No. 168.]

THE SPECTATOR.

groves have started into being by the pow-| but all architects who display their skill in erful feat of a warm fancy. A castle- the thin element. Such a favour would builder is even just what he pleases, and as oblige me to make my next soliloquy not such I have grasped imaginary sceptres, contain the praises of my dear self, but of and delivered uncontrollable edicts, from a the Spectator, who shall, by complying VITRUVIUS.' throne to which conquered nations yielded with this, make me his obliged humble obeisance. I have made I know not how servant, many inroads into France, and ravaged the very heart of that kingdom; I have dined in the Louvre, and drank champaign at Versailles; and I would have you take notice, I No. 168.] Wednesday, Sept. 12, 1711.

am not only able to vanquish a people already cowed' and accustomed to flight, but I could, Almanzor-like,* drive the British general from the field, were I less a protestant, or had ever been affronted by the confederates. There is no art or pro-plication of my correspondents so far, as not fession, whose most celebrated masters I sometimes to insert their animadversions have not eclipsed. Wherever I have af- upon my paper; that of this day shall be forded my salutary presence, fevers have therefore wholly composed of the hints ceased to burn, and agues to shake the hu- which they have sent me. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I send you this to man fabric. When an eloquent fit has been congratulate your late choice of a subject, upon me, an apt gesture and proper cadence has animated each sentence, and gaz- for treating on which you deserve public ing crowds have found their passions worked thanks, I mean that on those licensed tyup into rage, or soothed into a calm. I am rants the school-masters. If you can disshort, and not very well made; yet upon arm them of their rods, you will certainly sight of a fine woman, I have stretched into have your old age reverenced by all the a proper stature, and killed with a good air now between seven and seventeen years. and mien. These are the gay phantoms young gentlemen of Great Britain who are that dance before my waking eyes, and You may boast that the incomparably wise compose my day-dreams. I should be the Quintilian and you are of one mind in this most contented happy man alive, were the particular." Si cui est (says he,) mens tam chimerical happiness which springs from illiberalis ut objurgatione non corrigatur, the paintings of fancy less fleeting and tran-is etiam ad plagas, ut pessima quæque mansitory. But, alas! it is with grief of mind I tell you, the least breath of wind has often demolished my magnificent edifices, swept away my groves, and left no more trace of them than if they had never been. My exchequer has sunk and vanished by a rap on my door, the salutation of a friend has cost me a whole continent, and in the same moment I have been pulled by the sleeve, my I was bred myself, sir, in a very great crown has fallen from my head. The ill consequence of these reveries is inconceiv-school, of which the master was a Welchably great, seeing the loss of imaginary pos- man, but certainly descended from a Spansessions makes impressions of real woe. ish family, as plainly appeared from his Besides, bad economy is visible and appa- temper as well as his name. I leave you rent in builders of invisible mansions. My to judge what sort of a school-master a tenants' advertisements of ruins and dilapí- Welchman ingrafted on a Spaniard would dations often cast a damp on my spirits, make. So very dreadful had he made himeven in the instant when the sun, in all its self to me, that although it is above twenty splendour, gilds my eastern palaces. Add to this the pensive drudgery in building, years since I felt his heavy hand, yet still and constant grasping aerial trowels, dis- once a month at least I dream of him, so tracts and shatters the mind, and the fond strong an impression did he make on my builder of Babels is often cursed with an in- mind. It is a sign he has fully terrified me waking, who still continues to haunt me coherent diversity and confusion of thoughts. sleeping. I do not know to whom I can more pro- And yet I may say without vanity, that perly apply myself for relief from this fan- the business of the school was what I did tastical evil, than to yourself; whom I earn-without great difficulty; and I was not reestly implore to accommodate me with a markably unlucky; and yet such was the method how to settle my head and cool my master's severity, that once a month, or brain-pan. A dissertation on castle-building may not only be serviceable to myself, oftener, I suffered as much as would have

† Dr. Charles Roderick, master of Eton-school, and afterwards provost of King's-college, Cambridge.

satisfied the law of the land for a petty | are so full of themselves, as to give disturblarceny.

Some

ance to all that are about them.
times you have a set of whisperers who lay
their heads together in order to sacrifice
every body within their observation; some-
times a set of laughers that keep up an in-
sipid mirth in their own corner, and by
their noise and gestures show they have no
respect for the rest of the company. You
frequently meet with these sets at the
opera, the play, the water-works, and other
public meetings, where the whole business
is to draw off the attention of the spectators
from the entertainment, and to fix it upon
themselves; and it is to be observed, that
the impertinence is ever loudest when the
set happens to be made up of three or four
females who have got what you call a
woman's man among them.

Many a white and tender hand, which the fond mother had passionately kissed a thousand and a thousand times, have I seen whipped until it was covered with blood; perhaps for smiling, or for going a yard and a half out of a gate, or for writing an o for an A, or an A for an o. These were our great faults! Many a brave and noble spirit has been there broken; others have run from thence and were never heard of afterwards. It is a worthy attempt to undertake the cause of distressed youth; and it is a noble piece of knight-errantry to enter the list against so many armed pedagogues. It is pity but we had a set of men, polite in their behaviour and method of teaching, who should be put into a condition of being above flattering or fearing the parents of those they instruct. We might then pos-ple of fortune should learn this behaviour, sibly see learning become a pleasure, and children delighting themselves in that which they now abhor for coming upon such hard terms to them. What would be still a greater happiness arising from the care of such instructors, would be, that we should have no more pedants, nor any bred to learning who had not genius for it. I am, with the utmost sincerity, sir, your most affectionate humble servant.'

Richmond, Sept. 5, 1711.

'I am at a loss to know from whom peo

unless it be from the footmen who keep their places at a new play, and are often seen passing away their time in sets at allfours in the face of a full house, and with a perfect disregard to the people of quality sitting on each side of them.

understanding degrades them below their meanest attendants; and gentlemen should know that a fine coat is a livery, when the person who wears it discovers no higher sense than that of a footman. I am, sir, your most humble servant.'

For preserving therefore the decency of public assemblies, methinks it would be but reasonable that those who disturb others should pay at least a double price for their places; or rather women of birth and distinction should be informed, that a 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am a boy of four-levity of behaviour in the eyes of people of teen years of age, and have for this last year been under the tuition of a doctor of divinity, who has taken the school of this place under his care. From the gentleman's great tenderness to me and friendship to my father, I am very happy in learning my book with pleasure. We never leave off our diversions any farther than to salute him at hours of play when he pleases to look on. It is impossible for any of us to love our own parents better than we do him. He never gives any of us a harsh word, and we think it the greatest punishment in the world when he will not speak to any of us. My brother and I are both together inditing this letter. He is a year older than I am, but is now ready to break his heart that the doctor has not taken any notice of him these three days. If you please to print this he will see it, and we hope, taking it for my brother's earnest desire to be restored to his favour, he will again smile upon him. Your most obedient servant, T. S.'

'Bedfordshire, Sept. 1, 1711. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am one of those whom every body calls a poacher, and sometimes go out to course with a brace of greyhounds, a mastiff, and a spaniel or two; and when I am weary with coursing, and have killed hares enough, go to an alehouse to refresh myself. I beg the favour of you (as you set up for a reformer) to send us word how many dogs you will allow us to go with, how many full pots of ale to drink, and how many hares to kill in a day, and you will do a great piece of service to all the sportsmen. Be quick, then, for the time of coursing is come on. Yours, in haste, ISAAC HEDGEDITCH.'

Sic vita erat: facile omnes perferre ac pati:
Cum quibus erat cunque una, his sese dedere,
Eorum obsequi studiis; adversus nemini ;

'MR. SPECTATOR,—You have represent- No. 169.] Thursday, September 13, 1711. ed several sorts of impertinents singly, I wish you would now proceed and describe some of them in sets. It often happens in public assemblies, that a party who came thither together, or whose impertinences are of an equal pitch, act in concert, and

* This was Dr. Nicholas Brady, who assisted Tate in the new version of the Psalms; he died rector of Richmond and Clapham, in Surrey, in 1726.

times, was invented by one Mr. Winstanley, and exhibited at the lower end of Piccadilly; it consisted of sea-gods, goddesses, &c. playing and spouting out water, and fire mingled with water; performed every evening between five and six.

The Water-theatre, a favourite amusement of those

MAN is subject to innumerable pains and sorrows by the very condition of humanity, and yet, as if nature had not sown evils enough in life, we are continually adding grief to grief, and aggravating the common calamity by our cruel treatment of one another. Every man's natural weight of afflictions is still made more heavy by the envy, malice, treachery, or injustice of his neighbour. At the same time that the storm beats upon the whole species, we are falling foul upon one another.

Half the misery of human life might be extinguished, would men alleviate the general curse they lie under, by mutual offices of compassion, benevolence and humanity. There is nothing therefore which we ought more to encourage in ourselves and others, than that disposition of mind which in our language goes under the title of good-nature, and which I shall choose for the subject of this day's speculation.

Good-nature is more agreeable in conversation than wit, and gives a certain air to the countenance which is more amiable than beauty. It shows virtue in the fairest light, takes off in some measure from the deformity of vice, and makes even folly and impertinence supportable.

There is no society or conversation to be kept up in the world without good-nature, or something which must bear its appearance, and supply its place. For this reason mankind have been forced to invent a kind of artificial humanity, which is what we express by the word good-breeding. For if we examine thoroughly the idea of what we call so, we shall find it to be nothing else but an imitation and mimickry of goodnature, or in other terms, affability, complaisance, and easiness of temper reduced

into an art.

These exterior shows and appearances of humanity render a man wonderfully popular and beloved, when they are founded upon a real good-nature: but without it are like hypocrisy in religion, or a bare form of holiness, which when it is discovered, makes a man more detestable than professed impiety.

lanthropy or good-nature of his hero,
which he tells us he brought into the world
stances of it in his childhood, as well as in
with him, and gives many remarkable in-
all the several parts of his life. Nay, on
his death-bed, he describes him as being
pleased, that while his soul returned to
him that made it, his body should incorpo-
rate with the great mother of all things,
and by that means become beneficial to
mankind. For which reason, he gives his
sons a positive order not to enshrine it in
gold or silver, but to lay it in the earth as
soon as the life was gone out of it.
An instance of such an overflowing of
humanity, such an exuberant love to man-
kind, could not have entered into the imagi-
nation of a writer, who had not a soul filled
with great ideas, and a general benevolence

to mankind.

In that celebrated passage of Sallust, where Cæsar and Cato are placed in such beautiful but opposite lights,† Cæsar's character is chiefly made up of good-nature, as it showed itself in all its forms towards his friends or his enemies, his servants or dependants, the guilty or the distressed. As for Cato's character, it is rather awful than amiable. Justice seems most agreeable to the nature of God, and mercy to that of man. A being who has nothing to pardon in himself, may reward every man according to his works; but he whose very best actions must be seen with grains of allowance, cannot be too mild, moderate, and forgiving. For this reason, among all the monstrous characters in human nature, there is none so odious, nor indeed so exquisitely ridiculous, as that of a rigid severe temper in a worthless man.

This part of good-nature, however, which consists in the pardoning and overlooking of faults, is to be exercised only in doing ourselves justice, and that too in the ordinary commerce and occurrences of life; for in the public administration of justice, mercy to one may be cruelty to others.

It is grown almost into a maxim, that good-natured men are not always men of the most wit. This observation in my opinion, has no foundation in nature. The greatest wits I have conversed with are men eminent for their humanity. I take therefore this remark to have been occasioned by two reasons. First, because illnature among ordinary observers passes for wit. A spiteful saying gratifies so many little passions in those who hear it, that it Good-nature is generally born with us; generally meets with a good reception. health, prosperity, and kind treatment from The laugh rises upon it, and the man who the world are great cherishers of it where utters it is looked upon as a shrewd sathey find it; but nothing is capable of forcing tirist. This may be one reason, why a it up, where it does not grow of itself. It is great many pleasant companions appear so one of the blessings of a happy constitution, surprisingly dull, when they have endeawhich education may improve but not pro-voured to be merry in print; the public duce.

Xenophon in the life of his imaginary

prince, whom he describes as a pattern for edit. J. A. Ern. 8vo. tom. i. p. 550.

Xenoph. De Cyri Instit. lib. viii. cap. vii. sect. 3

real ones, is always celebrating the phi

↑ Sallust. Bell. Catil. c. liv.

being more just than private clubs or assem- | she kindles the same passion in others, and blies, in distinguishing between what is wit, and what is ill-nature.

she would not otherwise, perhaps, have thought of, and fills her imagination with such an unlucky idea, as in time grows familiar, excites desire, and loses all the shame and horror which might at first attend it. Nor is it a wonder if she, who suffers wrongfully in a man's opinion of her, and has therefore nothing to forfeit in his esteem, resolves to give him reason for his suspicions, and to enjoy the pleasure of the crime, since she must undergo the ignominy. Such, probably, were the considerations that directed the wise man in his advice to husbands: Be not jealous over the wife of thy bosom, and teach her not an evil lesson against thyself."*

actions; and are ever tormenting them-
selves with fancies of their own raising.
They generally act in a disguise themselves,
and therefore mistake all outward shows
and appearances for hypocrisy in others;
so that I believe no men see less of the
truth and reality of things, than these great
refiners upon incidents, who are so won-
derfully subtile and over-wise in their con-
ceptions.

Now, what these men fancy they know of women by reflection, your lewd and vicious men believe they have learned by experience. They have seen the poor husband so misled by tricks and artifices, and in the midst of his inquiries so lost and bewildered And here, among the other torments in a crooked intrigue, that they still suswhich this passion produces, we may usu-pect an under-plot in every female action; ally observe that none are greater mourners and especially where they see any resemthan jealous men, when the person who blance in the behaviour of two persons, are provoked their jealousy is taken from them. apt to fancy it proceeds from the same deThen it is that their love breaks out fu- sign in both. These men therefore bear riously, and throws off all the mixtures of hard upon the suspected party, pursue her suspicion which choked and smothered it close through all her turnings and windDefore. The beautiful parts of the cha-ings, and are too well acquainted with the racter rise uppermost in the jealous husband's memory, and upbraid him with the ill usage of so divine a creature as was once in his possession; whilst all the little imperfections, that were before so uneasy to him, wear off from his remembrance, and show themselves no more.

chase to be flung off by any false steps or
doubles. Besides, their acquaintance and
conversation has lain wholly among the
vicious part of woman-kind, and therefore
it is no wonder they censure all alike, and
look upon the whole sex as a species of im-
postors. But if, notwithstanding their pri-
vate experience, they can get over these
prejudices, and entertain a favourable opi-
nion of some women, yet their own loose
desires will stir up new suspicions from an-
other side, and make them believe all men
subject to the same inclinations with them-
selves.

Whether these or other motives are most
predominant, we learn from the modern
histories of America, as well as from our
own experience in this part of the world,
that jealousy is no northern passion, but
rages most in those nations that lie nearest
the influence of the sun. It is a misfortune
for a woman to be born between the tropics;
for there lie the hottest regions of jealousy,
which as you come northward cools all
along with the climate, till you scarce meet
with any thing like it in the polar circle.
Our own nation is very temperately situated
in this respect; and if we meet with some
few, disordered with the violence of this pas-
sion, they are not the proper growth of
our country, but are many degrees nearer
the sun in their constitutions than in their
climate.

After this frightful account of jealousy, and the persons who are most subject to it, it will be but fair to show by what means the passion may be best allayed, and those who are possessed with it set at ease. Other faults, indeed, are not under the wife's jurisdiction, and should, if possible, escape her observation; but jealousy calls upon her particularly for its cure, and deserves all her art and application in the attempt. Besides, she has this for her encourage