cients are described; but it is intended by confidering these contraries to pleafure, indolence, and too much delicacy, to shew that it is prudence to preferve a difpofition in ourselves to receive a certain delight in all we hear and fee. This portable quality of good-humour seasons all the parts and occurrences we meet with, in fuch a manner, that there are no moments loft; but they all pass with so much fatisfaction, that the heaviest of loads, when it is a load, that of time, is never felt by us. Varilas has this quality to the highest perfection, and communicates it wherever he appears: the fad, the merry, the fevere, the melancholy, thew a new chearfulnefs when he comes amongst them. At the fame time no one can repeat any thing that Varilas has ever faid that deserves repetition; but the man has that innate goodness of temper, that he is welcome to every body, because every man thinks he is fo to him. He does not seem to contribute any thing to the mirth of the company; and yet upon reflection you find it all happened by his being there. I thought it was whimfically faid of a gentleman, that if Varilas had wit, it would be the best wit in the world. It is certain, when a well-corrected lively imagination and good breeding are added to a sweet disposition, they qualify it to be one of the greatest blessings, as well as pleasures of life. Men would come into company with ten times the pleafure they do, if they were sure of hearing nothing which should fhock them, as well as expected what would please them. When we know every perfon that is spoken of is represented by one who has no ill-will, and every thing that is mentioned defcribed by one that is apt to fee it in the best light, the entertainment must be delicate, because the cook has nothing brought to his hand but what is the most excellent in its kind. Beautiful pictures are the entertainments of pure minds and deformities of the corrupted. It is a degree towards the life of angels, when we enjoy converfation wherein there is nothing presented but in its excellence; and a degree towards that of dæmons, wherein nothing is shewn but in its degeneracy. N° 101. TUESDAY, JUNE 26. Romulus, & Liber pater, & cum Castore Pollux, T tiquity, and indeed of every age in the world, have passed through this fiery perfecution. There is no defence against reproach but obscurity; it is a kind of concomitant to greatness, as fatires and invectives were an effential part of a Roman triumph. If men of eminence are exposed to cenfure on one hand, they are as much liable to flattery on the other. If they receive reproaches which are not due to them, they likewise receive praises which they do not deferve. In a word, the man in a high poft is never regarded with an indiferent eye, but always confidered as a friend or an enemy. For this reason persons in great stations have feldom their true characters drawn until several years after their deaths. Their personal friendships and enmities must cease, and the parties they were engaged in be at an end, before their faults or their virtues can have justice done them. When writers have the leaft opportunities of knowing the truth, they are in the best disposition to tell it. It is therefore the privilege of pofterity to adjust the characters of illustrious persons, and to fet matters right between those antagonists, who by their rivalry for greatness divided a whole age into factions. We can row allow Cæfar to be a great man, without derogating from Pompey; and celebrate the virtues of Cato, without detracting from those of Cæfar. Every one that has been long dead has a due proportion of praise allotted him, in which whilft he lived, his friends were too profufe and his enemies too sparing. According to Sir Ifaac Newton's calculations, the last comet that made its appearance in 1680, imbibed so much heat by its approaches to the fun, that it would have been two thousand times hotter than red hot iron, had it been a globe of that metal; and that fuppofing it as big as the earth, and at the fame distance from the fun, it would be fifty thousand years in cooling, before it recovered its natural temper. In the like manner, if an Englishman confiders the great ferment into which our political world is thrown at present, and how intenfely it is heated in all its parts, he cannot suppose it will cool again in lefs than three hundred years. In fuch a tract of time it is poffible that the heats of the present age may be extinguished, and our several claffes of great men represented under their proper characters. Some eminent historian may then: probably arife that will not write "recentibus "odiis," as Tacitus expresses it, with the paffions and prejudices of a cotemporary author, but make an impartial diftribution of fame Speratum meritis: -- HOR, Ep. 1. 1. 2. v. 5, among the great men of the present age. I cannot forbear entertaining myself very of ten with the idea of fuch an imaginary hiftorian defcribing the reign of Anne the First, and introducing it with a preface to his reader, that he is now entering upon the most shining part of the English story. The great rivals in fame will be then diftinguished according to their respective merits, and shine in their proper points of light. Such an one, fays the hiftorian, though variously reprefented by the writers of his own age, appears to have been a man of more than ordinary abilities, great application, and uncommon integrity: nor was fuch an one, though of an opposite party and interest, inferior to him in any of these respects. The feveral, antagonists who now endeavour to depre ciate ciate one another, and are celebrated or traduced by different parties, will then have the fame body of admirers, and appear illustrious in the opinion of the whole British nation. The deferving man, who can now recommend himself to the esteem of but half his countrymen, will then receive the approbations and applauses of a whole age. Among the several persons that flourish in this glorious reign, there is no question but such a future hiftorian, as the perfon of whom I am speaking, will make mention of the men of genius and learning, who have now any figure in the British nation. For my own part, I often flatter myfelf with the honourable mention which will then be made of me; and have drawn up a paragraph in my own imagination, that I fancy will not be altogether unlike what will be found in fome page or other of this imaginary historian. It was under this reign, says he, that the Spectator published those little diurnal essays which are still extant. We know very little of the name or person of this author, except only that he was a man of a very short face, extremely addicted to filence, and so great a lover of knowledge that he made a voyage to Grand Cairo for no other reafon, but to take the measure of a Pyramid. His chief friend was one Sir Roger de Coverley, a whimfical country Knight, and a Templar whose name he has not tranfmitted to us. He lived as a lodger at the house of a widow-woman, and was a great humourist in all parts of his life. This is all we can affirm with any certainty of his person and character. As for his speculations, notwithstanding the several obfolete words and obfcure phrafes of the age in which he lived, we still understand enough of them to see the diversions and charac ters of the English nation in his time: not but that we are to make allowance for the mirth and humour of the author, who has doubtless strained many representations of things beyond the truth. For if we interpret his words in their literal meaning, we must suppose that women of the first quality used to pass away whole mornings at a puppet-show: that they attested their principles by their patches: that an audience would fit out an evening to hear a dramatical performance written in a language which they did not understand : that chairs and flower-pots were introduced as actors upon the British stage; that a promiscuous assembly of men and women were allowed to meet at midnight in masques within the verge of the court: with many improbabilities of the like nature. We must therefore, in these and the like cafes, suppose that these remote hints and allufions aimed at fome certain follies which were then in vogue, and which at present we have not any notion of. We may guess by several passages in the Speculations, that there were writers who endeavoured to detract from the works of this author; but as nothing of this nature is come down to us, we cannot guess at any objections that could be made to his paper. If we consider his stile with that indulgence which we must shew to old English writers, or if we look into the variety of his fubjects, with those several critical differtations, moral reflections. * * * * * * * * 'Mr. Spectator, W OMEN are armed with fans as men with swords, and sometimes do more 'execution with them. To the end therefore that ladies may be entire mistresses of the wea'pons which they bear, I have erected an academy for the training up of young women in the "exercise of the fan," according to the most fashionable airs and motions that are now practised at court. The ladies who "carry" fans under me are drawn up twice a day in my great hall, where they are instructed in the use of their arms, and exercised by the following ' words of command, Handle your fans, Unfurl your fans, Difcharge your fans, Ground your fans, Recover your fans, Flutter your fans. By the right obfervation of these few plaini words of command, a woman of a tolerable ' genius, who will apply herself diligently to her ' exercise for the space of but one half-year, shalt be able to give her fan all the graces that can possibly enter into that little modish machine. But to the end that my readers may form to ' themselves a right notion of this exercise, I beg leave to explain it to them in all its parts. When my female regiment is drawn up in array, with every one her weapon in her hand, upon my giving the word "to handle their fans," each of ' them shakes her fan at me with a smile, then ' gives her right-hand woman a tap upon the ' shoulder, then presses her lips with the extremity of her fan, then lets her arms fall in an ' easy motion and stands in a readiness to receive the next word of command. All this is done ' with a close fan, and is generally learned in the first week. The next motion is that of "unfurling the ' fan," in which are comprehended several little 'flirts and vibrations, as alfo gradual and delibe< rate openings, with many voluntary fallings afunder in the fan itself, that are feldom learned. ' under a month's practice. This part of the ex'ercise pleases the spectators more than any other as it difcovers on a fudden an infinite number of cupids, gatlands, altars, birds, beafts, raincupids, bows, and the like agreeable figures, that dif play theaifelves to view, whilft every one in the regiment holds a picture in her hand. Upon my giving the word to "difcharge their fans," they give one general crack that may he heard ، heard at a confiderable distance when the wind fits fair, This is one of the most difficult parts of the exercise; but I have feveral ladies with me, who at their first entrance could not give a pop loud enough to be heard at the further end ' of a room, who can now "discharge a fan" in 'fuch a manner, that it shall make a report like a pocket-pistol. I have likewise taken care, in order to hinder young women from letting off 'their fans in wrong places or unsuitable occa'fions, to shew upon what subject the crack of a ८ When the fans are thus "discharged," the word of command in course is to "ground their ८ fans." This teaches a lady to quit her fan gracefully when she throws it afide in order to take up a pack of cards, adjust a curl of hair, * replace a falling pin, or apply herself to any 'matter of importance. This part of the exer*cife, as it only consists in tossing a fan with an • air upon a long table (which stands by for that purpose) may be learned in two days time as well as in a twelvemonth. • When my female regiment is thus disarmed, • I generally let them walk about the room for * some time; when on a fudden., like ladies that look upon their watches after a long visit, they all of them haften to their arms, catch them up in a hurry, and place themselves in their proper • stations upon my calling out "recover your " fans," This part of the exercife is not difficult • provided a woman applys her thoughts to it. The "fluttering of the fan" is the last, and indeed the mafter-piece of the whole exercise: but if a lady does not mispend her time, the * may make herself mistress of it in three months. < I generally lay afide the dog-days and the hot ⚫ time of the fummer for the teaching this part * of the exercise; for as soon as ever I pronounce " flutter your fans," the place is filled with so many zephyrs and gentle breezes as are very refreshing in that feason of the year, though they might be dangerous to ladies of a tender conftitution in any other. There is an infinite variety of motions to be made use of in the "flutter of a fan:" There. is the angry flutter, the modish flutter, the ⚫ timorous flutter, the confufed flutter, the merry flutter, and the amorous flutter. Not to be tedious, there is scarce any emotion in * the mind which does not produce a fuitable agitation in the fan; infomuch, that if I only • see the fan of a difciplined lady, I know very • well whether the laughs, frowns, or blushes. I have seen a fan so very angry, that it would have been dangerous for the abfent lover who * provoked it to have come within the wind of it; and at other times so very languishing, that I have been glad, for the lady's fake, the 'lover was at a fufficient diftance from it. I need not add, that the fan is either a prude or coquette, according to the nature of the person who bears it. To conclude my letter, I must acquaint you that I have from my own observation compiled a little tredtise for the ufe of my fcholars, intitled, "The paffions of the fan;" which I will communicate to you, ८ ८ if you think it may be of use to the public. I shall have a general review on Thursda next; to which you shall be very welcome, if you will honour it with your prefence. ' I am, &c. P. S. I teach young gentlemen the whole art of gallanting a fan. N. B. I have several little plain fans made ' for this use, to avoid expence.' No. 103. THURSDAY, JUNE 28. -Sibi quivis Speret idem: fudet multum, fruftraque laboret M ROSCOMMON. Y friend the divine having been used with words of complaifance, which he thinks could be properly applied to no one living, and I think could be only fpoken of him, and that in his absence; was so extremely offended with the excessive way of speaking civilities among us, that he made a discourse against it at the club; which he concluded with this remark, that he had not heard one compliment made in our fociety since its commencement. Every one was pleased with his conclufion: and as each knew his good-will to the reft, he was convinced that the many professions of kindness and service, which we ordinarily meet with, are not natural where the heart is well inclined; but are a pro. stitution of speech, feldom intended to mean any part of what they express, never to mean all they express. Our reverend friend, upon this topic, pointed to us two or three paragraphs on this fubject in the first fermon of the first volume of the late archbishop's posthumous works. I do not know that I ever read any thing that pleased me more; and as it is to the praise of Longinus, that he speaks of the fublime in a stile suitable to it; so one may say of this author upon fincerity, that he abhors any pomp of rhetoric on this occafion, and treats it with more than ordinary fimplicity, at once to be a preacher and an example. With what command of himself does he lay before us, in the language and temper of his profeffion, a fault, which by the least liberty and warmth of expression would be the most lively wit and fatire? But his heart was better disposed, and the good man chaftifed the great wit in fuch a manner, that he was able to speak as follows. "Amongst too many other instances of the great corruption and degeneracy of the age "wherein we live, the great and general want "of fincerity in conversation is none of the "least. The world is grown fo full of diffimu"lation and compliment, that mens words are "hardly any fignification of their thoughts; "and if any man measure his words by his heart, " and speaks as he thinks, and do not exprefs " more kindness to every man, than men usually "have for any man, he can hardly escape the "cenfure of want of breeding. The old English "plainness and fincerity, that generous inte"grity of nature, and honefty of difpofition, "which always argues true greatness of mind, " and is ufually accompanied with undaunted i " deavour to transform us into foreign manners and fashions, and to bring us to a fervile imi"ration of none of the best of our neighbours " in some of the worst of their qualities. The "dialect of conversation is now-a days so swell"ed with variety and compliment, and so sur"feited, as I may say, of expreffions of kind"ness and respect, that if a man that lived an age or two ago should return again into the "world again, he would really want a dictionary to help him to understand his own language, and to know the true intrinfic value "of the phrafe in fashion, and would hardly at "first believe at what a low rate the highest "strains and expreffions of kindness imaginable " do commonly pass in current payment; and "when he should come to understand it, it " discovered to want it; and then all his pains " and labour to seem to have it, is lost." In another part of the fame discourse he goes on to shew, that all artifice must naturally tend. to the disappointment of him who practises it. "Whatsoever convenience may be thought to "be in falfhood and diffimulation, it is foon "over; but 'the inconvenience of is perpetual, "because it brings a man under an everlasting "jealousy and fufpicion, so that he is not be"lieved when he speaks truth, nor trusted when "perhaps he means honestly. When a man "hath once forfeited the reputation of his in"tegrity, he is fet fast, and nothing will then " serve his turn, neither truth nor falfhood." " would be a great while before he could bring No 104. FRIDAY, JUNE 29. "himself with a good countenance and a good "confcience to converse with men upon equal Qualis equos Threiffa fatigat "terms, and in their own way. "And in truth it is hard to say, whether it "should more provoke our contempt or our pity, to hear what folemn expressions of respect and kindness will pass between men, "almost upon no occafion; how great honour " and esteem they will declare for one whom "perhaps they never faw before, and how en"tirely they are all on the fudden devoted to " his service and interest, for no reason; how " infinitely and eternally obliged to him, for no "benefit; and how extremely they will be con"cerned for him; yea and afflicted too, for no " cause. I know it is faid, in justification of "this hollow kind of conversation, that there is " no harm, nor real deceit in compliment, but "the matter is well enough, so long as we un"derstand one another; et verba valent ut num" mi, " words are like money:" and when the " current value of them is generally understood, "no man is cheated by them. This is fome"thing if such words were any thing; but be "ing brought into the account, they are mere "cyphers. However, it is still a matter of just "complaint, that fincerity and plainness are out " of fashion, and that our language is running " into a lie; and that men have almost quite " perverted the use of speech, and made words " to fignify nothing; that the greatest part of "the conversation of mankind is littie else but " driving a trade of diffimulation; infomuch "that it would make a man heartily fick and weary of the world, to fee the little fincerity "that is in use and practice among men." When the vice is placed in this contemptible light, he argues unanswerably against it, in words and thoughts so natural, that any man who reads them would imagine he himself could have been the author of them. If the show of any thing be good for any " thing, I am fure fincerity is better; for why " does any man dissemble, or feem to be that "which he is not, but because he thinks it "good to have such a quality as he pretends "to? For to counterfeit and dissemble, is to put on the appearance of fome real excel"lency. Now the best way in the world to " feem to be any thing, is really to be what he " would seem to be. Besides, that it is many " times as troublesome to make good the pre"tence of a good quality, as to have it; and if " a man have it not, it is ten to one but he is Harpalyce R VIRG. Æn. I. V. 320, with fuch array Harpalyce bestrode Her Thracian courser. T would be a DRYDEN. nobler improvement, or rather a recovery of what we call good-breeding, if nothing were to pass amongst us for agreeable which was the leaft tranfgreffion against that rule of life called decorum, or a regard to decency. This would command the respect of mankind, because it carries in it a deference to their good opinion, as humility lodged in a worthy mind is always attended with a certain homage, which no haughty foul, with all the arts imaginable, will ever be able to purchase. Tully says, Virtue and decency are so nearly related, that it is difficult to separate them from each other but in our imagination. As the beauty of the body always accompanies the health of it, so certainly is decency concomitant to virtue: as the beauty of the body, with an agreeable carriage, pleases the eye, and that pleasure confifts in that we observe all the parts with a certain elegance are proportioned to each other; fo does decency of behaviour which appears in our lives obtain the approbation of all with whom we converfe, from the order, confiftency, and moderation of our words and actions. This flows from the reverence we bear towards every good man, and to the world in general; for to be negligent of what any one thinks of you, does not only thew you arrogant but abandoned. In all these considerations we are to diftinguish how one virtue differs from another; as it is the part of justice never to do violence, it is of modesty never to commit offence. In this last particular lies the whole force of what is called decency: to this purpose that excellent moralifst abovementioned talks of decency; but this quality is more easily comprehended by an ordinary capacity, than expressed with all his eloquence. This decency of behaviour is generally tranfgreffed among all orders of men: nay, the very women, though themselves created it as it were for ornament, are often very much mistaken in this ornamental part of life. It would methinks be a short rule for behaviour, if every young lady in her dress, words and actions were only to recommend herself as a fifter, daughter, or wife, and make herself the more esteemed in one of those characters. The care of themselves, with regard to the families in which S2 which women are born, is the best motive for their being courted to come into the alliance of other houses. Nothing can promote this end more than a strict preservation of decency. I should be glad if a certain equestrian order of ladies, fome of whom one meets in an evening at every-out1t of the town, would take this subject into their terious confideration; in order thereunto the following letter may not be wholly unworthy their perufal. • Mr. Spectator, G ، 6 ، ، OING lately to take the air in one of the most beautiful evenings this season has produced! as I was admiring the ferenity of the sky; the lively colours of the fields, and the variety of the landscape every way around me, my eyeswere fuddenly called off from these inanimate objects by a little party of horfemen. I faw paffing the road. The greater part of them efca*ped my particular observation, by reason that my whole attention was fixed on a very fair youth who rode in the midst of them, and feemed to have been dressed by some description in a romance. His features, complexion, and habit had a remarkable effeminacy, and a certain languishing vanity appeared in his air; his hair, well curled and powdered, hung to a confiderable length on his shoulders, and was wantonly ty'd, as if by the hands of his mistress, in a scarlet ribbon, which played like a streamer behind him; he had a coat and waistcoat of blue cam'blet trimmed and embroidered with filver; a ، ، 6 ، ، cravat of the finest lace; and wore, in a smart cock, a little beaver hat edged with filver, and 'made more fprightly by a feather. His horfe too, which was a pacer, was adorned after the ' fame airy manner, and feemed to share in the vanity of the rider. As I was pitying the luxury ' of this young perfon, who appeared to me to have been educated only as an object of fight, I perceived on my nearer approach, and as I ' turned my eyes downward, a part of the equipage I had not obferved before, which was a petticoat of the fame with the coat and waiftcoat. After this difcovery, I looked again on the face of the fair Amazon who had thus deceived me, and thought those features which had before offended me by their softness, were now ftrengthened into as improper a boldness; ' and though her eyes, nofe, and mouth seemed to be formed with perfect symmetry, I am not certain whether the, who in appearance was a very handfome youth, may not be in reality a very indifferent woman. ، 6 There is an objection which natur..lly prefents itself against these occafional perplexities and mixtures of drefs, which is, that they feem to break in upon that propriety and diftinction of appearance in which the beauty of different ⚫ characters is preferved; and if they should be more frequent than they are at present, would look like turning our public assemblies into a general masquerade. The model of this Amazonian hunting-habit for ladies, was, as I take it, first imported from France, and well enough • expreffes the gaiery of a people who are taught to do any thing fo it be with an afsurance; but I cannot help thinking it fits aukwardly yet on English modefty. The petticoat is a kind of incu ubrance upon it, and if the Amazon should think fit to go on in this plunder of cur fox's ornaments, they ought to add to their our M Y friend Will. Honeycomb values himself very much upon what he calls the knowledge of mankind, which has cost him many difafters in his youth; for Will reckons every misfortune that he has met with among the women, and every rencounter among the men, as parts of his education, and fancies he should never have been the man he is, had not he broke windows, knocked down conftables, disturbed honest people with his midnight ferenades, and beat up a lewd woman's quarters, when he was a young fellow. The engaging in adventures of this nature Will calls the studying of mankind; and terms this knowledge of the town, the knowledge of the world. Will ingenioufly confeffes, that for half his life his head ached every morning with reading of men over night; and at present comforts himself under certain pains which he endures from time to time that without them he could not have been acquainted with the gallantries of the age. This Will looks upon as the learning of a gentleman, and regards all other kinds of science as the accomplishments of one whom he calls a fcholar, a bookish man, or a philofopher. For these reasons Will thines in mixed company, where he has the difcretion not to go out of his depth, and has often a certain way of making his real ignorance appear a feeming one. Our club however has frequently caught him tripping, at which times they never spare him. For as Will often infults us with the knowledge of the town, we fometimes take our revenge upon him by our knowledge of books, Ho |