ter. forrow and indignation, than mirth and laughAt the fame time I allow it to be nature, but it is nature in its utmost corruption and degeneracy. N° 66. WEDNESDAY, MAY 16. Motus doceri gaudet Ionicos Jam nunc, & incestos amores De tenero meditatur ungui. R HOR. Od. III. vi. 21. Behold a ripe and melting maid Bound 'prentice to the wanton trade: Ionian artifts, at a mighty price, T clay. HE two following letters are upon a fub- pressed without any air of gravity. ، I SIR, To the Spectator. TAKE the freedom of afking your advice in behalf of a young country kinswoman of • mine who is lately come to town, and under my care for her education. She is very pretty, * but you can't imagine how unformed a creature it is. She comes to my hands just as nature left her, half finished, and without any acquired improvements. When I look on her I ' often think of the Belle Sauvage mentioned in one of your papers. Dear Mr. Spectator, help ' me to make her comprehend the visible graces ⚫ of speech, and the dumb eloquence of motion; ⚫ for the is at present a perfect stranger to both. • She knows no way to express herself but by her tongue, and that always to fignify her meaning. Her eyes serve her yet only to fee with, and she is utterly a foreigner to the language ⚫ of looks and glances. In this I fancy you could help her better than any body. I have bestowed two months in teaching her to figh when she is not concerned, and to smile when • she is not pleased; and am ashamed to own the ⚫ makes little or no improvement. Then she is no more able now to walk, than she was to go at a year old. By walking you will easily know I mean that regular but easy motion, which gives our persons so irrififtible a grace as if we • moved to music, and is a kind of difengaged • figure, or, if I may so speak, recitative dancing. But the want of this I cannot blame in ، 6 'SIR, B EING employed by Celimene to make up and fend to you her letter, I make bold to ' recommend the cafe therein mentioned to your confideration, because she and I happen to differ a little in our notions. I, who am a rough. man, am afraid the young girl is in a fair way ' to be spoiled; therefore pray, Mr. Spectator, let ' us have your opinion of this fine thing called Fine-Breeding; for I am afraid it differs too much from that plain thing called Good• Breeding. • Your most humble fervant." The general mistake among us in the educating our children, is, that in our daughters we take care of their persons and neglect their minds; in our fons, we are so intent upon adorning their minds, that we wholly neglect their bodies. It is from this that you shall fee a young lady celebrated and admired in all the affemblies abouť town, when her elder brother is afraid to come into a room. From this ill management it arifes that we frequently observe a man's life is half spent before he is taken notice of; and a woman in the prime of her years is out of fashion and neglected. The boy I shall confider upon fome other occafion, and at present stick to the girl, and I am the more inclined to this, because I have several letters which complain to me that my female readers have not understood me fome days last past, and take themselves to be unconcerned in the present turn of my writings. Whern a girl is fafely brought from her nurse, before the is capable of forming one fimple notion of any thing in life, she is delivered to the hands of her dancing-master; and with a collar round her neck, the pretty wild thing is taught a fantastical gravity of behaviour, and forced to a parti cular way of holding her head, heaving her breaft, and moving with her whole body; and all this under pain of never having an husband, if the steps, looks, or moves awry. This gives the young lady wonderful workings of imagination, what is to pass between her and this husband that she is every moment told of, and for whom the seems to be educated. Thus her fancy is engaged. to turn all her endeavours to the ornament of her person, as what must determine her good and ill in this life; and the naturally thinks, if she is tall enough, the is wife enough for any thing for which her education makes her think the is designed. To make her an agreeable person is the main purpose of her parents; to that is all their. costs, to that is all their care directed: and from this general folly of parents we owe our present numerous race of coquettes. These re her, for I find the has no ear, and means no-flections puzzle me, when I think of giving my thing by walking but to change her place. I could pardon too her blufhing, if she knew how to carry herself in it, and if it did not manifestly injure her complexion. They tell me you are a perfon who have seen the world, and are a judge of fine-breeding; ' which makes me ambitious of some instructions from you for her improvement; which when you have favoured me with, shall fur'ther advise with you about the disposal of this • fair forester in marriage; for I will make it no fecret to you, that her person and education are to be her fortune. I am, Sir, • Celimene. advice on the fubject of managing the wild thing mentioned in the letter of my correspondent. But fure there is a middle way to be followed; the management of a young lady's person is not to be over-looked, but the erudition of her mind is much more to be regarded. According as this is managed, you will fee the mind follow the appetites of the body, or the body express the virtues of the mind. Cleomira dances with all the elegance of motion imaginable; but her eyes are so chaftifed with the fimplicity and innocente of her thoughts, that the raises in her beholders admiration and good will; but no loose hope or wild imagination, L UCIAN, in one of his dialogues, introduces a philosopher chiding his friend for his being a lover of dancing, and a frequenter of balls. The other undertakes the defence of his favourite diversion, which, he says, was at first invented by the goddess Rhea, and preserved the life of Jupiter himself, from the cruelty of his father Saturn. He proceeds to shew, that it had been approved by the greatest men in all ages; that Homer calls Merion a Fine Dancer; and says, that the graceful mien and great agility which he had acquired by that exercise, diftinguished him above the rest in the armies, both of Greeks and Trojans. He adds, that Pyrrhus gained more reputation by inventing the dance which is called after his name, than by all his other actions: that the Lacedæmonians, who were the bravest people in Greece, gave great encouragement to this diverfion, and made their Hormus, a dance much resembling the French Brawl, famous over all Afia: that there were still extant fome Theffalian statues erected to the honour of their best dancers: and that he wondered how his brother philosopher could declare himself against the opinions of those two persons, whom he professed so much to admire, Homer and Hefiod; the latter of which compares valour and dancing together; and says, That the gods have bestowed • fortitude on some men, and on others a difposition for dancing.' Lastly, he puts him in mind that Socrates, who, in the judgment of Apollo, was the wisest of men, was not only a professed admirer of this exercise in others, but learned it himself when he was an old man. The morose philosopher is so much affected by these, and fome other authorities, that he becomes a convert to his friend, and defires he would take him with him when he went to his next ball. I love to shelter myself under the examples of great men; and I think, I have sufficiently shewed that it is not below the dignity of these my speculations to take notice of the following letter, which, I suppose, is sent me by fome substantial tradesman about Change. 'SIR, I AM a man in years, and by an honest industry in the world have acquired enough ⚫ to give my children a liberal education, though I was an utter stranger to it myself. My eld'est daughter, a girl of fixteen, has for fome ' time been under the tuition of Monfieur Ri'gadoon, a dancing-master in the city; and I • was prevailed upon by her and her mother to go last night to one of his balls. I must own ' to you, Sir, that having never been at any fuch place before, I was very much pleased and furprised with that part of his entertainment which ⚫ he called French Dancing. There were several young men and women, whose limbs seemed ' to have no other motion, but purely what the ' music gave them. After this part was over, they began a diversion which they call Country-Dancing, and wherein there were also some * things not disagreeable, and divers Emblematical Figures, composed, as I guess, by wife ' men, for the instruction of youth. ' Among the rest, I observed one, which, I ' think, they call Hunt the Squirrel, in which ' while the woman flies the man pursues her; but as foon as she turns, he runs away, and ' she is obliged to follow. The moral of this dance does, I think, very ' aptly recommend modesty and difcretion to the 'female sex. 6 But as the best institutions are liable to cor'ruptions, so, Sir, I must acquaint you, that very great abuses are crept into this entertain'ment. I was amazed to see my girl handed by, ' and handing, young fellows with so much familiarity; and I could not have thought it had been in the child. They very often made use ' of a most impudent and lascivious rep called Setting, which I know not how to describe to you, but by telling you that it is the very reverse of back to back. At last an impudent young dog ' bid the fiddlers play a dance called Moll Pately, and after having made two or three capers, ran to his partner, locked his arms in hers, ' and whisked her round cleverly above ground ' in such a manner, that I, who fat upon one of the lowest benches, faw further above her shoe ' than I can think fit to acquaint you with. I ' could no longer endure these enormities; wherefore, just as my girl was going to be made a whirligig, I ran in, seized on the child, and 'carried her home. I must confefs I am afraid that my correfpondent had too much reason to be a little out of humour at the treatment of his daughter; but I conclude that he would have been much more so, had he seen one of those kiffing dances in which Will. Honeycomb affures me they are obliged to dwell almost a minute on the fair one's lips, or they will be too quick for the music, and dance quite out of time. I am not able however to give my final sentence against this diverfion; and am of Mr. Cowley's opinion, that so much of dar dancing, at least, as belongs to the behaviour and an handsome carriage of the body, is extremely useful, if not absolutely necessary. We generally form fuch ideas of people at first fight, as we are hardly ever perfuaded to lay aside afterwards: for this reason, a man would wish to have nothing difagreeable or uncomely in his approaches, and to be able to enter a room with a good grace. I might add, that a moderate knowledge in the little rules of good-breeding gives a man fome affurance, and makes him easy in all companies. M Fe For want of this, I have seen a profeffor of a liberal science at a loss to falute a lady; and a most excellent mathematician not able to determine whether he could itand or fit while my lord drank to him. It is the proper business of a dancing master to regulate these matters; though I take it to be a just observation, that unless you add fomething of your own to what these fine gentlemen teach you, and which they are wholly ignorant of themfelves, you will much fooner get the character of an affected fop, than of a well bred man, As for Country-Dancing, it must indeed be confeffed that the great familiarities between the two fexes on this occafion may fometimes produce very dangerous confequences; and I have often thought that few ladies hearts are fo obdurate as not to be melted by the charms of music, the force of motion, and an handfome young fellow who is continually playing before their eyes, and convincing then that he has the perfect use of all his limbs. Bur as this kind of dance is the particular in vention of our own country, and as every one is more or less a proficient in it, I would not difcountenanceit; butrather fuppofe it may be practifed innocently by others, as well as myself who am often partner to my landlady's eldest daugh SIR, A May 16, 1711, S you are a Spectator, I think we, who make it our business to exhibit any thing to public view, ought to apply ourfulves to you for your approbation. I have travelled Europe, • to furnish out a show for you, and have brought ' with me what has been admired in every country through which I paffed. You have declared in many papers, that your greatest delights are thofe of the eye, which 1 do not doubt but I shall gratify with as beautiful objects as yours ever beheld. If castles, forefts, ruins fine women, and graceful men, can please you. I dare promife you much fatisfaction, if you will appear at my auction on Friday next. A fight is, I fuppofe, as grateful to a Spectator, as a treat to another perfon, and therefore I hope you will pardon this invitation from, X SIR, Your most obedient humble fervant, N°. 68. FRIDAY, MAY 18. in discourse; but, instead of this, we find that conversation is never fo much straitned and confined as in numerous assemblies. When a multitude meet together upon any subject of discourse, their debates are taken up chiefly with forms and general positions; nay, if we come into a more contracted assembly of men and women, the talk generally runs upon the weather, fashion, news, and the like public topics. In proportion as conversation gets into clubs and knots of friends, it descends into particulars, and grows more free and communicative: but the most open, instructive, and unreferved difcourse, is that which passes between two perfons who are familiar and intimate friends. On these occafions, a man gives a loofe to every paffion and every thought that is uppermoft, discovers his moft retired opinions of perfons and things, tries the beauty and strength of his fentiments, and exposes his whole foul to the examination of his friend. Tully was the first who observed, that friendship improves happiness and abates misery, by the doubling of our joy and dividing our grief; a thought in which he hath been followed by all the effayers upon friendship, that have written fince his time. Sir Francis Bacon has finely defcribed other advantages, or, as he calls them, fruits of friendship; and indeed there is no fubject of morality which has been better handled and more exhausted than this. Among the several fine things which have been spoken of it, I shall beg leave to quote some out of a very ancient author, whose book would be regarded by our modern wits as one of the most shining tracts of morality that is extant, if it appeared under the name of a Confucius, or of any celebrated Grecian philosopher; I mean the little apocryphal treatise entitled, The wisdom of the Son of Sirach. How finely as he defcribed the art of making friends, by an obliging and affable behaviour; and laid down that precept which a late excellent author has delivered as his own, 'That we should have ' many well-wishers, but few friends?' 'Sweet language will multiply friends; and a fairspeaking tongue will increase kind greetings. 'Be in peace with many, nevertheless have but ' one counsellor of a thousand.' With what prudence does he caution us in the choice of our friends; and with what strokes of nature, I could almost say of humour, has he described the behaviour of a treacherous and felf-interefted friend? 'If thou wouldst get a friend, prove him first, and be not hafty to credit him for fome man ' is a friend for his own occafion, and will not 'abide in the day of thy trouble. And there is a friend, who being turned to emnity and strife will discover thy reproach.' Again, 'Some 'friend is a companion at the table, and will not 'continuein the day of thy affliction: butin thy profperity he will be as thyself, and will be bold over thy fervants. If thou be brought low he will be against thee, and hide himself from thy face. What can be more strong and pointed than the following verse? Separate thyself from thine enemies, and take heed of thy friends.' In the next words he particularizes one of those fruits of friendship, which is described at length • Nos duo turba fumus - OVID. Met. i. 355. by the two famous authors above-mentioned, and "We two are a multitude, NE would think that the larger the company is in which we are engaged, the greater variety of thoughts and fubjects would be started falls into a general elogium of friendship, which is very just as well as very fublime. A faithful 'friend is a strong defence; and he that hath found fuch an one, hath found a treasure. Nothing doth countervail a faithful friend, and his excellency is unvaluable. A faithful friend is the medicine of life; and they that fear the Lord shall find him. Whoso feareth the Lord shall direct his friendship aright; for as he is, ' so shall his neighbour, that is, his friend, be ' also.' I do not remember to have met with any saying that has pleased me more than that of a friend's being the medicine of life, to express the efficacy of friendship in healing the pains and anguish which naturally cleave to our existence in this world; and am wonderfully pleased with the turn in the last sentence, That a virtuous man shall as a blessing meet with a friend who is as virtuous as himself. There is another faying in the same author, which would have been very much admired in an heathen writer; Forfake not an old friend, for the new * is not comparable to him a new friend is as new wine: when it is old thou shalt drink it with pleasure.' With what strength of allu. fion, and force of thought, has he defcribed the breaches and violations of friendship? Whoo casteth a stone at the birds, frayeth them away; and he that upbraideth his friend, breaketh 'friendship. Though thou drawest a fword at a friend, yet despair not; for there may be a reconciliation; except for upbraiding, or pride, ⚫ or difclofing of fecrets, or a treacherous wound; for, for these things every friend will depart.' We may observe in this, and several other precepts in this author, those little familiar instances and illustrations which are so much admired in the moral writings of Horace and Epictetus. There are very beautiful instances of this nature in the following passages, which are likewife written upon the same subject: Whoso difcovereth fecrets, loseth his credit, and shall never 'find a friend to his mind. Love thy friend, ' and be faithful unto him; but if thou bewray'est his fecrets, follow no more after him: for as a man hath destroyed his enemy, fo haft thou loft the love of thy friend; as one that 'letteth a bird go out of his hand, fo hast thou ' let thy friend go, and shalt not get him again; < follow after him no more, for he is too far off; he is as a roe escaped out of the snare. As for ' a wound, it may be bound up, and after reviling there may be reconciliation; but he that bewrayeth fecrets, is without hope.' In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow, There is no living with thee, nor without thee. vicinitudes of humour is fometimes amiable and fometimes odious: and as most men are at fome times in an admirable frame and difpofition of mind, it should be one of the greatest tasks of wisdom to keep ourselves well when we are fo, and never to go out of that which is the agreeable part of our character. No 69. SATURDAY, MAY 19. Hic fegetes, illic veniunt feliciùs uva; At Chalybes nudi ferrum, virosaque pontus VIRG. Georg. i. 54. Caftorea, Eliadum palmas Epirus equarum? T DRYDEN. HERE is no place in town which I fo much love to frequent as the Royal-Exchange. It gives me a secret fatisfaction, and, in fome measure, gratifies my vanity, as I am an Englisaman, to fee so rich an assembly of country-men and foreigners consulting together upon the privete business of mankind, and making this metropolis a kind of Emporium for the whole earth. I must confess I look upon High-Change to be a great council, in which all confiderable nations have their representatives. Factors in the trading world are what ambassadors are in the politic world; they negotiate affairs, conclude treaties, and maintain a good correspondence between those wealthy focieties of men that are divided from one another by seas and oceans, or live on the different extremities of a continent. I have often been pleased to hear difputes adjusted between an inhabitant of Japan and an alderman of London, or to see a fubject of the Great Mogul entering into a league with one of the Czar of Muscovy. I am infinitely delighted in mixing with these several minifters of commerce, as they are distinguismed by the different walks and different languages: sometimes I am justled among a body of Arminians: fometimes I am lost in a crowd of Jews; and sometimes make one in a groupe of Dutchmen. I am a Dane, Swede, or Frenchman, at different times; Difficilis, facilis, jucundus, acerbus es idem, or rather fancy myself like the old philosopher, Nec tecum poffum vivere, nec fine te. who, upon being asked what countryman he was, Epig. xii, 47, replied, that he was a citizen of the world. Among the several qualifications of a good friend, this wise man has very justly fingled out conftancy and faithfulness as the principal: to these, others have added virtue, knowledge, difcretion, equality in age and fortune, and as Cicero calls it, Morum Comitas, 'a pleasantness of 'temper. If I were to give my opinion upon such an exhaufsted subject, I should join to these other qualifications, a certain equability or evenness of behaviour. A man often contracts a friendship with one whom perhaps he does not find out till after a year's conversation; when on a sudden fome latent ill humour breaks out upon him, which he never discovered or fufpect ed at his first entering into an intimacy with him. There are several persons who in fome certain periods of their lives are inexpressibly agreeable, and in others as odious and deteftable. Martial has given us a very pretty picture of one of this species in the following epigram: M2 Though : 1 Though I very frequently visit this busy multitude of people, I am known to nobody there but my friend Sir Andrew, who often smiles upon me as he fees me bustling in the crowd, but at the fame time connives at my presence without taking any further notice of me. There is indeed a merchant of Egypt, who just knows me by fight, having formerly remitted me some money to Grand Cairo; but as I am not versed in the modern Coptic, our conferences go no further than a bow and a grimace. This grand scene of busmess gives me an infinite variety of folid and substantial entertainments. As I am a great lover of mankind, my heart naturally overflows with pleasure at the fight of a prosperous and happy multitude, infomuch that at many public folemnities I cannot forbear expreffing my joy with tears that have stolen down my cheeks. For this reason I am wonderfully delighted to fee fuch a body of men thriving in their own private fortunes, and at the same time promoting the public stock; or, in other words, raising estates for their own families, by bringing into their country whatever is wanting, and carrying out of it whatever is superfluous. Nature seems to have taken a particular care to disseminate her blessings among the different regions of the world, with an eye to this mutual intercourse and traffic among mankind, that the natives of the several parts of the globe might have a kind of dependence upon one another, and be united together by their common interest. Almost every degree produces something peculiar to it. The food often grows in one country, and the fauce in another. The fruits of Portugal are corrected by the products of Barbadoes: the infufion of a China plant sweetened with the pith of an Indian cane. The Philippin islands give a flavour to our European bowls. The single dress of a woman of quality is often the product of an hundred climates. The muff and the fan come together from the different ends of the earth. The scarf is fent from the torrid zone; and the tippet from beneath the pole, The brocade pettice at rises out of the mines of Peru; and the diamond necklace out of the bowels of Indoftan. If we confider our own country in its natural I rof; ect, without any of the benefits and advant. ges of commerce, what a barren uncomfortable spot of earth falls to our share! Natural historians tell us, that no fruit grows originally among us, befides hips and haws, acorns and pig-nuts, with other delicacies of the like nature; that our climate of itself, and without the affistances of art, can make no further advances towards a plumb than to a floe, and carries an apple to no greater perfection than a crab; that our melons, our peaches, our figs, our apricots, and cherries, are strangers among us, imported in different ages, and naturalized in our English gardens; and that they would all degenerate and fall away into the trash of our own country, if they were wholly neglected by the planter, and Icft to the mercy of our fun and foil. Nor has traffic more enriched our vegetable world, than it has improved the whole face of nature among us. Our ships are laden with the harvest of every climate: our tables are stored with fpices, and oils, and wines; our rooms are filled with pyramids of China, and adorned with the workmanship of Japan: our morning's draught comes to us from the remoteft corners of the earth: we repair our bodies by the drugs of America, and repose our selves under Indian canopies. My friend Sir Andrew calls the vineyards of France our Gardens; the spice-iflands, our hot-beds; the Persians our filk-weavers, and the Chinefe our potters. Nature indeed furnishes us with the bare recessaries of life; but traffic gives us a great variety of what is useful, and at the fame time supplies us with every thing that is convenient and ornamental. Nor is it the least part of this our happiness, that whilst we enjoy the remoteft products of the north and fouth, we are free from those extremities of. weather which give them birth: that our eyes are refreshed with the green fields of Britain, at the same time that our palates are feasted with fruits that rise between the tropics. For these reasons there are not more useful members in a commonwealth than merchants. They knit mankind together in a mutual intercourse of good offices, distribute the gifts of nature, find work for the poor, and wealth to the rich, and magnificence to the great. Our English. merchant converts the tin of his own country into gold, and exchanges his wool for rubies. The Mahometans are cloathed in our British manufacture; and the inhabitants of the frozen zone. warmed with the fleeces of our sheep. When I have been upon the 'Change, I have often fancied one of our kings standing in person, where he is represented in effigy, and looking down upon the wealthy concourse of people with which that place is every day filled. In this cafe, how would he be surprised to hear all the languages of Europe spoken in this little spot of his former dominions, and to see so many private. men, who in his time would have been the vassals of some powerful baron, negotiating like princes for greater sums of money than were formerly to be met with in the Royal Treasury! Trade, without enlarging the British territories, has given us a kind of additional empire: it has multiply'd the number of the rich, made our landed estates infinitely more valuable than they were formerly, and added to them an accession of other eftates as va luable as the lands themselves. Interdum vulgus rectum videt. are come from father to son, and are most in vogue among the common people of the countries thro' which I paffed; for it is impossible that any thing should be universally tasted and approved by a. multitude, though they are only the rabble of a nation, which hath not in it fome peculiar aptness to please and gratify the mind of man. Human nature is the same in all reasonable creatures; and whatever falls in with it, will meet with admirers amongst readers of all qualities and conditions. Moliere, we are told by Monfieur Boileau, used to read all his comedies to an old woman, who was his house-keeper, as she sat with him at her work by the chimney-corner; and could foretel the fuccess of his play in the theatre, from the reception it met at his fire fide: for he tells us the audience always followed the old woman, and never failed to laugh in the fame place. I know nothing which more shews the essential and inherent perfection of fimplicity of thought |