17. But the hope of the hypocrite must perish. When the fict.i.tious beauty has laid by her smiles, when the l.u.s.tre of her eyes and the bloom of her cheeks have lost their influence with their novelty; what remains but a tyrant divested of power, who will never be seen without a mixture of indignation and disdain? The only desire which this object could gratify, will be transferred to another, not only without reluctance, but with triumph.

18. As resentment will succeed to disappointment, a desire to mortify will succeed to a desire to please; and the husband may be urged to solicit a mistress, merely by a remembrance of the beauty of his wife, which lasted only till she was known.

Let it therefore be remembered, that none can be disciples of the Graces, but in the school of Virtue; and that those who wish to be lovely, must learn early to be good.

19. A FRIEND of mine has two daughters, whom I will call _Laet.i.tia_ and _Daphne_. The former is one of the greatest beauties of the age in which she lives; the latter no way remarkable for any charms in her person.

Upon this one circ.u.mstance of their outward form, the good and ill of their life seem to turn. _Laet.i.tia_ has not from her very childhood heard any thing else but commendations of her features and complexion, by which means she is no other than nature made her, a very beautiful outside.

20. The consciousness of her charms has rendered her insupportably vain and insolent towards all who have to do with her. _Daphne_, who was almost twenty before one civil thing had ever been said to her, found herself obliged to acquire some accomplishments to make up for the want of those attractions which she saw in her sister.

21. Poor _Daphne_ was seldom submitted to in a debate wherein she was concerned; her discourse had nothing to recommend it but the good sense of it, and she was always under a necessity to have very well considered what she was to say before she uttered it; while _Laet.i.tia_ was listened to with partiality, and approbation sat in the countenances of those she conversed with, before she communicated what she had to say.

22. These causes have produced suitable effects, and _Laet.i.tia_ is as insipid a companion as _Daphne_ is an agreeable one. _Laet.i.tia_, confident of favour, has studied no arts to please: _Daphne_, despairing of any inclination towards her person, has depended only on her merit.

_Laet.i.tia_ has always something in her air that is sullen, grave and disconsolate.

23. _Daphne_ has a countenance that appears cheerful, open and unconcerned. A young gentleman saw _Laet.i.tia_ this winter at play, and became her captive. His fortune was such, that he wanted very little introduction to speak his sentiments to her father. The lover was admitted with the utmost freedom into the family, where a constrained behaviour, severe looks, and distant civilities were the highest favours he could obtain from _Laet.i.tia_; while _Daphne_ used him with the good humour, familiarity, and innocence of a sister.

24. Insomuch that he would often say to her, _Dear Daphne, wert thou but as handsome as Laet.i.tia!_--She received such language with that ingenious and pleasing mirth, which is natural to a woman without design. He still sighed in vain for _Laet.i.tia_ but found certain relief in the agreeable conversation of _Daphne_. At length, heartily tired with the haughty impertinence of _Laet.i.tia_, and charmed with repeated instances of good humour he had observed in _Daphne_, he one day told the latter, that he had something to say to her he hoped she would be pleased with.

25. ----_Faith Daphne_, continued he, _I am in love with thee, and despise thy sister sincerely_. The manner of his declaring himself gave his mistress occasion for a very hearty laughter.--_Nay_, says he, _I knew you would laugh at me, but I'll ask your father_. He did so; the father received his intelligence with no less joy than surprize, and was very glad he had now no care left but for his beauty, which he thought he would carry to market at his leisure.

26. I do not know any thing that has pleased me so much a great while, as this conquest of my friend _Daphne's_. All her acquaintance congratulate her upon her chance medley, and laugh at that premeditating murderer, her sister. As it is an argument of a light mind, to think the worse of ourselves for the imperfections of our persons, it is equally below us to value ourselves upon the advantages of them.

27. The female world seems to be almost incorrigibly gone astray in this particular; for which reason, I shall recommend the following extract out of a friend's letter to the profess'd beauties, who are a people almost as insufferable as the profess'd wits.

'Monsier St. _Evrement_ has concluded one of his essays with affirming, that the last sighs of a handsome woman are not so much for the loss of her life, as her beauty.

28. 'Perhaps this raillery is pursued too far, yet it is turned upon a very obvious remark, that woman's strongest pa.s.sion is for her own beauty, and that she values it as her favourite distinction. From hence it is that all hearts, which intend to improve or preserve it, meet with so general a reception among the s.e.x.

29. To say nothing Of many false helps, and contraband wares of beauty, which are daily vended in this great mart, there is not a maiden gentlewoman, of a good family, in any county of _South Britain_, who has not heard of the virtues of may-dew, or is unfurnished with some receipt or other in favour of her complexion; and I have known a physician of learning and sense, after eight years study in the university and a course of travels into most countries of _Europe_, owe the first raising of his fortune to a cosmetic wash.

30. 'This has given me occasion to consider how so universal a disposition in womankind, which springs from a laudable motive, the desire of pleasing, and proceeds upon an opinion, not altogether groundless, that nature may be helped by art, may be turned to their advantage. And, methinks, it would be an acceptable service to take them out of the hands of quacks and pretenders, and to prevent their imposing upon themselves, by discovering to them the true secret and art of improving beauty.

31. 'In order to do this, before I touch upon it directly, it will be necessary to lay down a few preliminary maxims, _viz._

That no woman can be handsome by the force of features alone, any more she can be witty only by the help of speech.

That pride destroys all symmetry and grace, and affectation is a more terrible enemy to fine faces than the small-pox.

That no woman is capable of being beautiful, who is not incapable of being false.

And, that what would be odious in a friend, is deformity in a mistress.

32 'From these few principles thus laid down, it will be easy to prove that the true art of a.s.sisting beauty consists in embellishing the whole person by the proper ornaments of virtuous and commendable qualities. By this help alone it is, that those who are the favourite work of nature, or, as Mr. _Dryden_ expresses it, the porcelain clay of human kind, become animated, and are in a capacity of exerting their charms: and those who seem to have been neglected by her, like models wrought in haste, are capable, in a great measure, of finishing what she has left imperfect.

33. 'It is, methinks, a low and degrading idea of that s.e.x, which was created to refine the joys, and soften the cares of humanity, by the most agreeable partic.i.p.ation, to consider them merely as objects of sight.--This is abridging them of their natural extent of power to put them upon a level with their pictures at the pantheon. How much n.o.bler is the contemplation of beauty heightened by virtue, and commanding our esteem and love, while it draws our observation?

34. 'How faint and spiritless are the charms of a coquette, when compared with the real loveliness of _Sophronia's_ innocence, piety, good-humour, and truth; virtues which add a new softness to her s.e.x, and even beautify her beauty! That agreeableness, which must otherwise have appeared no longer in the modest virgin, is now preserved in the tender mother, the prudent friend and faithful wife'.

35. 'Colours artfully spread upon canvas may entertain the eye, but not affect the heart; and she, who takes no care to add to the natural graces of her person, any excelling qualities, may be allowed still to amuse as a picture, but not to triumph as a beauty.

'When _Adam_ is introduced by _Milton_ describing _Eve_ in Paradise, and relating to the angel the impressions he felt upon seeing her at her first creation, he does not represent her like a _Grecian Venus_, by her shape of features, but by the l.u.s.tre of her mind which shone in them, and gave them their power of charming.

36.

Grace was in all her steps, Heav'n in her eye, In all her gestures dignity and love:

'Without this irradiating power, the proudest fair-one ought to know, whatever her gla.s.s may tell her to the contrary, that her most perfect features are uninformed and dead.

'I cannot better close this moral, than by a short epitaph, written by _Ben Johnson_ with a spirit which nothing could inspire, but such an object as I have been describing.

'Underneath this stone doth lie, As much virtue as could die; Which when alive did vigour give To as much beauty as could live.'

_I am, Sir_

_Your most humble Servant_,

R.B.

SPECTATOR, Vol. I. No.33.

_Honour_.

1. Every principle that is a motive to good actions, ought to be encouraged, since men are of so different a make, that the same principle does not work equally upon all minds. What some men are prompted to by conscience, duty, or religion, which are only different names for the same thing, others are prompted to by honour.

2. The sense of honour is of so fine and delicate a nature, that it is only to be met with in minds which are naturally n.o.ble, or in such as have been cultivated by great examples, or a refined education. This paper, therefore, is chiefly designed for those who by means of any of these advantages, are, or ought to be, actuated by this glorious principle.

3. 'But as nothing is more pernicious than a principle or action, when it is misunderstood, I shall consider honour with respect to three sorts of men. First of all, with regard to those who have a right notion of it. Secondly, with regard to those who have a mistaken notion of it. And thirdly, with regard to those who treat it as chimerical, and turn it into ridicule.

4. 'In the first place, true honour, though it be a different principle from religion, is that which produces the same effects. The lines of action, though drawn from different parts, terminate in the same point.

Religion embraces virtue as it is enjoined by the laws of G.o.d: Honour, as it is graceful and ornamental to human nature.

5. 'The religious man _fears_, the man of honor _scorns_ to do an ill action. The former considers vice as something that is beneath him, the other as something that is offensive to the Divine Being. The one as what is _unbecoming_, the other as what _forbidden_. Thus _Seneca_ speaks in the natural and genuine language of a man of honor, when he declares that were there no G.o.d to see or punish vice, he would not commit it, because it is of so mean, so base, and so vile a nature.

6. 'I shall conclude this head with the description of honor in the part of young _Juba_.

Honour's a sacred tie, the law of kings, The n.o.ble mind's distinguishing perfection, That aids and strengthens virtue where it meets her, And imitates her actions where she is not.

It ought not to be sported with.-- CATO.

7. 'In the second place we are to consider those who have mistaken notions of honor, and these are such as establish any thing to themselves for a point of honor which is contrary either to the laws of G.o.d, or of their country; who think it is more honourable to revenge than to forgive an injury; who make no scruple of telling a lie, but would put any man to death that accuses them of it: who are more careful to guard their reputation by their courage than by their virtue.

8. 'True fort.i.tude is indeed so becoming in human nature, that he who wants it scarce deserves the name of a man; but we find several who so much abuse this notion that they place the whole idea of honor in a kind of brutal courage; by which means we have had many among us who have called themselves men of honour, that would have been a disgrace to a gibbet.