit any thing to public view, ought to apply ourselves to you for your approbation. I have travelled Europe to furnish out a show for you, and have brought with me what has been admired in every country through which I passed. You have declared in many papers, that your greatest delights are those of the eye, which I do not doubt but I shall gratify with as beautiful objects as yours ever beheld. If castles, forests, ruins, fine women, and graceful men, can please you, I dare promise you much satisfaction, if you will appear at my auction on Friday next. A sight is, I suppose, as grateful to a Spectator as a treat to another person, and therefore I hope you will pardon this invitation from, "Sir, ONE would think that the larger the company is in which we are engaged, the greater variety of thoughts and subjects would be started in discourse; but instead of this, we find that conversation is never so much straitened and confined as in numerous assemblies. When a multitude meet together on any subject of discourse, their debates are taken up chiefly with forms and general positions; nay, if we come into a more contracted assembly of men and women, the talk generally runs upon the weather, fashion, news, and the like public topics. In proportion as conversation gets into clubs and knots of friends, it descends into particulars, and grows more free and communicative: but the most open, inSPECTATOR.-Nos. 11 & 12. structive, and unreserved discourse, is that which passes between two persons who are familiar and intimate friends. On these occasions, a man gives a loose to every passion and every thought that is uppermost, discovers his most retired opinions of per sons and things, tries the beauty and strength of his sentiments, and exposes his whole soul to the exa mination of his friend. 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 his time. Sir Francis Bacon has finely described other advantages, or, as he calls them, fruits of friendship; and, indeed, there is no subject of morality which has been better handled and more exhausted than this. Among the several fine things which have been spoken of it, I shall beg leave to quote some out of a very ancient author, whose book would be regarded by our modern wits as one of the most shining tracts of morality that is extant, if it appeared under the name of a Confucius, or of any celebrated Grecian philosopher: I mean the little apocryphal treatise, entitled The Wisdom of the Son of Sirach. finely has he described the art of making friends by an obliging and affable behaviour!—and laid down that precept, which a late excellent author has delivered as his own, That we should have many wellwishers, but few friends. "Sweet language will multiply friends; and a fair-speaking tongue will increase kind greetings. Be in peace with many, neWith what prudence does he caution us in the choice vertheless have but one counsellor of a thousand."* How of our friends! And with what strokes of nature (I could almost say of humour) has he described the behaviour of a treacherous and self-interested friend!" If thou wouldst get a friend, prove him first, and be not hasty to credit him: for some man is a friend for his own occasion, and will not abide in the day of thy trouble. And there is a 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 be more strong and pointed than the following verse? "Separate thyself from thine enemies, and take heed of thy friends." In the next words he particularizes one of those fruits of friendship which is described at length by the two famous authors above mentioned, and falls into a general eulogium of friendship, which is very just as well as very sublime. "A faithful friend is a strong defence; and he that hath found such a one hath found a treasure. Nothing doth countervail a faithful friend, and his excellency is invaluable. 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 also." I do not remember to have met with any saying that has pleased me more than that of a friend's being the medicine of life, to express the efficacy of friendship in healing the pains and anguish which naturally cleave to our existence in this world; and am wonderfully pleased with the turn in the last sentence, that a virtuous man shall as a blessing meet with a friend who is as virtuous as himself. There is another saying in the same Ecclus. vi. 5, 6. ↑ Ibid. vi. 7, et seqq. 1 Ibid, vi. 15-18. G No. 69] SATURDAY, MAY 19, 1711. Hic segetes, illic veniunt felicius uvæ: VIRG. Georg. i. 54. This ground with Bacchus, that with Ceres suits; (In hopes of palms) a race of running steeds. author, which would have been very much admired in a 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 THERE is no place in the town which I so much are very beautiful instances of this nature in the fol- love to frequent as the Royal Exchange. It gives lowing passages, which are likewise written on the me a secret satisfaction, and in some measure gratisame subject: "Whoso discovereth secrets loseth fies my vanity, as I am an Englishman, to see so rich his credit, and shall never find a friend to his mind. an assembly of countrymen and foreigners, consultLove thy friend, and be faithful to him; but if thou ing together upon the private business of mankind, bewrayeth his secret, follow no more after him: for as and making this metropolis a kind of emporium for a man hath destroyed his enemy, so hast thou lost the the whole earth. I must confess I look upon highlove of thy friend; as one that letteth a bird go out change to be a great council, in which all considerof his hand, so hast thou let thy friend go, and shall able nations have their representatives. Factors in not get him again: follow after him no more, for he the trading world are what ambassadors are in the is too far off; he is as a roe escaped out of the snare. politic world; they negotiate affairs, conclude treaAs for a wound it may be bound up, and after re-ties, and maintain a good correspondence between viling there may be a reconciliation; but he that bewrayeth secrets is without hope.”‡ 66 those wealthy societies of men that are divided from one another by seas and oceans, or live on the diffeAmong the several qualifications of a good friend, rent extremities of a continent. I have often been this wise man has very justly singled out constancy pleased to hear disputes adjusted between an inhaand faithfulness, as the principal: to these, others bitant of Japan and an alderman of London; or to have added virtue, knowledge, discretion, equality in see a subject of the Great Mogul entering into a age and fortune, and, as Cicero calls it, Morum co-league with one of the Czar of Muscovy. I am inmitas, a pleasantness of temper." If I were to finitely delighted in mixing with these several migive my opinion upon such an exhausted subject, nisters of commerce, as they are distinguished by I should join to these other qualifications, a certain their different walks and different languages. Someequability or evenness of behaviour. A man often times I am jostled among a body of Armenians; contracts a friendship with one whom perhaps he sometimes I am lost in a crowd of Jews; and somedoes not find out till after a year's conversation; times make one in a group of Dutchmen. I am a when on a sudden some latent ill humour breaks out Dane, Swede, or Frenchman, at different times; or upon him, which he never discovered or suspected at rather fancy myself like the old philosopher, who his first entering into an intimacy with him. There upon being asked what countryman he was, replied, are several persons who in some certain periods of that he was a citizen of the world their lives are inexpressibly agreeable, and in others as odious and detestable. Martial has given us a very pretty picture of one of this species, in the following epigram: Difficilis, facilis, jucundus, acerbus es idem, : It is very unlucky for a man to be entangled in a friendship with one, who, by these changes and vicissitudes of humour, is sometimes amiable and sometimes odious and as most men are at some times in admirable frame and disposition of mind, it should be one of the greatest tasks of wisdom to keep ourselves well when we are so, and never to go out of that which is the agreeable part of our character.-C. Though I very frequently visit this busy multitude of people, I am known to nobody there but my friend Sir Andrew, who often smiles upon me as he sees me bustling in the crowd, but at the same time connives at my presence without taking farther notice of me. There is indeed a merchant of Egypt, who just knows me by sight, having formerly remitted me some money to Grand Cairo; but as I am not versed in modern Coptic, our conferences go no farther than a bow and a grimace. This grand scene of business gives me an infinite variety of solid and substantial entertainments. As I am a great lover of mankind, my heart naturally overflows with pleasure at the sight of a prosperous and happy multitude, insomuch that at many public solemnities I cannot forbear expressing my joy with tears that have stolen down my cheeks. For this reason I am wonderfully delighted to see such a body of men thriving in their own private fortunes, and at the same time promoting the public stock; or, in Ecclus ix, 10. ↑ Ibid. xxii. 20--22, Ib d. xxvii. 16, other words, raising estates for their own families, et segg. by bringing into their country whatever is wanting, and carrying out of it whatever is superfluous. Nature seems to have taken a particular care to disseminate her blessings among the different re- often fancied one of our old kings standing in pergions of the world, with an eye to this mutual inter- son, where he is represented in effigy, and looking course and traffic among mankind, that the natives down upon the wealthy concourse of people with of the several parts of the globe might have a kind which that place is every day filled. In this case, of dependence upon one another, and be united how would he be surprised to hear all the languages together by their common interest. Almost every of Europe spoken in this little spot of his former degree produces something peculiar to it. The food dominions, and to see so many private men, who in often grows in one country, and the sauce in ano-his time would have been the vassals of some powerther. The fruits of Portugal are corrected by the ful baron, negotiating like princes for greater sums produce of Barbadoes, and the infusion of a China of money than were formerly to be met with in the plant is sweetened by the pith of an Indian cane. royal treasury! Trade, without enlarging the BriThe Philippic Islands give a flavour to our Euro- tish territories, has given us a kind of additional empean bowls. The single dress of a woman of qua-pire. It has multiplied the number of the rich, lity is often the product of a hundred climates. made our landed estates infinitely more valuable The muff and the fan come together from different than they were formerly, and added to them an acends of the earth. The scarf is sent from the torrid cession of other estates as valuable as the lands zone, and the tippet from beneath the pole. The themselves.-C. brocade petticoat rises out of the mines of Peru, and the diamond necklace out of the bowels of Indostan. No. 70.] MONDAY, MAY 21, 1711. Interdum vulgus rectum videt.-HOR. 1 Ep. ii. 63. If we consider our own country in its natural Sometimes the vulgar see and judge aright. prospect, without any of the benefits and advantages of commerce, what a barren. uncomfortable WHEN I travelled, I took a particular delight in spot of earth falls to our share! Natural historians hearing the songs and fables that are coine from tell us, that no fruit grows originally among us, be- father to son, and are most in vogue among the comsides hips and haws, acorns and pig-nuts, with mon people of the countries through which I passed; other delicacies of the like nature; that our climate for it is impossible that any thing should be univerof itself, and without the assistance of art, can make sally tasted and approved by a multitude, though no farther advances towards a plum than to a sloe, they are only the rabble of a nation, which hath not and carries an apple to no greater perfection than a in it some peculiar aptness to please and gratify the crab that our melons, our peaches, our figs, our mind of man. Human nature is the same in all apricots, and cherries, are strangers among us, im- reasonable creatures; and whatever falls in with it, ported in different ages, and naturalized in our En- will meet with admirers amongst readers of all glish gardens; and that they would all degenerate qualities and conditions. Moliere, as we are told by and fall away into the trash of our own country, if Monsieur Boileau, used to read all his comedies to they were wholly neglected by the planter, and left an old woman who was his housekeeper, as she sat to the mercy of our sun and soil. Nor has traffic with him at her work by the chimney-corner; and more enriched our vegetable world, than it has im- could foretel the success of his play in the theatre, proved the whole face of nature among us. Our from the reception it met at his fire-side-for he tells ships are laden with the harvest of every climate.us the audience always followed the old woman, and Our tables are stored with spices, and oils, and never failed to laugh in the same place. wines. Our rooms are filled with pyramids of I know nothing which more shews the essential China, and adorned with the workmanship of Ja-and inherent perfection of simplicity of thought, pan. Our morning's draught comes to us from the remotest corners of the earth. We repair our bodies by the drugs of America, and repose ourselves under Indian canopies. My friend, Sir Andrew, calls the vineyards of France our gardens; the spice-islands our hot-beds; the Persians our silk-weavers, and the Chinese our potters. Nature, indeed, furnishes us with the bare necessaries of life, but traffic gives us a great variety of what is useful, and at the same time supplies us with every thing that is convenient and ornamental. Nor is it the least part of this our happiness, that whilst we enjoy the remotest products of the north and south, we are free from those extremities of weather which give them birth; that our eyes are refreshed with the green fields of Britain, and at the same time that our palates are feasted with fruits that rise between the tropics. The old song of Chevy-Chace is the favourite balFor these reasons there are not more useful mem-lad of the common people of England; and Ben bers in a commonwealth than merchants. They Jonson used to say, he had rather have been the auknit mankind together in a mutual intercourse of thor of it than of all his works. Sir Philip Sydney, good offices, distribute the gifts of nature, find work in his discourse of Poetry, speaks of it in the folfor the poor, add wealth to the rich, and magnifi- lowing words: "I never heard the old song of cence to the great. Our English merchant con- Percy and Douglas, that I found not my heart more verts the tin of his own country into gold, and ex-moved than with a trumpet: and yet it is sung by changes its wool for rubies. The Mahometans are some blind crowder with no rougher voice than rude clothed in our British manufacture, and the inhabi- style; which being so evil apparelled in the dust tants of the frozen zone warmed with the fleeces of and cobweb of that uncivil age, what would it work our sheep. trimmed in the gorgeous eloquence of Pindar?" For my own part, I am so professed an admirer of When I have been upon the 'Change, I have above that which I call the Gothic manner in writing, than this-that the first pleases all kinds of palates, and the latter only such as have formed to themselves a wrong artificial taste upon little fanciful authors and writers of epigram. Homer, Virgil, or Milton, so far as the language of their poems is understood, will please a reader of plain common sense, who would neither relish nor comprehend an epigram of Martial, or a poem of Cowley; so, on the contrary, an ordinary song or ballad that is the delight of the common people, cannot fail to please all such readers as are not unqualified for the entertainment by their affectation or ignorance; and the reason is plain-because the same paintings of nature which recommend it to the most ordinary reader will appear beautiful to the most refined. |