Chapter XLIII: Introduction (43)

When there is not Vanity enough awake in a Man to undo him, the Flatterer stirs up that dormant Weakness, and inspires him with Merit enough to be a Coxcomb. But if Flattery be the most sordid Act that can be complied with, the Art of Praising justly is as commendable: For tis laudable to praise well; as Poets at one and the same time give Immortality, and receive it themselves for a Reward: Both are pleased, the one whilst he receives the Recompence of Merit, the other whilst he shews he knows now to discern it; but above all, that Man is happy in this Art, who, like a skilful Painter, retains the Features and Complection, but still softens the Picture into the most agreeable Likeness.

There can hardly, I believe, be imagin'd a more desirable Pleasure, than that of Praise unmix'd with any Possibility of Flattery. Such was that which _Germanicus_ enjoyed, when, the Night before a Battle, desirous of some sincere Mark of the Esteem of his Legions for him, he is described by _Tacitus_ listening in a Disguise to the Discourse of a Soldier, and wrapt up in the Fruition of his Glory, whilst with an undesigned Sincerity they praised his noble and majestick Mien, his Affability, his Valour, Conduct, and Success in War. How must a Man have his Heart full-blown with Joy in such an Article of Glory as this? What a Spur and Encouragement still to proceed in those Steps which had already brought him to so pure a Taste of the greatest of mortal Enjoyments?

It sometimes happens, that even Enemies and envious Persons bestow the sincerest Marks of Esteem when they least design it. Such afford a greater Pleasure, as extorted by Merit, and freed from all Suspicion of Favour or Flattery. Thus it is with _Malvolio_; he has Wit, Learning, and Discernment, but temper'd with an Allay of Envy, Self-Love and Detraction: _Malvolio_ turns pale at the Mirth and good Humour of the Company, if it center not in his Person; he grows jealous and displeased when he ceases to be the only Person admired, and looks upon the Commendations paid to another as a Detraction from his Merit, and an Attempt to lessen the Superiority he affects; but by this very Method, he bestows such Praise as can never be suspected of Flattery. His Uneasiness and Distastes are so many sure and certain Signs of anothers Title to that Glory he desires, and has the Mortification to find himself not possessed of.

A good Name is fitly compared to a precious Ointment,[2] and when we are praised with Skill and Decency, tis indeed the most agreeable Perfume, but if too strongly admitted into a Brain of a less vigorous and happy Texture, twill, like too strong an Odour, overcome the Senses, and prove pernicious to those Nerves twas intended to refresh. A generous Mind is of all others the most sensible of Praise and Dispraise; and a noble Spirit is as much invigorated with its due Proportion of Honour and Applause, as tis depressed by Neglect and Contempt: But tis only Persons far above the common Level who are thus affected with either of these Extreams; as in a Thermometer, tis only the purest and most sublimated Spirit that is either contracted or dilated by the Benignity or Inclemency of the Season.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

The Translations which you have lately given us from the _Greek_, in
some of your last Papers, have been the Occasion of my looking into
some of those Authors; among whom I chanced on a Collection of Letters
which pass under the Name of _Aristaenetus_. Of all the Remains of
Antiquity, I believe there can be Nothing produc'd of an Air so
gallant and polite; each Letter contains a little Novel or Adventure,
which is told with all the Beauties of Language and heightened with a
Luxuriance of Wit. There are several of them translated,[3] but with
such wide Deviations from the Original, and in a Style so far
differing from the Authors, that the Translator seems rather to have
taken Hints for the expressing his own Sense and Thoughts, than to
have endeavoured to render those of _Aristænetus_. In the following
Translation, I have kept as near the Meaning of the _Greek_ as I
could, and have only added a few Words to make the Sentences in
_English_ fit together a little better than they would otherwise have
done. The Story seems to be taken from that of _Pygmalion_ and the
Statue in _Ovid_: Some of the Thoughts are of the same Turn, and the
whole is written in a kind of Poetical Prose.

Philopinax to Chromation.

"Never was Man more overcome with so fantastical a Passion as mine.
I have painted a beautiful Woman, and am despairing, dying for the
Picture. My own Skill has undone me; tis not the Dart of _Venus_,
but my own Pencil has thus wounded me. Ah me! with what Anxiety am I
necessitated to adore my own Idol? How miserable am I, whilst every
one must as much pity the Painter as he praises the Picture, and own
my Torment more than equal to my Art. But why do I thus complain?
Have there not been more unhappy and unnatural Passions than mine?
Yes, I have seen the Representations of _Phædra, Narcissus,_ and
_Pasiphæ_. _Phædra_ was unhappy in her Love; that of _Pasiphæ_ was
monstrous; and whilst the other caught at his beloved Likeness, he
destroyed the watery Image, which ever eluded his Embraces. The
Fountain represented _Narcissus_ to himself, and the Picture both
that and him, thirsting after his adored Image. But I am yet less
unhappy, I enjoy her Presence continually, and if I touch her, I
destroy not the beauteous Form, but she looks pleased, and a sweet
Smile sits in the charming Space which divides her Lips. One would
swear that Voice and Speech were issuing out, and that ones Ears
felt the melodious Sound. How often have I, deceived by a Lovers
Credulity, hearkned if she had not something to whisper me? and when
frustrated of my Hopes, how often have I taken my Revenge in Kisses
from her Cheeks and Eyes, and softly wooed her to my Embrace, whilst
she (as to me it seem'd) only withheld her Tongue the more to
inflame me. But, Madman that I am, shall I be thus taken with the
Representation only of a beauteous Face, and flowing Hair, and thus
waste myself and melt to Tears for a Shadow? Ah, sure tis something
more, tis a Reality! for see her Beauties shine out with new
Lustre, and she seems to upbraid me with such unkind Reproaches. Oh
may I have a living Mistress of this Form, that when I shall compare
the Work of Nature with that of Art, I may be still at a loss which
to choose, and be long perplex'd with the pleasing Uncertainty.

T.

[Footnote 1: Wycherley's Plain Dealer.]

[Footnote 2: Eccles, vii. I.]

[Footnote 3: In a volume of translated Letters on Wit, Politicks, and Morality, edited by Abel Boyer, in 1701. The letters ascribed to Aristænetus of Nicer in Bithynis, who died A.D. 358, but which were written after the fifth century, were afterwards translated as Letters of Love and Gallantry, written in Greek by Aristænetus. This volume, 12mo (1715), was dedicated to Eustace Budgell, who is named in the Preface as the author of the Spectator papers signed X.]

* * * * *

No. 239. Tuesday, December 4, 1711. Addison.

Bella, horrida bella!

Virg.

I have sometimes amused myself with considering the several Methods of managing a Debate which have obtained m the World.

The first Races of Mankind used to dispute, as our ordinary People do now-a-days, in a kind of wild Logick, uncultivated by Rules of Art.

_Socrates_ introduced a catechetical Method of Arguing. He would ask his Adversary Question upon Question, till he had convinced him out of his own Mouth that his Opinions were wrong. This Way of Debating drives an Enemy up into a Corner, seizes all the Passes through which he can make an Escape, and forces him to surrender at Discretion.

_Aristotle_ changed this Method of Attack, and invented a great Variety of little Weapons, call'd Syllogisms. As in the _Socratick_ Way of Dispute you agree to every thing which your Opponent advances, in the _Aristotelick_ you are still denying and contradicting some Part or other of what he says. _Socrates_ conquers you by Stratagem, _Aristotle_ by Force: The one takes the Town by Sap, the other Sword in Hand.

The Universities of _Europe_, for many Years, carried on their Debates by Syllogism, insomuch that we see the Knowledge of several Centuries laid out into Objections and Answers, and all the good Sense of the Age cut and minced into almost an Infinitude of Distinctions.

When our Universities found that there was no End of Wrangling this Way, they invented a kind of Argument, which is not reducible to any Mood or Figure in _Aristotle_. It was called the _Argumentum Basilinum_ (others write it _Bacilinum_ or _Baculinum_) which is pretty well express'd in our _English_ Word _Club-Law_. When they were not able to confute their Antagonist, they knock'd him down. It was their Method in these polemical Debates, first to discharge their Syllogisms, and afterwards to betake themselves to their Clubs, till such Time as they had one Way or other confounded their Gainsayers. There is in _Oxford_ a narrow [Defile, [1] (to make use of a military Term) where the Partizans used to encounter, for which Reason it still retains the Name of _Logic-Lane_. I have heard an old Gentleman, a Physician, make his Boasts, that when he was a young Fellow he marched several Times at the Head of a Troop of _Scotists,_ [2] and cudgel'd a Body of _Smiglesians_ [3] half the length of _High-street_, till they had dispersed themselves for Shelter into their respective Garrisons.

This Humour, I find, went very far in _Erasmus's_ Time. For that Author tells us [4], That upon the Revival of _Greek_ Letters, most of the Universities in _Europe_ were divided into _Greeks_ and _Trojans_. The latter were those who bore a mortal Enmity to the Language of the _Grecians_, insomuch that if they met with any who understood it, they did not fail to treat him as a Foe. _Erasmus_ himself had, it seems, the Misfortune to fall into the Hands of a Party of _Trojans_, who laid him on with so many Blows and Buffets that he never forgot their Hostilities to his dying Day.

There is a way of managing an Argument not much unlike the former, which is made use of by States and Communities, when they draw up a hundred thousand Disputants on each Side, and convince one another by Dint of Sword. A certain Grand Monarch [5] was so sensible of his Strength in this way of Reasoning, that he writ upon his Great Guns--_Ratio ultima Regum, The Logick of Kings_; but, God be thanked, he is now pretty well baffled at his own Weapons. When one was to do with a Philosopher of this kind, one should remember the old Gentleman's Saying, who had been engaged in an Argument with one of the _Roman_ Emperors. [6] Upon his Friends telling him, That he wonder'd he would give up the Question, when he had visibly the Better of the Dispute; _I am never asham'd_, says he, _to be confuted by one who is Master of fifty Legions_.

I shall but just mention another kind of Reasoning, which may be called arguing by Poll; and another which is of equal Force, in which Wagers are made use of as Arguments, according to the celebrated Line in _Hudibras_ [7]

But the most notable way of managing a Controversy, is that which we may call _Arguing by Torture_. This is a Method of Reasoning which has been made use of with the poor Refugees, and which was so fashionable in our Country during the Reign of Queen _Mary_, that in a Passage of an Author quoted by Monsieur _Bayle_ [8] it is said the Price of Wood was raised in _England_, by reason of the Executions that were made in _Smithfield_. These Disputants convince their Adversaries with a _Sorites_, [9] commonly called a Pile of Faggots. The Rack is also a kind of Syllogism which has been used with good Effect, and has made Multitudes of Converts. Men were formerly disputed out of their Doubts, reconciled to Truth by Force of Reason, and won over to Opinions by the Candour, Sense and Ingenuity of those who had the Right on their Side; but this Method of Conviction operated too slowly. Pain was found to be much more enlightning than Reason. Every Scruple was looked upon as Obstinacy, and not to be removed but by several Engines invented for that Purpose. In a Word, the Application of Whips, Racks, Gibbets, Gallies, Dungeons, Fire and Faggot, in a Dispute, may be look'd upon as Popish Refinements upon the old Heathen Logick.

There is another way of Reasoning which seldom fails, tho it be of a quite different Nature to that I have last mentioned. I mean, convincing a Man by ready Money, or as it is ordinarily called, bribing a Man to an Opinion. This Method has often proved successful, when all the others have been made use of to no purpose. A Man who is furnished with Arguments from the Mint, will convince his Antagonist much sooner than one who draws them from Reason and Philosophy. Gold is a wonderful Clearer of the Understanding; it dissipates every Doubt and Scruple in an Instant; accommodates itself to the meanest Capacities; silences the Loud and Clamorous, and brings over the most Obstinate and Inflexible. _Philip of Macedon_ was a Man of most invincible Reason this Way. He refuted by it all the Wisdom of _Athens_, confounded their Statesmen, struck their Orators dumb, and at length argued them out of all their Liberties.

Having here touched upon the several Methods of Disputing, as they have prevailed in different Ages of the World, I shall very suddenly give my Reader an Account of the whole Art of Cavilling; which shall be a full and satisfactory Answer to all such Papers and Pamphlets as have yet appeared against the SPECTATOR.

C.

[Footnote 1: Defile]

[Footnote 2: The followers of the famous scholastic philosopher, Duns Scotus (who taught at Oxford and died in 1308), were Realists, and the Scotists were as Realists opposed to the Nominalists, who, as followers of Thomas Aquinas, were called Thomists. Abuse, in later time, of the followers of Duns gave its present sense to the word Dunce.]

[Footnote 3: The followers of Martin Simglecius a Polish Jesuit, who taught Philosophy for four years and Theology for ten years at Vilna, in Lithuania, and died at Kalisch in 1618. Besides theological works he published a book of Disputations upon Logic.]

[Footnote 4: Erasm. Epist.]

[Footnote 5: Louis XIV.]

[Footnote 6: Adrian, cited in Bacons Apophthegms.]

[Footnote 7: Hudibras, Pt. II. c. i, v. 297. See note to No. 145.]

[Footnote 8: And. Ammonius in Bayle's Life of him, but the saying was of the reign of Henry VIII.]

[Footnote 9: A Sorites, in Logic,--from [Greek: sôrós], a heap--is a pile of syllogisms so compacted that the conclusion of one serves as a premiss to the next.]

* * * * *

No. 240. Wednesday, December 5, 1711. Steele.

--Aliter not fit, Avite, liber.

Mart.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am of one of the most genteel Trades in the City, and understand
thus much of liberal Education, as to have an ardent Ambition of being
useful to Mankind, and to think That the chief End of Being as to this
Life. I had these good Impressions given me from the handsome
Behaviour of a learned, generous, and wealthy Man towards me when I
first began the World. Some Dissatisfaction between me and my Parents
made me enter into it with less Relish of Business than I ought; and
to turn off this Uneasiness I gave my self to criminal Pleasures, some
Excesses, and a general loose Conduct. I know not what the excellent
Man above-mentioned saw in me, but he descended from the Superiority
of his Wisdom and Merit, to throw himself frequently into my Company.
This made me soon hope that I had something in me worth cultivating,
and his Conversation made me sensible of Satisfactions in a regular
Way, which I had never before imagined. When he was grown familiar
with me, he opened himself like a good Angel, and told me, he had long
laboured to ripen me into a Preparation to receive his Friendship and
Advice, both which I should daily command, and the Use of any Part of
his Fortune, to apply the Measures he should propose to me, for the
Improvement of my own. I assure you, I cannot recollect the Goodness
and Confusion of the good Man when he spoke to this Purpose to me,
without melting into Tears; but in a word, Sir, I must hasten to tell
you, that my Heart burns with Gratitude towards him, and he is so
happy a Man, that it can never be in my Power to return him his
Favours in Kind, but I am sure I have made him the most agreeable
Satisfaction I could possibly, [in being ready to serve others to my
utmost Ability,] as far as is consistent with the Prudence he
prescribes to me. Dear Mr. SPECTATOR, I do not owe to him only the
good Will and Esteem of my own Relations, (who are People of
Distinction) the present Ease and Plenty of my Circumstances, but also
the Government of my Passions, and Regulation of my Desires. I doubt
not, Sir, but in your Imagination such Virtues as these of my worthy
Friend, bear as great a Figure as Actions which are more glittering in
the common Estimation. What I would ask of you, is to give us a whole
_Spectator_ upon Heroick Virtue in common Life, which may incite Men
to the same generous Inclinations, as have by this admirable Person
been shewn to, and rais'd in,

_SIR, Your most humble Servant_.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I am a Country Gentleman, of a good plentiful Estate, and live as the
rest of my Neighbours with great Hospitality. I have been ever
reckoned among the Ladies the best Company in the World, and have
Access as a sort of Favourite. I never came in Publick but I saluted
them, tho in great Assemblies, all round, where it was seen how
genteelly I avoided hampering my Spurs in their Petticoats, while I
moved amongst them; and on the other side how prettily they curtsied
and received me, standing in proper Rows, and advancing as fast as
they saw their Elders, or their Betters, dispatch'd by me. But so it
is, Mr. SPECTATOR, that all our good Breeding is of late lost by the
unhappy Arrival of a Courtier, or Town Gentleman, who came lately
among us: This Person where-ever he came into a Room made a profound
Bow, and fell back, then recovered with a soft Air, and made a Bow to
the next, and so to one or two more, and then took the Gross of the
Room, by passing by them in a continued Bow till he arrived at the
Person he thought proper particularly to entertain. This he did with
so good a Grace and Assurance, that it is taken for the present
Fashion; and there is no young Gentlewoman within several Miles of
this Place has been kissed ever since his first Appearance among us.
We Country Gentlemen cannot begin again and learn these fine and
reserved Airs; and our Conversation is at a Stand, till we have your
Judgment for or against Kissing, by way of Civility or Salutation;
which is impatiently expected by your Friends of both Sexes, but by
none so much as

_Your humble Servant_,

Rustick Sprightly.

_December_ 3, 1711.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I was the other Night at _Philaster_,[1] where I expected to hear your
famous Trunk-maker, but was happily disappointed of his Company, and
saw another Person who had the like Ambition to distinguish himself in
a noisy manner, partly by Vociferation or talking loud, and partly by
his bodily Agility. This was a very lusty Fellow, but withal a sort of
Beau, who getting into one of the Side-boxes on the Stage before the
Curtain drew, was disposed to shew the whole Audience his Activity by
leaping over the Spikes; he pass'd from thence to one of the entering
Doors, where he took Snuff with a tolerable good Grace, display'd his
fine Cloaths, made two or three feint Passes at the Curtain with his
Cane, then faced about and appear'd at tother Door: Here he affected
to survey the whole House, bow'd and smil'd at random, and then shew'd
his Teeth, which were some of them indeed very white: After this he
retired behind the Curtain, and obliged us with several Views of his
Person from every Opening.

During the Time of Acting, he appear'd frequently in the Princes
Apartment, made one at the Hunting-match, and was very forward in the
Rebellion. If there were no Injunctions to the contrary, yet this
Practice must be confess'd to diminish the Pleasure of the Audience,
and for that Reason presumptuous and unwarrantable: But since her
Majesty's late Command has made it criminal,[2] you have Authority to
take Notice of it.

SIR, _Your humble Servant_,

Charles Easy.

T.

[Footnote 1: Beaumont and Fletchers Philaster had been acted on the preceding Friday, Nov. 30. The Hunt is in the Fourth Act, the Rebellion in the Fifth.]

[Footnote 2: At this time there had been added to the playbills the line

By her Majesty's Command no Person is to be admitted behind the
Scenes.]

* * * * *

No. 241. Thursday, December 6, 1711. Addison.

--Semperque relinqui
Sola sibi, semper longam incomitata videtur
Ire viam--

Virg.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

Though you have considered virtuous Love inmost of its Distresses, I
do not remember that you have given us any Dissertation upon the
Absence of Lovers, or laid down any Methods how they should support
themselves under those long Separations which they are sometimes
forced to undergo. I am at present in this unhappy Circumstance,
having parted with the best of Husbands, who is abroad in the Service
of his Country, and may not possibly return for some Years. His warm
and generous Affection while we were together, with the Tenderness
which he expressed to me at parting, make his Absence almost
insupportable. I think of him every Moment of the Day, and meet him
every Night in my Dreams. Every thing I see puts me in mind of him. I
apply myself with more than ordinary Diligence to the Care of his
Family and his Estate; but this, instead of relieving me, gives me but
so many Occasions of wishing for his Return. I frequent the Rooms
where I used to converse with him, and not meeting him there, sit down
in his Chair, and fall a weeping. I love to read the Books he
delighted in, and to converse with the Persons whom he esteemed. I
visit his Picture a hundred times a Day, and place myself over-against
it whole Hours together. I pass a great part of my Time in the Walks
where I used to lean upon his Arm, and recollect in my Mind the
Discourses which have there passed between us: I look over the several
Prospects and Points of View which we used to survey together, fix my
Eye upon the Objects which he has made me take notice of, and call to
mind a thousand [agreeable] Remarks which he has made on those
Occasions. I write to him by every Conveyance, and contrary to other
People, am always in good Humour when an East-Wind blows, because it
seldom fails of bringing me a Letter from him. Let me entreat you,
Sir, to give me your Advice upon this Occasion, and to let me know how
I may relieve my self in this my Widowhood.

_I am, SIR, Your most humble Servant_,

ASTERIA.

Absence is what the Poets call Death in Love, and has given Occasion to abundance of beautiful Complaints in those Authors who have treated of this Passion in Verse. _Ovid's_ Epistles are full of them. _Otway's Monimia_ talks very tenderly upon this Subject. [1]

--It was not kind
To leave me like a Turtle, here alone,
To droop and mourn the Absence of my Mate._
_When thou art from me, every Place is desert:
And I, methinks, am savage and forlorn.
Thy Presence only tis can make me blest,
Heal my unquiet Mind, and tune my Soul.

The Consolations of Lovers on these Occasions are very extraordinary. Besides those mentioned by _Asteria_, there are many other Motives of Comfort, which are made use of by absent Lovers.

I remember in one of _Scudery's_ Romances, a Couple of honourable Lovers agreed at their parting to set aside one half Hour in the Day to think of each other during a tedious Absence. The Romance tells us, that they both of them punctually observed the Time thus agreed upon; and that whatever Company or Business they were engaged in, they left it abruptly as soon as the Clock warned them to retire. The Romance further adds, That the Lovers expected the Return of this stated Hour with as much Impatience, as if it had been a real Assignation, and enjoyed an imaginary Happiness that was almost as pleasing to them as what they would have found from a real Meeting. It was an inexpressible Satisfaction to these divided Lovers, to be assured that each was at the same time employ'd in the same kind of Contemplation, and making equal Returns of Tenderness and Affection.

If I may be allowed to mention a more serious Expedient for the alleviating of Absence, I shall take notice of one which I have known two Persons practise, who joined Religion to that Elegance of Sentiments with which the Passion of Love generally inspires its Votaries. This was, at the Return of such an Hour, to offer up a certain Prayer for each other, which they had agreed upon before their Parting. The Husband, who is a Man that makes a Figure in the polite World, as well as in his own Family, has often told me, that he could not have supported an Absence of three Years without this Expedient.

[_Strada_, in one of his Prolusions, [2]] gives an Account of a chimerical Correspondence between two Friends by the Help of a certain Loadstone, which had such Virtue in it, that if it touched two several Needles, when one of the Needles so touched [began [3]], to move, the other, tho at never so great a Distance, moved at the same Time, and in the same Manner. He tells us, that the two Friends, being each of them possessed of one of these Needles, made a kind of a Dial-plate, inscribing it with the four and twenty Letters, in the same manner as the Hours of the Day are marked upon the ordinary Dial-plate. They then fixed one of the Needles on each of these Plates in such a manner, that it could move round without Impediment, so as to touch any of the four and twenty Letters. Upon their Separating from one another into distant Countries, they agreed to withdraw themselves punctually into their Closets at a certain Hour of the Day, and to converse with one another by means of this their Invention. Accordingly when they were some hundred Miles asunder, each of them shut himself up in his Closet at the Time appointed, and immediately cast his Eye upon his Dial-plate. If he had a mind to write any thing to his Friend, he directed his Needle to every Letter that formed the Words which he had occasion for, making a little Pause at the end of every Word or Sentence, to avoid Confusion. The Friend, in the mean while, saw his own sympathetick Needle moving of itself to every Letter which that of his Correspondent pointed at. By this means they talked together across a whole Continent, and conveyed their Thoughts to one another in an Instant over Cities or Mountains, Seas or Desarts.

If Monsieur _Scudery_, or any other Writer of Romance, had introduced a Necromancer, who is generally in the Train of a Knight-Errant, making a Present to two Lovers of a Couple of those above-mentioned Needles, the Reader would not have been a little pleased to have seen them corresponding with one another when they were guarded by Spies and Watches, or separated by Castles and Adventures.

In the mean while, if ever this Invention should be revived or put in practice, I would propose, that upon the Lovers Dial-plate there should be written not only the four and twenty Letters, but several entire Words which have always a Place in passionate Epistles, as _Flames, Darts, Die, Language, Absence, Cupid, Heart, Eyes, Hang, Drown_, and the like. This would very much abridge the Lovers Pains in this way of writing a Letter, as it would enable him to express the most useful and significant Words with a single Touch of the Needle.

C.

[Footnote 1: Orphan, Act II.]

[Footnote 2: [In one of Strada's Prolusions he] Lib. II. Prol. 6.]

[Footnote 3: [begun], and in first reprint.]

* * * * *

No. 242. Friday, December 7, 1711. Steele.

Creditur, ex medio quia res arcessit, habere
Sudoris minimum--

Hor.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

Your Speculations do not so generally prevail over Mens Manners as I
could wish. A former Paper of yours [1] concerning the Misbehaviour of
People, who are necessarily in each others Company in travelling,
ought to have been a lasting Admonition against Transgressions of that
Kind: But I had the Fate of your Quaker, in meeting with a rude Fellow
in a Stage-Coach, who entertained two or three Women of us (for there
was no Man besides himself) with Language as indecent as was ever
heard upon the Water. The impertinent Observations which the Coxcomb
made upon our Shame and Confusion were such, that it is an unspeakable
Grief to reflect upon them. As much as you have declaimed against
Duelling, I hope you will do us the Justice to declare, that if the
Brute has Courage enough to send to the Place where he saw us all
alight together to get rid of him, there is not one of us but has a
Lover who shall avenge the Insult. It would certainly be worth your
Consideration, to look into the frequent Misfortunes of this kind, to
which the Modest and Innocent are exposed, by the licentious Behaviour
of such as are as much Strangers to good Breeding as to Virtue. Could
we avoid hearing what we do not approve, as easily as we can seeing
what is disagreeable, there were some Consolation; but since [in a Box
at a Play,][2] in an Assembly of Ladies, or even in a Pew at Church,
it is in the Power of a gross Coxcomb to utter what a Woman cannot
avoid hearing, how miserable is her Condition who comes within the
Power of such Impertinents? And how necessary is it to repeat
Invectives against such a Behaviour? If the Licentious had not utterly
forgot what it is to be modest, they would know that offended Modesty
labours under one of the greatest Sufferings to which human Life can
be exposed. If one of these Brutes could reflect thus much, tho they
want Shame, they would be moved, by their Pity, to abhor an impudent
Behaviour in the Presence of the Chaste and Innocent. If you will
oblige us with a _Spectator_ on this Subject, and procure it to be
pasted against every Stage-Coach in _Great-Britain_, as the Law of the
Journey, you will highly oblige the whole Sex, for which you have
professed so great an Esteem; and in particular, the two Ladies my
late Fellow-Sufferers, and,

SIR, _Your most humble Servant_,

Rebecca Ridinghood.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

The Matter which I am now going to send you, is an unhappy Story in
low Life, and will recommend it self, so that you must excuse the
Manner of expressing it. A poor idle drunken Weaver in
_Spittle-Fields_ has a faithful laborious Wife, who by her Frugality
and Industry had laid by her as much Money as purchased her a Ticket
in the present Lottery. She had hid this very privately in the Bottom
of a Trunk, and had given her Number to a Friend and Confident, who
had promised to keep the Secret, and bring her News of the Success.
The poor Adventurer was one Day gone abroad, when her careless
Husband, suspecting she had saved some Money, searches every Corner,
till at length he finds this same Ticket; which he immediately carries
abroad, sells, and squanders away the Money without the Wife's
suspecting any thing of the Matter. A Day or two after this, this
Friend, who was a Woman, comes and brings the Wife word, that she had
a Benefit of Five Hundred Pounds. The poor Creature over-joyed, flies
up Stairs to her Husband, who was then at Work, and desires him to
leave his Loom for that Evening, and come and drink with a Friend of
his and hers below. The Man received this chearful Invitation as bad
Husbands sometimes do, and after a cross Word or two told her he
woudn't come. His Wife with Tenderness renewed her Importunity, and
at length said to him, My Love! I have within these few Months,
unknown to you, scraped together as much Money as has bought us a
Ticket in the Lottery, and now here is Mrs. Quick [come] [3] to tell
me, that tis come up this Morning a Five hundred Pound Prize. The
Husband replies immediately, You lye, you Slut, you have no Ticket,
for I have sold it. The poor Woman upon this Faints away in a Fit,
recovers, and is now run distracted. As she had no Design to defraud
her Husband, but was willing only to participate in his good Fortune,
every one pities her, but thinks her Husbands Punishment but just.
This, Sir, is Matter of Fact, and would, if the Persons and
Circumstances were greater, in a well-wrought Play be called
_Beautiful Distress_. I have only sketched it out with Chalk, and know
a good Hand can make a moving Picture with worse Materials.

SIR, &c.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I am what the World calls a warm Fellow, and by good Success in Trade
I have raised myself to a Capacity of making some Figure in the World;
but no matter for that. I have now under my Guardianship a couple of
Nieces, who will certainly make me run mad; which you will not wonder
at, when I tell you they are Female Virtuosos, and during the three
Years and a half that I have had them under my Care, they never in the
least inclined their Thoughts towards any one single Part of the
Character of a notable Woman. Whilst they should have been considering
the proper Ingredients for a Sack-posset, you should hear a Dispute
concerning the [magnetick] [4], and in first reprint.] Virtue of the
Loadstone, or perhaps the Pressure of the Atmosphere: Their Language
is peculiar to themselves, and they scorn to express themselves on the
meanest Trifle with Words that are not of a _Latin_ Derivation. But
this were supportable still, would they suffer me to enjoy an
uninterrupted Ignorance; but, unless I fall in with their abstracted
Idea of Things (as they call them) I must not expect to smoak one Pipe
in Quiet. In a late Fit of the Gout I complained of the Pain of that
Distemper when my Niece _Kitty_ begged Leave to assure me, that
whatever I might think, several great Philosophers, both ancient and
modern, were of Opinion, that both Pleasure and Pain were imaginary
[Distinctions [5]], and that there was no such thing as either _in
rerum Natura_. I have often heard them affirm that the Fire was not
hot; and one Day when I, with the Authority of an old Fellow, desired
one of them to put my blue Cloak on my Knees; she answered, Sir, I
will reach the Cloak; but take notice, I do not do it as allowing your
Description; for it might as well be called Yellow as Blue; for Colour
is nothing but the various Infractions of the Rays of the Sun. Miss
_Molly_ told me one Day; That to say Snow was white, is allowing a
vulgar Error; for as it contains a great Quantity of nitrous
Particles, it [might more reasonably][6] be supposed to be black. In
short, the young Husseys would persuade me, that to believe ones Eyes
is a sure way to be deceived; and have often advised me, by no means,
to trust any thing so fallible as my Senses. What I have to beg of you
now is, to turn one Speculation to the due Regulation of Female
Literature, so far at least, as to make it consistent with the Quiet
of such whose Fate it is to be liable to its Insults; and to tell us
the Difference between a Gentleman that should make Cheesecakes and
raise Paste, and a Lady that reads _Locke_, and understands the
Mathematicks. In which you will extreamly oblige

_Your hearty Friend and humble Servant_,

Abraham Thrifty.

T.

[Footnote 1: No. 132.]

[Footnote 2: at a Box in a Play, and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 3: [comes], and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 4: [magnetical], and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 5: [Distractions], and in first reprint.]

[Footnote 6: [may more seasonably], and in first reprint.]

* * * * *

No. 243. Saturday, December 8, 1711. Addison.

Formam quidem ipsam, Marce fili, et tanquam faciem Honesti vides: quæ
si oculis cerneretur, mirabiles amores (ut ait Plato) excitaret
Sapientiæ.

Tull. Offic.

I do not remember to have read any Discourse written expressly upon the Beauty and Loveliness of Virtue, without considering it as a Duty, and as the Means of making us happy both now and hereafter. I design therefore this Speculation as an Essay upon that Subject, in which I shall consider Virtue no further than as it is in it self of an amiable Nature, after having premised, that I understand by the Word Virtue such a general Notion as is affixed to it by the Writers of Morality, and which by devout Men generally goes under the Name of Religion, and by Men of the World under the Name of Honour.

Hypocrisy it self does great Honour, or rather Justice, to Religion, and tacitly acknowledges it to be an Ornament to human Nature. The Hypocrite would not be at so much Pains to put on the Appearance of Virtue, if he did not know it was the most proper and effectual means to gain the Love and Esteem of Mankind.

We learn from _Hierodes_, it was a common Saying among the Heathens, that the Wise Man hates no body, but only loves the Virtuous.

_Tully_ has a very beautiful Gradation of Thoughts to shew how amiable Virtue is. We love a virtuous Man, says he, who lives in the remotest Parts of the Earth, though we are altogether out of the Reach of his Virtue, and can receive from it no Manner of Benefit; nay, one who died several Ages ago, raises a secret Fondness and Benevolence for him in our Minds, when we read his Story: Nay, what is still more, one who has been the Enemy of our Country, provided his Wars were regulated by Justice and Humanity, as in the Instance of _Pyrrhus_ whom _Tully_ mentions on this Occasion in Opposition to _Hannibal_. Such is the natural Beauty and Loveliness of Virtue.

Stoicism, which was the Pedantry of Virtue, ascribes all good Qualifications, of what kind soever, to the virtuous Man. Accordingly [Cato][1] in the Character _Tully_ has left of him, carried Matters so far, that he would not allow any one but a virtuous Man to be handsome. This indeed looks more like a Philosophical Rant than the real Opinion of a Wise Man; yet this was what _Cato_ very seriously maintained. In short, the Stoics thought they could not sufficiently represent the Excellence of Virtue, if they did not comprehend in the Notion of it all possible Perfection[s]; and therefore did not only suppose, that it was transcendently beautiful in it self, but that it made the very Body amiable, and banished every kind of Deformity from the Person in whom it resided.

It is a common Observation, that the most abandoned to all Sense of Goodness, are apt to wish those who are related to them of a different Character; and it is very observable, that none are more struck with the Charms of Virtue in the fair Sex, than those who by their very Admiration of it are carried to a Desire of ruining it.

A virtuous Mind in a fair Body is indeed a fine Picture in a good Light, and therefore it is no Wonder that it makes the beautiful Sex all over Charms.

As Virtue in general is of an amiable and lovely Nature, there are some particular kinds of it which are more so than others, and these are such as dispose us to do Good to Mankind. Temperance and Abstinence, Faith and Devotion, are in themselves perhaps as laudable as any other Virtues; but those which make a Man popular and beloved, are Justice, Charity, Munificence, and, in short, all the good Qualities that render us beneficial to each other. For which Reason even an extravagant Man, who has nothing else to recommend him but a false Generosity, is often more beloved and esteemed than a Person of a much more finished Character, who is defective in this Particular.

The two great Ornaments of Virtue, which shew her in the most advantageous Views, and make her altogether lovely, are Chearfulness and Good-Nature. These generally go together, as a Man cannot be agreeable to others who is not easy within himself. They are both very requisite in a virtuous Mind, to keep out Melancholy from the many serious Thoughts it is engaged in, and to hinder its natural Hatred of Vice from souring into Severity and Censoriousness.

If Virtue is of this amiable Nature, what can we think of those who can look upon it with an Eye of Hatred and Ill-will, or can suffer their Aversion for a Party to blot out all the Merit of the Person who is engaged in it. A Man must be excessively stupid, as well as uncharitable, who believes that there is no Virtue but on his own Side, and that there are not Men as honest as himself who may differ from him in Political Principles. Men may oppose one another in some Particulars, but ought not to carry their Hatred to those Qualities which are of so amiable a Nature in themselves, and have nothing to do with the Points in Dispute. Men of Virtue, though of different Interests, ought to consider themselves as more nearly united with one another, than with the vicious Part of Mankind, who embark with them in the same civil Concerns. We should bear the same Love towards a Man of Honour, who is a living Antagonist, which _Tully_ tells us in the forementioned Passage every one naturally does to an Enemy that is dead. In short, we should esteem Virtue though in a Foe, and abhor Vice though in a Friend.

I speak this with an Eye to those cruel Treatments which Men of all Sides are apt to give the Characters of those who do not agree with them. How many Persons of undoubted Probity, and exemplary Virtue, on either Side, are blackned and defamed? How many Men of Honour exposed to publick Obloquy and Reproach? Those therefore who are either the Instruments or Abettors in such Infernal Dealings, ought to be looked upon as Persons who make use of Religion to promote their Cause, not of their Cause to promote Religion.

C.

[Footnote 1: [we find that _Cato_,]]

* * * * *

No. 244. Monday, December 10, 1711. Steele.

--Judex et callidus audis.

Hor.

_Covent-Garden, Dec. 7._

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

I cannot, without a double Injustice, forbear expressing to you the
Satisfaction which a whole Clan of Virtuosos have received from those
Hints which you have lately given the Town on the Cartons of the
inimitable _Raphael_. It [1] should be methinks the Business of a
SPECTATOR to improve the Pleasures of Sight, and there cannot be a
more immediate Way to it than recommending the Study and Observation
of excellent Drawings and Pictures. When I first went to view those of
_Raphael_ which you have celebrated, I must confess 1 was but barely
pleased; the next time I liked them better, but at last as I grew
better acquainted with them, I fell deeply in love with them, like
wise Speeches they sunk deep into my Heart; for you know, _Mr_.
SPECTATOR, that a Man of Wit may extreamly affect one for the Present,
but if he has not Discretion, his Merit soon vanishes away, while a
Wise Man that has not so great a Stock of Wit, shall nevertheless give
you a far greater and more lasting Satisfaction: Just so it is in a
Picture that is smartly touched but not well studied; one may call it
a witty Picture, tho the Painter in the mean time may be in Danger of
being called a Fool. On the other hand, a Picture that is thoroughly
understood in the Whole, and well performed in the Particulars, that
is begun on the Foundation of Geometry, carried on by the Rules of
Perspective, Architecture, and Anatomy, and perfected by a good
Harmony, a just and natural Colouring, and such Passions and
Expressions of the Mind as are almost peculiar to _Raphael_; this is
what you may justly style a wise Picture, and which seldom fails to
strike us Dumb, till we can assemble all our Faculties to make but a
tolerable Judgment upon it. Other Pictures are made for the Eyes only,
as Rattles are made for Children's Ears; and certainly that Picture
that only pleases the Eye, without representing some well-chosen Part
of Nature or other, does but shew what fine Colours are to be sold at
the Colour-shop, and mocks the Works of the Creator. If the best
Imitator of Nature is not to be esteemed the best Painter, but he that
makes the greatest Show and Glare of Colours; it will necessarily
follow, that he who can array himself in the most gaudy Draperies is
best drest, and he that can speak loudest the best Orator. Every Man
when he looks on a Picture should examine it according to that share
of Reason he is Master of, or he will be in Danger of making a wrong
Judgment. If Men as they walk abroad would make more frequent
Observations on those Beauties of Nature which every Moment present
themselves to their View, they would be better Judges when they saw
her well imitated at home: This would help to correct those Errors
which most Pretenders fall into, who are over hasty in their
Judgments, and will not stay to let Reason come in for a share in the
Decision. Tis for want of this that Men mistake in this Case, and in
common Life, a wild extravagant Pencil for one that is truly bold and
great, an impudent Fellow for a Man of true Courage and Bravery, hasty
and unreasonable Actions for Enterprizes of Spirit and Resolution,
gaudy Colouring for that which is truly beautiful, a false and
insinuating Discourse for simple Truth elegantly recommended. The
Parallel will hold through all the Parts of Life and Painting too; and
the Virtuosos above-mentioned will be glad to see you draw it with
your Terms of Art. As the Shadows in Picture represent the serious or
melancholy, so the Lights do the bright and lively Thoughts: As there
should be but one forcible Light in a Picture which should catch the
Eye and fall on the Hero, so there should be but one Object of our
Love, even the Author of Nature. These and the like Reflections well
improved, might very much contribute to open the Beauty of that Art,
and prevent young People from being poisoned by the ill Gusto of an
extravagant Workman that should be imposed upon us.
_I am, SIR,
Your most humble Servant_.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

Though I am a Woman, yet I am one of those who confess themselves
highly pleased with a Speculation you obliged the World with some time
ago, [2] from an old _Greek_ Poet you call _Simonides_, in relation to
the several Natures and Distinctions of our own Sex. I could not but
admire how justly the Characters of Women in this Age, fall in with
the Times of _Simonides_, there being no one of those Sorts I have not
at some time or other of my Life met with a Sample of. But, Sir, the
Subject of this present Address, are a Set of Women comprehended, I
think, in the Ninth Specie of that Speculation, called the Apes; the
Description of whom I find to be, "That they are such as are both ugly
and ill-natured, who have nothing beautiful themselves, and endeavour
to detract from or ridicule every thing that appears so in others."
Now, Sir, this Sect, as I have been told, is very frequent in the
great Town where you live; but as my Circumstance of Life obliges me
to reside altogether in the Country, though not many Miles from
_London_, I cant have met with a great Number of em, nor indeed is
it a desirable Acquaintance, as I have lately found by Experience. You
must know, Sir, that at the Beginning of this Summer a Family of these
Apes came and settled for the Season not far from the Place where I
live. As they were Strangers in the Country, they were visited by the
Ladies about em, of whom I was, with an Humanity usual in those that
pass most of their Time in Solitude. The Apes lived with us very
agreeably our own Way till towards the End of the Summer, when they
began to bethink themselves of returning to Town; then it was, _Mr_.
SPECTATOR, that they began to set themselves about the proper and
distinguishing Business of their Character; and, as tis said of evil
Spirits, that they are apt to carry away a Piece of the House they are
about to leave, the Apes, without Regard to common Mercy, Civility, or
Gratitude, thought fit to mimick and fall foul on the Faces, Dress,
and Behaviour of their innocent Neighbours, bestowing abominable
Censures and disgraceful Appellations, commonly called Nicknames, on
all of them; and in short, like true fine Ladies, made their honest
Plainness and Sincerity Matter of Ridicule. I could not but acquaint
you with these Grievances, as well at the Desire of all the Parties
injur'd, as from my own Inclination. I hope, Sir, if you cant propose
entirely to reform this Evil, you will take such Notice of it in some
of your future Speculations, as may put the deserving Part of our Sex
on their Guard against these Creatures; and at the same time the Apes
may be sensible, that this sort of Mirth is so far from an innocent
Diversion, that it is in the highest Degree that Vice which is said to
comprehend all others. [3]

_I am, SIR, Your humble Servant_,

Constantia Field.

T.

[Footnote 1: In No. 226. Signor Dorigny's scheme was advertised in Nos. 205, 206, 207, 208, and 210.]

[Footnote 2: No. 209.]

[Footnote 3: Ingratitude.

Ingratum si dixeris, omnia dixeris.]

* * * * *

No. 245. Tuesday, December 11, 1711. Addison.

Ficta Voluptatis causâ sint proxima Veris.

Hor.