The Spectator Volume Iii Part 11

No. 437. Tuesday, July 22, 1712.

'Tune impune haec facias? Tune hic homines adolescentulos Imperitos rerum, eductos libere, in fraudem illicis?

Sollicitando, et pollicitando eorum animos lactas?

Ac meritricios amores nuptiis conglutinas?'

Ter. And.

The other Day pa.s.sed by me in her Chariot a Lady with that pale and wan Complexion, which we sometimes see in young People, who are fallen into Sorrow and private Anxiety of Mind, which antedate Age and Sickness. It is not three Years ago since she was gay, airy, and a little towards Libertine in her Carriage; but, methought, I easily forgave her that little Insolence, which she so severely pays for in her present Condition. _Favilla_, of whom I am speaking, is married to a sullen Fool with Wealth: Her Beauty and Merit are lost upon the Dolt, who is insensible of Perfection in any thing. Their Hours together are either painful or insipid: The Minutes she has to herself in his Absence, are not sufficient to give Vent at her Eyes to the Grief and Torment of his last Conversation. This poor Creature was sacrificed with a Temper (which, under the Cultivation of a Man of Sense, would have made the most agreeable Companion) into the Arms of this loathsome Yoak-fellow by _Semp.r.o.nia_. _Semp.r.o.nia_ is a good Lady, who supports herself in an affluent Condition, by contracting Friends.h.i.+p with rich young Widows and Maids of plentiful Fortunes at their own Disposal, and bestowing her Friends upon worthless indigent Fellows; on the other Side, she ensnares inconsiderate and rash Youths of great Estates into the Arms of vitious Women. For this Purpose, she is accomplished in all the Arts which can make her acceptable at impertinent Visits; she knows all that pa.s.ses in every Quarter, and is well acquainted with all the favourite Servants, Busiebodies, Dependants, and poor Relations of all Persons of Condition in the whole Town. At the Price of a good Sum of Money, _Semp.r.o.nia_, by the Instigation of _Favilla's_ Mother, brought about the Match for the Daughter, and the Reputation of this, which is apparently, in point of Fortune, more than _Favilla_ could expect, has gained her the Visits and frequent Attendance of the Crowd of Mothers, who had rather see their Children miserable in great Wealth, than the happiest of the Race of Mankind in a less conspicuous State of Life. When _Semp.r.o.nia_ is so well acquainted with a Woman's Temper and Circ.u.mstance, that she believes Marriage would be acceptable to her, and advantageous to the Man who shall get her; her next Step is to look out for some one, whose Condition has some secret Wound in it, and wants a Sum, yet, in the Eye of the World, not unsuitable to her. If such is not easily had, she immediately adorns a worthless Fellow with what Estate she thinks convenient, and adds as great a Share of good Humour and Sobriety as is requisite: After this is settled, no Importunities, Arts, and Devices are omitted to hasten the Lady to her Happiness. In the general indeed she is a Person of so strict Justice, that she marries a poor Gallant to a rich Wench, and a Moneyless Girl to a Man of Fortune. But then she has no manner of Conscience in the Disparity, when she has a Mind to impose a poor Rogue for one of an Estate, she has no Remorse in adding to it, that he is illiterate, ignorant, and unfas.h.i.+oned; but makes those Imperfections Arguments of the Truth of his Wealth, and will, on such an Occasion, with a very grave Face, charge the People of Condition with Negligence in the Education of their Children. Exception being made t'other Day against an ignorant b.o.o.by of her own Cloathing, whom she was putting off for a rich Heir, _Madam_, said she, _you know there is no making Children who know they have Estates attend their Books._

_Semp.r.o.nia,_ by these Arts, is loaded with Presents, importuned for her Acquaintance, and admired by those who do not know the first Taste of Life, as a Woman of exemplary good Breeding. But sure, to murder and to rob are less Iniquities, than to raise Profit by Abuses, as irreparable as taking away Life; but more grievous, as making it lastingly unhappy.

To rob a Lady at Play of Half her Fortune, is not so ill, as giving the whole and her self to an unworthy Husband. But _Semp.r.o.nia_ can administer Consolation to an unhappy Fair at Home, by leading her to an agreeable Gallant elsewhere. She can then preach the general Condition of all the Married World, and tell an unexperienced young Woman the Methods of softning her Affliction, and laugh at her Simplicity and Want of Knowledge, with an _Oh! my Dear, you will know better._

The Wickedness of _Semp.r.o.nia,_ one would think, should be superlative; but I cannot but esteem that of some Parents equal to it; I mean such as sacrifice the greatest Endowments and Qualifications to base Bargains. A Parent who forces a Child of a liberal and ingenious Spirit into the Arms of a Clown or a Blockhead, obliges her to a Crime too odious for a Name. It is in a Degree the unnatural Conjunction of rational and brutal Beings. Yet what is there so common, as the bestowing an accomplished Woman with such a Disparity. And I could name Crowds who lead miserable Lives, or want of Knowledge in their Parents, of this Maxim, that good Sense and good Nature always go together. That which is attributed to Fools, and called good Nature, is only an Inability of observing what is faulty, which turns in Marriage, into a Suspicion of every thing as such, from a Consciousness of that Inability.

Mr. Spectator,

'I am entirely of your Opinion with Relation to the Equestrian Females, who affect both the Masculine and Feminine Air at the same time; and cannot forbear making a Presentment against another Order of them who grow very numerous and powerful; and since our Language is not very capable of good compound Words, I must be contented to call them only the _Naked Shouldered_. These Beauties are not contented to make Lovers where-ever they appear, but they must make Rivals at the same time. Were you to see _Gatty_ walk the _Park_ at high Mall, you would expect those who followed her and those who met her could immediately draw their Swords for her. I hope, Sir, you will provide for the future, that Women may stick to their Faces for doing any future Mischief and not allow any but direct Traders in Beauty to expose more than the fore Part of the Neck, unless you please to allow this After-Game to those who are very defective in the Charms of the Countenance. I can say, to my Sorrow, the present Practice is very unfair, when to look back is Death; and it may be said of our Beauties, as a great Poet did of Bullets,

'They kill and wound like Parthians as they fly.'

I submit this to your Animadversion; and am, for the little while I have left,

_Your humble Servant, the languis.h.i.+ng_ Philanthus.

P. S. Suppose you mended my Letter, and made a Simile about the Porcupine, but I submit that also.

T.

No. 438. Wednesday, July 23, 1712. Steele.

'--Animum rege qui nisi paret Imperat--'

Hor.

It is a very common Expression, That such a one is very good-natur'd, but very pa.s.sionate. The Expression indeed is very good-natur'd, to allow pa.s.sionate People so much Quarter: But I think a pa.s.sionate Man deserves the least Indulgence Imaginable. It is said, it is soon over; that is, all the Mischief he does is quickly dispatch'd, which, I think, is no great Recommendation to Favour. I have known one of these good-natur'd pa.s.sionate Men say in a mix'd Company even to his own Wife or Child, such Things as the most inveterate Enemy of his Family would not have spoke, even in Imagination. It is certain that quick Sensibility is inseparable from a ready Understanding; but why should not that good Understanding call to it self all its Force on such Occasions, to master that sudden Inclination to Anger. One of the greatest Souls now in the World [1] is the most subject by Nature to Anger, and yet so famous from a Conquest of himself this Way, that he is the known Example when you talk of Temper and Command of a Man's Self.

To contain the Spirit of Anger, is the worthiest Discipline we can put our selves to. When a Man has made any Progress this way, a frivolous Fellow in a Pa.s.sion, is to him as contemptible as a froward Child. It ought to be the Study of every Man, for his own Quiet and Peace. When he stands combustible and ready to flame upon every thing that touches him, Life is as uneasie to himself as it is to all about him. _Syncropius_ leads, of all Men living, the most ridiculous Life; he is ever offending, and begging Pardon. If his Man enters the Room without what he sent for, _That Blockhead_, begins he--_Gentlemen, I ask your Pardon, but Servants now a-days_--The wrong Plates are laid, they are thrown into the Middle of the Room; his Wife stands by in Pain for him, which he sees in her Face, and answers as if he had heard all she was thinking; _Why, what the Devil! Why don't you take Care to give Orders in these things?_ His Friends sit down to a tasteless Plenty of every thing, every Minute expecting new Insults from his impertinent Pa.s.sions.

In a Word, to eat with, or visit _Syncropius_, is no other than going to see him exercise his Family, exercise their Patience, and his own Anger.

It is monstrous that the Shame and Confusion in which this good-natured angry Man must needs behold his Friends while he thus lays about him, does not give him so much Reflection as to create an Amendment. This is the most scandalous Disuse of Reason imaginable; all the harmless Part of him is no more than that of a Bull-Dog, they are tame no longer than they are not offended. One of these good-natured angry Men shall, in an Instant, a.s.semble together so many Allusions to secret Circ.u.mstances, as are enough to dissolve the Peace of all the Families and Friends he is acquainted with, in a Quarter of an Hour, and yet the next Moment be the best-natured Man in the whole World. If you would see Pa.s.sion in its Purity, without Mixture of Reason, behold it represented in a mad Hero, drawn by a mad Poet. _Nat Lee_ makes his _Alexander_ say thus:

'Away, begon, and give a Whirlwind Room, Or I will blow you up like Dust! Avaunt; Madness but meanly represents my Toil.

Eternal Discord!

Fury! Revenge! Disdain and Indignation!

Tear my swoln Breast, make way for Fire and Tempest.

My Brain is burst, Debate and Reason quench'd; The Storm is up, and my hot bleeding Heart Splits with the Rack, while Pa.s.sions, like the Wind, Rise up to Heav'n, and put out all the Stars.'

Every pa.s.sionate Fellow in Town talks half the Day with as little Consistency, and threatens Things as much out of his Power.

The next disagreeable Person to the outrageous Gentleman, is one of a much lower Order of Anger, and he is what we commonly call a peevish Fellow. A peevish Fellow is one who has some Reason in himself for being out of Humour, or has a natural Incapacity for Delight, and therefore disturbs all who are happier than himself with Pishes and Pshaws, or other well-bred Interjections, at every thing that is said or done in his Presence. There should be Physick mixed in the Food of all which these Fellows eat in good Company. This Degree of Anger pa.s.ses, forsooth, for a Delicacy of Judgment, that won't admit of being easily pleas'd: but none above the Character of wearing a peevish Man's Livery, ought to bear with his ill Manners. All Things among Men of Sense and Condition should pa.s.s the Censure, and have the Protection, of the Eye of Reason.

No Man ought to be tolerated in an habitual Humour, Whim, or Particularity of Behaviour, by any who do not wait upon him for Bread.

Next to the peevish Fellow is the Snarler. This Gentleman deals mightily in what we call the Irony, and as those sort of People exert themselves most against these below them, you see their Humour best, in their Talk to their Servants. That is so like you, You are a fine Fellow, Thou art the quickest Head-piece, and the like. One would think the Hectoring, the Storming, the Sullen, and all the different Species and Subordinations of the Angry should be cured, by knowing they live only as pardoned Men; and how pityful is the Condition of being only suffered? But I am interrupted by the pleasantest Scene of Anger and the Disappointment of it that I have ever known, which happened while I was yet Writing, and I overheard as I sat in the Backroom at a _French_ Bookseller's. There came into the Shop a very learned Man with an erect Solemn Air, and tho' a Person of great Parts otherwise, slow in understanding anything which makes against himself. The Composure of the faulty Man, and the whimsical Perplexity of him that was justly angry, is perfectly New: After turning over many Volumes, said the Seller to the Buyer, _Sir, you know I have long asked you to send me back the first Volume of French Sermons I formerly lent you;_ Sir, said the Chapman, I have often looked for it but cannot find it; It is certainly lost, and I know not to whom I lent it, it is so many Years ago; _then, Sir, here is the other Volume, I'll send you home that, and please to pay for both_. My Friend, reply'd he, canst thou be so Senseless as not to know that one Volume is as imperfect in my Library as in your Shop?

_Yes, Sir, but it is you have lost the first Volume, and to be short I will be Paid._ Sir, answered the Chapman, you are a young Man, your Book is lost, and learn by this little Loss to bear much greater Adversities, which you must expect to meet with. _Yes, Sir, I'll bear when I must, but I have not lost now, for I say you have it and shall pay me._ Friend, you grow Warm, I tell you the Book is lost, and I foresee in the Course even of a prosperous Life, that you will meet Afflictions to make you Mad, if you cannot bear this Trifle. _Sir, there is in this Case no need of bearing, for you have the Book._ I say, Sir, I have not the Book. But your Pa.s.sion will not let you hear enough to be informed that I have it not. Learn Resignation of your self to the Distresses of this Life: Nay do not fret and fume, it is my Duty to tell you that you are of an impatient Spirit, and an impatient Spirit is never without Woe.

_Was ever any thing like this?_ Yes, Sir, there have been many things like this. The Loss is but a Trifle, but your Temper is Wanton, and incapable of the least Pain; therefore let me advise you, be patient, the Book is lost, but do not you for that Reason lose your self.

T.

[Footnote 1: Lord Somers.]

No. 439. Thursday, July 24, 1712. Addison.