e are who more prope Piny, an most hand Italian operas. When they had advanced thus far, Many a brave fellow, who has put his enemy to it would be time to form their taste something flight in the field, has been in the utmost disorder more exactly. One that had any true relish of fine upon making a speech before a body of his friends writing, might, with great pleasure both to himself at home. One would think there was some kind and them, run over together with them the best of fascination in the eyes of a large circle of peoRoman historians, poets, and orators, and point ple, when darting all together upon one person. out their more remarkable beauties; give them a I have seen a new actor in a tragedy so bound up short scheme of chronology, a little view of geo-by it as to be scarce able to speak or move, and graphy, medals, astronomy, or what else might best have expected he would have died above three feed the busy inquisitive humour so natural to that acts before the dagger or cup of poison were age. Such of them as had the least spark of ge- brought in. It would not be amiss, if such an one nius, when it was once awakened by the shining were at first introduced as a ghost, or a statue, till fident thoughts and great sentiments of those admired he recovered his spirits, and grew fit for some writers, could not, I believe, be easily withheld living part. great pleas though ear y bude IMUS. for any fr ད་ atunts $2 whenla to his fam his it advice nt in mates good be lots any the e has ht rise to himself und to from attempting that more difficult sister-language, 'As this sudden desertion of one's self shows a whose exalted beauties they would have heard so diffidence, which is not displeasing, it implies at often celebrated as the pride and wonder of the the same time the greatest respect to an audience whole learned world. In the meanwhile, it would that can be. It is a sort of mute eloquence, which be requisite to exercise their style in writing any pleads for their favour much better than words could light pieces that ask more of fancy than of judg-do; and we find their generosity naturally moved ment: and that frequently in their native lan-to support those who are in so much perplexity to guage, which every one methinks should be most entertain them. I was extremely pleased with a concerned to cultivate, especially letters, in which late instance of this kind at the opera of Almaa gentleman must have so frequent occasions to dis- hide, in the encouragement given to a young singer, tinguish himself. A set of genteel good-natured whose more than ordinary concern on her first apyouths fallen into such a manner of life, would pearance, recommended her no less than her agreeform almost a little academy, and doubtless prove able voice and just performance. Mere bashfulno such contemptible companions, as might not ness without merit is awkward; and merit without often tempt a wiser man to mingle himself in their modesty insolent. But modest merit has a double diversions, and draw them into such serious sports claim to acceptance, and generally meets with as as might prove nothing less instructing than the many patrons as beholders. gravest lessons. I doubt not but it might be made some of their favourite plays, to contend which of them should receite a beautiful part of a poem or It is impossible that a person should exert him. toration most gracefully, or sometimes to join in self to advantage in an assembly, whether it be his rg you acting a scene of Terence, Sophocles, or our own part either to sing or speak, who lies under too Shakspeare. The cause of Milo might again be great oppressions of modesty. I remember, upon pleaded before more favourable judges, Cæsar a talking with a friend of mine concerning the force second time be taught to tremble, and another race of pronunciation, our discourse led us into the enuof Athenians be afresh enraged at the ambition of meration of the several organs of speech which an another Philip. Amidst these noble amusements, orator ought to have in perfection, as the tongue, we could hope to see the early dawnings of their the teeth, the lips, the nose, the palate, and the imagination daily brighten into sense, their inno-wind-pipe. Upon which,' says my friend, you cence improve into virtue, and their unexperienced have omitted the most material organ of them all, good-nature directed to a generous love of their and that is the forehead.' y be at that kind less t country. STEELE. 'I am, &c.' T. No 231. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1711. But notwithstanding an excess of modesty obstructs the tongue, and renders it unfit for its of fices, a due proportion of it is thought so requisite to an orator, that rhetoricians have recommended it to their disciples as a particular in that art. Cicero tells us, that he never liked an orator, who did not appear in some little confusion at the beginning of his speech, and confesses that he himself never entered upon an oration without trembling and concern. It is indeed a kind of deference which is due to a great assembly, and seldom fails to raise a benevolence in the audience towards the person who speaks. My correspondent has taken LOOKING Over the letters which I have lately re-notice that the bravest men often appear timorous ceived from my correspondents, I met with the on these occasions, as indeed we may observe, that following one, which is written with such a spirit there is generally no creature more impudent than of politeness, that I could not but be very much a coward: pleased with it myself, and question not but it will be as acceptable to the reader. in his writings; namely, that he had the eyes of a such a poorness of spirit, such a despicable cow. dog, but the heart of a deer."* ardice, such a degenerate abject state of mind, as one would think human nature incapable of, did we not meet with frequent instances of it in ordinary conversation. A just and reasonable modesty does not only recommend eloquence, but sets off every great talent which a man can be possessed of. It heightens all the virtues which it accompanies; like the shades in paintings, it raises and rounds every figure, and makes the colours more beautiful, though not so glaring as they would be without it. There is another kind of vicious modesty which makes a man ashamed of his person, his birth, his profession, his poverty, or the like misfortunes, which it was not in his choice to prevent, and is not in his power to rectify. If a man appears ridicu lous by any of the afore-mentioned circumstances, he becomes much more so by being out of counte nance for them. They should rather give him occasion to exert a noble spirit, and to palliate those Modesty is not only an ornament, but also a guard to virtue. It is a kind of quick and delicate feeling in the soul, which makes her shrink and withdraw herself from every thing that bas danger in it. It is such an exquisite sensibility, as warns her to shun the first appearance of every thing imperfections which are not in his power, by those which is hurtful. perfections which are; or, to use a very witty allusion of an eminent author, he should imitate Cæsar, who, because his head was bald, covered that defect with laurels. ADDISON. C. No 232. MONDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1711. Nihil largiundo gloriam adeptus est. SALLUST. I cannot at present recollect either the place or time of what I am going to mention; but I have read somewhere in the history of ancient Greece, that the women of the country were seized with an unaccountable melancholy, which disposed several of them to make away with themselves. The senate, after having tried many expedients to prevent this self-murder, which was so frequent among them, published an edict, that if any woman whatever should lay violent hands upon herself, her corpse should be exposed naked in the street, and dragged about the city in the most public manner. This edict immediately put a stop to the practice which was before so common. We may see in this My wise and good friend, Sir Andrew Freeport, instance the strength of female modesty, which divides himself almost equally between the town was able to overcome even the violence of mad- and the country. His time in town is given up to ness and despair. The fear of shame in the fair the public, and the management of his private forsex, was in those days more prevalent than that of tune; and after every three or four days spent in this If modesty has so great an influence over our ac-a few miles of the town, to the enjoyment of himmanner, he retires for as many to his seat within tions, and is in many cases so impregnable a fence self, his family, and his friend. Thus business and to virtue; what can more undermine morality than pleasure, or rather, in Sir Andrew, labour and that politeness which reigns among the unthinking rest, recommend each other. They take their turns part of mankind, and treats as unfashionable the with so quick a vicissitude, that neither becomes a most ingenuous part of our behaviour; which re-habit, or takes possession of the whole man; nor commends impudence as good-breeding, and keeps is it possible he should be surfeited with either. I a man always in countenance, not because he is in- often see him at our club in good humour, and yet nocent, but because he is shameless? sometimes too with an air of care in his looks: but death. with her half the virtue that is in it. Seneca thought modesty so great a check to vice, in his country retreat he is always unbent, and that he prescribes to us the practice of it in secret, such a companion as I could desire; and therefore and advises us to raise it in ourselves upon ima- I seldom fail to make one with him when he is ginary occasions, when such as are real do not offer pleased to invite me. themselves; for this is the meaning of his precept. That when we are by ourselves, and in our greatest chariot, two or three beggars on each side hung The other day, as soon as we were got into his solitudes, we should fancy that Cato stands before upon the doors, and solicited our charity with the us, and sees every thing we do. In short, if you usual rhetoric of a sick wife or husband at home, banish modesty out of the world, she carries away three or four helpless little children, all starving After these reflections on modesty, as it is a vir- with some money to get rid of their importunity: with cold and hunger. We were forced to part tue; I must observe, that there is a vicious mo- and then we proceeded on our journey with the desty, which justly deserves to be ridiculed, and blessings and acclamations of these people. which those persons very often discover, who value themselves most upon a well-bred confidence. This prayers and good wishes of the beggars, and per "Well then,' says Sir Andrew, we go off with the happens when a man is ashamed to act up to his haps, too, our healths will be drunk at the next ale reason, and would not upon any consideration be house: so all we shall be able to value ourselves surprised in the practice of those duties, for the upon is, that we have promoted the trade of the performance of which he was sent into the world. victualler and the excises of the government. But Many an impudent libertine would blush to be how few ounces of wool do we see upon the backs caught in a serious discourse, and would scarce be of these poor creatures? And when they shall next able to show his head, after having disclosed a re- fall in our way, they will hardly be better dressed; ligious thought. Decency of behaviour, all out- they must always live in rags, to look like objects ward show of virtue, and abhorrence of vice, are of compassion. If their families, too, are such as carefully avoided by this set of shamefaced people, they are represented, 'tis certain they cannot be as what would disparage their gaiety of temper, better clothed, and must be a great deal worse and infallibly bring them to dishonour. This is fed. One would think potatoes should be all their • Iliad, Book i. bread, and their drink the pure element; and then what goodly customers are the farmers like to have a despicable ect state of De e incapable d stances of the ious modesty vic Gerson, his bri e like malata for their wool, corn, and cattle? Such customers, variety, every one would be able to perform his and such a consumption, cannot choose but ad-single part with greater skill and expedition; and vance the landed interests, and hold up the rents the hundred watches would be finished in one-fourth of the gentlemen. part of the time of the first one, and every one of 'But of all men living, we merchants who live them at one-fourth part of the cost, though the by buying and selling, ought never to encourage wages of every man were equal. The reduction of beggars. The goods which we export are indeed the price of the manufacture would increase the the product of the lands, but much the greatest demand of it, all the same hands would be still prevent, as part of their value is the labour of the people: but employed, and as well paid. The same rule will how much of these people's labour shall we export hold in the clothing, the shipping, and all other whilst we hire them to sit still? The very alms they trades whatsoever. And thus an addition of hands receive from us, are the wages of idleness. I have to our manufactures will only reduce the price of often thought that no man should be permitted to them; the labourer will still have as much wages, take relief from the parish, or to ask it in the and will consequently be enabled to purchase more street, till he has first purchased as much as pos- conveniencies of life; so that every interest in the sible of his own livelihood by the labour of his own nation would receive a benefit from the increase hands; and then the public ought only to be taxed of our working people. man appears n Oned circums eing cut d rather give and to pate his power, use a vert he shoul was bald, cre BER 25 SALLUST glory, drew tween d his set 36300 to make good the deficiency. If this rule was 'Besides, I see no occasion for this charity to "Hang sorrow, and cast away care, of it to more distant countries; and this conse-And if we will be so good-natured as to maintain quence would be equally beneficial both to the them without work, they can do no less in return landed and trading interests. As so great an ad- than sing us " The Merry Beggars." dition of labouring hands would produce this happy What then? Am I against all acts of charity? consequence both to the merchant and the gen- God forbid! I know of no virtue in the gospel tleman, our liberality to common beggars, and that is in more pathetic expressions recommended every other obstruction to the increase of la- to our practice. "I was hungry and ye gave me bourers, must be equally pernicious to both.' no meat, thirsty and ye gave me no drink, naked Sir Andrew then went on to affirm, that the re- and ye clothed me not, a stranger and ye took me duction of the prices of our manufactures, by the not in, sick and in prison and ye visited me not." addition of so many new hands, would be of no in- Our blessed Saviour treats the exercise and neglect convenience to any man; but observing I was of charity towards a poor man, as the performance something startled at the assertion, he made a or breach of this duty towards himself. I shall short pause, and then resumed the discourse. It endeavour to obey the will of my Lord and Master: may seem,' says he, ' a paradox, that the price of and therefore, if an industrious man shall submit labour should be reduced without an abatement of to the hardest labour and coarsest fare, rather than wages, or that wages can be abated without any endure the shame of taking relief from the parish, inconvenience to the labourer, and yet nothing is or asking it in the street, this is the hungry, the more certain than that both these things may hap-thirsty, the naked; and I ought to believe, if any pen. The wages of the labourers make the greatest man is come hither for shelter against persecution part of the price of every thing that is useful; and or oppression, this is the stranger, and I ought to if in proportion with the wages the prices of all take him in. If any countryman of our own is other things should be abated, every labourer with fallen into the hands of infidels, and lives in a state less wages would still be able to purchase as many of miserable captivity, this is the man in prison, necessaries of life; where then would be the incon- and I should contribute to his ransom. I ought to venience? But the price of labour may be reduced give to an hospital of invalids, to recover as many by the addition of more hands to a manufacture, useful subjects as I can; but I shall bestow none of and yet the wages of persons remain as high as my bounties upon an alms-house of idle people; ever. The admirable Sir William Petty has given and for the same reason I shall not think it a reexamples of this in some of his writings; one of proach to me if I had withheld my charity from them, as I remember, is that of a watch, which those common beggars. But we prescribe better shall endeavour to explain so as shall suit my pre- rules than we are able to practise; we are ashamed sent purpose. It is certain, that a single watch not to give into the mistaken manners of our could not be made so cheap in proportion by one country: but at the same time, I cannot but think only man, as a hundred watches by a hundred; for it a reproach worse than that of common swearing, as there is vast variety in the work, no one person that the idle and the abandoned are suffered, in the could equally suit himself to all the parts of it; the name of heaven and all that is sacred, to extort manufacture would be tedious, and at last but from Christian and tender minds a supply to a clumsily performed. But if a hundred watches profligate way of life, that is always to be supwere to be made by a hundred men, the cases may ported, but never relieved.' be assigned to one, the dials to another, the wheels to another, the springs to another, and every other part to a proper artist. As there would be no need of perplexing any one person with too much MARTYN, Z. SPECTATOR. 233. Cleora, a widow of Ephesus, being inconsolable for the death of her husband, was resolved to take this leap in order to get rid of her passion for his memory; but being arrived at the promontory, she there met with Dimmachus the Milesian, and, after a short conversation with him, laid aside the thoughts of her leap, and married him in the tem ple of Apollo. N. B. Her widow's weeds are still seen hanging up in the western corner of the temple. Olphis, the fisherman, having received a box on the ear from Thestylis the day before, and being I SHALL, in this paper, discharge myself of the pro-determined to have no more to do with her, leap. mise I have made to the public, by obliging them ed, and escaped with life. with a translation of the little Greek manuscript, which is said to have been a piece of those records years before driven two or three despairing lovers Atalanta, an old maid, whose cruelty had several that were preserved in the temple of Apollo, upon to this leap; being now in the fifty-fifth year of her the promontory of Leucate. It is a short history age, and in love with an officer of Sparta, broke of the Lover's Leap, and is inscribed, An account her neck in the fall. of persons, male and female, who offered up their vows in the temple of the Pythian Apollo, in the wife, who was enamoured of Bathyllus, leaped, Hipparchus, being passionately fond of his own forty-sixth Olympiad, and leaped from the pro-and died of his fall: upon which his wife married montory of Leucate into the Ionian Sea, in order her gallant. to cure themselves of the passion of love. This account is very dry in many parts, as only pia, an Athenian matron, threw himself from the Tettyx, the dancing-master, in love with Olym mentioning the name of the lover who leaped, the rock with great agility, but was crippled in the person he leaped for, and relating, in short, that fall. he was either cured, or killed, or maimed by the fall. It indeed gives the names of so many who died by he peeped several times over the precipice, but Diagoras, the usurer, in love with his cook-maid; it, that it would have looked like a bill of mor- his heart misgiving him, he went back, and mar tality, had I translated it at full length; I have ried her that evening. therefore made an abridgment of it, and only extracted such particular passages as have something the Pythian records, being asked the name of the Cinædus, after having entered his own name extraordinary, either in the case, or the cure, or in person whom he leaped for, and being ashamed to the fate of the person who is mentioned in it. After discover it, he was set aside, and not suffered to this short preface, take the account as follows: Battus, the son of Menalcas the Sicilian, leaped for Bombyca the musician: got rid of his passion with the loss of his right leg and arm, which were broken in the fall. Melissa, in love with Daphnis, very much bruised, but escaped with life. leap. in love with Eurybates. Hurt in the fall, but recoEunica, a maid of Paphos, aged nineteen, in [vered. N. B. This was the second time of her leaping. with his master's daughter. Drowned, the boats Hesperus, a young man of Tarentum, in love not coming in soon enough to his relief. Cynisca, the wife of Eschines, being in love with Lycus; and Eschines her husband being in love rived at the temple of Apollo, habited like a bride, Sappho, the Lesbian, in love with Phaon; ar with Eurilla; (which had made this married couple in garments as white as snow. She wore a gar very uneasy to one another for several years) both land of myrtle on her head, and carried in her the husband and the wife took the leap by consent; hand the little musical instrument of her own inthey both of them escaped, and have lived very vention. After having sung an hymn to Apollo, happily together ever since. Larissa, a virgin of Thessaly, deserted by Plexippus, after a courtship of three years; she stood upon the brow of the promontory for some time, and after having thrown down a ring, a bracelet, and a little picture, with other presents which she had received from Plexippus, she threw herself into the sea, and was taken up alive. N. B. Larissa, before she leaped, made an offering of a silver Cupid in the temple of Apollo. Simatha, in love with Daphnis, the Myndian, perished in the fall. and her harp on the other. She then tucked up she hung up her garland on one side of his altar, her vestments like a Spartan virgin, and amidst thousands of spectators, who were anxious for her safety, and offered up vows for her deliverance, marched directly forwards to the utmost summit of the promontory, where, after having repeated hear, she threw herself off the rock with such an a stanza of her own verses, which we could not intrepidity as was never before observed in any who had attempted that dangerous leap. Many Charixus, the brother of Sappho, in love with into the sea, from whence she never rose again; who were present related, that they saw her fall Rhodope the courtesan, having spent his whole though there were others who affirmed that she estate upon her; was advised by his sister to leap never came to the bottom of her leap, but that she e in the beginning of his amour; but would not was changed into a swan as she fell, and that they hearken to her till he was reduced to the last ta- saw her hovering in the air under that shape. But lent; being forsaken by Rhodope, at length re- whether or no the whiteness and fluttering of her solved to take the leap. Perished in it. Eridaus, a beautiful youth of Epirus, in love her, or whether she might not really be metamor garments might not deceive those who looked upon with Praxinoe, the wife of Thespis, escaped with- phosed into that musical and melancholy bird, is out damage, saving only that two of his fore-teeth still a doubt among the Lesbians. were struck out, and his nose a little flatted. No. 227. Alcæus, the famous lyric poet, who had for some time been passionately in love with Sappho, arrived at the promontory of Leucate that very even being incoming, in order to take the leap upon her account;ing as he sees his practice succeed, he goes to the vas resolve but hearing that Sappho had been there before opposite party, and tells him, he cannot imagine her passion him, and that her body could be no where found, how it happens that some people know one another he phe very generously lamented her fall, and is said so little: You spoke with so much coldness of a Miles to have written his hundred and twenty-fifth ode gentleman who said more good of you than, let upon that occasion. me tell you, any man living deserves.' The suc cess of one of these incidents was, that the next time that one of the adversaries spied the other, he hems after him in the public street, and they must crack a bottle at the next tavern, that used to turn out of the other's way to avoid one another's eyeshot. He will tell one beauty she was commended by another, nay, he will say she gave the woman he speaks to the preference in a particular for which she herself is admired. The pleasantest confusion imaginable is made through the whole town by my friend's indirect offices. You shall of Spart N 234. WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1711. have a visit returned after half a year's absence, love imself cripp hhis preces back, a and mutual railing at each other every day of that time. They meet with a thousand lamentations for so long a separation, each party naming herself for the greatest delinquent, if the other can possibly be so good as to forgive her, which she has no reason in the world, but from the knowledge of her goodness, to hope for. Very often a whole train of railers of each side tire their horses in setting matters right which they have said during the war between the parties; and a whole circle of acquaintance are put into a thousand pleasing passions and sentiments, instead of the pangs of anger, envy, detraction, and malice. You very often hear people, after a story has been told with some entertaining circumstances, tell it over again with particulars that destroy the jest, but give light into the truth of the narration. This sort of veracity, though it is impertinent, has some. thing amiable in it, because it proceeds from the love of truth, even in frivolous occasions. If such honest amendments do not promise an agreeable companion, they do a sincere friend; for which The worst evil I ever observed this man's falsereason one should allow them so much of our time, hood occasion, has been, that he turned detraction gif we fall into their company, as to set us right in into flattery. He is well skilled in the manners of matters that can do us no manner of harm, whe- the world, and by overlooking what men really ther the facts be one way or the other. Lies which are, he grounds his artifices upon what they have dine are told out of arrogance and ostentation, a man a mind to be. Upon this foundation, if two disshould detect in his own defence, because he should tant friends are brought together, and the cement not be triumphed over. Lies which are told out seems to be weak, he never rests till he finds new of malice he should expose, both for his own sake appearances to take off all remains of ill-will, and and that of the rest of mankind, because every that by new misunderstandings they are thoroughly man should rise against a common enemy: but reconciled. not s fall f he ned the officious liar, many have argued, is to be exFcused, because it does some man good, and no man " SIR, 'TO THE SPECTATOR. A hurt. The man who made more than ordinary Devonshire, Nov. 14, 1711. speed from a fight in which the Athenians were THERE arrived in this neighbourhood two days beaten, and told them they had obtained a com- ago one of your gay gentlemen of the town, who plete victory and put the whole city into the ut- being attended at his entry with a servant of his most joy and exultation, was checked by the ma- own, besides a countryman he had taken up for ofgistrates for his falsehood, but excused himself by a guide, excited the curiosity of the village to saying, O Athenians! am I your enemy because learn whence and what he might be. The counIgave you two happy days? This fellow did to tryman (to whom they applied as most easy of a whole people what an acquaintance of mine does access) knew little more than that the gentleman every day he lives, in some eminent degree, to par- came from London to travel and see fashions, and ticular persons. He is ever lying people into good was, as he heard say, a free-thinker. What relihumour, and, as Plato said, it was allowable in gion that might be, he could not tell: and for his physicians to lie to their patients to keep up their own part, if they had not told him the man was a spirits, I am half doubtful whether my friend's free-thinker, he should have guessed, by his way behaviour is not as excusable. His manner is, to of talking, he was little better than a heathen; express himself surprised at the cheerful counte- excepting only that he had been a good gentleman nance of a man whom he observes diffident of him to him, and made him drunk twice in one day, self; and generally by that means makes his lie over and above what they had bargained for. truth. He will, as if he did not know any thing I do not look upon the simplicity of this, and of the circumstance, ask one whom he knows at several odd inquiries with which I shall not trouble variance with another, what is the meaning that you, to be wondered at, much less can I think that Mr. Such-a-one, naming his adversary, does not our youths of fine wit, and enlarged understandapplaud him with that heartiness which formerly ings, have any reason to laugh. There is no neceshe has heard him? He said, indeed,' continues he, sity that every 'squire in Great Britain should 'I would rather have that man for my friend than know what the word Free-thinker stands for; but any man in England; but for an enemy'-This it were much to be wished, that they who value melts the person be talks to, who expected nothing themselves upon that conceited title, were a little but downright raillery* from that side. Accord-better instructed in what it ought to stand for; * Meaning, we suppose, railing. • It has been thought that this alluded to Mr. Toland. |
