The Spectator
Chapter 63 : _A Woman seldom writes her Mind but in her Postscript_.I think this Gentlewoman has suf

_A Woman seldom writes her Mind but in her Postscript_.

I think this Gentlewoman has sufficiently discovered hers in this. I'll lay what Wager she pleases against her present Favourite, and can tell her that she will Like Ten more before she is fixed, and then will take the worst Man she ever liked in her Life. There is no end of Affection taken in at the Eyes only; and you may as well satisfie those Eyes with seeing, as controul any Pa.s.sion received by them only. It is from loving by Sight that c.o.xcombs so frequently succeed with Women, and very often a Young Lady is bestowed by her Parents to a Man who weds her as Innocence itself, tho' she has, in her own Heart, given her Approbation of a different Man in every a.s.sembly she was in the whole Year before.

What is wanting among Women, as well as among Men, is the Love of laudable Things, and not to rest only in the Forbearance of such as are Reproachful.

How far removed from a Woman of this light Imagination is _Eudosia!

Eudosia_ has all the Arts of Life and good Breeding with so much Ease, that the Virtue of her Conduct looks more like an Instinct than Choice.

It is as little difficult to her to think justly of Persons and Things, as it is to a Woman of different Accomplishments, to move ill or look awkward. That which was, at first, the Effect of Instruction, is grown into an Habit; and it would be as hard for _Eudosia_ to indulge a wrong Suggestion of Thought, as it would be for _Flavia_ the fine Dancer to come into a Room with an unbecoming Air.

But the Misapprehensions People themselves have of their own State of Mind, is laid down with much discerning in the following Letter, which is but an Extract of a kind Epistle from my charming mistress _Hecatissa_, who is above the Vanity of external Beauty, and is the best Judge of the Perfections of the Mind.

_Mr_. SPECTATOR,

"I Write this to acquaint you, that very many Ladies, as well as myself, spend many Hours more than we used at the Gla.s.s, for want of the Female Library of which you promised us a Catalogue. I hope, Sir, in the Choice of Authors for us, you will have a particular Regard to Books of Devotion. What they are, and how many, must be your chief Care; for upon the Propriety of such Writings depends a great deal. I have known those among us who think, if they every Morning and Evening spend an Hour in their Closet, and read over so many Prayers in six or seven Books of Devotion, all equally nonsensical, with a sort of Warmth, (that might as well be raised by a Gla.s.s of Wine, or a Drachm of Citron) they may all the rest of their time go on in whatever their particular Pa.s.sion leads them to. The beauteous _Philautia_, who is (in your Language) an _Idol_, is one of these Votaries; she has a very pretty furnished Closet, to which she retires at her appointed Hours: This is her Dressing-room, as well as Chapel; she has constantly before her a large Looking-gla.s.s, and upon the Table, according to a very witty Author,

_Together lye her Prayer-book and Paint, At once t' improve the Sinner and the Saint_.

It must be a good Scene, if one could be present at it, to see this _Idol_ by turns lift up her Eyes to Heaven, and steal Glances at her own dear Person. It cannot but be a pleasing Conflict between Vanity and Humiliation. When you are upon this Subject, choose Books which elevate the Mind above the World, and give a pleasing Indifference to little things in it. For want of such Instructions, I am apt to believe so many People take it in their Heads to be sullen, cross and angry, under pretence of being abstracted from the Affairs of this Life, when at the same time they betray their Fondness for them by doing their Duty as a Task, and pouting and reading good Books for a Week together. Much of this I take to proceed from the Indiscretion of the Books themselves, whose very t.i.tles of Weekly Preparations, and such limited G.o.dliness, lead People of ordinary Capacities into great Errors, and raise in them a Mechanical Religion, entirely distinct from Morality. I know a Lady so given up to this sort of Devotion, that tho' she employs six or eight Hours of the twenty-four at Cards, she never misses one constant Hour of Prayer, for which time another holds her Cards, to which she returns with no little Anxiousness till two or three in the Morning. All these Acts are but empty Shows, and, as it were, Compliments made to Virtue; the Mind is all the while untouched with any true Pleasure in the Pursuit of it. From hence I presume it arises that so many People call themselves Virtuous, from no other Pretence to it but an Absence of Ill. There is _Dulcianara_ is the most insolent of all Creatures to her Friends and Domesticks, upon no other Pretence in Nature but that (as her silly Phrase is) no one can say Black is her Eye. She has no Secrets, forsooth, which should make her afraid to speak her Mind, and therefore she is impertinently Blunt to all her Acquaintance, and unseasonably Imperious to all her Family. Dear Sir, be pleased to put such Books in our Hands, as may make our Virtue more inward, and convince some of us that in a Mind truly virtuous the Scorn of Vice is always accompanied with the Pity of it. This and other things are impatiently expected from you by our whole s.e.x; among the rest by,

SIR,

_Your most humble Servant_,'

B.

No. 80. Friday, June 1, 1711. Steele.

'Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.'

Hor.

In the Year 1688, and on the same Day of that Year, were born in _Cheapside, London_, two Females of exquisite Feature and Shape; the one we shall call _Brunetta_, the other _Phillis_. A close Intimacy between their Parents made each of them the first Acquaintance the other knew in the World: They played, dressed Babies, acted Visitings, learned to Dance and make Curtesies, together. They were inseparable Companions in all the little Entertainments their tender Years were capable of: Which innocent Happiness continued till the Beginning of their fifteenth Year, when it happened that Mrs. _Phillis_ had an Head-dress on which became her so very well, that instead of being beheld any more with Pleasure for their Amity to each other, the Eyes of the Neighbourhood were turned to remark them with Comparison of their Beauty. They now no longer enjoyed the Ease of Mind and pleasing Indolence in which they were formerly happy, but all their Words and Actions were misinterpreted by each other, and every Excellence in their Speech and Behaviour was looked upon as an Act of Emulation to surpa.s.s the other. These Beginnings of Disinclination soon improved into a Formality of Behaviour; a general Coldness, and by natural Steps into an irreconcilable Hatred.

These two Rivals for the Reputation of Beauty, were in their Stature, Countenance and Mien so very much alike, that if you were speaking of them in their Absence, the Words in which you described the one must give you an Idea of the other. They were hardly distinguishable, you would think, when they were apart, tho' extremely different when together. What made their Enmity the more entertaining to all the rest of their s.e.x was, that in Detraction from each other neither could fall upon Terms which did not hit herself as much as her Adversary. Their Nights grew restless with Meditation of new Dresses to outvie each other, and inventing new Devices to recal Admirers, who observed the Charms of the one rather than those of the other on the last Meeting.

Their Colours failed at each other's Appearance, flushed with Pleasure at the Report of a Disadvantage, and their Countenances withered upon Instances of Applause. The Decencies to which Women are obliged, made these Virgins stifle their Resentment so far as not to break into open Violences, while they equally suffered the Torments of a regulated Anger. Their Mothers, as it is usual, engaged in the Quarrel, and supported the several Pretensions of the Daughters with all that ill-chosen Sort of Expence which is common with People of plentiful Fortunes and mean Taste. The Girls preceded their Parents like Queens of _May_, in all the gaudy Colours imaginable, on every _Sunday_ to Church, and were exposed to the Examination of the Audience for Superiority of Beauty.

During this constant Straggle it happened, that _Phillis_ one Day at publick Prayers smote the Heart of a gay _West-Indian_, who appear'd in all the Colours which can affect an Eye that could not distinguish between being fine and tawdry. This _American_ in a Summer-Island Suit was too s.h.i.+ning and too gay to be resisted by _Phillis_, and too intent upon her Charms to be diverted by any of the laboured Attractions of _Brunetta_. Soon after, _Brunetta_ had the Mortification to see her Rival disposed of in a wealthy Marriage, while she was only addressed to in a Manner that shewed she was the Admiration of all Men, but the Choice of none. _Phillis_ was carried to the Habitation of her Spouse in _Barbadoes_: _Brunetta_ had the Ill-nature to inquire for her by every Opportunity, and had the Misfortune to hear of her being attended by numerous Slaves, fanned into Slumbers by successive Hands of them, and carried from Place to Place in all the Pomp of barbarous Magnificence.

_Brunetta_ could not endure these repeated Advices, but employed all her Arts and Charms in laying Baits for any of Condition of the same Island, out of a mere Ambition to confront her once more before she died. She at last succeeded in her Design, and was taken to Wife by a Gentleman whose Estate was contiguous to that of her Enemy's Husband. It would be endless to enumerate the many Occasions on which these irreconcileable Beauties laboured to excel each other; but in process of Time it happened that a s.h.i.+p put into the Island consigned to a Friend of _Phillis_, who had Directions to give her the Refusal of all Goods for Apparel, before _Brunetta_ could be alarmed of their Arrival. He did so, and _Phillis_ was dressed in a few Days in a Brocade more gorgeous and costly than had ever before appeared in that Lat.i.tude. _Brunetta_ languished at the Sight, and could by no means come up to the Bravery of her Antagonist. She communicated her Anguish of Mind to a faithful Friend, who by an Interest in the Wife of _Phillis's_ Merchant, procured a Remnant of the same Silk for _Brunetta_. _Phillis_ took pains to appear in all public Places where she was sure to meet _Brunetta_; _Brunetta_ was now prepared for the Insult, and came to a public Ball in a plain black Silk Mantua, attended by a beautiful Negro Girl in a Petticoat of the same Brocade with which _Phillis_ was attired. This drew the Attention of the whole Company, upon which the unhappy _Phillis_ swooned away, and was immediately convey'd to her House. As soon as she came to herself she fled from her Husband's House, went on board a s.h.i.+p in the Road, and is now landed in inconsolable Despair at _Plymouth_.

_POSTSCRIPT_.

After the above melancholy Narration, it may perhaps be a Relief to the Reader to peruse the following Expostulation.

_To Mr._ SPECTATOR.

_The just Remonstrance of affronted THAT._

'Tho' I deny not the Pet.i.tion of Mr. _Who_ and _Which_, yet You should not suffer them to be rude and call honest People Names: For that bears very hard on some of those Rules of Decency, which You are justly famous for establis.h.i.+ng. They may find fault, and correct Speeches in the Senate and at the Bar: But let them try to get _themselves_ so _often_ and with so much _Eloquence_ repeated in a Sentence, as a great Orator doth frequently introduce me.

My Lords! (says he) with humble Submission, _That_ that I say is this; that, _That_ that that Gentleman has advanced, is not _That_, that he should have proved to your Lords.h.i.+ps. Let those two questionary Pet.i.tioners try to do thus with their _Who's_ and their _Whiches_.

'What great advantage was I of to Mr. _Dryden_ in his _Indian Emperor_,

_You force me still to answer You in_ That,

to furnish out a Rhyme to _Morat_? And what a poor Figure would Mr.

_Bayes_ have made without his _Egad and all That_? How can a judicious Man distinguish one thing from another, without saying _This here_, or _That there_? And how can a sober Man without using the _Expletives_ of Oaths (in which indeed the Rakes and Bullies have a great advantage over others) make a Discourse of any tolerable Length, without _That is_; and if he be a very grave Man indeed, without _That is to say_?

And how instructive as well as entertaining are those usual Expressions in the Mouths of great Men, _Such Things as That_ and _The like of That_.

I am not against reforming the Corruptions of Speech You mention, and own there are proper Seasons for the Introduction of other Words besides _That_; but I scorn as much to supply the Place of a _Who_ or a _Which_ at every Turn, as they are _unequal_ always to fill mine; And I expect good Language and civil Treatment, and hope to receive it for the future: _That_, that I shall only add is, that I am,

_Yours_,

THAT.'

R.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

CHARLES LORD HALLIFAX. [1]