The Spectator Volume I Part 116

If both these Methods fail, the best way will be to let him see you are much cast down and afflicted for the ill Opinion he entertains of you, and the Disquietudes he himself suffers for your Sake. There are many who take a kind of barbarous Pleasure in the Jealousy of those [who [2]]

love them, that insult over an aking Heart, and triumph in their Charms which are able to excite so much Uneasiness.

'Ardeat ipsa licet tormentis gaudet amantis'.

Juv.

But these often carry the Humour so far, till their affected Coldness and Indifference quite kills all the Fondness of a Lover, and are then sure to meet in their Turn with all the Contempt and Scorn that is due to so insolent a Behaviour. On the contrary, it is very probable a melancholy, dejected Carriage, the usual effects of injured Innocence, may soften the jealous Husband into Pity, make him sensible of the Wrong he does you, and work out of his Mind all those Fears and Suspicions that make you both unhappy. At least it will have this good Effect, that he will keep his Jealousy to himself, and repine in private, either because he is sensible it is a Weakness, and will therefore hide it from your Knowledge, or because he will be apt to fear some ill Effect it may produce, in cooling your Love towards him, or diverting it to another.

There is still another Secret that can never fail, if you can once get it believ'd, and what is often practis'd by Women of greater Cunning than Virtue: This is to change Sides for a while with the jealous Man, and to turn his own Pa.s.sion upon himself; to take some Occasion of growing Jealous of him, and to follow the Example he himself hath set you. This Counterfeited Jealousy will bring him a great deal of Pleasure, if he thinks it real; for he knows experimentally how much Love goes along with [this Pa.s.sion, [3]] and will [besides feel [4]]

something like the Satisfaction of a Revenge, in seeing you undergo all his own Tortures. But this, indeed, is an Artifice so difficult, and at the same time so dis-ingenuous, that it ought never to be put in Practice, but by such as have Skill enough to cover the Deceit, and Innocence to render it excusable.

I shall conclude this Essay with the Story of _Herod_ and _Mariamne_, as I have collected it out of _Josephus_; [5] which may serve almost as an Example to whatever can be said on this Subject.

_Mariamne_ had all the Charms that Beauty, Birth, Wit and Youth could give a Woman, and _Herod_ all the Love that such Charms are able to raise in a warm and amorous Disposition. In the midst of this his Fondness for _Mariamne_, he put her Brother to Death, as he did her Father not many Years after. The Barbarity of the Action was represented to _Mark Antony_, who immediately summoned _Herod_ into _Egypt_, to answer for the Crime that was there laid to his Charge. _Herod_ attributed the Summons to _Antony's_ Desire of _Mariamne_, whom therefore, before his Departure, he gave into the Custody of his Uncle _Joseph_, with private Orders to put her to Death, if any such Violence was offered to himself. This _Joseph_ was much delighted with _Mariamne's_ Conversation, and endeavoured, with all his Art and Rhetorick, to set out the Excess of _Herod's_ Pa.s.sion for her; but when he still found her Cold and Incredulous, he inconsiderately told her, as a certain Instance of her Lord's Affection, the private Orders he had left behind him, which plainly shewed, according to _Joseph's_ Interpretation, that he could neither Live nor Die without her. This Barbarous Instance of a wild unreasonable Pa.s.sion quite put out, for a time, those little Remains of Affection she still had for her Lord: Her Thoughts were so wholly taken up with the Cruelty of his Orders, that she could not consider the Kindness that produced them, and therefore represented him in her Imagination, rather under the frightful Idea of a Murderer than a Lover. _Herod_ was at length acquitted and dismissed by _Mark Antony_, when his Soul was all in Flames for his _Mariamne_; but before their Meeting, he was not a little alarm'd at the Report he had heard of his Uncle's Conversation and Familiarity with her in his Absence. This therefore was the first Discourse he entertained her with, in which she found it no easy matter to quiet his Suspicions. But at last he appeared so well satisfied of her Innocence, that from Reproaches and Wranglings he fell to Tears and Embraces. Both of them wept very tenderly at their Reconciliation, and _Herod_ poured out his whole Soul to her in the warmest Protestations of Love and Constancy: when amidst all his Sighs and Languis.h.i.+ngs she asked him, whether the private Orders he left with his Uncle _Joseph_ were an Instance of such an inflamed Affection. The Jealous King was immediately roused at so unexpected a Question, and concluded his Uncle must have been too Familiar with her, before he would have discovered such a Secret. In short, he put his Uncle to Death, and very difficultly prevailed upon himself to spare _Mariamne_.

After this he was forced on a second Journey into _Egypt_, when he committed his Lady to the Care of _Sohemus_, with the same private Orders he had before given his Uncle, if any Mischief befel himself. In the mean while _Mariamne_ so won upon _Sohemus_ by her Presents and obliging Conversation, that she drew all the Secret from him, with which _Herod_ had intrusted him; so that after his Return, when he flew to her with all the Transports of Joy and Love, she received him coldly with Sighs and Tears, and all the Marks of Indifference and Aversion. This Reception so stirred up his Indignation, that he had certainly slain her with his own Hands, had not he feared he himself should have become the greater Sufferer by it. It was not long after this, when he had another violent Return of Love upon him; _Mariamne_ was therefore sent for to him, whom he endeavoured to soften and reconcile with all possible conjugal Caresses and Endearments; but she declined his Embraces, and answered all his Fondness with bitter Invectives for the Death of her Father and her Brother. This Behaviour so incensed _Herod_, that he very hardly refrained from striking her; when in the Heat of their Quarrel there came in a Witness, suborn'd by some of _Mariamne's_ Enemies, who accused her to the King of a Design to poison him. _Herod_ was now prepared to hear any thing in her Prejudice, and immediately ordered her Servant to be stretch'd upon the Rack; who in the Extremity of his Tortures confest, that his Mistress's Aversion to the King arose from [something [6]] _Sohemus_ had told her; but as for any Design of poisoning, he utterly disowned the least Knowledge of it. This Confession quickly proved fatal to _Sohemus_, who now lay under the same Suspicions and Sentence that _Joseph_ had before him on the like Occasion. Nor would _Herod_ rest here; but accused her with great Vehemence of a Design upon his Life, and by his Authority with the Judges had her publickly Condemned and Executed. _Herod_ soon after her Death grew melancholy and dejected, retiring from the Publick Administration of Affairs into a solitary Forest, and there abandoning himself to all the black Considerations, which naturally arise from a Pa.s.sion made up of Love, Remorse, Pity and Despair, he used to rave for his _Mariamne_, and to call upon her in his distracted Fits; and in all probability would soon have followed her, had not his Thoughts been seasonably called off from so sad an Object by Publick Storms, which at that Time very nearly threatned him.

L.

[Footnote 1: ", part of which I find Translated to my Hand."]

[Footnote 2: that]

[Footnote 3: it]

[Footnote 4: receive]

[Footnote 5: 'Antiquities of the Jews', Bk. xv. ch. iii. -- 5, 6, 9; ch.

vii. -- 1, 2, &c.]

[Footnote 6: some thing that]

No. 172. Monday, September 17, 1711. Steele.

'Non solum Scientia, quae est remota a Just.i.tia, Calliditas potius quam Sapientia est appellanda; verum etiam Animus paratus ad periculum, si sua cupiditate, non utilitate communi impellitur, Audaciae potius nomen habeat, quam Fort.i.tudinis.'

Plato apnd Tull.

There can be no greater Injury to humane Society than that good Talents among Men should be held honourable to those who are endowed with them without any Regard how they are applied. The Gifts of Nature and Accomplishments of Art are valuable, but as they are exerted in the Interest of Virtue, or governed by the Rules of Honour. We ought to abstract our Minds from the Observation of any Excellence in those we converse with, till we have taken some Notice, or received some good Information of the Disposition of their Minds; otherwise the Beauty of their Persons, or the Charms of their Wit, may make us fond of those whom our Reason and Judgment will tell us we ought to abhor.

When we suffer our selves to be thus carried away by meer Beauty, or meer Wit, _Omniamante_, with all her Vice, will bear away as much of our Good-will as the most innocent Virgin or discreetest Matron; and there cannot be a more abject Slavery in this World, than to doat upon what we think we ought to contemn: Yet this must be our Condition in all the Parts of Life, if we suffer our selves to approve any Thing but what tends to the Promotion of what is good and honourable. If we would take true Pains with our selves to consider all Things by the Light of Reason and Justice, tho' a Man were in the Height of Youth and amorous Inclinations, he would look upon a Coquet with the same Contempt or Indifference as he would upon a c.o.xcomb: The wanton Carriage in a Woman, would disappoint her of the Admiration which she aims at; and the vain Dress or Discourse of a Man would destroy the Comeliness of his Shape, or Goodness of his Understanding. I say the Goodness of his Understanding, for it is no less common to see Men of Sense commence c.o.xcombs, than beautiful Women become immodest. When this happens in either, the Favour we are naturally inclined to give to the good Qualities they have from Nature, should abate in Proportion. But however just it is to measure the Value of Men by the Application of their Talents, and not by the Eminence of those Qualities abstracted from their Use; I say, however just such a Way of judging is, in all Ages as well as this, the Contrary has prevailed upon the Generality of Mankind.

How many lewd Devices have been preserved from one Age to another, which had perished as soon as they were made, if Painters and Sculptors had been esteemed as much for the Purpose as the Execution of their Designs?

Modest and well-governed Imaginations have by this Means lost the Representations of Ten Thousand charming Portraitures, filled with Images of innate Truth, generous Zeal, couragious Faith, and tender Humanity; instead of which, Satyrs, Furies, and Monsters are recommended by those Arts to a shameful Eternity.

The unjust Application of laudable Talents, is tolerated, in the general Opinion of Men, not only in such Cases as are here mentioned, but also in Matters which concern ordinary Life. If a Lawyer were to be esteemed only as he uses his Parts in contending for Justice, and were immediately despicable when he appeared in a Cause which he could not but know was an unjust one, how honourable would his Character be? And how honourable is it in such among us, who follow the Profession no otherwise than as labouring to protect the Injured, to subdue the Oppressor, to imprison the careless Debtor, and do right to the painful Artificer? But many of this excellent Character are overlooked by the greater Number; who affect covering a weak Place in a Client's t.i.tle, diverting the Course of an Enquiry, or finding a skilful Refuge to palliate a Falsehood: Yet it is still called Eloquence in the latter, though thus unjustly employed; but Resolution in an a.s.sa.s.sin is according to Reason quite as laudable, as Knowledge and Wisdom exercised in the Defence of an ill Cause.

Were the Intention stedfastly considered, as the Measure of Approbation, all Falsehood would soon be out of Countenance; and an Address in imposing upon Mankind, would be as contemptible in one State of Life as another. A Couple of Courtiers making Professions of Esteem, would make the same Figure under Breach of Promise, as two Knights of the Post convicted of Perjury. But Conversation is fallen so low in point of Morality, that as they say in a Bargain, _Let the Buyer look to it_; so in Friends.h.i.+p, he is the Man in Danger who is most apt to believe: He is the more likely to suffer in the Commerce, who begins with the Obligation of being the more ready to enter into it.

But those Men only are truly great, who place their Ambition rather in acquiring to themselves the Conscience of worthy Enterprizes, than in the Prospect of Glory which attends them. These exalted Spirits would rather be secretly the Authors of Events which are serviceable to Mankind, than, without being such, to have the publick Fame of it. Where therefore an eminent Merit is robbed by Artifice or Detraction, it does but encrease by such Endeavours of its Enemies: The impotent Pains which are taken to sully it, or diffuse it among a Crowd to the Injury of a single Person, will naturally produce the contrary Effect; the Fire will blaze out, and burn up all that attempt to smother what they cannot extinguish.

There is but one thing necessary to keep the Possession of true Glory, which is, to hear the Opposers of it with Patience, and preserve the Virtue by which it was acquired. When a Man is thoroughly perswaded that he ought neither to admire, wish for, or pursue any thing but what is exactly his Duty, it is not in the Power of Seasons, Persons, or Accidents to diminish his Value: He only is a great Man who can neglect the Applause of the Mult.i.tude, and enjoy himself independent of its Favour. This is indeed an arduous Task; but it should comfort a glorious Spirit that it is the highest Step to which human Nature can arrive.

Triumph, Applause, Acclamation, are dear to the Mind of Man; but it is still a more exquisite Delight to say to your self, you have done well, than to hear the whole human Race p.r.o.nounce you glorious, except you your self can join with them in your own Reflections. A Mind thus equal and uniform may be deserted by little fas.h.i.+onable Admirers and Followers, but will ever be had in Reverence by Souls like it self. The Branches of the Oak endure all the Seasons of the Year, though its Leaves fall off in Autumn; and these too will be restored with the returning Spring.

T.

No. 173. Tuesday, September 18, 1711. Addison.

'... Remove fera monstra, tuaegue Saxificos vultus, quaecunque ea, tolle Medusae.'

Ovid. Met.

In a late Paper I mention'd the Project of an Ingenious Author for the erecting of several Handicraft Prizes to be contended for by our _British_ Artizans, and the Influence they might have towards the Improvement of our several Manufactures. I have since that been very much surprized by the following Advertis.e.m.e.nt which I find in the 'Post-Boy' of the 11th Instant, and again repeated in the 'Post-Boy' of the 15th.

On the 9th of October next will be run for upon Coles.h.i.+ll-Heath in Warwicks.h.i.+re, a Plate of 6 Guineas Value, 3 Heats, by any Horse, Mare or Gelding that hath not won above the Value of 5, the winning Horse to be sold for 10, to carry 10 Stone Weight, if 14 Hands high; if above or under to carry or be allowed Weight for Inches, and to be entered Friday the 5th at the Swan in Coles.h.i.+ll, before Six in the Evening. Also a Plate of less Value to be run for by a.s.ses. The same Day a Gold Ring to be Grinn'd for by Men.

The first of these Diversions, that is to be exhibited by the 10 Race-Horses, may probably have its Use; but the two last, in which the a.s.ses and Men are concerned, seem to me altogether extraordinary and unaccountable. Why they should keep Running a.s.ses at _Coles.h.i.+ll_, or how making Mouths turns to account in _Warwicks.h.i.+re_, more than in any other Parts of _England_, I cannot comprehend. I have looked over all the Olympic Games, and do not find any thing in them like an a.s.s-Race, or a Match at Grinning. However it be, I am informed that several a.s.ses are now kept in Body-Cloaths, and sweated every Morning upon the Heath, and that all the Country-Fellows within ten Miles of the _Swan_, grinn an Hour or two in their Gla.s.ses every Morning, in order to qualify themselves for the 9th of _October_. The Prize, which is proposed to be Grinn'd for, has raised such an Ambition among the Common People of Out-grinning one another, that many very discerning Persons are afraid it should spoil most of the Faces in the Country; and that a _Warwicks.h.i.+re_ Man will be known by his Grinn, as Roman-Catholicks imagine a _Kentish_ Man is by his Tail. The Gold Ring which is made the Prize of Deformity, is just the Reverse of the Golden Apple that was formerly made the Prize of Beauty, and should carry for its Posy the old Motto inverted.