The Spectator Volume Iii Part 47

[Footnote 3: Dogget had been acting a few nights before in _the Country Wake_. The part of Hob was his own in every sense, he being the author of the farce, which afterwards was made into a very popular ballad opera called _Flora_, or _Hob in the Well_.]

No. 503. Tuesday, October 7, 1712. Steele.

'Deleo omnes dehinc ex animo Mulieres.'

Ter.

_Mr._ SPECTATOR,

'You have often mention'd with great Vehemence and Indignation the Misbehaviour of People at Church; but I am at present to talk to you on that Subject, and complain to you of one, whom at the same time I know not what to accuse of, except it be looking too well there, and diverting the Eyes of the Congregation to that one Object. However I have this to say, that she might have stay'd at her own Parish, and not come to perplex those who are otherwise intent upon their Duty.

'Last _Sunday_ was Seven-night I went into a Church not far from _London_-Bridge; but I wish I had been contented to go to my own Parish, I am sure it had been better for me: I say, I went to Church thither, and got into a Pew very near the Pulpit. I had hardly been accommodated with a Seat, before there entered into the Isle a young Lady in the very Bloom of Youth and Beauty, and dressed in the most elegant manner imaginable. Her Form was such, that it engaged the Eyes of the whole Congregation in an Instant, and mine among the rest. Tho'

we were all thus fixed upon her, she was not in the least out of Countenance, or under the least Disorder, tho' unattended by any one, and not seeming to know particularly where to place her self. However, she had not in the least a confident Aspect, but moved on with the most graceful Modesty, every one making Way till she came to a Seat just over-against that in which I was placed. The Deputy of the Ward sat in that Pew, and she stood opposite to him; and at a Glance into the Seat, tho' she did not appear the least acquainted with the Gentleman, was let in, with a Confusion that spoke much Admiration at the Novelty of the Thing. The Service immediately began, and she compos'd her self for it with an Air of so much Goodness and Sweetness, that the Confession which she uttered so as to be heard where I sat, appeared an Act of Humiliation more than she had Occasion for. The Truth is, her Beauty had something so innocent, and yet so sublime, that we all gazed upon her like a Phantom. None of the Pictures which we behold of the best _Italian_ Painters, have any thing like the Spirit which appeared in her Countenance, at the different Sentiments expressed in the several Parts of Divine Service: That Grat.i.tude and Joy at a Thanksgiving, that Lowliness and Sorrow at the Prayers for the Sick and Distressed, that Triumph at the Pa.s.sages which gave Instances of divine Mercy, which appeared respectively in her Aspect, will be in my Memory to my last Hour. I protest to you, Sir, she suspended the Devotion of every one around her; and the Ease she did every thing with, soon dispersed the churlish Dislike and Hesitation in approving what is excellent, too frequent amongst us, to a general Attention and Entertainment in observing her Behaviour. All the while that we were gazing at her, she took Notice of no Object about her, but had an Art of seeming awkwardly attentive, whatever else her Eyes were accidentally thrown upon. One Thing indeed was particular, she stood the whole Service, and never kneeled or sat; I do not question but that was to shew her self with the greater Advantage, and set forth to better Grace her Hands and Arms, lifted up with the most ardent Devotion, and her Bosom, the fairest Observation; while she, you must think, knew nothing of the Concern she gave others, any other than as an Example of Devotion, that threw her self out, without regard to Dress or Garment, all Contrition, and loose of all Worldly Regards, in Ecstasy of Devotion. Well, now the Organ was to play a Voluntary, and she was so skilful in Musick, and so touched with it, that she kept time not only with some Motion of her Head, but also with a different Air in her Countenance. When the Musick was strong and bold, she look'd exalted, but serious; when lively and airy, she was smiling and gracious; when the Notes were more soft and languishing, she was kind and full of Pity. When she had now made it visible to the whole Congregation, by her Motion and Ear, that she could dance, and she wanted now only to inform us that she could sing too, when the Psalm was given out, her Voice was distinguished above all the rest, or rather People did not exert their own in order to hear her. Never was any heard so sweet and so strong. The Organist observed it, and he thought fit to play to her only, and she swelled every Note; when she found she had thrown us all out, and had the last Verse to herself in such a manner as the whole Congregation was intent upon her, in the same manner as we see in the Cathedrals, they are on the Person who sings alone the Anthem. Well, it came at last to the Sermon, and our young Lady would not lose her Part in that neither; for she fixed her Eye upon the Preacher, and as he said any thing she approved, with one of _Charles Mathers's_ fine Tablets she set down the Sentence, at once shewing her fine Hand, the Gold-Pen, her Readiness in Writing, and her Judgment in chusing what to write. To sum up what I intend by this long and particular Account, I mean to appeal to you, whether it is reasonable that such a Creature as this shall come from a jaunty Part of the Town, and give herself such violent Airs, to the disturbance of an innocent and inoffensive Congregation, with her Sublimities. The Fact, I a.s.sure you, was as I have related; but I had like to have forgot another very considerable Particular. As soon as Church was done, she immediately stepp'd out of her Pew, and fell into the finest pitty-pat Air, forsooth, wonderfully out of Countenance, tossing her Head up and down as she swam along the Body of the Church. I, with several others of the Inhabitants, follow'd her out, and saw her hold up her Fan to an Hackney-Coach at a Distance, who immediately came up to her, and she whipp'd into it with great Nimbleness, pull'd the Door with a bowing Mein, as if she had been used to a better Gla.s.s. She said aloud, _You know where to go_, and drove off. By this time the best of the Congregation was at the Church-Door, and I could hear some say, _A very fine Lady_; others, _I'll warrant ye, she's no better than she should be_; and one very wise old Lady said, _She ought to have been taken up_. Mr. SPECTATOR, I think this Matter lies wholly before you: for the Offence does not come under any Law, tho' it is apparent this Creature came among us only to give herself Airs, and enjoy her full Swing in being admir'd.

I desire you would print this, that she may be confin'd to her own Parish; for I can a.s.sure you there is no attending any thing else in a Place where she is a Novelty. She has been talked of among us ever since under the Name of the _Phantom_: But I would advise her to come no more; for there is so strong a Party made by the Women against her, that she must expect they will not be excell'd a second time in so outrageous a manner, without doing her some Insult. Young Women, who a.s.sume after this rate, and affect exposing themselves to view in Congregations at t'other end of the Town, are not so mischievous, because they are rivall'd by more of the same Ambition, who will not let the rest of the Company be particular: But in the Name of the whole Congregation where I was, I desire you to keep these agreeable Disturbances out of the City, where Sobriety of Manners is still preserv'd, and all glaring and ostentatious Behaviour, even in things laudable, discountenanced. I wish you may never see the Phantom, and am,'

_SIR_,

_Your most humble Servant_,

Ralph Wonder.

T.

No. 504. Wednesday, October 8, 1712. Steele.

'Lepus tute es, et pulpamentum quaeris.'

Ter.

It is a great Convenience to those who want Wit to furnish out a Conversation, that there is something or other in all Companies where it is wanted subst.i.tuted in its stead, which according to their Taste, does the Business as well. Of this nature is the agreeable Pastime in Country-Halls of Cross-purposes, Questions and Commands, and the like. A little superior to these are those who can play at Crambo, or cap Verses. Then above them are such as can make Verses, that is, Rhime; and among those who have the _Latin_ Tongue, such as use to make what they call golden Verses. Commend me also to those who have not Brains enough for any of these Exercises, and yet do not give up their Pretensions to Mirth. These can slap you on the Back unawares, laugh loud, ask you how you do with a Tw.a.n.g on your Shoulders, say you are dull to-day, and laugh a Voluntary to put you in Humour; the laborious Way among the minor Poets, of making things come into such and such a Shape, as that of an Egg, an Hand, an Ax, or any thing that no body had ever thought on before for that purpose, or which would have cost a great deal of Pains to accomplish it if they did. But all these Methods, tho' they are mechanical, and may be arrived at with the smallest Capacity, do not serve an honest Gentleman who wants Wit for his Ordinary Occasions; therefore it is absolutely necessary that the Poor in Imagination should have something which may be serviceable to them at all Hours upon all common Occurrences. That which we call Punning is therefore greatly affected by Men of small Intellects. These Men need not be concerned with you for the whole Sentence; but if they can say a quaint thing, or bring in a Word which sounds like any one Word you have spoken to them they can turn the Discourse, or distract you so that you cannot go on, and by consequence if they cannot be as witty as you are, they can hinder your being any wittier than they are. Thus if you talk of a Candle, he _can deal_ with you; and if you ask him to help you to some Bread, a Punster should think himself very ill-_bred_ if he did not; and if he is not as well-_bred_ as your self, he hopes for _Grains_ of Allowance. If you do not understand that last Fancy, you must recollect that Bread is made of Grain; and so they go on for ever, without Possibility of being exhausted.

There are another Kind of People of small Faculties, who supply want of Wit with want of Breeding; and because Women are both by Nature and Education more offended at any thing which is immodest than we Men are, these are ever harping upon things they ought not to allude to, and deal mightily in double Meanings. Every one's own Observation will suggest Instances enough of this kind, without my mentioning any; for your double Meaners are dispersed up and down thro' all Parts of Town or City where there are any to offend, in order to set off themselves. These Men are mighty loud Laughers, and held very pretty Gentlemen with the sillier and unbred Part of Womankind. But above all already mentioned, or any who ever were, or ever can be in the World, the happiest and surest to be pleasant, are a Sort of People whom we have not indeed lately heard much of, and those are your _Biters_.

A _Biter_ [1] is one who tells you a thing you have no reason to disbelieve in it self; and perhaps has given you, before he bit you, no reason to disbelieve it for his saying it; and if you give him Credit, laughs in your Face, and triumphs that he has deceiv'd you. In a Word, a _Biter_ is one who thinks you a Fool, because you do not think him a Knave. This Description of him one may insist upon to be a just one; for what else but a Degree of Knavery is it, to depend upon Deceit for what you gain of another, be it in point of Wit, or Interest, or any thing else?

This way of Wit is called _Biting_, by a Metaphor taken from Beasts of Prey, which devour harmless and unarmed Animals, and look upon them as their Food wherever they meet them. The Sharpers about Town very ingeniously understood themselves to be to the undesigning Part of Mankind what Foxes are to Lambs, and therefore used the Word _Biting_ to express any Exploit wherein they had over-reach'd any innocent and inadvertent Man of his Purse. These Rascals of late Years have been the Gallants of the Town, and carried it with a fashionable haughty Air, to the discouragement of Modesty and all honest Arts. Shallow Fops, who are govern'd by the Eye, and admire every thing that struts in vogue, took up from the Sharpers the Phrase of _Biting_, and used it upon all Occasions, either to disown any nonsensical Stuff they should talk themselves, or evade the Force of what was reasonably said by others.

Thus, when one of these cunning Creatures was enter'd into a Debate with you, whether it was practicable in the present State of Affairs to accomplish such a Proposition, and you thought he had let fall what destroy'd his Side of the Question, as soon as you look'd with an Earnestness ready to lay hold of it, he immediately cry'd, _Bite_, and you were immediately to acknowledge all that Part was in Jest. They carry this to all the Extravagance imaginable, and if one of these Witlings knows any Particulars which may give Authority to what he says, he is still the more ingenious if he imposes upon your Credulity. I remember a remarkable Instance of this Kind. There came up a shrewd young Fellow to a plain young Man, his Countryman, and taking him aside with a grave concern'd Countenance, goes on at this rate: I see you here, and have you heard nothing out of _Yorkshire_--You look so surpriz'd you could not have heard of it--and yet the Particulars are such, that it cannot be false: I am sorry I am got into it so far that I now must tell you; but I know not but it may be for your Service to know--on _Tuesday_ last, just after Dinner--you know his Manner is to smoke, opening his Box, your Father fell down dead in an Apoplexy. The Youth shew'd the filial Sorrow which he ought--Upon which the witty Man cry'd, _Bite, there was nothing in all this_--

To put an end to this silly, pernicious, frivolous Way at once, I will give the Reader one late Instance of a _Bite_, which no _Biter_ for the future will ever be able to equal, tho' I heartily wish him the same Occasion. It is a Superst.i.tion with some Surgeons who beg the Bodies of condemn'd Malefactors, to go to the Gaol, and bargain for the Carcase with the Criminal himself. A good honest Fellow did so last Sessions, and was admitted to the condemned Men on the Morning wherein they died.

The Surgeon communicated his Business, and fell into discourse with a little Fellow, who refused Twelve Shillings, and insisted upon Fifteen for his Body. The Fellow, who kill'd the Officer of _Newgate_, very forwardly, and like a Man who was willing to deal, told him, Look you, Mr. Surgeon, that little dry Fellow, who has been half-starved all his Life, and is now half-dead with Fear, cannot answer your Purpose. I have ever liv'd high and freely, my Veins are full, I have not pined in Imprisonment; you see my Crest swells to your Knife, and after _Jack-Catch_ has done, upon my Honour you'll find me as sound as e'er a Bullock in any of the Markets. Come, for Twenty Shillings I am your Man--Says the Surgeon, Done, there's a Guinea--This witty Rogue took the Money, and as soon as he had it in his Fist, cries, _Bite, I am to be hang'd in Chains._

T.

[Footnote 1: See No. 47. Swift writes,

'I'll teach you a way to outwit Mrs. Johnson; it is a new fashioned way of being witty, and they call it a _Bite_. You must ask a bantering question, or tell some lie in a serious manner, then she will answer, or speak as if you were in earnest, and then cry you, "Madam, there's a _Bite_." I would not have you undervalue this, for it is the constant amus.e.m.e.nt in Court, and every where else among the great people; and I let you know it, in order to have it among you, and to teach you a new refinement.'

Journal to Stella. Although 'bite' and 'biter' have not retained this sense, it remains in an occasional use of the word 'bitten.']

No. 505. Thursday, October 9, 1712. Addison.

'Non habeo denique nauci Marsum Augurem, Non vicanos Aruspices, non de circo Astrologos, Non Isiacos Conjectores, non Interpletes somnium: Non enim sunt ii aut scientia, aut arte Divini, Sed superst.i.tiosi vates, impudentesque harioli, Aut inertes, aut insani, aut quibus egestas imperat: Qui sui questus causa fictas suscitant sententias, Qui sibi semitam non sapiunt, alteri monstrant viam, Quibus divitias pollicentur, ab iis drachmam petunt; De divitiis deducant drachmam, reddant coetera.'

Ennius.