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greeable use in conversation, or in the affairs of life. A person of a rougher deportment, and less cied up to the usual ceremonies of behaviour, will, like Manly in the play, please by the grace which nature gives to every action wherein she is compli. ed with; the brisk and lively will not want their admirers, and even a more reserved and melancholy temper may at sometimes be agreeable.
When there is not vanity enough awake in a inan to undo him, the falterer stirs up the dorinanr weakness, and inspires him with merit enough to be a coxcomb. But if flattery be the most fordid act that can be complied with, the art of prais. ing justly is as commendable : For it is laudable to praise well; as poets at one and the same time give inmortality, and receive it themselves for a reward: Both are pleased, the one whilst he receives the recompense of merit, the other whilst he fhews he knows how to difeern it; but above all that man is happy in this art, who, like a skilful painter, retains the features and complection, but still foftens the picture into the most agreeable likeness.
There can hardly, I believe, be imagined a more desirable pleasure, than that of praise unmixed with any poffibility of flattery. Such was that which Germanicus enjoyed, when, the night before a battle, desirous of some sincere mark of the efteem of his legions for him, he is described by Tacitus listening in a disguise to the discourse of a soldier, and wrapt up in the fruiton of his glory, whilst with an undefigned fincerity they praised his noble and majestick mien, his affability, his valour, conduct, and success in war. How inust a man have his heart full blown with joy in such an artiticle of glory as this? What a fpur and encouragement still to proceed in those steps which had already brought him to so pure a taste of the greatest of mortal enjoyments ? It sometimes happens, that even enemies and en
vious persons bestow the fincereft marks of esteem when they least design it. Such afford a greater pleasure, as extorted by merit, and freed from all suspicion of favour or flattery. Thus it is with Malvolio ; he has wit, learning, and discernment, but tempered with an allay of envy, self-love and detraction: Mlalvolio turns pale at the mirth and good humour of the company, if it center not in his person; he grows jealous and displeased when he ceases to be the only person admired, and looks upon the commendations paid to another as a detraction from his merit, and an attempt to lessen the surperiority he affects ; but by this very method, he bestows such praise as can never be sufpected of flattery. His uneasiness and distastes are fa
many sure and certain figns of another's title to that glory he defires, and has the mortification to find himself not pofleffed of.
A good name is fitly compared to a precious ointment, and when we are praised with skill and decency it is indeed the most agreeable perfume, but if too strongly admitted into a brain of a less vigorous and happy texture, it will, like too strong an odour, overcome the fenfcs, and prove pernici. ous to those nerves it was intended to refreih. A generous mind is of all others the inoft fenfible of praise and dispraise ; and-a noble spirit is as much invigorated with its due proportion of honour and applause, as it is depressed by neglect and contempt : But it is only persons far above the common level who are thus affected with either of these extremes; as in a thermometer, it is only the purest and most fublimated spirit that is either contracted or dilated by the benignity or inclemency of the season.
• Mr. SPECTATOR, : THE
HE translations which you have lately given
us from the Greek, in some of your last papers, have been the occasion of my looking into Сс 2:
• some of those authors; among whom I chanced
on a collection of letters which pass under the name of Aristænetus. Of all the remains of an
tiquity, I believe there can be nothing produced ' of an air fo galant and polite; each letter contains
a little novel or adventure, which is told with all the beauties of language, and heightened with a luxuriance of wit. There are several of them translated, but with fuch wide deviations from the original, and in a stile so far differing from
the authors that the translator feems rather to ' have taken hints for the expressing his own sepse
and thoughts, than to have endeavoureu to render those of Ariftænetus. In the following trans
lation, I have kept as near the meaning of the 'Greek as I could, and have only added a few
words to make the sentences in English fit toge'ther a little better than they would otherwife • have done. The story feems to be taken from
that of Pygmalion and the statue in Ovid: Some ' of the thoughts are of the fame turn, and the ' whole is written in a kind of poetical prose.
Philorinax to Chromation.
tastical a passion as mine. I have painted a s beautiful woman, and am despairing, dying for -"- the picture. My own skill has undone me; it is
not the dart of Venus, but my own pencil has os thus wounded ine. Ah me! with what anxiety
I neceflitated to adore my cwn idol? How “ miserable am I, whilst every one must as much
pity the painter as he praises the picture, and
own my torment more than equal to my art. “ But why do I thus complain ? Have there not "" been more unhappy and unnatural passions c" than mine? Yes, I have seen the representa*** tions of Phaedra Narcissus, and Pasiphae. Phaea “ dra was unhappy in her love; that of Phasiphae
was, monstrous; and whilst the other caught at « his beloved likeness, he destroyed the watry “ image, which ever eluded his embraces. The 66. fountain represented Narcissus to himself, and " the picture both tlat: and him, thirsting after “ his adored-image. But I am yet lefs unhappy, “ I enjoy her presence. continually, and if I touch “ her, I destroy not the beauteous form, but she « looks pleafed and a sweet smile sets in the charm. “ ing space which divides her lips. One would « swear that voice and speech were ifsuing out, * and that one's, ears felt the melodious sound. “ How often have I, deceived by a lover's credu“ lity, hearkened if the had not something to “ Whisper me? and when frustrated of my hopes, s how often - have I taken my revenge in kisses “ from her cheeks and eyes, and softly, wooed her “ to my embrace, whilft she (as to me it seemed) " only with-held lier tongue the more to inflame me, so But, madman that I am, shall I be thus taken :: “ with the representation only of a beauteous face, " and flowing hair, and thus waste myself, rs and melt to tears for a shadow! Ah, sure it is “ something more, it is a reality ! for fee her « beauties . fhine out with new lustre, and she "s seems to upbraid me with such unkind re* proaches. Oh may I have a living mistress of this “ form, that when I shall compare the work of nature with that of art, I
be still at a loss " which to chuse, and be long perplexed with the
******************** NO 239. TUESDAY, DECEMBER 4,
Bella; horrida bella-!
VIRG. Æn.. vi. 'ver. 86. Wars, horrid wars !
DRYDEN. I Have sometimes amused myself with
considering the several methods of managing a debate which have obtained in the world.
The first races of mankind used to dispute, as our ordinary people do now a days, in a kind of wild logick, uncultivated by rules of art.
Socrates introduced a catechetical method of arguing. He would ask his adverfary question upon question, until he had convinced him out of his own mouth that his opinions were wrong. This way of debating drives an enemy up into a corner, seizes all the pafles through which he can make an escape, and forces him to furrender at difcretion.
Aristotle changed this method of attack, and invented a great variety of little weapons, called fyllogisms. As in the Socratick way of difpute you agree to every thing which your oponent advances, in the Ariftotelick you are still denying and contradicting fome part or other of what he fays. Socrates conquers you by stratagem, Aristotle by. force. The one takes the town by fap, the other fword in hand.
The universities of Europe, for many years, carried on their debates by. fyllogism, insomuch that we see the knowledge of several centaries laid out into objections and answers, and all the good senfe of the age cut and minced into alinoft an ifinitude of distinctions.
When our universities found that there was no end of wrangling this way, they invented a kind of