THE MEN'S TRIBUNE

Copyright © 2000 Thomas Pollock aka Spartacus
                          All Rights Reserved


THE SPECTATOR


   BY
 

JOSEPH ADDISON      and      RICHARD STEELE
 
 

(selected essays)








No.  244.   MONDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1711.
 
 

    *          *         *          *         *          *          *
 

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " Though I am a woman, yet I am one of those
who confess themselves highly pleased with a specu-
lation you obliged the world with some time ago,
from an old Greek poet you call Simonides, in rela-
tion 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 objects of this
present address are a set of women, comprehended,
I think, in the ninth species of that speculation,
called the Apes; the description of whom I find to
be,  ' That they are such [who] are both ugly and ill-                     ["as"]
natured, who have nothing beautiful themselves, and
endeavour to detract from, or ridicule everything[,]
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 circumstances in life
obliges me to reside altogether in the country, though
not many miles from London, I can't 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 visit-
ed by the ladies about 'em, of whom I was [one], with a
humanity usual in those who 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 return-
ing to town; then it was, Mr. Spectator, that they
began to set themselves about the proper and dis-
tinguishing business of their character; and as it is
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 mimic and fall foul on the
faces, dress, and behaviour of their innocent neigh-
bours, bestowing abominable censures and disgrace-
ful 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 injured, as
from my own inclination.  I hope, Sir, if you can't
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.
                        " I am, Sir,
                               " Your humble servant,
                                       " CONSTANTIA FIELD."
 

   *          *         *          *         *          *          *
 

[Addison]


    No.  246.   WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1711.

                                        ______
 

        [Greek writing]
                                                  HOM. IL. II. 38.
 

       Nor ever amorous hero caused thy birth.
         Nor ever tender goddess brought thee forth:
         Some rugged rock's hard entrails gave thee form,
         And raging seas produc'd thee in a storm:
         A soul well suiting that tempestuous kind,
          So rough thy manners, so untamed thy mind.    POPE.
 

         " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " As your paper is part of the equipage of the
tea-table, I conjure you to print what I now write
to you; for I have no other way to communicate
what I have to say to the fair sex on the most im-
portant circumstance of life, even  ' the care of child-
ren.'  I do not understand [why] you profess your                                   ["that"]
paper is always to consist of matters which are only
to entertain the learned and polite, [and why it can't]                               ["but that it may"]
agree with your design to publish some which may
tend to the information of mankind in general; and
when it does so, [that] you do more than writing wit and
humour [on the matter].  Give me leave then to tell you,
that of all the abuses [] you have as yet endeavoured                              ["that ever"]
to reform, certainly not one wanted so much your
assistance as the abuse in nursing of children.  It is
unmerciful to see, that a woman endowed with all
the perfections and blessings of nature can, as soon
as she is delivered, turn [away from] her innocent, tender,                       ["off"]
and helpless infant, and give it up to a woman that is,
ten thousand to one, neither in health nor good
condition, neither sound in mind nor body, that has
neither honour nor reputation, neither love nor pity
for the poor babe, but more regard for the money
than for the whole child, and never will take further
care of it than what by all the encouragement of mo-
ney and presents she is forced to; like Aesop's earth,
which would not nurse the plant of another ground,
although never so much improved, by reason that
plant was not of its own production.  And since an-
other's child is no more natural to a nurse, than a
plant to a strange and different ground, how can it
be supposed that the child should thrive; and if it
thrives, must it not imbibe the gross humours and
qualities of the nurse, like a plant in a different
ground, or like a graft upon a different stock?  Do
not we observe, that a lamb sucking a goat changes
very much its nature, nay even its skin and wool
into the goat kind?  The power of a nurse over a
child, by infusing into it with her milk her qualities
and disposition, is sufficiently and daily observed.
Hence came that old saying concerning an ill-natured
and malicious fellow, that  ' he had imbibed his ma-
lice with his nurse's milk, or that some brute or other
had been his nurse.'  Hence Romulus and Remus
were said to have been nursed by a wolf; Telephus
the son of Hercules by a [deer]; Pelias the son of                                    ["hind"]
Neptune by a mare; and Ægisthus by a goat; not
that they had actually sucked such creatures, as some
simpletons have imagined, but that their nurses had
been of such a nature and temper, and infused such
into them.
    " Many instances may be produced from good au-
thorities and daily experience, that children actu-
ally suck in the [various] passions and depraved in-                                 ["several"]
clinations of their nurses, as anger, malice, fear,
melancholy, sadness, desire, and aversion.  This
Diodorus, [Book] 2, witnesses, when he speaks, saying,                         ["lib."]
that Nero the Emperor's nurse had been very much
addicted to drinking; which habit Nero received
from his nurse, and was so very particular in this,
that the people took so much notice of it, [that] instead                            ["as"]
of Tiberius Nero, they called him Biberius Mero ["Imbiber of Hot, Straight Wine"].
The same Diodorus also relates of Caligula, prede-
cessor to Nero, that his nurse used to moisten the
nipples of her breast frequently with blood, to make
Caligula, take the better bold of them; which, says
Diodorus, was the cause that made him so blood-
thirsty and cruel all his lifetime after, [and] that he not
only committed frequent murder by his own hand,
but likewise wished that all human kind wore but
one neck, that he might have the pleasure to cut it
off.  Such like degeneracies astonish the parents,
who not knowing after whom the child can take [after],
see one incline to stealing, another to drinking, cruelty,
stupidity; yet all these are not minded.  Nay, it
is easy to demonstrate, that a child, although it be
born from the best of parents, may be corrupted by
an ill-tempered nurse.  How many children do we
see daily brought into fits, consumptions, rickets, &c.
merely by sucking their nurses when in a passion
or fury?  But indeed almost any disorder of the
nurse is a disorder to the child, and few nurses can
be found in this town [who don't] labour under some                                  ["but what"]
distemper or other.  The first question that is gen-
erally asked [of] a young woman that wants to be a
nurse, [that is,] why she should [want to] be a nurse to
other people's children, is answered, by her having an ill
husband, and that she must make shift to live.  I think now
[that] this very answer is enough to give anybody a shock,
if duly considered; for an ill husband may, or ten
to one if he does not, bring home to his wife an ill
distemper, or at least vexation and disturbance.
Besides, as she takes the child out of mere neces-
sity, her food will be accordingly, or else very coarse
at best; whence proceeds an ill-concocted and coarse
food for the child; for as the blood, so is the milk;
and hence I am very well assured proceeds the
scurvy, the evil, and many other distempers.  I beg
of you for the sake of the many poor infants that
may and will be saved by weighing the case seri-
ously, to exhort the people with the utmost vehe-
mence, to let the children suck their own mothers,
both for the benefit of mother and child.  For the
general argument, that a mother is weakened by
giving suck to her children, is vain and simple.  I
will maintain that the mother grows stronger by it,
and will have her health better than she would
have otherwise.  She will find it the greatest cure
and preservative for the vapours and future mis-           [the vapours, "a state of feeling suddenly ill, often as the result of an unpleasant                                    carriages, much beyond any other remedy what-             situation or bad news, esp. in women", Cambridge Internat. Dict. of Eng.]
soever.  Her children will be like giants, whereas
otherwise they are but living shadows, and like
unripe fruit; and certainly if a woman is strong
enough to bring forth a child, she is beyond all
doubt strong enough to nurse it afterwards.  It
grieves me to observe and consider how many poor
children are daily ruined by careless nurses; and
yet how tender ought they to be of a poor infant,
since the least hurt or blow, especially upon the
head, may make it senseless, stupid, or otherwise
miserable forever!
    " But I cannot well leave this subject as yet; for
it seems to me very unnatural, that a woman that
has fed a child as part of herself for nine months,
should have no desire to nurse it further, when
brought to light and before her eyes, and when by its
cry it implores her assistance and the office of a mo-
ther.  Do not the very smallest of brutes tend their
young ones with all the care and delight imaginable?
How can she be called a mother that will not nurse
her young ones?  The earth is called the mother of
all things, not because she produces, but because she
maintains and nurses what she produces.  The gen-
eration of the infant is the effect of desire, but the
care of it argues virtue and choice.  I am not igno-
rant [] that there are some cases of necessity,                                              ["but"]
where a mother cannot give suck, and then out of
two evils the least must be chosen; but there are
so very few [of these cases], that I am sure in a thousand
there is hardly one real instance; for if a woman does but
know that her husband can spare about three or
six shillings a week extra[], although this is                                                  ["ordinary"]
but seldom considered, she certainly, with the as-
sistance of her gossips, will soon persuade the good
man to send the child to nurse, and easily impose
upon him by pretending indisposition.  This cruelty
is supported by fashion, and nature gives place to
custom.
                                             " Sir,
                                   " Your humble servant."
 

[Steele]


No.  247.   THURSDAY,  DECEMBER 13, 1711.

                                   ______
 

              [Greek writing]                           HESIOD.

            Their untired lips a wordy torrent pour.

    WE are told by some ancient authors, that Soc-
rates was instructed in eloquence by a woman,
whose name, if I am not mistaken, was Apasia.  I
have indeed very often looked upon that art as the
most proper for the female sex, and I think the
universities would do well to consider whether they
should not fill their rhetoric chairs with she pro-
fessors.
    It has been said in the praise of some men, that
they could talk whole hours together upon anything;
but it must be owned, to the honour of the other
sex, that there are many among them who can talk
whole hours together upon nothing.  I have known
a woman branch out into a long extempore dis-
sertation upon the edging of a petticoat, and chide
her servant for breaking a china cup, in all the
figures of rhetoric.
    Were women admitted to plead in courts of judi-
cature, I am persuaded they would carry the elo-
quence of the bar to greater heights than it has yet
arrived at.  If any one doubt this, let him but be
present at those debates which frequently arise
among the ladies of the British fishery.
    The first kind therefore of female orators which
I shall take notice of, are those who are employed
in stirring up the passions; a part of rhetoric in
which Socrates['] wife had perhaps made a greater                                 ["his"]
proficiency than his above-mentioned teacher.
    The second kind of female orators are those who
deal in invectives, and who are commonly known
by the name of the censorious.  The imagination
and elocution of this set of rhetoricians is wonderful.
With what a fluency of invention, and copiousness
of expression, will they enlarge upon every little
slip in the behaviour of another!  With how many
different circumstances, and with what variety of
phrases, will they tell over the same story!  I have
known an old lady make an unhappy marriage the
subject of a month's conversation.  She blamed the
bride in one place; pitied her in another; laughed
at her in a third; wondered at her in a fourth; was
angry with her in a fifth; and, in short, wore out a
pair of coach-horses in expressing her concern for
her.  At length, after having quite exhausted the
subject on this side, she made a visit to the new-
married pair, praised the wife for the prudent choice
she had made, told her the unreasonable reflections
which some malicious people had cast upon her,
and desired that they might be better acquainted.
The censure and approbation of this kind of women
are therefore only to be considered as helps to dis-
course.
    A third kind of female orators may be compre-
hended under the word gossips.  Mrs. Fiddle-Faddle
is perfectly accomplished in this sort of eloquence;
she launches out into descriptions of christenings,
runs divisions upon a headdress, knows every dish
of meat that is served up in our neighbourhood,
and entertains her company a whole afternoon to-
gether with the wit of her little boy, before he is
able to speak.
    The coquette may he looked upon as a fourth
kind of female orator.  To give herself the larger
field for discourse, she hates and loves in the same
breath, talks to her lapdog or parrot, is uneasy in
all kinds of weather and in every part of the room.
She has false quarrels and feigned obligations to all
the men of her acquaintance; sighs when she is
not sad, and laughs when she is not merry.  The
coquette is in particular a great mistress of that
part of oratory which is called action, and indeed
seems to speak for no other purpose, but as it gives
her an opportunity of stirring a limb, or varying
a feature, of glancing her eyes, or playing with her
fan.
    As for newsmongers, politicians, mimics, story-
tellers, with other characters of that nature which
give birth to loquacity, they are as commonly found
among the men as the women; for which reason I
shall pass them over in silence.
    I have often been puzzled to assign a cause why
women should have this talent of a ready utterance
in so much greater perfection than men.   I have
sometimes fancied that they have not a retentive
power, or the faculty of suppressing their thoughts,
as men have, but that they are necessitated to speak
everything they think; and if so, it would perhaps
furnish a very strong argument to the Cartesians
for the supporting of their doctrine that the soul
always thinks.  But as several are of [the] opinion that
the fair sex are not altogether strangers to the arts
of dissembling and concealing their thoughts, I have
been forced to relinquish that opinion, and have
therefore endeavoured to seek after some better rea-
son.  In order to [find] it, a friend of mine, who is an ex-
cellent anatomist, has promised me, by the first op-
portunity, to dissect a woman's tongue, and to ex-
amine whether there may not be in it certain juices
which render it so wonderfully voluble or flippant,
or whether the fibres of it may not be made up of
a finer or more pliant thread; or whether there are
nor in it some particular muscles which dart it up
and down by such sudden glances and vibrations;
or whether, in the last place; there may not be cer-
tain undiscovered channels running from the head
and the heart to this little instrument of loquacity,
and conveying into it a perpetual affluency of animal
spirits.  Nor must I omit the reason which Hudi-
bras has given, why those who can talk on trifles
speak with the greatest fluency; namely, that the
tongue is like a race-horse, which runs the faster the
lesser weight it carries.
    Which of these reasons soever may be looked
upon as the most probable, I think the Irishman's
thought was very natural, who, after some hours [of]
conversation with a female orator, told her, that he
believed her tongue was very glad when she was
asleep, for that it had not a moment's rest all the
while she was awake.
    That excellent old ballad of The Wanton Wife
of Bath, has the following remarkable lines:

         I think, quoth Thomas, women tongues
               Of aspen leaves are made.                                         [aspen leaves flutter readily with a little wind]

    And Ovid, though in the description of a
barbarous circumstance, tells us that when the
tongue of a beautiful female was cut out, and
thrown upon the ground, it could not forbear mut-
tering even in that posture:

            ---Comprensam forcipe linguam
       Abstulit ense fero: radix micat ultima linguæ.
       Ipsa jacet, terræque tremens immurmurat atræ;
       Utque salire solet mutilatæ cauda colubræ
        Palpitat.---                                MET. vi. 556.

                               --The blade had cut
      Her tongue sheer off, close to the trembling root:
      The mangled part still quivered on the ground,
      Murmuring with a faint imperfect sound;
      And as a serpent writhes his wounded train,                                        [train, i.e. body]
      Uneasy, panting, and possess'd with pain.      CROXALL.

    If a tongue would be talking without a mouth,
what could it have done when it had all its organs
of speech, and accomplices of sound about it?  I
might here mention the story of the Pippin Wo-
man, had I not some reason to look upon it as fabu-
lous.*
    I must confess I am so wonderfully charmed with
the music of this little instrument, that I would by
no means discourage it.  All that I aim at by this
dissertation is, to cure it of several disagreeable
notes, and in particular of those little jarrings and
dissonances which arise from anger, censoriousness,
gossiping, and coquetry.  In short, I would have
it always tuned by good-nature, truth, discretion,
and sincerity.

     * The crackling crystal yields, she sinks, she dies;
           Her head chopt off, from her lost shoulders flies:
           Pippins she cry'd, but death her voice confounds,
           And pip-pip-pip along the ice resounds.
 

[Addison]


   No.  254.   FRIDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1711.

                                  ______
 

                            [Greek writing]
 

     Virtuous love is honourable, but lust increaseth sorrow.

    WHEN I consider the false impressions which are
received by the generality of the world, I am trou-
bled at none more than a certain levity of thought,
which many young women of quality have enter-
tained, to the hazard of their characters, and the
certain misfortune of their lives.  The first of the
following letters may best represent the faults I
would now point at, and the answer to it, [is put forth in]
the temper of [a] mind in a contrary character.
 

        " MY DEAR HARRIOT,

    " If thou art she, but oh how fallen, how changed,
what an apostate! how lost to all that is gay and
agreeable!  To be married I find is to be buried
alive; I cannot conceive it more dismal to be shut
up in a vault to converse with the [ghosts] of my an-                                 ["shades"]
cestors, than to be married down to an old manor-
house in the country, and confined to the conversa-
tion of a sober husband, and an awkward chamber-
maid.  For variety  I suppose you may entertain
yourself with madam in her grogram gown, the
spouse of your parish vicar, who has by this time,
I am sure, well furnished you with receipts for mak-
ing salves and possets, distilling cordial waters,                   [posset, "A spiced drink of hot sweetened milk curdled with wine or ale."
making syrups, and applying poultices.                                  poultice, "A soft, moist mass of bread, meal, clay, or other adhesive
    " Blest solitude!  I wish thee joy, my dear, of thy                    substance, usually heated, spread on cloth, and applied to warm,
loved retirement, which indeed you would persuade                       moisten, or stimulate an aching or inflamed part of the body.
is very agreeable, and different enough from                                       Also called cataplasm." Amer. Hert. 3rd Ed.]
what I have here described; but, child, I am afraid
thy brains are a little disordered with romances and
novels.  After six months [of] marriage to hear thee
talk of love, and paint the country scenes so softly,
is a little extravagant; one would think you lived
the lives of sylvan deities, or roved among the walks
of Paradise, like the first happy pair.  But pray
thee leave these [whimsical ideas], and come to town in                            ["whimseys"]
order to live, and talk like other mortals.  However,
as I am extremely interested in your reputation, I
would willingly give you a little good advice at your
first appearance under the character of a married
woman.  It is a little insolent in me, perhaps, to
advise a matron; but I am so afraid you will make
so silly a figure as a fond wife, that I cannot help
warning you not to appear in any public places
with your husband, and never to saunter about St.
James's Park together; if you presume to enter the
ring at Hyde Park together, you are ruined for-
ever; nor must you take the least notice of one
another at the play-house, or opera, unless you
would be laughed at for a very loving couple, most
happily paired in the yoke of wedlock.  I would
recommend the example of an acquaintance of ours
to your imitation; she is the most negligent and
fashionable wife in the world; she is hardly ever
seen in the same place with her husband, and if
they happen to meet, you would think them perfect
strangers; she was never heard to [mention his name] in                              ["name him"]
his absence, and takes care he shall never be the sub-
ject of any discourse that she has a share in.  I hope
you will propose this lady as a pattern, though I
am very much afraid you will be so silly to think
Portia, &c., Sabine and Roman wives, much brighter
examples.  I wish it may never come into your
head to imitate those antiquated creatures so far as
to came into public in the habit, as well as [the] air, of a
Roman matron.  You make already the entertain-
ment at Mrs. Modish's tea-table; she says, she al-
ways thought you a discreet person, and qualified
to manage a family with admirable prudence; she
dies to see what demure and serious airs wedlock
has given you; but she says, she shall never forgive
your choice of so gallant a man as Bellamour to
transform him into a mere sober husband; it was
unpardonable.  You see, my dear, we all envy your
happiness, and no person more than
                                    " Your humble servant,
                                                             " LYDIA."
 

    " Be not in pain, good madam, for my appearance
in town; I shall frequent no public places, or make
any visits where the character of a modest wife is
ridiculous.  As for your wild [ridicule] on matri-                                                   ["raillery"]
mony, it is all hypocrisy; you and all the handsome
young women of your acquaintance, show your-
selves to no other purpose, than to gain a conquest
over some man of worth, in order to bestow your
charms and [wealth] on him.  There is no indecency                                             ["fortune"]
in the confession, the design is modest and honour-
able, and all your affectation can't disguise it.
    " I am married, and have no other concern but to
please the man I love; he is the end of every care
I have; if I dress, it is for him; if I read a poem,
or a play, it is to qualify myself for a conversation
agreeable to his taste; he is almost the end of my
devotions; half my prayers are for his happiness---
I love to talk of him, and never hear him named
but with pleasure and emotion.  I am your friend,
and wish you happiness, but am sorry to see by
the air of your letter, that there are a set of women
who are got into the commonplace raillery of every
thing that is sober, decent, and proper; matrimony
and the clergy are the topics of people of little wit,
and no understanding.  I own to you, I have learn-
ed [from] the vicar's wife all you tax me with.  She is                                            ["of "]
a discreet, ingenious, pleasant, pious woman; I wish
she had the handling of you and Mrs. Modish; you
would find, if you were too free with her, she would
soon make you as charming as ever you were; she
would make you blush as much as if you never had
been fine ladies.  The vicar, madam, is so kind as
to visit my husband, and his agreeable conversation
has brought him to enjoy many sober happy hours
when even I am shut out, and my dear master is
entertained only with his own thoughts.  These
things, dear madam, will be lasting satisfactions,
when the fine ladies, and the coxcombs, by whom                    ["coxcomb; "A vain, showy fellow; a conceited, silly man,
they form themselves, are irreparably ridiculous, ri-                     fond of display; a  superficial pretender to knowledge
diculous in old age.        " I am, Madam,                                     or accomplishments; a fop. Webster's 1913]
                           " Your most humble servant,
                                                  " MARY HOME."
 

         " DEAR. MR. SPECTATOR,

    " You have no goodness in the world, and are
not in earnest in any thing you say that is serious,
if you do not send me a plain answer to this.  I
happened some days past to be at the play, where,
during the time of [the] performance, I could not keep
my eyes off from a beautiful young creature who
sat just before me, and who, I have been since in-
formed, has no fortune.  It would utterly ruin my
reputation for discretion to marry such a one, and
by what I can learn she has a character of great
modesty, so that there is nothing to be thought on
any other way.  My mind has ever since been so
wholly bent on her, that I am much in danger of
doing something very extravagant, without your
speedy advice to,                " Sir,
                            " Your most humble servant."
 

    I am sorry I cannot answer this impatient gentle-
man, but by another question.
 

               DEAR CORRESPONDENT,

    Would you marry to please other people, or
yourself?
 

[Steele]


  No.  260.   FRIDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1711.

                                 ______
 

       Singula de nobis anni prædantur euntes.
                                                HOR.  EPIST. ii. 2. 55.

       Years following years steal something every day,
       At last they steal us from ourselves away.        POPE.
 

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " I  AM  now in the sixty-fifth year of my age,
and having been the greater part of my days a man
of pleasure, the decay of my faculties is a stagna-
tion of my life.  But how is it, Sir, that my appe-
tites are increased upon me with the loss of power
to gratify them?  I write this like a criminal, to
warn people to enter upon what reformation they
please to make in themselves in their youth, and [I do]
not expect they shall be capable of it[, because of] a                                  ["from"]
fond opinion some have often in their mouths, that if we
do not leave our desires, they will leave us.  It is
far otherwise; I am now as vain in my dress, and
as flippant, if I see a pretty woman, as when in my
youth I stood upon a bench in the pit to survey
the whole circle of beauties.  The folly is so ex-
travagant with me, and I went on with so little
check of my desires, or resignation of them, that I
can assure you I very often, merely to entertain
my own thoughts, sit with my spectacles on, writ-
mg love-letters to the beauties that have been long
since in their graves.  This is to warm my heart
with the faint memory of delights which were once
agreeable to me; but how much happier would my
life have been now, if I could have looked back on
any worthy action done for my country?  if I had
laid out that which I profused in luxury and wan-
tonness, in acts of generosity or charity?  I have
lived a bachelor to this day; and instead of a nu-
merous offspring, with which in the regular ways
of life I might possibly have delighted myself, I
have only to amuse myself with the repetition of
old stories and intrigues which no one will believe
I ever was concerned in.  I do not know whether
you have ever treated of it or not; but you cannot
fall on a better subject, than that of the art of grow-
ing old.  In such a lecture you must propose, that
no one set his heart upon what is transient; the
beauty grows wrinkled while we are yet gazing at
her.  The witty man sinks into [being a moody person (or an eccentric?)]                          ["a humourist"]
imperceptibly, for want of reflecting that all things around
him are in a flux, and continually changing: thus
he is in the space of ten or fifteen years surrounded
by a new set of people, whose manners are as na-
rural to them as his delights, method of thinking,
and mode of living, were formerly to him and his
friends.  But the mischief is, he looks upon the
same kind of errors which he himself was guilty of
with an eye of scorn, and with that sort of ill-will
which men entertain against each other for [having] different
opinions.  Thus a crazy constitution, and an uneasy
mind[,] is fretted with vexatious passions for young
men's doing foolishly, what it is folly to do at all.
Dear Sir, this is my present state of mind; I hate
those I should laugh at, and envy those I contemn.
The time of youth and vigorous manhood, passed
[in] the way in which I have disposed of it, is attended
with these consequences; but to those who live and
pass away life as they ought [to], all parts of it are
equally pleasant; [and] only the memory of good and
worthy actions is a feast which [will certainly give] a quicker                             ["must give"]
relish to the soul than ever it could possibly taste
in the highest enjoyments or jollities of youth.  As
for me, if I sit down in my great chair and begin to
ponder, the vagaries of a child are not more ridicu-
lous than the circumstances which are heaped up
in my memory; fine gowns, country dances, ends of
tunes, interrupted conversations, and midnight quar-
rels, are what must necessarily compose my soli-
loquy.  I beg of you to print this, that some ladies
of my acquaintance, and my years, may be persuad-
ed to wear warm night-caps this cold season; and
that my old friend Jack Tawdry may buy him a
cane, and not creep with the air of a strut.  I must
add to all this, that if it were not for one pleasure,
which I thought a very mean one till of very late
years, I should have no one great satisfaction left;
but if I live to the tenth of March 1714, and all my
securities are good, I shall be worth fifty thousand
pounds.                          " I am, Sir,
                     " Your most humble servant,
                                        " JACK AFTERDAY."
 

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " You will infinitely oblige a distressed lover, if
will insert in your very next paper, the follow-
ing letter to my mistress.  You must know, I am
not a person apt to despair, but she has got an odd
humour of stopping short unaccountably, and as
she herself told a confidant of hers, she has cold
fits.  These fits shall last her a month or six weeks
[al]together; and as she falls into them without provo-
cation, so it is to be hoped [for that] she will return from
them without the merit of new services.  But life
and love will not admit of such intervals, therefore
pray let her be admonished as follows:

       ' MADAM,

    ' I love you, and I honour you; therefore pray
do not tell me of waiting till decencies, till forms,
till  humours are consulted and gratified.  If you
have that happy constitution [so] as to be indolent for
ten weeks [al]together; you should consider that all
that while I burn in impatiences and fevers; but
still you say [there] will be time enough [for it], though I, and                                   [there-"it"]
you too, grow older while we are yet talking.
Which do you think the more reasonable, that you
should [exchange] a state of indifference for happiness,                                           ["alter"]
and [do] that to oblige me; or [that] I [should] live in torment,
[in order to avoid laying an] obligation on you?  While                                             ["and that to lay no manner of"]
I indulge your insensibility I am doing nothing; if
you favour my passion, you are bestowing bright
desires, gay hopes, generous cares, noble resolu-
tions, and transporting raptures upon,
                                        ' Madam,
                                ' Your most devoted
                                              ' humble servant.'

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " Here is a gentlewomen [who] lodges in the same house
with me, that I never did any injury to in my whole
life; and she is always [complaining about] me to those that                                       ["railing at"]
she knows will tell me of it.  Don't you think she
is in love with me? or would you have me break
my mind yet, or not?
                                           " Your servant,
                                                          " T. B."

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " I am a footman in a great family, and am in                             [hotcockles, "A childish play, in which one covers his eyes, and guesses
love with the housemaid.  We were all [playing] at hotcockles              who strikes him or his hand placed behind him." Webster's 1913.]
last night in the hall [for the] holidays; when I [was laid out?]                                   ["these", "lay down"]
[while blindfolded by the maid who?]* pulled off her shoe,                                      ["and was blinded, she"]
and hit me with the heel [with] such a rap, as almost broke my
head to pieces.  Pray, Sir, was this love or spite?''
 

* Pardon my question marks, I am guessing more
    than usual here.  Web Editor.
 

[Steele]


 No. 261.   SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1711.

                                   _____
 

          [Greek writing]
                                                              FRAG.  VET.  POET.

          Wedlock's an ill men eagerly embrace.

    MY father, whom I mentioned in my first specu-
lation, and whom I must always name with honour
and gratitude, has very frequently talked to me upon
the subject of marriage.  I was in my younger years
engaged partly by his advice, and partly by my own
inclinations, in the courtship of a person who had a
great deal of beauty, and did not at my first ap-
proaches seem to have any aversion to me; but as
my natural taciturnity hindered me from showing
myself to the best advantage, she by degrees began
to look upon me as a very silly fellow, and being
resolved to regard merit more than any thing else
in the persons who made their applications to her,
she married a captain of dragoons who happened to
be beating up for recruits in those parts.
    This unlucky accident has given me an aversion
to pretty fellows ever since, and discouraged me
from trying my fortune with the fair sex.  The
observations which I made at this conjuncture, and
the repeated advices which I received at that time
from the good old man above mentioned, have
produced the following essay upon love and mar-
riage.
    The pleasantest part of a man's life is generally
that which passes in courtship, provided his passion
be sincere, and the party beloved kind with discre-
tion.  Love, desire, hope, all the pleasing emotions
of the soul rise in the pursuit.
    It is easier for an artful man who is not in love
to persuade his mistress he has a passion for her,
and to succeed in his pursuits, than for one who
loves with the greatest violence.  True love has ten
thousand griefs, impatiences, and resentments that
render a man unamiable in the eyes of the per-
son whose affection he solicits; besides that it
sinks his figure, gives him fears, apprehensions,
and poorness of spirit, and often makes him appear
ridiculous where he has a mind to recommend
himself.
    Those marriages generally abound most with love
and constancy, that are preceded by a long court-
ship.  The passion should strike root, and gather
strength before marriage be grafted on it.  A long
course of hopes and expectations fixes the idea in
our minds, and habituates us to a fondness of the
person beloved.
    There is nothing of so great importance to us, as
the good qualities of one to whom we join ourselves
for life; they do not only make our present state
agreeable, but often determine our happiness to all
eternity.  Where the choice is left to friends, the
chief point under consideration is an estate; where
the parties choose for themselves, their thoughts
turn most upon the person.  They have both their
reasons.  The first would procure many conveniences
and pleasures of life to the party whose interests
they espouse; and at the same time may hope that
the wealth of their friend will turn to their own
credit and advantage.  The others are preparing
for themselves a perpetual feast.  A good person
does not only raise but [perpetuates] love, and breeds a                           ["continue"]
secret pleasure and complacency in the beholder,
when the first heats of desire are extinguished.  It
puts the wife or husband in [agreement] both among                                 ["countenance"]
friends and strangers, and generally fills the family
with a healthy and beautiful race of children.
    I should prefer a woman that is agreeable in my
own eye, and not deformed in that of the world, to
a celebrated beauty.  If you marry one remarkably
beautiful, you must have a violent passion for her,
or you have not the proper taste for her charms;
and if you have such a passion for her, it is [short] odds
[that] it would he imbittered with fears and jealousies.                              ["but"]
    Good-nature and evenness of temper will give
you an easy companion for life; virtue and good
sense, an agreeable friend; love and constancy, a
good wife or husband.  Where we meet one person
with all these accomplishments, we find a hundred
without any one of them.  The world notwith-
standing, is more intent on trains and equipages,              [train, "A part of a gown that trails behind the wearer." equipage,
and on the showy parts of life; we love rather to               "A horse-drawn carriage with attendants." Amer. Herit. Third Ed.]
dazzle the multitude, than consult our proper in-
terests; and as I have elsewhere observed, it is one
of the most unaccountable passions of human nature,
that we are at greater pains to appear easy and
happy to others, then [to] really to make ourselves so.
Of all disparities, that in humour makes the most
unhappy marriages, yet scarce[ly] enters into our
thoughts at the contracting of them.  Several that
are in this respect unequally yoked, and uneasy for
life with a person of a particular character, might
have been pleased and happy with a person of a
contrary one, notwithstanding they are both per-
haps equally virtuous and laudable in their kind.
    Before marriage we cannot be too inquisitive and
discerning in the faults of the person beloved, nor
after it too dim-sighted and superficial.  However
perfect and accomplished the person appears to you
at a distance, you will find many blemishes and im-
perfections in her humour, upon a more intimate
acquaintance, which you never discovered or per-
haps suspected.  Here, therefore, discretion and
good-nature are to show their strength; the first will
hinder your thoughts from dwelling on what is dis-
agreeable, the other will raise in you all the tender-
ness of compassion and humanity, and by degrees
soften those very imperfections into beauties.
    Marriage enlarges the scene of our happiness and
miseries.  A marriage of love is pleasant; a mar-                  [marriage of interest - or "marriage of convenience: a marriage
riage of interest easy; and a marriage where both                  contracted for social, political, or economic advantage rather
meet, happy.  A happy marriage has in it all the                     than for mutual affection" Merr.-Web. Coll. Dict. 2000 (web)]
pleasures of friendship, all the enjoyments of sense
and reason, and indeed, all the sweets of life.  No-
thing is a greater mark of a degenerate and vicious
age, than the common ridicule which passes on this
state of life.  It is, indeed, only happy [for] those who                             ["in"]
can look down with scorn and neglect on the im-
pieties of the times, and tread the paths of life
together in a constant uniform course of virtue.
 

[Addison]


No.  265.   THURSDAY, JANUARY 3, 1711-12.

                                  ______
 

          Dixerit e mutis aliquis, quid virus in angues
             Adjicit? et rapidæ tradis ovile lupæ?
                                            OVID. ARS  AM.  iii. 7.

          But some exclaim: What frenzy rules your mind?
             Would you increase the craft of womankind?
             Teach them new wiles and arts?  As well you may
              Instruct a snake to bite, or wolf to prey.    CONGREVE.
 

    ONE of the fathers, if I am rightly informed, has
defined a woman to be [Greek writing,] an animal that
delights in finery.  I have already treated of the
sex in two or three papers, conformably to this de-
finition; and have in particular observed, that in all
ages they have been more careful than the men to
adorn that part of the head which we generally call
the outside.
    This observation is so very notorious, that when
in ordinary discourse we say a man has a fine head,
a long head, or a good head, we express ourselves
metaphorically, and speak in relation to his under-
standing; whereas when we say of a woman, she
has a fine, a long, or a good head, we speak only it
relation to her commode.
    It is observed among birds, that nature has lavish-
ed all her ornaments upon the male, who very often
appears in a most beautiful headdress; whether it
be a crest, a comb, a tuft of feathers, or a natural
little plume, erected like a kind of pinnacle on the
very top of the head.   As nature on the contrary
has poured out her charms in the greatest abundance
upon the female part of our species, so they are very
assiduous in bestowing upon themselves the finest
garnitures of art.  The peacock, in all his pride,
does not display half the colours that appear in the
garments of a British lady, when she is dressed
either for a ball or a birth-day.
    But to return to our female heads.  The ladies
have been for some time in a kind of moulting sea-
son with regard to that part of their dress, having
cast great quantities of [ribbon], lace, and cambric,                 ["riband"] [cambric, " A fine, thin, and white fabric made of
and in some measure reduced that part of the human                                     flax or linen." Webster's 1913]
figure to the beautiful globular form, which is nat-
ural to it.  We have for a great while expected what
kind of ornament would be substituted in the place
of those antiquated commodes.  But female [designers]                        ["projectors"]
were all the last summer so taken up with the
improvement of their petticoats, that they had not
time to attend to anything else; but having at length
sufficiently adorned their lower parts, they now be-
gin to turn their thoughts upon the other extremity,
as well remembering the old kitchen proverb,  " that
if you light the fire at both ends, the middle will
shift for itself."
    I am engaged in this speculation by a sight which
I lately met with at the opera.  As I was standing
in the [back] part of a box, I took notice of a little                              ["hinder"]
cluster of women sitting together in the prettiest
coloured hoods that I ever saw.  One of them was
blue, another yellow, and another philomot; the                                  [philomot, "Of the color of a dead leaf." Webster's 1913]
fourth was of a pink colour, and the fifth of a pale
green.  I looked with as much pleasure upon this
little party-coloured assembly, as upon a bed of tu-
lips, and did not know at first whether it might not
be an embassy of Indian queens; but upon my go-
ing about into the pit, and taking them in front [view], I
was immediately undeceived, and saw so much beauty
in every face, that I found them all to be English.
Such eyes and lips, cheeks and foreheads, could be
the growth of no other country.  The complexion
of their faces hindered me from observing any far-
ther the colour of their hoods, though I could easily
perceive, by that unspeakable satisfaction which ap-
peared in their looks, that their own thoughts were
wholly taken up on those pretty ornaments they
wore upon their heads.
    I am informed that this fashion spreads daily, in-
somuch that the Whig and Tory ladies begin already
to hang out different colours, and to show their prin-
ciples in their headdress.  Nay, if I may believe my
friend Will Honeycomb, there is a certain old co-
quette of his acquaintance, who intends to appear
very [soon] in a rainbow hood, like the Iris in                                        ["suddenly"]
Dryden's Virgil, not questioning but that among
such a variety of colours she shall have a charm for
every heart.
    My friend Will, who very much values himself
upon his great insights into gallantry, tells me, that
he can already guess at the humour a lady is in by
her hood, as the courtiers of Morocco know the dis-
position of their present emperor by the colour of
the dress which he puts on.  When Melesinda wraps
her head in flame colour, her heart is set upon
execution: when she covers it with purple, I would
not, says he, advise her lover to approach her; but
if she appears in white, it is peace, and he may
hand her out of her [opera] box with safety.
    Will informs me likewise, that these hoods may
be used as signals.  Why else, says he, does Cor-
nelia always put on a black hood when her husband
is gone into the country?
    Such are my friend Honeycomb's dreams of gal-
lantry.  For my own part, I impute this diversity
of colours in the hoods to the diversity of complex-
ion in the faces of my pretty countrywomen.  Ovid,
in his Art of Love, has given some precepts as to
this particular, though I find they are different from
those which prevail among the moderns.  He re-
commends a red striped silk to the pale complexion;
white to the brown, and dark to the fair.  On the
contrary, my friend Will, who pretends to be a
greater master in this art than Ovid, tells me, that
the palest features look the most agreeable in white
sarsenet; that a face which is over flushed appears             [sarsenet, "A species of fine thin silk fabric, used for linings, etc."
to advantage in the deepest scarlet; and that the                                Webster's 1913]
darkest complexion is not a little alleviated by a
black hood.  In short, he is for losing the colour of
the face in that of the hood, as a fire burns dimly,
and a candle goes half out, in the light of the sun.
" This," says he,  " your Ovid himself has hinted,
where he treats of these matters, when he tells us
that the blue water nymphs are dressed in sky-col-
oured garments; and that Aurora, who always ap-
pears in the light of the rising sun, is robed in
saffron."
    Whether these his observations are justly ground-
ed I cannot tell; but I have often known him, as
we have stood together behind the ladies, praise or
dispraise the complexion of a face which he never
saw, from observing the colour of her hood, and
he has been very seldom [wrong] in these his guesses.                           ["out"]
    As I have nothing more at heart than the honour
and improvement of the fair sex, I cannot conclude
this paper without an exhortation to the British
ladies, that they would excel the women of all other
nations as much in virtue and good sense, as they
do in beauty; which they may certainly do, [and] if they
will be as industrious to cultivate their minds, as
they are to adorn their bodies.  In the mean while,
I shall recommend to their most serious considera-
tion the saying of an old Greek poet:

                     [Greek writing]
 

Manners and not dress are the ornaments of women.
 

[Addison]


      No.  266.   FRIDAY,  JANUARY  4, 1711-12.

                                      ______
 

             Id verò est, quod ego mihi puto palmarium,
             Me reperisse, quo modo adolescentulus
             Meretricum ingenio et mores posset noscere;
             Maturè ut cùm cognôrit, perpetuò oderit.
                                                TER. EUN. ACT V. SC. 4.

   This I conceive to be my masterpiece, that I have discovered
how unexperienced youth may detect the artifices of bad wo-
men, and by knowing them early, detest them forever.
 

    NO vice or wickedness which people fall into
from indulgence to desires which are natural to all,
ought to place them below the compassion of the
virtuous part of the world; which indeed often
makes me a little apt to suspect the sincerity of
[the virtue of those] who are too warmly provoked at                               ["their virtue,"]
other people's personal sins.  The unlawful commerce
of the sexes is of all others the hardest to avoid; and
yet there is no one which you shall hear the rigider
part of womankind speak of with so little mercy.
It is very certain that a modest woman cannot ab-
hor the breach of chastity too much; but pray let
her hate it [in] herself, and only pity it in others.                                         ["for"]
Will Honeycomb calls these over-offended ladies,
the outrageously virtuous.
    I do not design to fall upon failures in general,
with relation to the gift of chastity, but at present
only enter [into] that large [subject], and begin with the                              ["upon", "field"]
consideration of poor and public whores.  The other
evening, [while] passing along near Covent-garden, I was
jogged on the elbow as I turned into the piazza, on
the right hand coming out of James-street, by a
slim young girl of about seventeen, who with a pert
air asked me if I was [interested in going] for a pint of wine.
I [might] have indulged my curiosity in                                                       ["do not know but I should"]
having some chat with her, [except] that I am informed                              ["but"]
the man of the Bumper knows me; and it would
have made a story for him not very agreeable to
some part of my writings, though I have in others
so frequently said, that I am wholly unconcerned in
any scene I am in [except] as a Spectator.  This                                        ["but merely"]
impediment being in my way, we stood under one
of the arches by twilight; and there I could ob-
serve as [precise] features as I had ever seen, the most                              ["exact"]
agreeable shape, the finest neck and bosom, in a
word, the whole person of a women exquisitely
beautiful.  She affected to allure me with a forced
wantonness in her look and air; but I saw it check-
ed with hunger and cold; her eyes were wan and
eager, her dress thin and tawdry, her mien gen-
teel and childish.  This strange figure gave me
much anguish of heart, and to avoid being seen
with her, I went away, but could not forbear giving
her a crown.  The poor thing sighed, courtesied, and
with a blessing expressed with the utmost vehe-
mence, turned from me.  This creature is what they
call  " newly come upon the town," but who, falling,
I suppose, into cruel hands, was left in the first
month from [the time of] her dishonour, and exposed to pass
through the hands and discipline of one of those
bags of hell whom we call bawds.  But lest I should                                    [bawds = Madams]
grow too suddenly grave on this subject, and be my-
self outrageously good, I shall turn to a scene in one
of Fletcher's plays, where this character [of a bawd] is
[portrayed], and the [economics] of whoredom most                                  ["drawn", "economy"]
admirably described.  The passage I would point to is
in the third scene of the second act of The Humourous
Lieutenant.  Leucippe, who is agent for the king's
lust, and bawds at the same time for the whole court,
is very pleasantly introduced, reading her minutes
as a person of business, with two maids, her under-
secretaries, taking instructions at a table before her.
Her women, both those under her present tutelage,
and those which she is laying wait for, are alpha-
betically set down in her book; and as she is look-
ing over the letter C in a muttering voice, as if be-
tween soliloquy and speaking out, she says,

        Her maidenhead will yield me; let me see now:
        She is not fifteen they say; for her complexion---
        Cloe, Cloe, Cloe, here I have her.
        Cloe, the daughter of a country gentleman;
        Her age upon fifteen.  Now her complexion,---
        A lovely brown; here  ' tis: eyes black and rolling,
        The body neatly built; she strikes a lute well,
        Sings most enticingly.  These helps consider'd,
        Her maidenhead will amount to some three hundred,
        Or three hundred and fifty, crowns,  ' twill bear it hand-
                   somely:
        Her father's poor, some little share deducted,
        To buy him a hunting nag.---

    These creatures are very well instructed in the
circumstances and manners of all who are [in] any way
related to the fair one whom they have a design upon.
As Cloe is to be purchased with 350 crowns, and
the father taken off with a [bribe]; the merchant's wife                               ["pad"]
next to her who abounds in plenty, is not to have
downright money, but the mercenary part of her
mind is engaged with a present of plate, and a little                            [plate, "Domestic vessels and utensils, as flagons, dishes,
ambition.  She is made to understand that it is a                                   cups, etc., wrought in gold or silver." Webster's 1913.]
man of quality, who dies for her.  The examination
of a young girl for business, and the crying down
[of] her value for being a slight thing, together with
every other circumstance in the scene, are inimi-
tably excellent, and have the true spirit of comedy;
though it were to be wished [for that] the author had
added a circumstance which should make Leucippe's
baseness more odious.
    It must not be thought a digression from my in-
tended speculation, to talk of bawds in a discourse
upon wenches; for a woman of the town is not
thoroughly and properly such, without having gone
through the education of one of these houses.  But
the compassionate case of very many is, that they
are taken into such hands without [] the least sus-                                        ["any"]
picion, previous temptation, or admonition [as] to what
place they are going [to].  [This past] week I went to an                              ["The last"]
inn in the city to inquire [about] some provisions which                                ["for"]
were sent by a wagon out [from] the country; and as                                   ["of"]
I waited in one of the boxes till the chamberlain                            [chamberlain, "An upper servant of an inn" Webster's 1913.]
had looked over his parcels, I heard an old and a
young voice repeating the questions and responses
of the church-catechism.  I thought it no breach
of good-manners to peep [through] a crevice, and look                               ["at"]
in at people so well employed; but who should I see
there but the most artful procuress in town, [questioning]                             ["examining"]
a most beautiful country-girl, who had come
up in the same wagon with my things, [as to] " whether she
was well educated, could forbear playing the wan-
ton with servants and idle fellows, of which this
town," says she, " is too full."  At the same time,
" whether she knew enough of breeding, [so] that if                                     ["as"]
a squire or a gentleman, or one that was [one of] her betters,
should give her a civil salute, [that] she [would know to]                              [would - "should"]
courtesy and be humble nevertheless.["]  Her innocent
" forsooths, yeses an't please you's, and she would do
her endeavour," [so] moved the good old lady [as to cause her]
to take her out of the hands of a country bumpkin, her
brother, and hire her for her own maid.  I [stayed] till I                                 ["staid"]
saw them all march out to take [the] coach; the brother
loaded with a great cheese, [which] he prevailed upon her
to take for her civilities to his sister.  This poor
creature's fate is not far off [from] that of her's whom I
spoke of above: and it is not to be doubted, [that]                                        ["but"]
after she has been long enough a prey to lust, she
will be delivered over to famine.  The ironical com-
mendation of the industry and charity of these an-
tiquated ladies, these directors of sin, after they can
no longer commit it [themselves], makes up the beauty of the
inimitable dedication to the Plain-Dealer, and is                                      [see The Plain Dealer by William Wycherley, 1676]
a masterpiece of raillery on this vice.  But, to un-
derstand all the [surrounding circumstances] of this game                               ["purlieus"]
the better, and to illustrate this subject in future discourses,
I must venture myself, with my friend Will, into
the haunts of beauty and gallantry; from pampered
vice in the habitations of the wealthy, to distressed
indigent wickedness expelled the harbours of the
brothel.
 

[Steele]


No.  272.   FRIDAY, JANUARY 11, 1711-12.

                                _____
 

                        ---Longa est injuria, longæ
            Ambages.--                        VIRG. Æ N. i. 345.

            Great is the injury, and long the tale.
 

      " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " THE occasion of this letter is of so great import-
ance, and the circumstances of it such, that I know
you [can only] think it just to insert it, in preference of                                  ["will but"]
all other matters that can present themselves to
your consideration.  I need not, after I have said
this, tell you that I am in love.  The circumstances
of my passion I shall let you understand as well as
a disordered mind [is able].  That cursed pick-                                            ["will admit"]
thank, Mrs. Jane!  Alas, I am railing at one to                             [pick-thank, "One who strives to put another under obligation;
you by her name, as familiarly as if you were ac-                         an officious person; hence, a flatterer. Webster's 1913.]
quainted with her as well as myself: but I will tell
you all [there is], as fast as the alternate interruptions of
love and anger will give me leave [to].  There is the most
agreeable young woman in the world, whom I am
passionately in love with, and from whom I have
for some space of time received as great marks of
favour as were fit for her to give, or me to desire.
The successful progress of the affair, of all others
the most essential towards a man's happiness, gave
a new life and spirit not only to my behaviour and
discourse, but also a certain grace to all my actions
in the commerce of life, in all things though never
so remote from love.  You know the predominant
passion spreads itself through all a man's transactions,
and exalts or depresses him according to the nature
of such passion.  But, alas!  I have not yet begun
my story, and what is [the use of] making sentences
and observations when a man is pleading for his
life?  To begin then.  This lady has corresponded
with me under the names of love, she my Belinda,
I her Cleanthes.  Though I am thus well got[ten] into
the account of my affair, I cannot keep in the thread
of it so [well without giving] you the character of Mrs.                                 ["much as to give"]
Jane, whom I will not hide under a borrowed name;
but let you now, that this creature has been, since
I knew her, very handsome, though I will not allow
her even  ' she has been '  for the future, and during
the time of her bloom and beauty, was so great a ty-
rant to her lovers, so overvalued herself and under-
rated all her pretenders, that they have deserted
her to a man; and she knows no comfort but that
common one to all in her condition, the pleasure of
interrupting the amours of others.  It is impossible
but you must have seen several of these volunteers
in malice, who pass their whole time in the most la-
borious way of life in getting intelligence, running
from place to place with new whispers, without
reaping any other benefit but the hopes of making
others as unhappy as themselves.  Mrs. Jane hap-
pened to be at a place where I, with many others
well acquainted with my passion for Belinda, passed
a Christmas evening.  There was among the rest a
young lady, so free in mirth, so amiable in a just
reserve that accompanied it; I wrong her to call it
a reserve, [for] there appeared in her a mirth or                                            ["but"]
cheerfulness [something] which was not a forebearance of
[a] more immoderate joy, but the natural appearance of all
which could flow from a mind possessed of a habit
of innocence and purity. [It would have meant for me to] have                      ["I must"]
utterly forgot Belinda to have taken no notice of one who was
growing up to the same womanly virtues which shine
to perfection in her, [that is,] had I not distinguished one who
seemed to promise to the world the same life and con-
duct [that I have] with my faithful and lovely Belinda.  When
the company broke up, the fine young thing permitted me
to take care of her home.  Mrs. Jane saw my parti-
cular regard to her, and was informed of my attend-
ing her to her father's house.  She came early to
Belinda the neat morning, and asked her  ' if Mrs.
Such-a-one had been with her? '  ' No.'  ' If  Mr.
Such-a-one's lady?'  ' No.'  ' Nor your cousin Such-
a-one? '  ' No'--' Lord,' says Mrs. Jane,  ' what is the
friendship of women [for]?---Nay, they may well laugh
at it.   And did no one tell you anything of the be-
haviour of your lover,  Mr. What-d'ye-call, last
night?  But perhaps it is nothing to you that he is
to be married to young Mrs.--- on Tuesday next? '
Belinda was here ready to die with rage and jea-
lousy.  Then Mrs. Jane goes on: ' I have a young
kinsman who is clerk to a great conveyancer, who
shall show you the rough draught of the marriage
settlement [between the two of them].  The world says,
her father gives him two thousand pounds more [in dowry] than
he could have with you.'   I went innocently to wait on Belinda
as usual, but was not admitted, I writ to her, and my letter
was sent back unopened.  Poor Betty, her maid, who is on my
side, has been here just now blubbering, and told me the whole
matter.  She says she did not think I could be so base;
and that she is now so odious to her mistress for having so
often spoke well of me, that she dare not mention me
more.  All our hopes are placed in having these
circumstances fairly represented in the Spectator,
which Betty says she dare not but bring up as soon as
it is brought in; and [she] has promised [that] when you have
broke the ice to own this [which] was laid between us, and
when I can come to [have] a hearing, the young lady will
support what we say by her testimony, that I never
saw her but that once in my whole life.  Dear sir,
do not omit this true relation[ship], nor think it too
[unusual], for there are crowds of forlorn coquettes                                          ["particular"]
who intermingle themselves with our ladies, and
contract familiarities out of malice, and with no
other design but to blast the hopes of lovers, the ex-
pectation[s] of parents, and the benevolence of kin-
dred.  I doubt not but I shall be,
                              " Sir,
          " Your most obliged humble servant,
                                                 " CLEANTHES."

        " SIR,

    " The other day[, while] entering a room adorned with
the fair sex, I offered, after the usual manner, to
each of them a kiss; but one, more scornful than
the rest, turned her cheek.  I did not think it pro-
per to lake any notice of it till I had asked your
advice.                " Your humble servant,
                                                       " E. S."
" Wills Coffee-house, January 10."

The correspondent is desired to say which cheek
the offender turned to him.
 
 

                         ADVERTISEMENT.

    All ladies who come to church in the new-
fashioned hoods, are desired to be there before di-
vine service begins, lest they divert the attention
of the congregation.                 RALPH.

From the parish-vestry, January 9.
 

[Steele]


 No.  274.   MONDAY,  JANUARY 14,  1711-12.

                                      ______
 

             Audire est operæ pretium, procedere rectè
             Qui mæchis non vultis.---              HOR. SAT. i. 2. 37.

          All you, who think the city ne'er can thrive
             Till every cuckold-maker's flay'd alive,
              Attend.---                                                             POPE.

    I HAVE upon several occasions, that have occur-
red since I first took into my thoughts the present
state of fornication, weighed with myself in behalf
of guilty females, the impulses of flesh and blood,
together with the arts and gallantries of crafty men;
and reflect with some scorn that [the] most part of what
we in our youth think gay and polite, is nothing else
but a habit of indulging a pruriency that way.  It
will cost some labour to bring people to so lively a
sense of this, as to recover the manly modesty in
the behaviour of my men readers, and the bashful
grace in the faces of my women; but in all cases
which come into debate, there are certain things
previously to be done before we can have a true light
into the subject-matter; therefore it will, in the first
place, be necessary to consider the impotent wench-
ers and industrious hags, who are supplied with,
and are constantly supplying, new sacrifices to the
devil of lust.  You are to know then, if you are so
happy as not to know it already, that the great havoc
which is made in the habitations of beauty and in-
nocence, is committed by such as can only lay waste [to]
and not enjoy the soil.  When you observe the pre-
sent state of vice and virtue, the offenders are such
as one would think should have no impulse to what
they are pursuing; as in business, you see some-
times fools pretend to be knaves, so in pleasure, you
will find old men set up for wenchers.  This latter
sort of men are the great basis and fund of iniquity
in the kind we are speaking of; you shall have an
old rich man often receive scrawls from the several
quarters of the town, with descriptions of the new
wares in their hands, if he will please to send word
when he will be waited on.  This interview is [planned],                            ["contrived"]
and the innocent is brought to such indecen-
cies as from time to time banish shame and raise
desire.  With these preparatives the hags break
their wards by little and little, till they are brought
to lose all apprehensions of what shall befall them
in the possession of younger men.  It is a common
postscript of a hag to a young fellow whom she in-
vites to a new woman,  " She has, I assure you, seen
none but old Mr. Such-a-one."  It pleases the old
fellow that the nymph is brought to him unadorned,
and from his [generosity] she is accommodated with                                 ["bounty"]
enough [money to be able] to dress her for other lovers.
This is the most ordinary method of bringing beauty and
poverty into the possession of the town: but the par-
ticular cases of kind keepers, skilful pimps, and all
others who drive a separate trade, and are not in
the general society or commerce of sin, will require
distinct consideration.  At the same time that we
are thus severe on the abandoned we are to repre-
sent the case of others with that mitigation as the
circumstances demand.  Calling names does no good;
to speak worse of anything than it deserves, does
only [to] take off from the credit of the accuser, and
[it] has implicitly the force of an apology in the behalf
of the person accused.  We shall, therefore, accord-
ing as the circumstances differ, vary our appella-
tions of these criminals: those who offend only
against themselves, and are not scandals to society,
but out of deference to the sober part of the world,
have so much good left in them as to he ashamed,
must not be huddled in the common word due to the
worst of women; but regard is to be had to their
circumstances when they fell, to the uneasy perplex-
ity under which they lived under senseless and se-
vere parents, to the importunity of poverty, to the
violence of a passion in its beginning well grounded,
and all other alleviations which make unhappy wo-
men resign the characteristic of their sex, modesty.
To do otherwise than thus, would be to act like a
pedantic Stoic, who thinks all crimes alike, and not
like an impartial Spectator, who looks upon them
with all the circumstances that diminish or enhance
the guilt.  I am in hopes, if this subject be well
pursued, women will hereafter from their infancy
be treated with an eye to their future state in the
world; and not have their tempers made too un-
tractable from an improper sourness or pride, or too
complying from familiarity or forwardness contract-
ed at their own houses.  After these hints on this
subject, I shall end this paper with the following
genuine letter; and desire all who think they may
be concerned in future speculations on this subject,
to send in what they have to say for themselves [concerning]                          ["for"]
some incidents in their lives, in order to have proper
allowances made for their conduct.
 

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " The subject of your yesterday's paper, is of so
great importance, and the thorough handling of it
may be so very useful to the preservation of many
an innocent young creature, that I think every one
is obliged to furnish you with what lights he can to
expose the pernicious arts and practices of those
unnatural women called bawds.  In order to [do] this
the inclosed [letter] is sent [to] you, which is verbatim
the copy of a letter written by a bawd of [renown] in this                                ["figure"]
town to a noble lord.  I have concealed the names of
both, my intention being not to expose the persons
but the thing.
                                           " I am, Sir,
  " January 5, 1711-12."     " Your humble servant."
 

     ' MY LORD,

    ' I having a great esteem for your honour, and a
better opinion of you than of any of the [people of] quality,
makes me acquaint you of [a matter] that I hope will                                       ["an affair"]
oblige you to know [about].  I have a niece that came to
town about a fortnight ago.  Her parents being
lately dead she came to me, expecting to [find]                                                ["a found"]
me in so good a [financial] condition as to a set her up in a
milliner's shop.  Her father gave fourscore pound
with her for five years; her time is [up], and she is                                             ["out"]
not sixteen [yet]: as pretty a black gentlewoman as ever
you saw; a little woman, which I know your lord-
ship likes; well shaped, and as fine a complexion
[of] red and white as ever I saw; I doubt not but                                               ["for"]
your lordship will be of the same opinion.  She de-
signs to go down [to the country] about a month hence,
[unless] I can provide for her, which I cannot at present.                                    ["except"]
Her father was one with whom all he had died with him,
so there is four children left destitute; so if your
lordship thinks fit to make an appointment [by a line or two in writing,]
where I shall wait on you with my niece[.]                                        [", by a line or two," I moved this clause to make it
I stay for your answer; for I have no place fitted                                       sound less awkward. Web Ed.]
up since I left my house, fit to entertain your hon-
our.  I told her she should go with me to see a
gentleman, a very good friend of mine; so I desire
you to take no notice of my letter, by reason she is
ignorant of the ways of the town.  My lord, I de-
sire if you meet us to come alone; for upon my
word and honour you are the first that I ever men-
tioned her to.  So I remain
                        ' Your Lordship's
                 ' Most humble servant to command.'

   ' I beg of you to burn it when you've read it.'
 

[Steele]


No.  278.   FRIDAY, JANUARY 18, 1711-12.

                                ______
 

                  --Sermones ego mallem
              Repentes per humum.--       HOR. EPIST. i. 2. 250.

               I rather choose a low and creeping style.
 

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    YOUR having done considerable services in this
great city, by rectifying the disorders of families,
and several wives having preferred your advice and
directions to those of their husbands, emboldens me
to apply to you at this time.  I am a shopkeeper,
and though but a young man, I find by experience
that nothing but the utmost diligence both of hus-
band and wife, among trading people, can keep af-
fairs in any tolerable order.  My wife at the begin-
ning of our establishment showed herself very as-
sisting to me in my business as much as [she was able],                                 ["could lie in her way"]
and I have reason to believe it [suited]                                                          ["was with"]
her inclination[s]: but of late she has got acquainted
with a schoolman, who values himself for his great
knowledge in the Greek tongue.  He entertains her
frequently in the shop with discourses of the beauties
and excellences of that language; and repeats to
her several passages out of the Greek poets, wherein
he tells her there is unspeakable harmony and agree-
able sounds [in it] that all other languages are wholly
unacquainted with.  He has so infatuated her with
his jargon, that instead of using her former dili-
gence in the shop, she now neglects the affairs of
the house, and is wholly taken up with her tutor in
learning by heart scraps of Greek, which she vents
upon all occasions.  She told me some days ago,
that whereas I use some Latin inscriptions in my
shop, she advised me, with a great deal of concern,
to have them changed into Greek; it being a lan-
guage less understood, would [make it] more conformable                             ["be"]
to the mystery of my profession; [furthermore, she said] that
our good friend would be assisting to us in this work; and that
a certain faculty of gentlemen would find themselves
so much obliged to us, that they would infallibly
make my fortune.  In short her frequent importu-
nities upon this, and other impertinences of the like
nature, make me very uneasy; and if your remon-
strances have no more effect upon her than mine, I
am afraid I shall be obliged to ruin myself to pro-
cure her a settlement at Oxford with her tutor, for she
is already too mad for Bedlam.  Now, Sir, you see
the danger my family is exposed to, and the likeli-
hood of my wife's becoming both troublesome and
useless, unless her reading [about] herself in your paper
may make her reflect.  She is so very learned that
I cannot pretend by word of mouth to argue with
her.  She laughed out [loud] at your ending a paper in
Greek, and said it was a hint to women of litera-
ture, and very civil not to translate it to expose them
to the vulgar.  You see how it is with,
                                          " Sir,
                                   " Your humble servant."
 

         " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " If you have that humanity and compassion in
your nature that you take such pains to make one
think you have, you will not deny your advice to a
distressed damsel, who intends to be determined by
your judgment in a matter of great importance to
her.  You must know then, there is an agreeable
young fellow, to whose person, wit, and humour no-
body makes any objection, that pretends to have
been long in love with me.  To this I must add,
whether it proceeds from the vanity of my nature,
or the seeming sincerity of my lover, I won't pre-
tend to say, that I verily believe he [truly values] me;                                  ["has a real value for"]
which, if true, you will allow may
justly augment his merit with his mistress.  In short,
I am so sensible of his good qualities, and what I
owe to his passion, that I think I could sooner re-
solve to give up my liberty to him than anybody
else, were there not an objection to be made to his
fortunes, in regard[, that] they do not answer the utmost
[my fortunes] may expect, and are not sufficient to secure                          ["mine"]
me from undergoing the reproachful phrase, so
commonly used  ' that she has played the fool.'  Now
though I am one of these few who heartily despise
equipage, diamonds, and a coxcomb, yet since such
opposite notions from mine prevail in the world,
even amongst the best, and such as are esteemed
the most prudent people, I can't find [it] in my heart to
resolve upon incurring the censure of those wise
folks, which I am conscious I shall do, if when I
enter into a married state, I discover a thought
beyond that of equalling, if not advancing my for-
tunes.  Under this difficulty I now labour, not
being in the least determined whether I shall be
governed by the vain world, and the frequent ex-
amples I meet with, or hearken to the voice of my
lover, and the [feelings] I find in my heart in favour                                      ["motions"]
of him.  Sir, your opinion and advice in this affair
is the only thing I know can turn the balance, and
which I earnestly entreat I may receive soon; for
till I have your thoughts upon it, I am engaged not
to give my swain a final discharge.
    " Besides the particular obligation [of gratitude] you will lay
on me, by giving this subject room in one of your
papers, it is possible it may be of use to some others
of my sex who will be as grateful for the favour as,
                                          " Sir,
                               " Your humble servant,
                                                  " FLORINDA."

    " P. S.   To tell you the truth, I am married to
him already, but pray say something to justify me."
 

[Steele]


No.  281.   TUESDAY, JANUARY 22, 1711-12.

                                   ______
 

       Pectoribus inhians spirantia consulit exta.
                                                  VIRG. Æ N. iv. 64.

       Anxious the reeking entrails he consults.
 

    HAVING already given an account of the dissec-
tion of a beau's head, with the several discoveries
made on that occasion; I shall here, according to
my promise, enter upon the dissection of a coquette's
heart, and communicate to the public such particu-
lars as we observed in that curious piece of ana-
tomy.
    I should perhaps have waived this undertaking,
had I not been put in mind of my promise by several
of my unknown correspondents, who are very im-
portunate with me to make an example of the co-
quette, as I have already done of the beau.  It is
therefore in compliance with the request of friends,
that I have looked over the minutes of my former
dream, in order to give the public an exact rela-
tion of it, which I shall enter upon without further
preface.
    Our operator, before he engaged in this [imaginary]                            ["visionary"]
dissection, told us, that there was nothing in his art
more difficult than to lay open the heart of a coquette,
by reason of the many labyrinths, and recesses which
are to be found in it, and which do not appear in
the heart of any other animal.
    He desired us first of all to observe the pericard-
dium, or outward case of the heart, which we did
very attentively; and by the help of our glasses dis-
cerned in it millions of little scars, which seemed
to have been occasioned by the points of innumera-
ble darts and arrows, that from time to time had
glanced upon the outward coat; though we could
not discover the smallest orifice, by which any of
them had entered and pierced the inward substance.
Every smatterer in anatomy knows that this peri-
cardium, or case of the heart, contains in it a thin
reddish liquor, supposed to be bred from the vapours
which exhale out of the heart, and, being stopped
here, are condensed into this watery substance.
Upon examining this liquor, we found that it had
in it all the qualities of that spirit which is made
use of in the thermometer, to show the change of
weather.
    Nor must I here omit an experiment one of the
company assured us he himself had made with this
liquor, which he found in great quantity about the
heart of a coquette whom he had formerly dissected.
He affirmed to as, that he had actually inclosed it in
a small tube made after the manner of a weather-
glass; but that, instead of acquainting him with the
variations of the atmosphere, it showed him the
qualities of those persons who entered the room
where it stood.  He affirmed also, that it rose at the
approach of a plume of feathers, an embroidered
coat, or a pair of fringed gloves; and that it fell as
soon as an ill-shaped periwig, a clumsy pair of shoes,
or an unfashionable coat came into his house.  Nay,
he proceeded so far as to assure us, that upon his
laughing aloud when he stood by it, that liquor mount-
ed very [appreciably], and immediately sunk again upon                                 ["sensibly"]
his looking serious.  In short, he told us, that he
knew very well by this invention, whenever he had
a man of sense or a coxcomb in his room.
    Having cleared away the pericardium, or the
case, and liquor above mentioned, we came to the
heart itself.  The outward surface of it was ex-
tremely slippery, and the mucro, or point, so very
cold [also] that upon endeavouring to take hold of                                         ["withal"]
it, it glided through the fingers like a smooth piece
of ice.
    The fibres were turned and twisted in a more in-
tricate and [entangled] manner than they are usually                                        ["perplexed"]
found in other hearts; insomuch that the whole
heart was wound up together like a Gordian knot,
and must have had very irregular and unequal mo-
tions, while it was employed in its vital function.
    One thing we thought very observable, namely,
that upon examining all the vessels which came into
it, or issued out of it, we could not discover any
communication that it had with the tongue.
    We could not but take notice, likewise, that seve-
ral of those little nerves in the heart which are af-
fected by the sentiments of love, hatred, and other
passions, did not descend to this before us from the
brain, but from the muscles which lie about the eye.
Upon weighing the heart in my hand, I found it to
be extremely light, and consequently very hollow,
which I did not wonder at, when, upon looking into
the inside of it, I saw multitudes of cells and cavi-
ties running one within another, as our historians
describe the apartments of Rosamond's bower.  Sev-
eral of these little hollows were stuffed with innu-
merable sorts of trifes which I shall forbear giving
any particular account of, and shall therefore only
take notice of what lay first and uppermost, which,
upon our unfolding it, and applying our microscopes
to it, appeared to be a flame-coloured hood.                          [hood - a fashionable piece of clothing - see No. 265.]
    We are informed that the lady of this heart when
living, received the addresses of several who made
love to her, and did not only give each of them en-
couragement, but made every one she conversed
with believe that she regarded him with an eye of
kindness; for which reason we expected to have seen
the impressions of multitudes of faces among the
several plaits and foldings of the heart; but to our
great surprise not a single print of this nature dis-
covered itself till we came into the very core and
centre of it.  We there observed a little figure,
which, upon applying our glasses to it, appeared
dressed in a very fantastic manner.  The more I
looked upon it, the more I thought I had seen the
face before, but could not possibly recollect either
the place or time; when at length, one of the com-
pany, who had examined this figure more closely
than the rest, showed us plainly by the make of
its face, and the several turns of its features, that
the little idol which was thus lodged in the very
middle of the heart was the deceased beau, whose
head I gave some account of in my last Tuesday's
paper.
    As soon as we had finished our dissection, we
resolved to make an experiment of the heart, not
being able to determine among ourselves the nature
of its substance, which differed in so many par-
ticulars from that of the heart in other females.
Accordingly we laid it into a pan of burning coals,
when we observed in it a certain salamandrine qua-
lity, that made it capable of living in the midst of fire
and flame, without being consumed, or so much as
singed.
    As we were admiring this strange phenomenon,
and standing round the heart in a circle, it gave a
most prodigious sigh, or rather crack, and dispersed
all at once in smoke and vapour.  This imaginary
noise, which, methoughts, was louder than the burst
of a cannon, produced such a violent shake in my
brain, that it dissipated the fumes of sleep, and left
me in an instant broad awake.
 

[Addison]


No. 282.  WENDESDAY, JANUARY 23, 1711-12.
 
 

*          *         *          *         *          *          *          *
 

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " I am a young woman, and have my fortune to
make, for which reason I come constantly to church
to hear divine service, and make conquests; but one
great hinderance in this my design is, that our clerk,
who was once a gardener, has this Christmas so
over-deckt the church with greens, that he has quite
spoilt my project; insomuch that I have scarce
seen the young baronet I dress [for] these three weeks,                       ["at" - actually, "at" may be more accurate,
though we have both been very constant at our de-                                     as in "shoot at" (see below)]
votion; and do not sit above three pews off.  The
church, as it is now equipt, looks more like a green-
house than a place of worship.  The middle aisle
is a very pretty shady walk, and the pews look like
so many arbours on each side of it.  The pulpit
itself has such clusters of ivy, holly, and rosemary
about it, that a light fellow in our pew took occa-
sion to say, that the congregation heard the word
out of a bush, like Moses.  Sir Anthony Love's
pew in particular is so well hedged, that all my
batteries have no effect.  I am obliged to shoot at
random among the boughs, without taking any man-
ner of aim.  Mr. Spectator, unless you will give
orders for removing those greens, I shall grow a
awkward creature at church, and soon have
[nothing] else to do there but to say my prayers.  I
am in haste,
                           " Dear Sir,
              " Your most obedient servant,
                                   " JENNY SIMPER."

" January the 14th, 1712."


No. 284.  FRIDAY, JANUARY 25, 1711-12.
 

*          *         *          *         *          *          *          *
 

    " I am clerk of the parish from whence Mrs.
Simper sends her complaint, in your Spectator of
Wednesday last.  I must beg of you to publish this
as a public admonition to the aforesaid Mrs. Simper,
otherwise all my honest care in the disposition of the
greens in the church will have no effect; I shall
therefore, with your leave, lay before you the whole
matter.  I was formerly, as she charges me, for
several years a gardener in the county of Kent; but
I must absolutely deny that it is out of any affection
I retain for my old employment that I have placed
my greens so liberally about the church, but out of
a particular [anger] I conceived against Mrs.Simper,                              ["spleen"]
and others of the same sisterhood, some time ago.
As to herself, I had one day set the hundredth
Psalm, and was singing the first line in order to put
the congregation into the tune; she was all the while
courtesying to Sir Anthony, in so affected and inde-
cent a manner, that the indignation I conceived at it
made me forget myself so far, as from the tune of
that psalm to wander into Southwell tune, and from
thence into Windsor tune, still unable to recover
myself, till I had with the utmost confusion set a
new one.  Nay, I have often seen her rise up and
smile, and courtesy to one at the lower end of the
church in the midst of a Gloria Patri; and when I
have spoken the assent to a prayer with a loud
Amen, uttered with decent gravity, she has been
rolling her eyes around about in such a manner, as
plainly showed, however she was moved, it was not
towards a heavenly object.  In fine, she extended
her conquests so far over the males, and raised such
envy in the females, that what between love of those,
and the jealousy of these, I was almost the only
person that looked in a prayer-book all church-
time.  I had several projects in my head to put a stop
to this growing mischief; but as I have long lived
in Kent, and there often heard how the Kentish
men evaded the Conqueror, by carrying green
boughs over their heads, it put me in mind of prac-
tising this device against Mrs. Simper.  I find I
have preserved many a young man from her eye-
shot by this means; therefore humbly pray the
boughs may be fixed, till she shall give security for
her peaceable intentions.
                         " Your humble servant,
                                   " FRANCIS STERNHOLD."
" January 24, 1712."
 

[Steele]


 No.  292.   MONDAY,  FEBRUARY 4,  1711-12.
 

    *          *         *          *         *          *          *
 

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " I am a young woman without a fortune; but of
a very high mind: that is, good Sir, I am to the
last degree proud and vain.  I am ever railing at
the rich, for doing things, which, upon search into
my heart, I find I am only angry at, because I
cannot do the same myself.  I wear the hooped
petticoat, and am all in calicoes when the finest [people]
are in silks.  It is a dreadful thing to he poor and
proud; therefore, if you please, a lecture on that
subject for the satisfaction of
                      "Your uneasy humble servant,
                                                     " JEZEBEL."


 No.  295.   THURSDAY,  FEBRUARY  7,  1711-12.

                                    ______
 

         Prodiga non sentit pereuntem fæmina censum:
           At velut exhaustâ redivivus pullulet arcâ
           Nummus, et è pleno semper tollatur acervo,
           Non unquam reputat, quanti sibi gaudia constent.
                                                        JUV.  SAT.  vi.  362.
 

            But womankind, that never knows a mean,
            Down to the dregs their sinking fortunes drain;
            Hourly they give, and spend, and waste, and wear,
            And think no pleasure can be bought too dear.
                                                                 DRYDEN.
 

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " I AM [past my prime], and am na-                                                  ["turned of my great climateric"]
turally a man of a meek temper.  About a dozen
years ago I was married, for my sins, to a young
woman of a good family, and of a high spirit; but
could not bring her to [be] close [to] me, before I had                           [to - "with"]
entered into a treaty with her, longer than that of
the grand alliance.  Among other articles, it was
therein stipulated, that she should have 400l. a year
for pin-money, which I obliged myself to pay quar-
terly into the hands of one, who acted as her plenipo-
tentiary in that affair.  I have ever since religiously
observed my part in this solemn agreement.  Now,
Sir, so it is, that the lady has had several children
since I married her; to which[,] if I should credit our
malicious neighbours, her pin-money has not a little
contributed.  The education of these my children,
who, contrary to my expectation, are born to me
every year, [burdens] me so much, that I have                                         ["straitens"]
begged their mother to free me from the obligation
of the above-mentioned pin-money, [so] that it may go
towards [providing] for her family.  This                                                  ["making a provision"]
proposal makes her noble blood swell in her veins,
insomuch, that finding me a little tardy in my last
quarter's payment, she threatens me every day to
arrest me; and proceeds so far as to tell me, that
if I do not do her justice, I shall die in a jail.  To
this she adds, when her passion will let her argue
calmly, that she has several [gambling]-debts on her                                ["play"]
hand, which must be discharged [at once], and that                                 ["very suddenly"]
she cannot lose her money as becomes a woman of
her fashion, if she makes me any [reductions] in this                                 ["abatements"]
[item].  I hope, Sir, you will take an occasion from                                   ["article"]
hence to give your opinion upon a subject which
you have not yet touched, and inform us if there are
any precedents for this usage, among our ancestors;
or whether you find any mention of pin-money in Grotius,
Puffendorf, or any other of the [ones skilled in civil law].                          ["civilians"]
       " I am ever the humblest of your admirers,
                                 " JOSIAH FRIBBLE, ESQ."

    As there is no man living who is a more professed
advocate for the fair sex than myself, so there is
none that would be more unwilling to invade any of
their ancient rights and privileges; but as the doc-
trine of pin-money is of a very late date, unknown
to our great grandmothers, and not yet received
by many of our modern ladies, I think it is for the
interest of both sexes, to keep it from spreading.
    Mr. Fribble may not, perhaps, be much mistaken
where he intimates that the supplying a man's wife
with pin-money, is furnishing her with arms against
himself, and in a manner becoming accessary to his
own dishonour.  We may indeed, generally observe,                  [dishonour - i.e. (if you missed it) whereby his wife keeps having
that in proportion as a woman is more or less beau-                    children "contrary" to his "expectation" (and participation)]
tiful, and her husband [more] advanced in years, she
stands in need of a greater or less number of pins,
and upon a treaty of marriage, rises or falls in her
demand, accordingly.  It must likewise be owned,
that high quality in a mistress does very much [increase]                         ["inflame"]
this article in the marriage-reckoning.
    But where the age and circumstances of both
parties are pretty much upon a level, I cannot but
think the insisting upon pin-money is very extra-
ordinary; and yet we find several matches broken
off upon this very head.  What would a foreigner,
or one who is a stranger to this practice, think of a
lover that forsakes his mistress, because he is not
willing to keep her in pins?  But what would he
think of the mistress, should he be informed that
she asks five or six hundred pounds a year for this
use?  Should a man unacquainted with our customs
be told the sums which are allowed in Great Bri-
tain, under the title of pin-money, what a prodigious
consumption of pins would he think there was in
this island.  " A pin a day," says our frugal proverb,
" is a groat a year;" so that, according to this cal-            [groat, "An old English silver coin, equal to four pence." Web. 1913]
culation, my friend Fribble's wife must every year
make use of eight millions six hundred and forty
thousand new pins.
    I am not ignorant that our British ladies allege
they comprehend under this general term several
other conveniences of life; I could therefore wish,
for the honour of my countrywomen, that they had
rather called it needle-money, which might have im-
plied something of good housewifery, and not have
given the malicious [part of the] world occasion to think,
that dress and trifles have always the uppermost place
in a woman's thoughts.
    I know several of my fair reasoners urge in de-
fence of this practice, that it is but a necessary pro-
vision they make for themselves, in case their hus-
band proves a churl, or miser; so that they con-
sider this allowance as a kind of alimony, which
they may lay their claim to, without actually separat-
ing from their husbands.  But with submission I
think a woman who will give up herself to a man
in marriage, where there is the least room for such
an apprehension, and trust her person to one whom
she will not rely on for the common necessaries of
life, may very properly be accused (in the phrase
of an homely proverb) of being  " penny wise and
pound foolish."
    It is observed of over-cautious generals, that they
never engage in a battle without securing a retreat,
in case the event should not answer their expecta-
tions; on the other hand, your greatest conquerors
have burnt their ships, and broke down the bridges
behind them, as being determined either to succeed
or die in the engagement. [For the same reason,] I                                   ["In the same manner"]
should very much suspect a woman who takes such
precautions for her retreat, and contrives methods
how she may live happily, without the affection of
one to whom she joins herself for life.  Separate
purses between man and wife are, in my opinion,
as unnatural as separate beds.  A marriage cannot
be happy, where the pleasures, inclinations, and in-
terests of both parties are not the same.  There is
no greater incitement to love in the mind of man,
than the sense of a person's depending upon him
for her ease and happiness; as a woman uses all
her endeavours to please the person whom she looks
upon, as her honour, her comfort, and her support.
    For this reason I am not very much surprised at
the behaviour of a rough country squire, who, be-
ing not a little shocked at the proceeding of a young
widow that would not recede from her demands of
pin-money, was so enraged at her mercenary tem-
per, that he told her in great wrath,  "As much as
she thought him her slave, he would show all the
world he did not care a pin for her."  Upon which
he flew out of the room, and never saw her more.
    Socrates, in Plato's Alcibiades, says, he was in-
formed by one who had travelled through Persia,
that as he passed over a great tract of land, and in-
quired what the name of the place was, they told
him it was the Queen's Girdle: to which he adds,
that another wide field which lay by it was called
the Queen's Veil; and that in the same manner
there was a large portion of ground set aside for
every part of her majesty's dress.  These lands
might not be improperly called the Queen of Per-
sia's pin-money.
    I remember my friend Sir Roger, who, I dare
say, never read this passage in Plato, told me some
time since, that upon his courting the perverse
widow, of whom I have given an account in former
papers, he had disposed of an hundred acres in a
diamond ring, which he would have presented her
with, had she thought fit to accept it; and that upon
her wedding day, she should have carried on her
head fifty of the tallest oaks upon his estate.  He
further informed me, that he would have given her
a coal-pit to keep her in clean linen, that he would
have allowed her the profits of a windmill for her
fans, and have presented her once in three years,
with the shearing of his sheep for her under-petti-
coats.  To which the knight always adds, that
though he did not care for fine clothes himself, there
should not have been a woman in the country better
dressed than my lady Coverley.  Sir Roger, per-
haps, may in this, as well as in many other of his
devices, appear something odd and singular; but
if the humour of pin-money prevails, I think it would
be very proper for every gentleman of an estate,
to mark out so many acres of it under the title of,
" The Pins."
 

[Steele]


No.  299.   TUESDAY,  FEBRUARY 12, 1711-12.

                                     ______
 

             Malo Venusinam, quàm te, Cornelia, mater
             Gracchorum, si cum magnis virtutibus affers
             Grande supercilium, et numeras in dote triumphos.
              Tolle tuum, precor, Hannibalem, victumque Syphacem
              In castris; et cum totâ Carthagine migra.
                                                     JUV.  SAT.  vi.  167.

               Some country girl, scarce to a courtesy bred,
               Would I much rather than Cornelia wed;
               If supercilious, haughty, proud, and vain,
               She brought her father's triumphs in her train.
               Away with all your Carthaginian state;
               Let vanquish'd Hannibal without doors wait,
               Too burly and too big to pass my narrow gate.
                                                                 DRYDEN.

    IT is observed, that a man improves more by
reading the story of a person eminent for prudence
and virtue, than by the finest rules and precepts of
morality.   In the same manner a representation
of those calamities and misfortunes which a weak
man suffers from wrong measures, and ill concerted
schemes of life, is apt to make a deeper impression
upon our minds, than the wisest maxims and in-
structions that can be given us, for avoiding the like
follies and indiscretions in our own private conduct.
It is for this reason that I lay before my reader the
following letter, and leave it with him to make his
own use of it, without adding any reflections of my
own upon the subject matter.
 

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " Having carefully perused a letter sent you by
Josiah Fribble, Esq. with your subsequent discourse
upon pin-money, I do presume to trouble you with
an account of my own case, which I look upon to
he no less deplorable than that of Squire Fribble.
I am a person of no [notable family descent], having                                    ["extraction"]
begun the world with a small parcel of rusty iron, and
was for some years commonly known by the name of
Jack Anvil.  I have naturally a very happy genius
for getting money, insomuch that by the age of
five and twenty, I had scraped together four thou-
sand two hundred pounds five shillings and a few
odd pence.  I then launched out into considerable
business, and became a bold trader both by sea and
land, which in a few years raised me a very great
fortune.  For these my good services I was knighted
in the thirty-fifth year of my age, and lived with
great dignity among my city neighbours by the
name of Sir John Anvil.  Being in my temper very
ambitious, I was now bent upon making a family,
and accordingly resolved that my descendants should
have a dash of good blood in their veins.  In order
to this, I made love to the Lady Mary Oddly, an
indigent young woman of quality.  To cut short the
marriage-treaty, I threw her a carte blanche, as
our newspapers call it, desiring her to write upon it
her own terms.  She was very concise in her de-
mands, insisting only that the disposal of my for-
tune, and the regulation of my family, should be
entirely in her hands.  Her father and brothers ap-
peared exceedingly averse to this match, and would
not see me for some time; but at present are so
well reconciled, that they dine with me almost every
day, and have borrowed considerable sums of me;
which my Lady Mary very often [reproaches] me with,                                     ["twits"]
when she would show me how kind her relations
are to me.  She had no portion [of an estate], as I told you
before; but what she wanted in fortune she makes up
in spirit.  She at first changed my name to Sir
John Envil, and at present writes herself Mary
Enville.  I have had some children by her, whom
she has christened with the surnames of her family,
in order, as she tells me, to wear out the homeliness
of their parentage by the father's side.  Our eldest
son is the honourable Oddly Enville, Esq., and our
eldest daughter Harriot Enville.  Upon her first
coming into my family, she turned [out] a parcel of                                           ["off"]
very careful servants, who had been long with me,
and introduced in their stead a couple of black-a-
moors, and three or four very genteel fellows in
laced [outfits], besides her French woman, who is                                            ["liveries"]
perpetually making a noise in the house, in a lan-
guage which nobody understands, except my Lady
Mary.  She next set herself to reform every room
of my house, having glazed all my chimney-pieces
with looking-glasses, and planted every corner with
such heaps of china, that I am obliged to move
about my own house with the greatest caution and
circumspection, for fear of hurting some of our brittle
furniture.  She makes an illumination once a week
with wax candles in one of the largest rooms, in
order, as she phrases it, to see company; at which
time she always desires me to be abroad, or to con-
fine myself to the cockloft, that I may not disgrace
her among her visitants of quality.  Her footmen,
as I told you before, are such beaus that I do not
much care for asking them questions; when I do,
they answer me with a saucy frown, and say that
every thing which I find fault with was done by my
Lady Mary's order.  She tells me, that she intends
they shall wear swords with their next liveries, hav-
ing lately observed the footmen of two or three per-
sons of quality hanging behind the coach with swords
by their sides.  As soon as the first honeymoon
was over, I represented to her the unreasonableness
of those daily innovations which she made in my
family; but she told me, I was no longer to con-
sider myself as Sir John Anvil, but as her husband;
and added, with a frown, that I did not seem to
know who she was.  I was surprised to be treated
thus, after such familiarities as had passed between
us.   But she has since given me to know, that
whatever freedoms she may sometimes indulge me
in, she expects in general to be treated with the
respect that is due to her birth and quality.  Our
children have been trained up from their infancy
with so many accounts of their mother's family,
that they know the stories of all the great men and
women it has produced.  Their mother tells them,
that such a one commanded in such a sea-engage-
ment, that their great-grandfather had a horse shot
under him at Edge-hill, that their uncle was at the
siege of Buda, and that her mother danced in a ball
at court with the Duke of Monmouth; with abun-
dance of fiddle-faddle of the same nature.  I was
the other day a little out of countenance at a ques-
tion of my little daughter Harriot, who asked me,
with a great deal of innocence, why I never told
them of the generals and admirals that had been in
my family?  As for my eldest son, Oddly, he has
been so spirited up by his mother, that if he does
not mend his manners, I shall go near to disinherit
him.   He drew his sword upon me before he was
nine years old, and told me that he expected to be
used like a gentlemen; upon my offering to cor-
rect him for his insolence, my Lady Mary stept in
between us, and told me that I ought to consider
there was some difference between his mother and
mine.  She is perpetually finding out the features
of her own relations in every one of my children,
though by the way, I have a little chubfaced boy as
like me as he can stare, if I durst say so; but what
most angers me, when she sees me playing with any
of them upon my knee, she has begged me more
than once to converse with the children as little as
possible, that they may not learn any of my awk-
ward tricks.
    " You must further know, since I am opening my
heart to you, that she thinks herself my superior
in [judgement], as much as she is in quality, and therefore                             ["sense"]
treats me like a plain well-meaning man, who does
not know the world.  She dictates to me in my own
business, sets me right in points of trade, and if
I disagree with her about any of  my ships at
sea, wonders that I will dispute with her, when I
know very well that her great-grandfather was a
flag officer.
    " To complete my sufferings, she has teased me
for this quarter of a year last past to remove into
one of the squares at the other end of the town,
promising, for my encouragement, that I shall have
as good a cock-loft as any gentleman in the square;
to which the Honourable Oddly Enville, Esq. al-
ways adds, like a jack-a-napes as he is, that he hopes
it will be as near the court as possible.
    " In short, Mr. Spectator, I am so much out of
my natural element, that to recover my old way of
life I would be content to begin the world again,
and be plain Jack Anvil; but, alas! I am in for life,
and am bound to subscribe myself, with great sor-
row of heart,
                           " Your humble servant,
                                    " JOHN ENVILLE, KNT."
 

[Addison]


  No.  302.   FRIDAY,  FEBRUARY 15, 1711-12.

                                    ______
 

                              --Lachrymæque decoræ.
              Gratior et pulchro veniens in corpore virtus.
                                                      VIRG.  ÆN. v. 343.

               Becoming sorrows, and a virtuous mind,
               More lovely, in a beauteous form enshrined.
 

    I READ what I give for the entertainment of this
day with a great deal of pleasure, and publish it
just as it came into my hands.  I shall be very glad
to find there are many guessed at for Emilia.
 

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " If this paper has the good fortune to be honoured
with a place in your writings, I shall be the more
pleased, because the character of Emilia is not an
imaginary but a real one.  I have industriously
obscured the whole [story] by the addition of one or two
circumstances of no consequence, that the person it
is drawn from might still be concealed; and that
the writer of it might not be in the least suspected,
and for some other reasons, I choose not to give it
the form of a letter; but if, besides the faults of the
composition, there be any thing in it more proper
for a correspondent than the Spectator himself to
write, I submit it to your better judgment, to receive
any other model you think fit.
                        " I am, Sir,
                             "Your very humble servant."
 

    " There is nothing which gives one so pleasing a
prospect of human nature, as the contemplation of
wisdom and beauty; the latter is the peculiar por-
tion of that sex which is therefore called fair; but
the happy concurrence of both these excellencies in
the same person, is a character too celestial to be
frequently met with.  Beauty is an over-[fancying]                                    ["weening"]
self-sufficient thing, careless of providing itself any
more substantial ornaments; nay, so little does it
consult its own interests, that it too often defeats
itself, by betraying that innocence, which renders it
lovely and desirable.  As therefore virtue makes a
beautiful woman appear more beautiful, so beauty
makes a virtuous woman really more virtuous.
Whilst I am considering these two perfections glo-
riously united in one person, I cannot help repre-
senting to my mind the image of Emilia.
    " Who ever beheld the charming Emilia, without
feeling in his breast at once the glow of love, and
the tenderness of virtuous friendship?  The un-
studied graces of her behaviour, and the pleasing
accents of her tongue, [imperceptibly] draw you on                                  ["insensibly"]
to wish for a nearer enjoyment of them: but even her
smiles carry in them a silent reproof to the impulses
of licentious love.  Thus, though the attractives of
her beauty play almost irresistibly upon you, and
create desire, you immediately stand corrected, not
by the severity, but the decency of her virtue.  That
sweetness and good-humour, which is so visible in
her face, naturally defuses itself into every word
and action; a man must be a savage, who, at the
sight of Emilia, is not more inclined to do her good,
than gratify himself.  Her person as it is thus stu-
diously embellished by nature, thus adorned with
unpremeditated graces, is a fit lodging for a mind so
fair and lovely; there dwell rational piety, modest
hope, and cheerful resignation.
    " Many of the prevailing passions of mankind do
undeservedly pass under the name of religion;
which is thus made to express itself in action, ac-
cording to the nature of the constitution in which it
resides; so that were we to make a judgment from
appearances, one would imagine religion in some is
little better than sullenness and reserve, in many
fear, in others the despondings of a melancholy [temp-                                ["complexion"]
erment], in others the formality of insignificant un-
affecting observances, in others severity, in others
ostentation.  In Emilia it is a principle founded in
reason, and enlivened with hope; it does not break
forth into irregular fits and sallies of devotion, but
is a uniform and consistent tenor of action; it is
strict without severity; compassionate without weak-
ness; it is the perfection of that good-humour which
proceeds from the understanding, [and] not the effect of
an easy constitution.
    " By a generous sympathy in nature, we feel our-
selves disposed to mourn when any of our fellow-
creatures are afflicted; but injured innocence and
beauty in distress is an object that curries in it
something inexpressibly moving; it softens the most
manly heart with the tenderest sensations of love
and compassion, till at length it confesses its humani-
ty, and flows out into tears.
    " Were I to relate that part of Emilia's life which
has given her an opportunity of exerting the heroism
of Christianity, it would make too sad, too tender a
story; but when I consider her alone in the midst
of her distresses, looking beyond this gloomy vale of
affliction and sorrow, into the joys of heaven and
immortality, and when I see her in conversation
thoughtless and easy, as if she were the most happy
creature in the world, I am transported with admir-
ation.  Surely never did such a philosophic soul
inhabit such a beauteous form!  For beauty is often
made a privilege against thought and reflection; it
laughs at wisdom, and will not abide the gravity of
its instructions.
    " Were I able to represent Emilia's virtues in their
proper colours, and their due proportions, love or
flattery might perhaps be thought to have drawn the
picture larger than life; but as this is but an imper-
fect draught of so excellent a character, and as I
cannot, I will not hope to have any interest in her
person, all that I can say of her is but impartial
praise extorted from me by the prevailing bright-
ness of her virtues.  So rare a pattern of female
excellence ought not to be concealed, but should be
set out to the view and imitation of the world; for
how amiable does virtue appear thus, as it were,
made visible to us, in so fair an example!
    " Honoria's disposition is of a very different turn;
her thoughts are wholly bent upon conquest and
arbitrary power.  That she has some wit and beauty
nobody denies, and therefore has the esteem of all
her acquaintance as a woman of an agreeable per-
son and conversation; but, whatever her husband
may think of it, that is not sufficient for Honoria;
she waves that title to respect as a [low] acquisi-                                       ["mean"]
tion, and demands veneration in the right of an idol;
for this reason her natural desire of life is continu-
ously checked with an inconsistent fear of wrinkles
and old age.
     " Emilia cannot be supposed ignorant of her per-
sonal charms, though she seems to be so; but she
will not hold her happiness upon so precarious a
tenure, whilst her mind is adorned with beauties of
a more exalted and lasting nature.  When in the
full bloom of youth and beauty we saw her sur-
rounded with a crowd of adorers, she took no plea-
sure in slaughter and destruction, gave no false de-
luding hopes which might increase the torments of
her disappointed lovers; but having for some time
given to the decency of a virgin coyness, and ex-
amined the merit of their several pretensions, she at
length gratified her own, by resigning herself to the
ardent passion of Bromius.  Bromius was then mas-
ter of many good qualities and a moderate fortune,
which was soon after unexpectedly increased to a
plentiful estate.  This for a good while proved his
misfortune, as it furnished his unexperienced age
with the opportunities of evil company, and a sen-
sual life.  He might have longer wandered in the
labyrinths of vice and folly, had not Emilia's prudent
conduct won him over to the government of his
reason.  Her ingenuity has been constantly employed
in humanizing his passions, and refining his plea-
sures.  She has showed him by her own example,
that virtue is consistent with decent freedoms, and
good-humour, or rather that it cannot subsist with-
out them.  Her good sense readily instructed her,
that a silent example, and an easy [unregretting] behav-                           ["unrepining"]
iour, will always be more persuasive than the se-
verity of lectures and admonitions; and that there
is so much pride interwoven into the make of human
nature, that an obstinate man must only take the
hint from another, and then be left to advise and
correct himself.  Thus by an artful train of manage-
ment, and unseen persuasions, having at first brought
him not to dislike, and at length to be pleased with
that which otherwise he would not have bore to hear
of, she then knew how to press and secure this ad-
vantage, by approving it as his thought, and se-
conding it as his proposal.  By this means she has
guided an interest in some of his leading passions,
and made them accessary to his reformation.
    " There is another particular of Emilia's conduct
which I cannot forbear mentioning; to some, per-
haps, it may at first sight appear but a trifling, in-
considerable circumstance; but, for my part, I think
it highly worthy of observation, and to be recom-
mended to the consideration of the fair sex.  I have
often thought wrapping-gowns and dirty linen, with
all that huddled economy of dress which passes
under the general name of  ' a mob,'  the bane of con-
jugal love, and one of the readiest means imaginable
to alienate the affection of a husband, especially a
fond one.  I have heard some ladies, who have
been surprised by company in such a deshabille,
apologize for it after this manner:  ' Truly, I am
ashamed to be caught in this pickle; but my hus-
band and I were sitting all alone by ourselves, and
I did not expect to see such good company.'---This,
by the way,  is a fine compliment to the good man,
which it is ten to one but he [responds] in dogged                                  ["returns"]
answers and a churlish behaviour, without knowing
what it is that puts him out of humour.
    " Emilia's observation teaches her, that as little
inadvertences and neglects cast a blemish upon
a great character; so the neglect of apparel, even
among the most intimate friends, does insensibly
lessen their regards to each other, by creating a fa-
miliarity too low and contemptible.  She understands
the importance of those things which the generality
account trifles; and considers everything as a mat-
ter of consequence, that has the least tendency to-
wards keeping up or abating the affection of her
husband; him she esteems as a fit object to employ
her ingenuity in pleasing, because he is to be pleased
for life.
    " By the help of these, and a thousand other name-
less arts, which it is easier for her to practise than
for another to express, by the obstinacy of her good-
ness and unprovoked submission, in spite of all her
afflictions and ill usage, Bromius is become a man
of sense and a kind husband, and Emilia a happy
wife.
    " Ye guardian angels, to whose care heaven has
intrusted its dear Emilia, guide her still forward in
the paths of virtue, defend her from the insolence
and wrongs of this undiscerning world; at length,
when we must no more converse with such purity
on earth, lead her gently hence, innocent and unre-
provable, to a better place, where, by an easy tran-
sition from what she now is, she may shine forth an
angel of light. "
 

[Dr. Brome]


No.  308.   FRIDAY,  FEBRUARY 22,  1711-12.
 
 

*          *         *          *         *          *          *           *
 

        " MR. SPECTATOR,

    " I am one of those unfortunate men within the
city-walls, who am married to a woman of quality,
but her temper is something different from that of
Lady Anvil.  My lady's whole time and thoughts
are spent in keeping [in style] both in apparel                                      ["up to the mode"]
and furniture.  All the goods in my house have been
changed three times in seven years.  I have had
seven children by her; and by our marriage-articles
she was to have her apartment new furnished as
often as she lay-in.  Nothing in our house is use-
ful but that which is fashionable; my pewter holds
out generally half a year, my plate full twelve-
month; chairs are not fit to sit in that were made
two years [ago], nor beds fit for any thing but to                                 ["since"]
sleep in, that have stood up [longer than] that time.                             ["above"]
My dear is of opinion that an old-fashioned grate con-
sumes coals, but gives no heat.  If she drinks out
of glasses of last year she cannot distinguish wine
from small-beer.  Oh, dear Sir, you may guess all
the rest.                              " Yours.

    " P. S.  I could bear even all this, if I were not
obliged also to eat fashionably.  I have a plain sto-
mach, and have a constant loathing of whatever
comes to my own table; for which reason I dine at
the chop-house three days a week; where the good
company wonders [why] they never see you of late.  I
am sure, by your unprejudiced discourses, you love
broth better than soup."
 

*          *         *          *         *          *          *          *
 

[Steele]


Background and introductory essays:  1, 2, 3, 4,


SOURCE

The above, with some alteration and addition, was taken from Vol. IV of THE SPECTATOR, Little, Brown and Company, Boston, 1864.


NOTES

Let me begin by saying that the modernizations or translations made to the essays above are the work of a rank amateur - so a strong caveat is in force. There were some obsolete words, that, of course, needed to be changed, but as to the style it was difficult to decide how much to change as I did not want to alter the particular flavor the words carry from their time, but on the other hand, I had to keep in mind that not everyone who reads this will be intellectually endowed and educated enough to be able to figure out the original without great difficulty. To this I add, that the WEB being an international phenomenon, many who read this will not have English as their first language and will be further burdened.  I wasn't always consistent with my translations; where the text went along smoothly I tended to let an occasional difficult word pass; but where two or three hard words close together made a passage difficult to read I changed it.  If two different connotations of a word could be substituted I generally left things uncorrected to avoid making an error; but where the meaning of a passage was likely be lost altogether I hazarded a guess.  The original words substituted for you will find in brackets and parentheses in the ["margin"], as well as some definitions I added.  At some future time when I am better versed in eighteen century English I will go over the material again. In the mean time suggestions are appreciated, particularly if you are an expert in the field.
 
 
 

    Prepared by Thomas Pollock aka Spartacus, Editor of The Men's Tribune                                                                                                        First Posted: May 2000       Last Update: June 2000