The following Part of the Paragraph is so much to my Advantage, and
beyond any thing I can pretend to, that I hope my Reader will excuse me
for not inserting it.
L.
Swift.
In his
Principia
, published 1687, Newton says this
to show that the nuclei of Comets must consist of solid matter.
a
a whole
Contents
|
Wednesday, June 27, 1711 |
Addison |
... Lusus animo debent aliquando dari,
Ad cogitandum melior ut redeat sibi.
Phædr.
translation
I do not know whether to call the following Letter a Satyr upon Coquets,
or a Representation of their several fantastical Accomplishments, or
what other Title to give it; but as it is I shall communicate it to the
Publick. It will sufficiently explain its own Intentions, so that I
shall give it my Reader at Length, without either Preface or Postscript.
Mr. Spectator,
'Women 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 Weapon 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
practis'd 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.
Discharge your Fans,
Ground your Fans,
Recover your Fans,
Flutter your Fans.
By the right Observation of these few plain Words of Command, a Woman
of a tolerable Genius,
who1 will apply herself diligently to her
Exercise for the Space of but one half Year, shall 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
are2 comprehended several little Flirts and Vibrations, as also
gradual and deliberate Openings, with many voluntary Fallings asunder
in the Fan itself, that are seldom learned under a Month's Practice.
This Part of the
Exercise pleases the Spectators more than any
other, as it discovers on a sudden an infinite Number of
Cupids,
Garlands, Altars, Birds, Beasts, Rainbows, and the
like agreeable Figures, that display themselves to View, whilst every
one in the Regiment holds a Picture in her Hand.
Upon my giving the Word to
discharge their Fans, they give one
general Crack that may be heard at a considerable distance when the
Wind sits fair. This is one of the most difficult Parts of the
Exercise; but I have several 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 such 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 Occasions) to shew upon what Subject the
Crack of a Fan may come in properly: I have likewise invented a Fan,
with which a Girl of Sixteen, by the help of a little Wind which is
inclosed about one of the largest Sticks, can make as loud a Crack as
a Woman of Fifty with an ordinary Fan.
When the Fans are thus
discharged, the Word of Command in
course is to
ground their Fans. This teaches a Lady to quit her
Fan gracefully when she throws it aside in order to take up a Pack of
Cards, adjust a Curl of Hair, replace a falling Pin, or apply her self
to any other Matter of Importance. This Part of the
Exercise,
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 sudden (like Ladies that look
upon their Watches after a long Visit) they all of them hasten 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
Exercise is not difficult, provided a Woman applies
her Thoughts to it.
The
Fluttering of the Fan is the last, and indeed the
Master-piece of the whole
Exercise; but if a Lady does not
mis-spend her Time, she may make herself Mistress of it in three
Months. I generally lay aside the Dog-days and the hot Time of the
Summer for the teaching this Part of the
Exercise; for as soon
as ever I pronounce
Flutter your Fans, the Place is fill'd with
so many Zephyrs and gentle Breezes as are very refreshing in that
Season of the Year, tho' they might be dangerous to Ladies of a tender
Constitution 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 modest
Flutter, the timorous Flutter, the confused Flutter, the merry
Flutter, and the amorous Flutter.
Not to be tedious, there is scarce
any Emotion in the Mind
which3 does not produce a suitable
Agitation in the Fan; insomuch, that if I only see the Fan of a
disciplin'd Lady, I know very well whether she laughs, frowns, or
blushes. I have seen a Fan so very angry, that it would have been
dangerous for the absent Lover
who3 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 sake the Lover was at a sufficient
Distance from it. I need not add, that a Fan is either a Prude or
Coquet according to the Nature of the Person
who3 bears it. To
conclude my Letter, I must acquaint you that I have from my own
Observations compiled a little Treatise for the use of my Scholars,
entitled
The Passions of the Fan; which I will communicate to
you, if you think it may be of use to the Publick. I shall have a
general Review on
Thursday next; to which you shall be very
welcome if you will honour it with your Presence.
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.'
L.
that
is
that
Contents
|
Thursday, June 28, 1711 |
Steele |
... Sibi quivis
Speret idem frusta sudet frustraque laboret
Ausus idem ...
Hor.
translation
My Friend the Divine having been used with Words of Complaisance (which
he thinks could be properly applied to no one living, and I think could
be only spoken of him, and that in his Absence) was so extreamly
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 Society since
its Commencement. Every one was pleased with his Conclusion; and as each
knew his good Will to the rest, 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 Prostitution of
Speech, seldom intended to mean Any Part of what they express, never to
mean All they express.
Reverend Friend, upon this Topick, pointed to
us two or three Paragraphs on this Subject in the first Sermon of the
first Volume of the late Arch-Bishop's Posthumous Works
. I do not
know that I ever read any thing that pleased me more, and as it is the
Praise of
Longinus
, that he Speaks of the Sublime in a Style
suitable to it, so one may say of this Author upon Sincerity, that he
abhors any Pomp of Rhetorick on this Occasion, and treats it with a more
than ordinary Simplicity, 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 Profession, a Fault, which by the least Liberty and Warmth
of Expression would be the most lively Wit and Satyr? But his Heart was
better disposed, and the good Man chastised the great Wit in such 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
Sincerity in Conversation is none of the least. The World is grown so
full of Dissimulation and Compliment, that Mens Words are hardly any
Signification of their Thoughts; and if any Man measure his Words by
his Heart, and speak as he thinks, and do not express more Kindness to
every Man, than Men usually have for any Man, he can hardly escape the
Censure of want of Breeding. The old English Plainness and
Sincerity, that generous Integrity of Nature, and Honesty of
Disposition, which always argues true Greatness of Mind and is usually
accompanied with undaunted Courage and Resolution, is in a great
measure lost amongst us: There hath been a long Endeavour to transform
us into Foreign Manners and Fashions, and to bring us to a servile
Imitation 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
swelled with Vanity and Compliment, and so surfeited (as I may say) of
Expressions of Kindness and Respect, that if a Man that lived an Age
or two ago should return into the World again he would really want a
Dictionary to help him to understand his own Language, and to know the
true intrinsick Value of the Phrase in Fashion, and would hardly at
first believe at what a low Rate the highest Strains and Expressions
of Kindness imaginable do commonly pass in current Payment; and when
he should come to understand it, it would be a great while before he
could bring himself with a good Countenance and a good Conscience to
converse with Men upon equal 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 solemn Expressions of Respect and
Kindness will pass between Men, almost upon no Occasion; how great
Honour and Esteem they will declare for one whom perhaps they never
saw before, and how entirely they are all on the sudden devoted to his
Service and Interest, for no Reason; how infinitely and eternally
obliged to him, for no Benefit; and how extreamly they will be
concerned for him, yea and afflicted too, for no Cause. I know it is
said, in Justification of this hollow kind of Conversation, that there
is no Harm, no real Deceit in Compliment, but the Matter is well
enough, so long as we understand one another; et Verba valent ut
Nummi: Words are like Money; and when the current Value of them is
generally understood, no Man is cheated by them. This is something, if
such Words were any thing; but being brought into the Account, they
are meer Cyphers. However, it is still a just Matter of Complaint,
that Sincerity and Plainness are out of Fashion, and that our Language
is running into a Lie; that Men have almost quite perverted the use of
Speech, and made Words to signifie nothing, that the greatest part of
the Conversation of Mankind is little else but driving a Trade of
Dissimulation; insomuch that it would make a Man heartily sick and
weary of the World, to see the little Sincerity 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 sure Sincerity is
better: for why does any Man dissemble, or seem 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 some real Excellency. Now the best way in the World to
seem 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
Pretence of a good Quality, as to have it; and if a Man have it not,
it is ten to one but he is discovered to want it; and then all his
Pains and Labour to seem to have it, is lost.
In another Part of the same Discourse he goes on to shew, that all
Artifice must naturally tend to the Disappointment of him that practises
it.
'Whatsoever Convenience may be thought to be in Falshood and
Dissimulation, it is soon over; but the Inconvenience of it is
perpetual, because it brings a Man under an everlasting Jealousie and
Suspicion, so that he is not believed when he speaks Truth, nor
trusted when perhaps he means honestly. When a Man hath once forfeited
the Reputation of his Integrity, he is set fast, and nothing will then
serve his Turn, neither Truth nor Falshood.'
R.
This sermon
on Sincerity,
from John i. 47, is the last
Tillotson preached. He preached it in 1694, on the 29th of July, and
died, in that year, on the 24th of November, at the age of 64. John
Tillotson was the son of a Yorkshire clothier, and was made Archbishop
of Canterbury in 1691, on the deprivation of William Sancroft for his
refusal to take the oaths to William and Mary.
Contents
|
Friday, June 29, 1711 |
Steele |
... Qualis equos Threissa fatigat
Harpalyce ...
Virg.
translation
It would be a noble Improvement, or rather a Recovery of what we call
good Breeding, if nothing were to pass amongst us for agreeable which
was the least Transgression against that Rule of Life called Decorum, or
a Regard to Decency. This would command the Respect of Mankind, because
it carries in it Deference to their good Opinion, as Humility lodged in
a worthy Mind is always attended with a certain Homage, which no haughty
Soul, 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 Beauty of Body, with an agreeable
Carriage, pleases the Eye, and that Pleasure consists in that we observe
all the Parts with a certain Elegance are proportioned to each other; so
does Decency of Behaviour which appears in our Lives obtain the
Approbation of all with whom we converse, from the Order, Consistency,
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 shew you arrogant
but abandoned. In all these Considerations we are to distinguish 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 Moralist above-mentioned 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
transgressed among all Orders of Men; nay, the very Women, tho'
themselves created 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 her self as a Sister, 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 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, some
of whom one meets in an Evening at every Outlet of the Town, would take
this Subject into their serious Consideration;
order thereunto the
following Letter may not be wholly unworthy their Perusal
.
Mr. Spectator,
'Going lately to take the Air in one of the most beautiful Evenings
this Season has produced, as I was admiring the Serenity of the Sky,
the lively Colours of the Fields, and the Variety of the Landskip
every Way around me, my Eyes were suddenly called off from these
inanimate Objects by a little party of Horsemen I saw passing the
Road. The greater Part of them escaped my particular Observation, by
reason that my whole Attention was fixed on a very fair Youth who rode
in the midst of them, and seemed 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 curl'd and powder'd, hung to a considerable
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 Wastecoat of blue Camlet trimm'd and
embroidered with Silver; a Cravat of the finest Lace; and wore, in a
smart Cock, a little Beaver Hat edged with Silver, and made more
sprightly by a Feather. His Horse too, which was a Pacer, was adorned
after the same airy Manner, and seemed to share in the Vanity of the
Rider. As I was pitying the Luxury of this young Person, who appeared
to me to have been educated only as an Object of Sight, I perceived on
my nearer Approach, and as I turned my Eyes downward, a Part of the
Equipage I had not observed before, which was a Petticoat of the same
with the Coat and Wastecoat. After this Discovery, 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 strengthened into as improper a Boldness; and tho' her Eyes
Nose and Mouth seemed to be formed with perfect Symmetry, I am not
certain whether she, who in Appearance was a very handsome Youth, may
not be in Reality a very indifferent Woman.
There is an Objection which naturally presents it self against these
occasional Perplexities and Mixtures of Dress, which is, that they
seem to break in upon that Propriety and Distinction of Appearance in
which the Beauty of different Characters is preserved; and if they
should be more frequent than they are at present, would look like
turning our publick 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 expresses the
Gaiety of a People who are taught to do any thing so it be with an
Assurance; but I cannot help thinking it sits awkwardly yet on our
English Modesty. The Petticoat is a kind of Incumbrance upon
it, and if the Amazons should think fit to go on in this
Plunder of our Sex's Ornaments, they ought to add to their Spoils, and
compleat their Triumph over us, by wearing the Breeches.
If it be natural to contract insensibly the Manners of those we
imitate, the Ladies who are pleased with assuming our Dresses will do
us more Honour than we deserve, but they will do it at their own
Expence. Why should the lovely Camilla deceive us in more
Shapes than her own, and affect to be represented in her Picture with
a Gun and a Spaniel, while her elder Brother, the Heir of a worthy
Family, is drawn in Silks like his Sister? The Dress and Air of a Man
are not well to be divided; and those who would not be content with
the Latter, ought never to think of assuming the Former. There is so
large a portion of natural Agreeableness among the Fair Sex of our
Island, that they seem betrayed into these romantick Habits without
having the same Occasion for them with their Inventors: All that needs
to be desired of them is, that they would be themselves, that
is, what Nature designed them; and to see their Mistake when they
depart from this, let them look upon a Man who affects the Softness
and Effeminacy of a Woman, to learn how their Sex must appear to us,
when approaching to the Resemblance of a Man.
I am, Sir,
Your most humble Servant.
T.
The letter is by John Hughes.
Contents
|
Saturday, June 30, 1711 |
Addison |
... Id arbitror
Adprime in vita esse utile, ne quid nimis.
Ter. And.
translation
My Friend
Will. Honeycomb
values himself very much upon what he calls
the Knowledge of Mankind, which has cost him many Disasters 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 Constables, disturbed honest People with his
Midnight Serenades, 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.
ingenuously confesses, 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 Scholar, a Bookish Man, or a Philosopher.
For these Reasons
Will.
shines in mixt Company, where he has the
Discretion not to go out of his Depth, and has often a certain way of
making his real Ignorance appear a seeming one. Our Club however has
frequently caught him tripping, at which times they never spare him.
as
Will.
often insults us with the Knowledge of the Town, we sometimes
take our Revenge upon him by our Knowledge
of
Books.
He was last Week producing two or three Letters which he writ in his
Youth to a Coquet Lady. The Raillery of them was natural, and well
enough for a mere Man of the Town; but, very unluckily, several of the
Words were wrong spelt.
Will.
laught this off at first as well as he
could; but finding himself pushed on all sides, and especially by the
Templar
, he told us, with a little Passion, that he never liked
Pedantry in Spelling, and that he spelt like a Gentleman, and not like a
Scholar: Upon this
Will.
had recourse to his old Topick of shewing the
narrow-Spiritedness, the Pride, and Ignorance of Pedants; which he
carried so far, that upon my retiring to my Lodgings, I could not
forbear throwing together such Reflections as occurred to me upon that
Subject.
Man
who
has been brought up among Books, and is able to talk of
nothing else, is a very indifferent Companion, and what we call a
Pedant. But, methinks, we should enlarge the Title, and give it every
one that does not know how to think out of his Profession and particular
way of Life.
What is a greater Pedant than a meer Man of the Town? Bar him the
Play-houses, a Catalogue of the reigning Beauties, and an Account of a
few fashionable Distempers that have befallen him, and you strike him
dumb. How many a pretty Gentleman's Knowledge lies all within the Verge
of the Court? He will tell you the Names of the principal Favourites,
repeat the shrewd Sayings of a Man of Quality, whisper an Intreague that
is not yet blown upon by common Fame; or, if the Sphere of his
Observations is a little larger than ordinary, will perhaps enter into
all the Incidents, Turns, and Revolutions in a Game of Ombre. When he
has gone thus far he has shown you the whole Circle of his
Accomplishments, his Parts are drained, and he is disabled from any
further Conversation.
are these but rank Pedants? and yet these are
the Men
who
value themselves most on their Exemption from the
Pedantry of Colleges.
I might here mention the Military Pedant who always talks in a Camp, and
is storming Towns, making Lodgments and fighting Battles from one end of
the Year to the other. Every thing he speaks smells of Gunpowder; if you
take away his Artillery from him, he has not a Word to say for himself.
I might likewise mention the Law-Pedant, that is perpetually putting
Cases, repeating the Transactions of
Westminster-Hall
, wrangling
with you upon the most indifferent Circumstances of Life, and not to be
convinced of the Distance of a Place, or of the most trivial Point in
Conversation, but by dint of Argument. The State-Pedant is wrapt up in
News, and lost in Politicks. If you mention either of the Kings of
Spain
or
Poland
, he talks very notably; but if you go out
of the
Gazette
, you drop him. In short, a meer Courtier, a meer
Soldier, a meer Scholar, a meer any thing, is an insipid Pedantick
Character, and equally ridiculous.
all the Species of Pedants, which I have
mentioned
, the
Book-Pedant is much the most supportable; he has at least an exercised
Understanding, and a Head which is full though confused, so that a Man
who converses with him may often receive from him hints of things that
are worth knowing, and what he may possibly turn to his own Advantage,
tho' they are of little Use to the Owner. The worst kind of Pedants
among Learned Men, are such as are naturally endued with a very small
Share of common Sense, and have read a great number of Books without
Taste or Distinction.
The Truth of it is, Learning, like Travelling, and all other Methods of
Improvement, as it finishes good Sense, so it makes a silly Man ten
thousand times more insufferable, by supplying variety of Matter to his
Impertinence, and giving him an Opportunity of abounding in Absurdities.
Shallow Pedants cry up one another much more than Men of solid and
useful Learning. To read the Titles they give an Editor, or Collator of
a Manuscript, you would take him for the Glory of the Commonwealth of
Letters, and the Wonder of his Age, when perhaps upon Examination you
find that he has only Rectify'd a
Greek
Particle, or laid out a
whole Sentence in proper Commas.
They are obliged indeed to be thus lavish of their Praises, that they
may keep one another in Countenance; and it is no wonder if a great deal
of Knowledge, which is not capable of making a Man wise, has a natural
Tendency to make him Vain and Arrogant.
L.