the opinion of the whole British nation. which we must show to old English writers, The deserving man, who can now recom- or if we look into the variety of his subjects, mend himself to the esteem of but half his with those several critical dissertations, countrymen, will then receive the appro-moral reflections, bations and applauses of a whole age. Among the several persons that flourish * The following part of the paragraph is in this glorious reign, there is no question so much to my advantage, and beyond any but such a future historian, as the person thing I can pretend to, that I hope my reaof whom I am speaking, will make mention der will excuse me for not inserting it. of the men of genius and learning, who have now any figure in the British nation. For my own part, I often flatter myself with -Lusus animo debent aliquando dari, L. the honourable mention which will then be No. 102.] Wednesday, June 27, 1711. made of me; and have drawn up a paragraph in my own imagination that I fancy will not be altogether unlike what will be found in some page or other of this imaginary historian. Phædr. Fab. xiv. 3: The mind ought sometimes to be diverted, that it may return the better to thinking. I Do not know whether to call the follow ing letter a satire upon coquettes, 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 public. It will sufficiently explain its own intentions, so that I shall give it my reader at length, without either preface or postscript. fan, according to the most fashionable airs and motions that are now practised at court. The ladies who carry fans under me are drawn up twice a-day in my great hall, where they are instructed in the use of their arms, and exercised by the following words of command:-Handle your fans, Unfurl your fans, 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, who 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. It was under this reign, says he, that the Spectator published those little diurnal essays which are still extant. We know very little of the name or person of this author, except only that he was a man of very short face, extremely addicted to silence, and so great a lover of knowledge, that he made a voyage to Grand Cairo for no other reason, but to take the measure of a pyramid. His chief friend was Sir Roger De Coverley, a whimsical country knight, and a Templar 'MR. SPECTATOR,-Women are armed whose name he has not transmitted to us. with fans as men with swords, and someHe lived as a lodger at the house of a times do more execution with them. To widow-woman, and was a great humourist the end therefore that ladies may be entire in all parts of his life. This is all we can mistresses of the weapon which they bear, affirm with any certainty of his person and I have erected an academy for the training character. As for his speculations, not-up of young women in the exercise of the withstanding the several obsolete words and obscure phrases of the age in which he lived, we still understand enough of them to see the diversions and characters of the English nation in his time; not but that we are to make allowance for the mirth and humour of the author, who has doubtless strained many representations of things beyond the truth. For if we interpret his words in their literal meaning, we must suppose that women of the first quality used to pass away whole mornings at a puppet-show; that they attested their principles by their patches; that an audience would sit out an evening, to hear a dramatical performance written in a language which they did not understand; that chairs and flower-pots were introduced as actors upon the British stage; that a promiscuous assembly of men and women were allowed to meet at midnight in masks within the verge of the court; with many improbabilities of the like nature. We must, therefore, in these and the like cases, suppose that these remote hints and allusions aimed at some certain follies which were then in vogue, and which at present we have not any notion of. We may guess by several passages in the speculations, that there were writers who endeavoured to detract from the works of this author; but as nothing of this nature is come down to us, we cannot guess at any objections that could be made to his paper. If we consider his style with that indulgence 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 the fan, then lets her arms fall in an easy motion, and stands in readiness to receive the next word of command. All this is done with a close fan, and is generally learned in the first week. 'The next motion is that of unfurling the fan, in which are comprehended several little flirts, and vibrations, as also gradual and deliberate openings, with many volun- | There is the angry flutter, the modish tary fallings asunder in the fan itself, that flutter, the timorous flutter, the confused are seldom learned under a month's prac- flutter, the merry flutter, and the amorous tice. This part of the exercise pleases the flutter. Not to be tedious, there is scarce spectators more than any other, as it dis- any emotion in the mind which does not covers on a sudden an infinite number of produce a suitable agitation in the fan; incupids, garlands, altars, birds, beasts, rain- somuch, that if I only see the fan of a disbows, and the like agreeable figures, that ciplined lady, I know very well whether display themselves to view, whilst every she laughs, frowns, or blushes. I have one in the regiment holds a picture in her seen a fan so very angry, that it would have hand. been dangerous for the absent lover who Upon my giving the word to Discharge provoked it to have come within the wind their fans, they give one general crack that of it; and at other times so very languishmay be heard at a considerable distance ing, that I have been glad for the lady's when the wind sits fair. This is one of the sake the lover was at a sufficient dismost difficult parts of the exercise, but I tance from it. I need not add, that a fan is have several ladies with me, who at their either a prude or coquette, according to the first entrance could not give a pop loud nature of the person who bears it. To conenough to be heard at the farther end of a clude my letter, I must acquaint you that I room, who can now discharge a fan in such have from my own observations compiled a a manner, that it shall make a report like little treatise for the use of my scholars, ena pocket pistol. I have likewise taken care titled, The Passions of the Fan; which I (in order to hinder young women from let- will communicate to you, if you think it ting off their fans in wrong places or on un- may be of use to the public. I shall have a suitable occasions) to show upon what sub-general review on Thursday next; to which ject 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 enclosed about one of the largest sticks, can make as loud a crack as a woman of fifty with an ordinary fan. 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 expense.' L. -Sibi quivis "When the fans are thus discharged, the word of command in course is to ground their fans. This teaches a lady to quit her No. 103.] Thursday, June 28, 1711. 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 herself 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. Speret idem: sudet multum, frustraque laboret 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 extremely offended with the excessive way of speaking civilities among us, that he made a discourse against it at the club, which he concluded with this remark, that he had not heard one compliment made in our society since its commencement.' Every one was pleased with his conclusion; and as each knew his good-will to the rest, he was The fluttering of the fan is the last, and convinced that the many professions of indeed the master-piece of the whole exer- kindness and service, which we ordinarily cise; but if a lady does not mispend her meet with, are not natural where the heart time, she may make herself mistress of it is well inclined; but are a prostitution of in three months. I generally lay aside the speech, seldom intended to mean any part dog-days and the hot time of the summer of what they express, never to mean all for the teaching this part of the exercise; they express. Our reverend friend, upon for as soon as ever I pronounce Flutter this topic, pointed to us two or three parayour fans, the place is filled with so many graphs on this subject in the first sermon zephyrs and gentle breezes as are very re- of the first volume in the late archbishop's freshing in that season of the year, though posthumous works.* I do not know that I they might be dangerous to ladies of a ten-ever read any thing that pleased me more, der constitution in any other. There is an infinite variety of motions to be made use of in the flutter of a fan. from John, chap. i. ver. 47, being the last discourse he * See Archbishop Tillotson's Sermon on Sincerity, preached, July 29, 1694. He died Nov. 24. following. and as it is the praise of Longinus, that he | in justification of this hollow kind of conspeaks of the sublime in a style suitable to versation, that there is no harm, no real it, so one may say of this author upon sin- deceit in compliment, but the matter is cerity, that he abhors any pomp of rhetoric well enough, so long as we understand one on this occasion, and treats it with a more another; et verba valent ut nummi, “words than ordinary simplicity, at once to be a are like money;" and when the current preacher and an example. With what value of them is generally understood, no command of himself does he lay before us, man is cheated by them. This is something, in the language and temper of his profes- if such words were any thing; but being sion, a fault, which, by the least liberty and brought into the account, they are mere warmth of expression, would be the most cyphers. However, it is still a just matter lively wit and satire! But his heart was of complaint, that sincerity and plainness better disposed, and the good man chastised are out of fashion, and that our language is the great wit in such a manner, that he was running into a lie; that men have almost able to speak as follows: quite perverted the use of speech, and made words to signify 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.' '-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 men's words are hardly any signification of their thoughts; and if any man measures his words by his heart, and speaks as he thinks, and does 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 has 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 intrinsic 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. 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 excellence. 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, are lost.' In another part of the same discourse he goes on to show, that all artifice must naturally tend to the disappointment of him that practises it. 'Whatsoever convenience may be thought to be in falsehood and dissimulation, it is soon over; but the inconvenience of it is perpetual, because it brings a man under an everlasting jealousy 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 falsehood.' '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 No. 104.] Friday, June 29, 1711. one whom perhaps they never saw before, and how entirely they are all on a sudden devoted to his service and interest, for no reason; how infinitely and eternally obliged to him, for no benefit; and how extremely they will be concerned for him, yea and afflicted too, for no cause. I know it is said, -Qualis equos Threissa fatigat Harpalyce R. Virg. n. i. 346. Dryden. It would be a noble improvement, or rather a recovery of what we call good breeding, if nothing were to pass amongst | were suddenly called from these inanimate us for agreeable which was the least trans-objects by a little party of horsemen I saw gression against the rule of life called de- passing the road. The greater part of them corum, 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 show 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, though themselves created as it were for an ornament, are often very much mistaken in this ornamental part of life. It would methinks be a short rule for behaviour, if every young lady, in her dress, words, and actions, were only to recommend herself as a 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. In order thereunto, the following letter may not be wholly unworthy their perusal. 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 curled and powdered, hung to a considerable length on his shoulders, and was wantonly tied, as if by the hands of his mistress, in a scarlet riband, which played like a streamer behind him; he had a coat and waistcoat of blue camblet, trimmed 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 waistcoat. 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 though 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. '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 landscape every where around me, my eyes There is an objection which naturally presents itself 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 public assemblies into a general masquerade. The model of this Amazonian hunting-habit for ladies, was, as I take it, first imported from France, and well enough expresses the gayety 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 complete their triumph over us, by wearing the breeches. * * On this passage Mr. Drake observes, 'At a period when the riding-habit has become as familiar as any other mode of female dress, my fair readers will proba bly smile at the reproof and apprehensions of the Spectator; time has ascertained its utility as a travelling 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 romantic 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 T. servant.' No. 105.] Saturday, June 30, 1711. -Id arbitror Adprime in vita esse utile, ne quid nimis. Ter. Andr. Act 1. Sc. 1. 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 mixed 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. For as Will often insults us with his 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 coquette 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 laughed 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 topic of showing the narrow-spiritedness, the pride and ignorance of pedants; which he carried so far, that upon my retiring to my lodgings, İ could not forbear throwing together such reflections as occurred to me upon that subject. A man who has been brought up among books, and is able to talk of nothing else, is I take it to be a principal rule of life, not to be too a very indifferent companion, and what we much addicted to any one thing. Too much of any thing is good for nothing. Eng. Prov. call a pedant. But, methinks, we should enlarge the title, and give it to every one that does not know how to think out of his profession and particular way of life. My friend Will Honeycomb values himself very much upon what he calls the What is a greater pedant than a mere knowledge of mankind, which has cost him man of the town? Bar him the play-houses, many disasters in his youth: for Will rec-a catalogue of the reigning beauties, and an kons every misfortune that he has met with account of a few fashionable distempers among the women, and every rencounter that have befallen him, and you strike him among the men, as parts of his education; dumb. How many a pretty gentleman's and fancies he should never have been the knowledge lies all within the verge of the man he is, had he not broke windows, court! He will tell you the names of the knocked down constables, disturbed honest principal favourites, repeat the shrewd saypeople with his midnight serenades, and ings of a man of quality, whisper an intrigue beat up a lewd woman's quarters, when he that is not yet blown upon by common fame: was a young fellow. The engaging in ad- or, if the sphere of his observations is a ventures of this nature Will calls the study-little larger than ordinary, will perhaps ing 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 overnight; 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, 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 farther conversation. What 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 stormbattles from one end of the year to the ing towns, making lodgments, and fighting other. Every thing he speaks smells of gunpowder; if you take away his artillery from him, he has not a word to say for Drake's Essays, voi. iii. p. 42. himself. I might likewise mention the law dress, and, I believe, neither the chastity nor the modesty of the sex has suffered by the experiment. Could our amiable moralist revisit the light of day, he would have infinitely more reason to be shocked at the present Gallic fashion of going nearly naked, than at the warm covering of broadcloth usurped by the beauties of his day.' |