The Spectator Volume Iii Part 101

'In order to execute the Office of Love-Casuist to _Great Britain_, with which I take my self to be invested by your Paper of September 8, [1] I shall make some further Observations upon the two s.e.xes in general, beginning with that which always ought to have the upper Hand. After having observed with much Curiosity the Accomplishments which are apt to captivate female Hearts, I find that there is no Person so irresistable as one who is a Man of Importance, provided it be in Matters of no Consequence. One who makes himself talked of, tho'

it be for the particular c.o.c.k of his Hat, or for prating aloud in the Boxes at a Play, is in a fair way of being a Favourite. I have known a young Fellow make his Fortune by knocking down a Constable; and may venture to say, tho' it may seem a Paradox, that many a Fair One has died by a Duel in which both the Combatants have survived.

About three Winters ago I took Notice of a young Lady at the Theatre, who convceived of a Pa.s.sion for a notorious Rake that headed a Party of Cat-calls; and am credibly informed, that the Emperor of the Mohocks married a rich Widow within three Weeks after having rendered himself formidable in the Cities of _London_ and _Westminster_.

Scowring and breaking Windows have done frequent Execution upon the s.e.x; but there is no Sett of these Male Charmers who make their way more successfully, than those who have gained themselves a Name for Intrigue, and have ruined the greatest Number of Reputations. There is a strange Curiosity in the female World to be acquainted with the dear Man who has been loved by others, and to know what it is that makes him so agreeable. His Reputation does more than half his Business.

Every one that is ambitious of being a Woman of Fashion, looks out for Opportunities of being in his Company; so that to use the old Proverb, When his Name is up he may lie a-Bed.

'I was very sensible of the great Advantage of being a Man of Importance upon these Occasions on the Day of the King's Entry, when I was seated in a Balcony behind a Cl.u.s.ter of very pretty Country Ladies, who had one of these showy Gentlemen in the midst of them. The first Trick I caught him at was bowing to several Persons of Quality whom he did not know; nay, he had the Impudence to hem at a Blue Garter who had a finer Equipage than ordinary, and seemed a little concerned at the Impertinent Huzzas of the Mob, that hindered his Friend from taking Notice of him. There was indeed one who pull'd off his Hat to him, and upon the Ladies asking who it was, he told them, it was a Foreign Minister that he had been very merry with the Night before; whereas in Truth, it was the City Common Hunt.

'He was never at a Loss when he was asked any Person's Name, tho' he seldom knew any one under a Peer. He found Dukes and Earls among the Aldermen, very good-natured Fellows among the Privy-Counsellors, with two or three agreeable old Rakes among the Bishops and Judges.

'In short, I collected from his whole Discourse, that he was acquainted with every Body, and knew no Body. At the same Time, I am mistaken if he did not that Day make more Advances in the Affections of his Mistress, who sat near him, than he could have done in half a Year's Courtship.

'_Ovid_ has finely touched this Method of making Love, which I shall here give my Reader in Mr. _Dryden's_ Translation.

Page the Eleventh.

'Thus Love in Theatres did first improve, And Theatres are still the Scene of Love: Nor shun the Chariots, and the Coursers Race; The Circus is no inconvenient Place.

Nor Need is there of talking on the Hand, Nor Nods, nor Sighs, which Lovers understand; But boldly next the Fair your Seat provide, Close as you can to hers, and Side by Side: Pleas'd or unpleas'd, no Matter; crowding sit; For so the Laws of publick Shows permit.

Then find Occasion to begin Discourse, Enquire whose Chariot this, and whose that Horse; To whatsoever Side she is inclin'd, Suit all your Inclinations to her Mind; Like what she likes, from thence your Court begin, And whom she favours, wish that he may win.'

Again, Page the Sixteenth.

'O when will come the Day, by Heav'n design'd, When thou, the best and fairest of Mankind, Drawn by white Horses, shall in Triumph ride, With conquer'd Slaves attending on thy Side; Slaves, that no longer can be safe in flight, O glorious Object! O surprizing Sight!

O Day of publick Joy, too good to end in Night!

On such a Day, if thou, and next to thee Some Beauty sits, the Spectacle to see; If she enquire the Names of conquer'd Kings, Of Mountains, Rivers, and their hidden Springs; Answer to all thou knowest; and, if Need be, Of Things unknown seem to speak knowingly: This is_ Euphrates, _crown'd with Reeds; and there Flows the swift_ Tigris, _with his Sea-green hair, Invent new Names of Things unknown before; Call this_ Armenia, _that, the_ Caspian _Sh.o.r.e: Call this a_ Mede, _and that a_ Parthian _Youth; Talk probably; no Matter for the Truth.'

[Footnote 1: No. 591]

No. 603. Wednesday, October 6, 1714. Byrom.

'Ducite ab Urbe Domum, mea Carmina, ducite Daphnim.'

Virg.

The following Copy of Verses comes from one of my Correspondents, and has something in it so Original, that I do not much doubt but it will divert my Readers [1].

I. My Time, O ye Muses, was happily spent, When_ Phebe _went with me wherever I went; Ten thousand sweet Pleasures I felt in my Breast: Sure never fond Shepherd like_ Colin _was blest!

But now she is gone, and has left me behind, What a marvellous Change on a sudden I find?

When things were as fine as could possibly be, I thought 'twas the Spring; but alas! it was she.

II. With such a Companion, to tend a few Sheep, To rise up and play, or to lye down and sleep: I was so good-humour'd, so chearful and gay, My Heart was as light as a Feather all Day.

But now I so cross and so peevish am grown; So strangely uneasie as ever was known.

My Fair one is gone, and my Joys are all drown'd, And my Heart--I am sure it weighs more than a Pound.

III. The Fountain that wont to run sweetly along, And dance to soft Murmurs the Pebbles among, Thou know'st, little Cupid, if_ Phebe _was there, 'Twas Pleasure to look at, 'twas Musick to hear: But now she is absent, I walk by its Side, And still as it murmurs do nothing but chide, Must you be so chearful, while I go in Pain?

Peace there with your Bubbling, and hear me complain.

IV. When my Lambkins around me would oftentimes play, And when_ Phebe _and I were as joyful as they, How pleasant their Sporting, how happy the Time, When Spring, Love and Beauty were all in their Prime?

But now in their Frolicks when by me they pa.s.s, I fling at their Fleeces an handful of Gra.s.s; Be still then, I cry, for it makes me quite mad, To see you so merry, while I am so sad.

V. My Dog I was ever well pleased to see Come wagging his Tail to my Fair one and me; And_ Phebe _was pleas'd too, and to my Dog said, Come hither, poor Fellow; and patted his Head.

But now, when he's fawning, I with a sour Look Cry, Sirrah; and give him a Blow with my Crook: And I'll give him another; for why should not_ Tray _Be as dull as his Master, when_ Phebe's _away?

VI. When walking with_ Phebe, _what Sights have I seen?

How fair was the Flower, how fresh was the Green?

What a lovely appearance the Trees and the Shade, The Corn-fields and Hedges, and ev'ry thing made?

But now she has left me, tho' all are still there, They none of 'em now so delightful appear: 'Twas nought but the Magick, I find, of her Eyes, Made so many beautiful Prospects arise.

VII. Sweet Musick went with us both all the Wood thro', The Lark, Linnet, Throstle, and Nightingale too; Winds over us whisper'd, Flocks by us did bleat, And chirp went the Gra.s.shopper under our Feet.

But now she is absent, tho' still they sing on, The Woods are but lonely, the Melody's gone: Her Voice in the Consort, as now I have found, Gave ev'ry thing else its agreeable Sound.

VIII. Rose, what is become of thy delicate Hue?

And where is the Violet's beautiful Blue?

Does ought of its Sweetness the Blossom beguile, That Meadow, those Dasies, why do they not smile?

Ah! Rivals, I see what it was that you drest And made your selves fine for; a Place in her Breast: You put on your Colours to pleasure her Eye, To be pluckt by her Hand, on her Bosom to die.

IX. How slowly Time creeps, till my_ Phebe _return!

While amidst the soft Zephyr's cold Breezes I burn; Methinks if I knew whereabouts he would tread, I could breathe on his Wings, and 'twould melt down the Lead.

Fly swifter, ye Minutes, bring hither my Dear, And rest so much longer for't when she is here.

Ah_ Colin! _old Time is full of Delay, Nor will budge one Foot faster for all thou canst say.

X. Will no pitying Power that hears me complain, Or cure my Disquiet, or soften my Pain?