Juv. SAT. VI. V. 501. With curls on curls they build her head before,

And mount it with a formidable tow'r :
A giantess the feems; but look behind,
And then the dwindles to the pigmy kind.
DRYDEN.

But I do not remember in any part of my reading, that the head-dress aspired to fo great an extravagance as in the fourteenth century; when it was built up in a couple of cones or fpires, which flood fo exceffively high on each fide of the head, that a woman, who was but a Pigmy without her head-drefs, appeared like a Coloffus upon putting it on. Monfieur Paradin says, that these oid-fashioned fontanges rofe an ell above the head; that they were pointed like fteeples, and had long loofe pieces of crape faftened to the tops of them, which were curioufly fringed, and hung down their backs like streamers.

The women might poffibly have carried this Gothic building much higher, had not a famous monk, Thomas Conecte by name, attacked it with great zeal and refolution. This holy man travelled from place to place to preach down this monstrous commode; and fucceeded fo well in it, that as the magicians facrificed their books to the 1 flames upon the preaching of an apostle, many of the women threw down their head-dreffes in the middle of his fermon, and made a bonfire of them within fight of the pulpit. He was fo renowned as well for the fanctity of his life as his manner of preaching, that he had often a congregation of twenty thousand people; the men placing themselves on the one fide of his pulpit, and the women

on the other, that appeared, to use the fimilitude of an ingenious writer, like a foreft of cedars with their heads reaching to the clouds. He fo warmed and animated the people against this monftrous ornament, that it lay under a kind of persecution; and whenever it appeared in public was pelted down by the rabble, who flung ftones at the perfons that wore it. But notwithstanding this prodigy vanished, while the preacher was among them, it began to appear again fome months after his departure, or to tell it in Monfieur Paradin's own words-The women that, like fnails

in a fright, had drawn in their horns, fhot them out again as foon as the danger was over. This extravagance of the women's head-dreffes in that age is taken notice of by Monfieur d'Argentré in the History of Bretagne, and by other hiftorians as well as the perfon I have here quoted.

It is ufually obferved, that a good reign is the only proper time for the making of laws against the exorbitance of power; in the fame manner an exceffive head-drefs may be attacked the most effectually when the fashion is against it. I do therefore recommend this pa per to my female readers by way of prevention.

I would defire the fair-fex to confider how impoffible it is for them to add any thing that can be ornamental to what is already the mafter-piece of nature. The head has the most beautiful appearance, as well as the highest ftation, in a hu man figure. Nature has laid out all her art in beautifying the face; he has touched it with vermilion, planted in it a double row of ivory, made it the feat of fmiles and blushes, lighted it up and enlivened it with the brightnefs of the eyes, hung it on each fide with curious organs of fenfe, given it airs and graces that cannot be defcribed, and furrounded it with fuch a flowing shade of hair as fets all it's beauties in the most agreeable light: in fhort, fhe feems to have defigned the head as the cupola to the most glorious of her works; and when we load it with fuch a pile of fupernumerary ornaments, we deftroy the fymmetry of the human figure, and foolishly contrive to call off the eye from great and real beauties, to childish gewgaws, ribbands, and bone-lace,

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N° XCIX.

TH

new.

HOR. SAT. VI. L. I. v. 63.

HE club, of which I have often declared myself a member, were last night engaged in a difcourfe upon that which pafles for the chief point of honour among men and women; and Atarted a great many hints upon the subject, which I thought were entirely I fhall therefore methodize the feveral reflections that arofe upon this occafion, and prefent my reader with them for the fpeculation of this day; after having premised, that if there is any thing in this paper which feens to differ with any paffage of last Thurf day's, the reader will confider this as the fentiments of the club, and the other as my own private thoughts, or rather thofe of Pharamond.

The great point of honour in men is courage, and in women chastity. If a nan lofes his honour in one rencounter, it is not impoffible for him to regain it in another; a flip in a woman's honour is irrecoverable. I can give no reafon for fixing the point of honour to thefe two qualities, unless it be that each fex fets the greatest value on the qualification which renders them the moft amiable in the eyes of the contrary fex. Had men chofen for themselves, without regard to the opinions of the fairex, I fhould believe the choice would have fallen on wifdom or virtue; or had women determined their own point of honour, it is probable that wit or goodnature would have carried it against chastity.

Nothing recommends a man more to the female fex than courage; whether it be that they are pleafed to fee one who is a terror to others fall like a flave at their feet, or that this quality fupplies their own principal defect, in guarding them from infults, and avenging their quarrels, or that courage is a natural indication of a strong and fprightly conftitution. On the other fide, nothing makes a woman more efteemed by the oppofite fex than chastity; whether it be that we always prize thofe mott who are hardest to come at, or that nothing be

fides chastity with it's collateral attendants, truth, fidelity and conftancy, gives the man a property in the perton he loves, and confequently endears her to him above all things.

I am very much pleased with a paffage in the infcription on a monument erected in Westminster Abbey to the late Duke and Duchefs of Newcastle Her

name was Margaret Lucas, youngest fifter to the Lord Lucas of Colchester; a noble family, for all the brothers were valiant, and all the fifters virtuous.

In books of chivalry, where the point of honour is ftrained to madnefs, the whole ftory runs on chastity and cou rage. The damfel is mounted on a white palfrey, as an emblem of her innocence; and, to avoid fcandal, muft have a dwarf for her page. She is not to think of a man, until fome misfortune has brought a knight-errant to her relief. The knight falls in love, and, did not gratitude restrain her from murdering her deliverer, would die at her feet by her difdain. However, he must wait fome years in the defert, before her virgin heart can think of a furrender.

The knight goes off, attacks every thing he meets that is bigger and Aronger than himself, feeks all opportunities of being knocked on the head, and after feven years rambling returns to his mistress, whofe chastity has been attacked in the mean time by giants and tyrants, and undergone as many trials as her lover's valour.

In Spain, where there are ftill great remains of this romantic-humour, it is a transporting favour for a lady to caft an accidental glance on her lover from a window, though it be two or three stories high; as it is ufual for the lover to affert his paffion for his mistress, in fingle combat with a mad bull.

The great violation of the point of honour from man to man, is giving the lie. One may tell another he whores, drinks, blafphemes, and it may pas unrefented; but to fay he lies, though

but

but in jeft, is an affront that nothing but blood can expiate. The reason perhaps may be, because no other vice implies a want of courage fo much as the making of a lie; and therefore telling a man he lies, is touching him in the most fenfible part of honour, and indirectly calling him a coward. I cannot omit under this head what Hero dotus tells us of the ancient Perfians, that from the age of five years to twenty they inftruct their fons only in three things, to manage the horse, to make ufe of the bow, and to speak truth.

The placing the point of honour in this falle kind of courage, has given occafion to the very refuse of mankind, who have neither virtue nor common fenfe, to fet up for men of honour. An English peer, who has not been long dead, ufed to tell a pleafant ftory of a French gentleman that vifited him early one morning at Paris, and after great profeffions of refpect, let him know that he had it in his power to oblige him; which, in short, amounted to this, that he believed he could tell his lordship the perfon's name who juftled him as he came out from the opera; but before he would proceed, he begged his lordship that he would not deny him the honour of making him his fecond. The Englith lord, to avoid being drawn into a very foolish affair, told him that he was under engagements for his two next duels to a couple of particular friends. Upon which the gentleman immediately

withdrew, hoping his lordship would not take it ill if he meddled no farther in an affair from whence he himself was to receive no advantage.

The beating down this falfe notion of honour, in fo vain and lively a people as thofe of France, is deservedly looked upon as one of the most glorious parts of their prefent king's reign. It is pity but the punishment of these mischievous notions thould have in it fome particular circumftances of fhame and infamy; that thofe who are flaves to them may fee, that inftead of advancing their reputations, they lead them to ignominy and dishonour.

Death is not fufficient to deter men who make it their glory to defpife it; but if every one that fought a duel were to ftand in the pillory, it would quickly leffen the number of thefe imaginary men of honour, and put an end to fo abfurd a practice.

When honour is a fupport to virtuous principles, and runs parallel with the laws of God and our country, it cannot be too much cherished and encouraged: but when the dictates of honour are contrary to thofe of religion and equity, they are the greateft depravations of human nature, by giving wrong ambitions and falfe ideas of what is good and laudable; and fhould therefore be exploded by all governments, and driven out as the bane and plague of human fociety.

Man advanced in years that thinks

A Man advancback upon his former

ife, and calls that only life which was paffed with fatisfaction and enjoyment, excluding all parts which were not pleafant to him, will find himfelf very young, if not in his infancy. Sicknefs, ill-humour, and idleness, will have robbed him of a great fhare of that space we ordinarily call our life. It is therefore the duty of every man that would be true to himself, to obtain, if poffible, a difpofition to be pleafed, and place himself in a constant aptitude for the

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fatisfactions of his being. Instead of

this, you hardly fee a man who is not

uneafy in proportion to his advancement in the arts of life. An affected delicacy is the common improvement we meet with in those who pretend to be refined above others: they do not aim at true pleasures themfelves, but turn their thoughts upon obferving the false plea fures of other men. Such people are valetudinarians in fociety, and they fhould no more come into company than a fick man fhould come into the air: if a man is too weak to bear what is a re

freЛliment

freshment to men in health, he must still keep his chamber. When any one in Sir Roger's company complains he is out of order, he immediately calls for fome poffet-drink for him; for which reafon that fort of people who are ever bewailing their conftitution in other places, are the chearfulleft imaginable when he is prefent.

It is a wonderful thing that fo many, and they not reckoned abfurd, fhall entertain thofe with whom they converfe by giving them the hiftory of their pains and aches; and imagine fuch narrations their quota of the converfation. This is of all other the meanest help to difcourse, and a man must not think at all, or think himself very infignificant, when he finds an account of his head-ach answered by another afking what news in the laft mail? Mutual good-humcur is a dress we ought to appear in wherever we meet, and we fhould make no mention of what concerns ourfelves, without it be of matters wherein our friends ought to rejoice; but indeed there are crowds of people who put themfelves in no method of pleafing themselves or others; fuch are thofe whom we ufually call indolent perfons. Indolence is, methinks, an intermediate state between pleasure and pain, and very much unbecoming any part of our life after we are out of the nurfe's arms. Such an averfion to labour creates a conftant wearinefs, and one would think should make existence itfelf a burden. The indolent man defcends from the dignity of his nature, and makes that being which was rational merely vegetative; his life confits only in the mere increafe and decay of a body, which, with relation to the rest of the world, might as well have been uninformed, as the habitation of a reafonable mind.

Of this kind is the life of that extraordinary couple, Harry Terfett and his lady. Harry was in the days of his celibacy one of thofe pert creatures who have much vivacity and little underfanding; Mrs. Rebecca Quickly, whom he mairied, had all that the fire of youth and a lively manner could do towards making an agreeable woman. Thefe two people of feeming merit fell into each other's arms; and paflion being fated, and no reafon or good fenfe in either to fucceed it, their life is now at a stand; their meals are infipid, and

their time tedious; their fortune has placed them above care, and their lofs of tafte reduced them below diversion. When we talk of these as inftances of inexistence, we do not mean, that in order to live it is neceffary we should always be in jovial crews, or crowned with chaplets of rofes, as the merry fellows among the ancients are defcribed; but it is intended by confidering thele contraries to pleasure, indolence, and too much delicacy, to fhew that it is prudence to preferve a difpofition in ourselves to receive a certain delight in all we hear and fee.

This portable quality of good-humour feafons all the parts and occurrences we meet with, in fuch a manner, that there are no moments loft; but they all pafs with fo much fatisfaction, that the heaviest of loads, when it is a load, that of time, is never felt by us. Varilas has this quality to the highest perfection, and communicates it wherever he appears: the fad, the merry, the fevere, the melancholy, fhew a new chearfulness when he comes amongst them. At the fame time no one can repeat any thing that Varilas has ever faid that deferves repetition; but the man has that innate goodnefs of temper, that he is welcome to every body, because every man thinks he is fo to him. He does not seem to contribute any thing to the mirth of the company; and yet upon reflection you find it all happened by his being there. I thought it was whimfically faid of a gentleman, that if Varilas had wit, it would be the best wit in the world. It is certain, when a well corrected lively imagination and good-breeding are added to a fweet difpofition, they qualify it to be one of the greatest bleffings, as well as pleasures of life.

Men would come into company with ten times the pleasure they do, if they were fure of hearing nothing which fhould shock them, as well as expected what would please them. When we know every perfon that is fpoken of is reprefented by one who has no ill-will, and every thing that is mentioned defcribed by one that is apt to fet it in the beft light, the entertainment must be delicate, because the cook has nothing brought to his hand but what is the most excellent in it's kind. Beautiful pictures are the entertainments of pure

minds,