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to avoid the persons he speaks of, that I been very much towards intrigue and havshall insert his letter at length.

over. I went from her full of pleasure at the reflection that I had the keeping of so much beauty in a woman, who, as she was too heedless to please me, was also too unattentive to form a design to wrong me. Long did I divert every hour that hung heavy upon me in the company of this creature, whom I looked upon as neither guilty nor innocent, but could laugh at myself for my unaccountable pleasure in an expense upon her, until in the end it appeared my pretty insensible was with child by my footman.

ing intelligence with women of wit, my whole life has passed away in a series of 'MR. SPECTATOR,—I do not know that impositions. I shall, for the benefit of the you have ever touched upon a certain spe- present race of young men give some accies of women, whom we ordinarily call count of my loves. I know not whether jilts. You cannot possibly go upon a more you have ever heard of the famous girl useful work, than the consideration of these about town, called Kitty. This creature dangerous animals. The coquette is indeed (for I must take shame upon myself) was one degree towards the jilt; but the heart my mistress in the days when keeping was of the former is bent upon admiring herself, in fashion. Kitty, under the appearance and giving false hopes to her lovers; but of being wild, thoughtless, and irregular in the latter is not contented to be extremely all her words and actions, concealed_the amiable, but she must add to that advantage most accomplished jilt of her time. Her a certain delight in being a torment to negligence had to me a charm in it like that others. Thus when her lover is in the full of chastity, and want of desires seemed as expectation of success, the jilt shall meet great a merit as the conquest of them. The him with a sudden indifference, and admi-air she gave herself was that of a romping ration in her face at his being surprised that girl, and whenever I talked to her with any he is received like a stranger, and a cast of turn of fondness, she would immediately her head another way with a pleasant scorn snatch off my periwig, try it upon herself in of the fellow's insolence. It is very proba- the glass, clap her arms a-kimbow, draw ble the lover goes home utterly astonished my sword, and make passes on the wall, take and dejected, sits down to his 'scrutoire, off my cravat, and seize it to make some sends her word in the most abject terms other use of the lace, or run into some other that he knows not what he has done, that unaccountable rompishness, until the time all which was desirable in this life is so sud-I had appointed to pass away with her was denly vanished from him, that the charmer of his soul should withdraw the vital heat from the heart which pants for her. He continues a mournful absence for some time, pining in secret, and out of humour with all things which he meets with. At length he takes a resolution to try his fate, and explain with her resolutely upon her unacCountable carriage. He walks up to her apartment, with a thousand inquietudes, and doubts in what manner he shall meet the first cast of her eye; when, upon his first appearance, she flies towards him, wonders where he has been, accuses him This accident roused me into a disdain of his absence, and treats him with a fami- against all libertine women, under what apliarity as surprising as her former coldness. pearance soever they hid their insincerity, This good correspondence continues until and I resolved after that time to converse the lady observes the lover grows happy in with none but those who lived within the it, and then she interrupts it with some new rules of decency and honour. To this end inconsistency of behaviour. For (as I just I formed myself into a more regular turn now said) the happiness of a jilt consists of behaviour, and began to make visits, freonly in the power of making others uneasy.quent assemblies, and lead out ladies from But such is the folly of this sect of women, the theatres, with all the other insignificant that they carry on this pretty, skittish be- duties which the professed servants of the haviour, until they have no charms left to fair place themselves in constant readiness render it supportable. Corinna, that used to perform. In a very little time, (having to torment all who conversed with her with a plentiful fortune,) fathers and mothers false glances, and little heedless unguarded began to regard me as a good match, and I motions, that were to betray some inclina- found easy admittance into the best famition towards the man she would insnare, lies in town to observe their daughters; but finds at present all she attempts that way I, who was born to follow the fair to no unregarded; and is obliged to indulge the purpose, have by the force of my ill stars jilt in her constitution, by laying artificial made my application to three jilts succesplots, writing perplexing letters from un-sively. known hands, and making all the young fellows in love with her until they find out who she is. Thus, as before she gave torment by disguising her inclination, she now is obliged to do it by hiding her person.

As for my own part, Mr. Spectator, it has been my unhappy fate to be jilted from my youth upward; and as my taste has

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Hyæna is one of those who form themselves into a melancholy and indolent air, and endeavour to gain admirers from their inattention to all around them. Hyæna can loll in her coach, with something so fixed in her countenance, that it is impossible to conceive her meditation is employed only on her dress and her charms in that pos

ture. If it were not too coarse a smile, I should say, Hyæna, in the figure she affects to appear in, is a spider in the midst of a cobweb, that is sure to destroy every fly that approaches it. The net Hyæna throws is so fine, that you are taken in it before you can observe any part of her work. I attempted her for a long and weary season, but I found her passion went no farther than to be admired; and she is of that unreasonable temper, as not to value the inconstancy of her lovers, provided she can boast she once had their addresses.

Biblis was the second I aimed at, and her vanity lay in purchasing the adorers of others, and not rejoicing in their love itself. Biblis is no man's mistress, but every woman's rival. As soon as I found this, I fell in love with Chloe, who is my present pleasure and torment. I have writ to her, danced with her, and fought for her, and have been her man in the sight and expectation of the whole town these three years, and thought myself near the end of my wishes; when the other day she called me into her closet, and told me, with a very grave face, that she was a woman of honour, and scorned to deceive a man who loved her with so much sincerity as she saw I did, and therefore she must inform me that she was by nature the most inconstant creature breathing, and begged of me not to marry her: If I insisted upon it, I should; but that she was lately fallen in love with another. What to do or say I know not, Dut desire you to inform me, and you will nfinitely oblige, sir, your humble servant,

CHARLES YELLOW.'

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He is a very unhappy man who sets his heart upon being admired by the multitude, or affects a general and undistinguishing applause among men. What pious men call the testimony of a good conscience, should be the measure of our ambition in this kind; that is to say, a man of spirit should contemn the praise of the ignorant, and like being applauded for nothing but what he knows in his own heart he deserves. Be sides which, the character of the person who commends you is to be considered, before you set a value upon his esteem. The praise of an ignorant man is only good-will, and you should receive his kindness as hel

is a good neighbour in society, and not as a good judge of your actions in point of fame and reputation. The satirist said very well of popular praise and acclamations, "Give the tinkers and cobblers their presents again, and learn to live of yourself."* It is an argument of a loose and ungoverned mind to be affected with the promiscuous approbation of the generality of mankind; and a man of virtue should be too delicate for so coarse an appetite of fame. Men of honour should endeavour only to please the worthy, and the man of merit should desire to be tried only by his peers. I thought it a noble sentiment which I heard yesterday uttered in conversation: I know,' said a gentleman, a way to be greater than any man. If he has worth in him, I can rejoice in his superiority to me; and that satisfaction is a greater act of the soul in me, than any in him which can possibly appear to me.' This thought could not proceed but from a candid and generous spirit; and the approbation of such minds is what may be esteemed true praise: for with the common race of men there is nothing commendable but what they themselves may hope to be partakers of, and arrive at; but the motive truly glorious is, when the mind is set rather to do things laudable, than to purchase reputation.Where there is that sincerity as the foundation of a good name, the kind opinion of virtuous men will be an unsought, but a necessary consequence. The Lacedæmonians, though a plain people, and no pretenders to politeness, had a certain delicacy in their sense of glory, and sacrificed to the Muses when they entered upon any great enterprise. They would have the commemoration of their actions be transmitted by the purest and most untainted memorialists The din which attends victories and public triumphs, is by far less eligible than the recital of the actions of great men by honest and wise historians. It is a frivolous plea sure to be the admiration of gaping crowds; but to have the approbation of a good man in the cool reflections of his closet, is a gratification worthy an heroic spirit. The ap plause of the crowd makes the head giddy, but the attestation of a reasonable man makes the heart glad.

ral praise still more ridiculous, is, that it is
What makes the love of popular or gene-
usually given for circumstances which are
foreign to the persons admired. Thus they
riches, which may be taken out of one man's
are the ordinary attendants on power and
hands, and put into another's. The appli-
cation only, and not the possession, makes
those outward things honourable. The
vulgar and men of sense agree in admiring
would rather be possessed of; the wise man
men, for having what they themselves
applauds him whom he thinks most virtu-

-Tollat sua munera cerdo
Tecum habita.—

Pers. Sat. iv. 51.

ous, the rest of the world him who is most wealthy.

When a man is in this way of thinking, I do not know what can occur to one more monstrous, than to see persons of ingenuity address their services and performances to men no way addicted to liberal arts. In these cases, the praise on one hand, and the patronage on the other, are equally the objects of ridicule. Dedications to ignorant men are as absurd as any of the speeches of Bulfinch in the Droll. Such an address one is apt to translate into other words; and when the different parties are thoroughly considered, the panegyric generally implies no more than if the author should say to the patron; 'My very good lord, you and I can never understand one another; therefore I humbly desire we may be intimate friends for the future.'

The rich may as well ask to borrow of the poor, as the man of virtue or merit to nope for addition to his character from any but such as himself. He that commends another engages so much of his own reputation as he gives to that person commended; and he that has nothing laudable in himself is not of ability to be such a surety. The wise Phocion was so sensible how dangerous it was to be touched with what the multitude approved, that upon a general acclamation made when he was making an oration, he turned to an intelligent friend who stood near him, and asked in a surprised manner, 'What slip have I made?'

some time since, I shall publish it in this paper, together with the letter that was inclosed in it.

'MR. BUCKLEY,-Mr. Spectator having of late descanted upon the cruelty of parents to their children, I have been induced (at the request of several of Mr. Spectator's admirers,) to inclose this letter, which I assure you is the original from a father to his own son, notwithstanding the latter gave but little or no provocation. It would be wonderfully obliging to the world, if Mr. Spectator would give his opinion of it in some of his speculations, and particularly to (Mr. Buckley,) your humble servant.'

'SIRRAH,-You are a saucy audacious rascal, and both fool and mad, and I care not a farthing whether you comply or no; that does not raze out my impressions of your insolence, going about railing at me, and the next day to solicit my favour. These are inconsistences, such as discover thy reason depraved. To be brief, I never desire to see your face; and, sirrah, if you go to the workhouse, it is no disgrace to me for you to be supported there; and if you starve in the streets, I'll never give any thing underhand in your behalf. If I have any more of your scribbling nonsense, I'll break your head the first time I set sight on you. You are a stubborn beast; is this your gratitude for my giving you money? You rogue, I'll better your judgment, and give you a greater sense of your duty to (I regret to say) your father, &c.

'P. S. It's prudence in you to keep out of my sight; for to reproach me, that Might overcomes Right, on the outside of your letter, I shall give you a great knock on the skull for it.'

I shall conclude this paper with a billet which has fallen into my hands, and was written to a lady from a gentleman whom she had highly commended. The author of it had formerly been her lover. When all possibility of commerce between them on the subject of love was cut off, she spoke so handsomely of him, as to give occasion for this letter. Was there ever such an image of pater'MADAM,-I should be insensible to anal tenderness! It was usual among some stupidity, if I could forbear making you my of the Greeks to make their slaves drink to acknowledgments for your late mention of excess, and then expose them to their chilme with so much applause. It is, I think, dren, who by that means conceived an early your fate to give me new sentiments: as you aversion to a vice which makes men appear formerly inspired me with the true sense so monstrous and irrational. I have exof love, so do you now with the true sense posed this picture of an unnatural father of glory. As desire had the least part in with the same intention, that its deformity the passion I heretofore professed towards may deter others from its resemblance. If you, so has vanity no share in the glory to the reader has a mind to see a father of the which you have now raised me. Innocence, same stamp represented in the most exknowledge, beauty, virtue, sincerity, and quisite strokes of humour, he may meet discretion, are the constant ornaments of with it in one of the finest comedies that her who has said this of me. Fame is a ever appeared upon the English stage: I babbler, but I have arrived at the highest mean the part of Sir Sampson in Love for glory in this world, the commendation of the most deserving person in it.' T.

No. 189.] Saturday, October 6, 1711.
-Patriæ pietatis imago.
Virg. n. x. 824.
An image of paternal tenderness.
THE following letter being written to my
bookseller, upon a subject of which I treated

Love.

I must not, however, engage myself blindly on the side of the son, to whom the fond letter above written was directed. His father calls him a saucy and audacious rascal,' in the first line, and I am afraid, upon examination, he will prove but an ungracious youth. To go about railing' at his father, and to find no other place but the outside of his letter' to tell him 'that

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the Creator, it discovers the imperfection and degeneracy of the creature.

might overcomes right—if it does not discover his reason to be depraved,' and that he is either fool or mad,' as the The obedience of children to their pacholeric old gentleman tells him, we may rents is the basis of all government, and at least allow that the father will do very set forth as the measure of that_obedience well in endeavouring to better his judg-which we owe to those whom Providence ment, and give him a greater sense of his has placed over us. duty.' But whether this may be brought about by breaking his head, or giving him a great knock on the skull,' ought, I think, to be well considered. Upon the whole, I wish the father has not met with his match, and that he may not be as equally paired with a son, as the mother in Virgil:

-Crudelis tu quoque mater:
Crudelis mater magis, an puer improbus ille?
Improbus ille puer, credulis tu quoque mater.
Ecl. viii. 43.

O barbarous mother, thirsting to destroy!
More cruel was the mother or the boy?"
Both, both alike delighted to destroy,
Th' unnatural mother, and the ruthless boy

Warton.

It is father Le Compte, if I am not mistaken, who tells us how want of duty in this particular is punished among the Chinese, insomuch, that if a son should be known to kill, or so much as to strike his father, not only the criminal, but his whole family would be rooted out, nay, the inhabitants of the place where he lived would be put to the sword, nay, the place itself would be razed to the ground, and its foundations sown with salt. For, say they, there must have been an utter deprivation of manners in that clan or society of people who could have bred up among them so horrid an offender. To this I shall add a passage out

Or like the crow and her egg in the Greek of the first book of Herodotus. That histoproverb:

Bad the crow, bad the egg.

Кики хориход, как 0.

rian, in his account of the Persian customs and religion, tells us, it is their opinion that no man ever killed his father, or that it is possible such a crime should be in nature; but that if any thing like it should ever happen, they conclude that the reputed son must have been illegitimate, supposi tious, or begotten in adultery. Their opinion in this particular shows sufficiently what a notion they must have had of undutifulness in general.

I must here take notice of a letter which I have received from an unknown correspondent upon the subject of my paper, upon which the foregoing letter is likewise founded. The writer of it seems very much concerned lest that paper should seem to give encouragement to the disobedience of children towards their parents; but if the writer of it will take the pains to read it over again attentively, I dare say his ap- No. 190.] Monday, October 8, 1711. prehensions will vanish. Pardon and reconciliation are all the penitent daughter requests, and all that I contend for in her behalf; and in this case I may use the saying of an eminent wit, who, upon some great men's pressing him to forgive his daughter who had married against his consent, told them he could refuse nothing to their instances, but that he would have them remember there was difference between giving and forgiving.

I must confess, in all controversies between parents and their children, I am naturally prejudiced in favour of the former. The obligations on that side can never be acquitted, and I think it is one of the greatest reflections upon human nature, that paternal instinct should be a stronger motive to love than filial gratitude; that the receiving of favour should be a less inducement to good-will, tenderness, and commiseration, than the conferring of them; and that the taking care of any person, should endear the child or dependant more to the parent or benefactor, than the parent or benefactor to the child or dependant; yet so it happens, that for one cruel parent we meet with a thousand undutiful children. This is, indeed, wonderfully contrived (as I have formerly observed,) for the support of every living species; but at the same time that it shows the wisdom of

Servitas crescit nova

L.

Hor. Lik 9 Od vui. Tê A slavery to former times unknown. SINCE I made some reflections upon the general negligence used in the case of regard towards women, or in other words, since I talked of wenching, I have had epistles upon this subject, which I shall, for the present entertainment, insert as they lie before me.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-As your speculations are not confined to any part of human life, but concern the wicked as well as the good, I must desire your favourable acceptance of what I, a poor strolling girl about town, have to say to you. I was told by a Roman-Catholic gentleman who picked me up last week, and who, I hope, is absolved for what passed between us; I say, I was told by such a person, who endeavoured to convert me to his own religion, that in countries where popery prevails, besides the advantage of licensed stews, there are large endowments given for the Incurabili, I think he called them, such as are past all remedy, and are allowed such maintenance and support as to keep them without farther care until they expire. This manner of treating poor sinners has, methinks, great humanity in it; and as you are a person

who pretend to carry your reflections upon all subjects whatever that occur to you, with candour, and act above the sense of what misinterpretation you may meet with, I beg the favour of you to lay before all the world the unhappy condition of us poor vagrants, who are really in the way of labour instead of idleness. There are crowds of us whose manner of livelihood has long ceased to be pleasing to us; and who would willingly lead a new life, if the rigour of the virtuous did not for ever expel us from coming into the world again. As it now happens, to the eternal infamy of the male sex, falsehood among you is not reproachful, but credulity in woman is infamous.

nags, when they are warranted for their soundness. You understand by this time that I was left in a brothel, and exposed to the next bidder, who could purchase me of my patroness. This is so much the work of hell: the pleasure in the possession of us wenches abates in proportion to the degrees we go beyond the bounds of innocence; and no man is gratified, if there is nothing left for him to debauch. Well, sir, my first man, when I came upon the town, was Sir Jeoffry Foible, who was extremely lavish to me of his money, and took such a fancy to me that he would have carried me off, if my patroness would have taken any reasonable terms for me; but as he was old, his covetousness was his strongest passion, 'Give me leave, sir, to give you my his- and poor I was soon left exposed to be the tory. You are to know that I am a daughter common refuse of all the rakes and deof a man of good reputation, tenant to a man bauchees in town. I cannot tell whether of quality. The heir of this great house you will do me justice or no, till I see took it in his head to cast a favourable eye whether you print this or not; otherwise, upon me, and succeeded. I do not pretend as I now live with Sal,* I could give you a to say he promised me marriage: I was very just account of who and who is tonot a creature silly enough to be taken by gether in this' town. You perhaps won't so foolish a story; but he ran away with me believe it; but I know of one who pretends up to this town, and introduced me to a to be a very good Protestant, who lies with grave matron, with whom I boarded for a a Roman-Catholic: but more of this hereday or two with great gravity, and was not after, as you please me. There do come a little pleased with the change of my con- to our house the greatest politicians of the dition, from that of a country life to the age; and Sal is more shrewd than any body finest company, as I believed, in the whole thinks. No body can believe that such wise world. My humble servant made me un-men could go to bawdy-houses out of idle derstand that I should always be kept in the plentiful condition I then enjoyed; when after a very great fondness towards me, he one day took his leave of me for four or five days. In the evening of the same day, my good landlady came to me, and observing me very pensive, began to comfort me, and with a smile told me I must see the world. When I was deaf to all she could say to divert me, she began to tell me with a very frank air that I must be treated as I ought, and not to take these squeamish humours upon me, for my friend had left me to the town; and, as their phrase is, she expected I would see company, or I must be treated like what I had brought myself to. This put me into a fit of crying: and I immediately, in a true sense of my condition, threw myself on the floor, deploring my fate, calling upon all that was good and sacred to succour me. While I was in this agony, I observed a decrepid old fellow come into the room, and looking with a sense of pleasure in his face at all my vehemence and transport. In a pause distresses I heard him say to the shameless old woman who stood by me, "She is certainly a new face, or else she acts it rarely." With that the gentlewoman, who was making her market of me, in all the turns of my person, the heaves of my passion, and the suitable change of my posture, took occasion to commend my neck, my shape, my eyes, my limbs. All this was accompanied with such speeches as you may have heard horse-coursers make in the sale of

purpose. I have heard them often talk of Augustus Cæsar, who had intrigues with the wives of senators, not out of wantonness but stratagem.

'It is a thousand pities you should be so severely virtuous as I fear you are; otherwise, after one visit or two, you would soon understand that we women of the town are not such useless correspondents as you may imagine: you have undoubtedly heard that it was a courtesan who discovered Catiline's conspiracy. If you print this I'll tell you more; and am, in the meantime, sir, your most humble servant,

REBECCA NETTLETOP.’

'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am an idle young woman that would work for my livelihood, but that I am kept in such a manner as Í cannot stir out. My tyrant is an old jealous fellow, who allows me nothing to appear in.

have but one shoe and one slipper; no head-dress, and no upper-petticoat. As you set up for a reformer, I desire you would of my take me out of this wicked way and keep me yourself. EVE AFTERDAY.'

'MR. SPECTATOR,-I am to complain who visit the apartments of us women of to you of a set of impertinent coxcombs, the town, only, as they call it, to see the world. I must confess to you, this to men of delicacy might have an effect to cure them; but as they are stupid, noisy, and

* A celebrated courtesan and procuress at that time upon the town.

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