to persuade him to marry a young lady, whose virtue, he thinks, will last no longer than till she is a wife, and then she cannot but fall to his share as he is an irresistible fine gentleman. The falsehood to Mrs. Loveit, and the barbarity of triumphing over her anguish for losing him, is another instance of his honesty, as well as his good nature. As to his fine language; he calls the orange-woman, who, it seems, is inclined to grow fat, An overgrown jade, with a flasket of guts before her;' and salutes her with a pretty phrase of How now, Double Tripe?' Upon the mention of a country gentlewoman, whom he knows nothing of (no one can imagine why) he will lay his life she is some awkward ill-fashioned country toad, who not having 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! 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.' judge more favourably of my reputation. It makes him pass upon some for a man of very good sense, and me upon others for a very civil person.' This whole celebrated piece is a perfect contradiction to good manners, good sense, and common honesty; and as there is nothing in it but what is built upon the ruin of virtue and innocence, according to the notion of merit in this comedy, I take the shoemaker to be in reality the fine gentleman of the play: for it seems he is an atheist, if we may depend upon his character as given by the orange-woman, who is herself far from being the lowest in the play. She says, of a fine man who is Dorimant's companion, There is not such another heathen in the town except the shoemaker.' His pretension to be the hero of the drama appears still more in his own description of his way of living with his lady. There is,' says he, 'never a man in town lives more like a gentleman 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 had spoken it himself; and I think, since he puts human nature in as ugly a form as the circumstance will bear, and is a staunch unbeliever, he is very much wronged in having no part of the good fortune bestowed in the last act. Now for Mrs. Harriot. She laughs at obedience to an absent mother, whose ten-soaking together' is as good as if Dorimant derness 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 daughter and fine lady has so little respect for this good woman, that she ridicules her air in taking leave, and cries, In what struggle is my poor mother yonder! See, see, her head tottering, her eyes staring, and her under-lip trembling.' But all this is atoned for, because she has more wit than is usual in her sex, and as much malice, though she is as wild as you could wish her, and has a demureness in her looks that makes it so surprising.' Then to recommend her as a fit spouse for his hero, the poet makes her speak her sense of marriage very ingenuously: I think,' says she, I might be brought to endure him, and that is all a No. 66.] Wednesday, May 16, 1711. reasonable woman should expect in a husband.' It is methinks unnatural, that we are not made to understand, how she that was bred under a silly pious old mother, that would never trust her out of her sight, came to be so polite. It cannot be denied, but that the negligence of every thing which engages the attention of the sober and valuable part of mankind, appears very well drawn in this piece. But it is denied, that it is necessary to the character of a fine gentleman, that he should in that manner trample upon all order and decency. As for the character of Dorimant, it is more of a coxcomb than that of Fopling. He says of one of his companions, that a good correspondence between them is their mutual interest. Speaking of that friend, he declares, their being much together, 'makes the women think the better of his understanding, and 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. my hands just as nature left her, half finish- | years is out of fashion and neglected. The ed, and without any acquired improvements. boy I shall consider upon some other occaWhen I look on her I often think of the sion, and at present stick to the girl: and I Belle Sauvage mentioned in one of your pa- am the more inclined to this, because I have pers. Dear Mr. Spectator, help me to several letters which complain to me, that make her comprehend the visible graces my female readers have not understood me of speech, and the dumb eloquence of mo- for some days last past, and take themtion; for she is at present a perfect stranger selves to be unconcerned in the present to both. She knows no way to express her- turn of my writing. When a girl is safely self but by her tongue, and that always to brought from her nurse, before she is capasignify her meaning. Her eyes serve her ble of forming one single notion of any thing yet only to see with, and she is utterly a in life, she is delivered to the hands of her foreigner to the language of looks and dancing-master, and with a collar round glances. In this I fancy you could help her neck, the pretty wild thing is taught a her better than any body. I have bestowed fantastical gravity of behaviour, and forced two months in teaching her to sigh when to a particular way of holding her head, she is not concerned, and to smile when she heaving her breast, and moving with her is not pleased, and am ashamed to own she whole body; and all this under pain of never makes little or no improvement. Then she having a husband, if she steps, looks, or is no more able now to walk, than she was moves awry. This gives a young lady wonto go at a year old. By walking, you will derful workings of imagination, what is to easily know I mean that regular but easy pass between her and this husband, that motion which gives our persons so irresisti- she is every moment told of, and for whom ble a grace as if we moved to music, and is she seems to be educated. Thus her fancy a kind of disengaged figure: or, if I may so is engaged to turn all her endeavours to the speak, recitative dancing. But the want of ornament of her person, as what must dethis I cannot blame in her, for I find she termine her good and ill in this life; and has no ear, and means nothing by walking she naturally thinks, if she is tall enough, but to change her place. I could pardon she is wise enough for any thing for which too her blushing, if she knew how to carry her education makes her think she is deherself in it, and it did not manifestly injure signed. To make her an agreeable person her complexion. is the main purpose of her parents; to that "They tell me you are a person who have is all their cost, to that all their care diseen the world, and are a judge of fine breed-rected; and from this general folly of paing; which makes me ambitious of some in-rents we owe our present numerous race of structions from you for her improvement; coquettes. These reflections puzzle me, which when you have favoured me with, I when I think of giving my advice on the shall further advise with you about the dis- subject of managing the wild thing menposal of this fair forester in marriage; for I tioned in the letter of my correspondent. will make it no secret to you, that her per- But sure there is a middle way to be folson and education are to be her fortune. Ilowed; the management of a young lady's am, sir, your very humble servant, person is not to be overlooked, but the erudition of her mind is much more to be rewill see the mind follow the appetites of the garded. According as this is managed, you body, or the body express the virtues of the CELIMENE.' 'SIR,-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.' mind. motion imaginable: but her eyes are so Cleomira dances with all the elegance of 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. 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 in- No. 67.] Thursday, May 17, 1711. tent 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 Sall. Saltare elegantius quam necesse est proba. Too fine a dancer for a virtuous woman. 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 god No. 67.] THE SPECTATOR. 'Among the rest, I observed one, which dess 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 'But as the best institutions are liable to exercise, distinguished him above the rest in the armies both of Greeks and Trojans. He adds, that Pyrrhus gained more re-corruptions, so, sir, I must acquaint you, putation by inventing the dance which is that very great abuses are crept into this called after his name, than by all his other entertainment. I was amazed to see my actions: that the Lacedemonians, 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 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 examhave ples of great men; and, I think, 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. girl handed by, and handing, young fellows I 'Sir, I am not yet old enough to be a fool. suppose this diversion might at first be invented to keep a good understanding between young men and women, and so far of these things. I know not what you will I am not against it; but I shall never allow say to this case at present, but am sure, had you been with me, you would have I am yours, &c.' seen matter of great speculation. 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. SIR, 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 I am not able, however, to give my final tuition of Monsieur Rigadoon, a dancingmaster in the city; and I was prevailed upon by her and her mother to go last night sentence against this diversion; and am of to one of his balls. I must own to you, sir, Mr. Cowley's opinion, that so much of that having never been to any such place dancing, at least, as belongs to the behabefore, I was very much pleased and sur-viour and a handsome carriage of the body, prised with that part of his entertainment is extremely useful, if not absolutely neceswhich he called French dancing. There sary. 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. 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 approaches, and to be able to enter a room with a good grace. I might add, that a moderate knowledge in the little rules of good-breeding, gives a Nos duo turba sumus- Ovid, Met. i. 355. man some assurance, and makes him easy | No. 68.] Friday, May 18, 1711. It is the proper business of a dancingmaster 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 of 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 unelegant 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, 'May 16, 1711. "Your most obedient humble servant, X. 'J. GRAHAM,' 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, fashions, 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, instructive, 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 persons and things, tries the beauty and strength of his sentiments, and exposes his whole scul to the examination 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 then fruits, of friendship; and, indeed, there is no subject of morality which has been bet ter 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. How 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 well-wishers, 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 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 wouldest get a friend, prove him first, and be not Ecclus. vi. 5, 6. No. 69.] sure. THE SPECTATOR. loseth his credit, and shall never find a may Among the several qualifications of a good friend, this wise man has very justly singled out constancy and faithfulness as the principal: to these, others have added virtue, knowledge, discretion, equality in age and fortune, and as Cicero calls it, Morum comitas, a pleasantness of temper.' If I were to give my opinion upon such an exhausted subject, I should join to these other qualifications, a certain equability or evenness of behaviour. A man often contracts a friendship with one whom perhaps he does not find out till after a year's conversation; when on a sudden some latent ill-humour breaks out upon him, which he never discovered or suspected at his first entering into an intimacy with him. There are several persons who in some certain periods of their lives are inexpressibly Martial has given us a very agreeable, and in others as odious and detestable. pretty picture of one of this species in the following epigram: 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 Separate thyself the following verse? 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 treaNothing 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.'t 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 author, which would have been very much admired in a heathen writer: Forsake not an old friend, for the new is It is very unlucky for a man to be entannot comparable to him: a new friend is as new wine; when it is old thou shalt drink it with pleasure.' With what strength of gled in a friendship with one, who, by these allusion, and force of thought has he de- changes and vicissitudes of humour, is somescribed the breaches and violations of times amiable, and sometimes odious; and friendship? Whoso casteth a stone at as most men are at sometimes in an admibe one of the greatest tasks of wisdom to the birds frayeth them away; and he that rable frame and disposition of mind, it should upbraideth his friend, breaketh friendship. Though thou drawest a sword at a friend, keep ourselves well when we are so, and able part of our character. yet despair not, for there may be a return-never to go out of that which is the agreeing 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.'s 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 Ibid. Difficilis, facilis, jucundus, acerbus es idem, No. 69.] Saturday, May 19, 1711. C. Hic segetes, illic veniunt felicius uvæ; This ground with Bacchus, that with Ceres suits; Ecclus. xxvii. 16. et seqq. |