Obrázky stránek
PDF
ePub

of nocturnal orgie out of her own fancy. Whether this be so or not, her letter may conduce to the amendment of that kind of persons who are represented in it, and whose characters are frequent enough in the world.

MR. SPECTATOR.

IN some of your first papers you were pleased to give the public a very diverting account of several clubs and nocturnal assemblies; but I am a member of a society which has wholly escaped your notice, I mean a club of She-Romps. We take each a hackney coach, and meet once a week in a large upper-chamber, which we hire by the year for that purpose; our landlord and his family, who are quiet people constantly contriving to be abroad on our club night. We are no sooner come together, than we throw of all that modesty and reservedness with which our sex are obliged to disguise themselves in public places. I am not able to express the pleasure we enjoy from ten at night till four in the morning, in being as rude as you men can be for your lives. As our play runs high, the room is immediately filled with broken fans, torn petticoats, lappets, or head dresses, flounces, furbelows, garters, and working aprons*. I had forgot to tell you at first, that besides the coaches we come in ourselves, there is one which stands always empty to carry off our dead men, for so we call all those. fragments and tatters with which the room is strewed, and which we pack up together in bundles and put into the aforesaid coach. It is no small diversion for us to meet the next night at some member's chamber, where every one is to pick out what belonged to her from this confused bundle of silks, stuffs, laces, and ribands. I have hitherto given you an account of our diversion on ordinary club nights; but must acquaint you farther, that once a month we demolish a prude, that is, we get some queer formal creature in among us, and unrig her

*It appears probable, that this is a mistake for worked aprons,

in an instant. Our last month's prude was so armed and fortified in whalebone and buckram, that we had much ado to come at her; but you would have died with laughing to have seen how the sober aukward thing looked when she was forced out of her intrenchments. In short, Sir, it is impossible to give you a true notion of our sport, unless you would come one night amongst us; and though it be directly against the rules of our society to admit a male visitant, we repose so much confidence in your silence and taciturnity that it was agreed by the whole club, at our last meeting, to give you entrance for one night as a Spectator.

• I am your humble servant,

'KITTY TERMAGANT.

P. S. We shall demolish a prude next Thursday.'

Though I thank Kitty for her kind offer, I do not at present find in myself any inclination to venture my person with her and her romping companions. I should regard myself as a second Clodius intruding on the mysterious rites of the Bona Dea, and should apprehend being demolished as much as the prude.

4

The following letter comes from a gentleman, whose taste I find is much too delicate to endure the least advance towards romping. I may perhaps hereafter improve upon the hint he has given me, and make it the subject of a whole Spectator; in the mean time, take it as it follows in his own words :

'MR. SPECTATOR,

IT is my misfortune to be in love with a young creature who is daily committing faults, which, though they give me the utmost uneasiness, I know not how to reprove her for, or even acquaint her with. She is pretty, dresses well, is rich, and goodhumoured; but either wholly neglects, or has no

notion of that which polite people have agreed to distinguish by the name of delicacy. After our return from a walk the other day she threw herself into an elbow chair, and professed before a large company, that she was all over in a sweat. She

told me this afternoon that her stomach ached; and was complaining yesterday at dinner of something that stuck in her teeth. I treated her with a basket of fruit last summer, which she ate so very greedily, as almost made me resolve never to see her more. In short, Sir, I begin to tremble whenever I see her about to speak or move. As she does not want sense, if she takes these hints, I am happy; if not, I am more than afraid, that these things, which shock me even in the behaviour of a mistress,. will appear insupportable in that of a wife. 'I am, Sir,

'Yours, &c.'

My next letter comes from a correspondent whom I cannot but very much value, upon the account which she gives of herself.

'MR. SPECTATOR,

I AM happily arrived at a state of tranquillity which few people envy, I mean that of an old maid; therefore being wholly unconcerned in all that medley of follies which our sex is apt to contract from their silly fondness of yours, I read your railleries on us without provocation. I can say with Hamlet,

[blocks in formation]

'Therefore, dear Sir, as you never spare your own sex, do not be afraid of reproving what is ridiculous in ours, and you will oblige at least one woman, who is

Your humble servant,

SUSANNAH FROST.'

MR. SPECTATOR,

"I AM wife to a clergyman, and cannot help thinking that in your tenth or tythe character of womankind * you meant myself: therefore I have no quarrel against you for the other nine characters. Your humble servant,

BUDGELL.

'A. B.'

X.

I

No 218. FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1711.

Quid de quoque viro, et cui dicas, sæpe caveto.
HOR. Ep. xviii. 1. 1. ver. 68.
Have a care

Of whom you talk, to whom, and what, and where.

POOLEY.

HAPPENED the other day, as my way is, to stroll into a little coffee-house beyond Aldgate; and as I sat there, two or three very plain sensible men were talking of the Spectator. One said, he had that morning drawn the great benefit ticket; another wished he had; but a third shaked his head and said, It was pity that the writer of that paper was such a sort of man, that it was no great matter whether he had it or no. He is, it seems, said the good man, the most extravagant creature in the world; has run through vast sums, and yet been in continual want: a man, for all he talks so well of œconomy, unfit for any of the offices of life, by reason of his profuseness. It would be an unhappy thing to be his wife, his child, or his friend; and yet he talks as well of those duties of life as any one. Much reflection has brought me to so easy a contempt for every thing which is false, that this heavy accusation gave me no manner of uneasiness; but at the same time it threw me into deep thought upon the subject of fame in general; and I could not but pity such as were so weak, as to value what the

* See No 209.

common people say out of their own talkative temper to the advantage or diminution of those whom they mention, without being moved either by malice or good-will. It will be too long to expatiate upon the sense all mankind have of fame, and the inexpressible pleasure which there is in the approbation of worthy men, to all who are capable of worthy actions; but methinks one may divide the general word fame, into three different species, as it regards the different orders of mankind who have any thing to do with it. Fame therefore may be divided into glory, which respects the hero; reputation, which is preserved by every gentleman; and credit, which must be supported by every tradesman. These possessions in fame are dearer than life to these characters of men, or rather are the life of those characters. Glory, while the hero pursues great and noble enterprises, is impregnable; and all the assailants of his renown do but shew their pain and impatience of its brightness, without throwing the least shade upon it. If the foundation of an high name be virtue and service, all that is offered. against it is but rumour, which is too short-lived to stand up in competition with glory, which is everlasting.

Reputation, which is the portion of every man who would live with the elegant and knowing part of mankind, is as stable as glory, if it be as well founded; and the common cause of human society is thought concerned when we hear a man of good behaviour calumniated. Besides which, according to a prevailing custom amongst us, every man has his defence in his own arm and reproach is soon checked, put out of countenance, and overtaken by disgrace.

The most unhappy of all men, and the most exposed to the malignity or wantonness of the common voice, is the trader. Credit is undone in whispers. The tradesman's wound is received from one who is more private and more cruel than the ruffian with the lanthorn and dagger. The manner

« PředchozíPokračovat »