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<header>
<title>The Spectator</title>
  <number>no. 176</number>
  <date>1711-09-21</date>
  <author>Richard Steele</author>
  <quotation>Parvula, pumilio, &#967;&#945;&#961;&#953;&#964;&#969;&#957; &#956;&#953;&#945; , tota merum Sal.---Luc.</quotation>
  <translation>Lucr. iv. 1155.</translation>
  <translation>A little, pretty, witty, charming she!</translation>
  </header>
<text>
<paragraph>THERE are in the following Letter Matters, which I, a Batchelor, cannot be supposed
to be acquainted with; therefore shall not pretend to explain upon
it till further Consideration, but leave the Author of the Epistle
to express his Condition his own Way.</paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>Mr.</italic> SPECTATOR.</paragraph>
<paragraph>I do not deny but you appear in many of your Papers to understand Human Life
pretty well; but there are very many Things which you cannot
possibly have a true Notion of, in a single Life; these are such as
respect the married State; otherwise I cannot account for your
having overlooked a very good Sort of People, which are commonly
called in Scorn the <italic>Henpeckt.</italic> You are to understand that I am one
of those innocent Mortals who suffer Derision under that Word for
being governed by the best of Wives. It would be worth your
Consideration to enter into the Nature of Affection it self, and
tell us, according to your Philosophy, why it is that our Dears
shall do what they will with us, shall be froward, ill-natured,
assuming, sometimes whine, at others rail, then swoon away, then
come to Life, have the Use of Speech to the greatest Fluency
imaginable, and then sink away again, and all because they fear we
do not love them enough; that is, the poor things love us so
heartily, that they cannot think it possible we should be able to
love them in so great a Degree, which makes them take on so. I say,
Sir, a true good-natured Man, whom Rakes and Libertines call
<italic>Hen-peckt,</italic> shall fall into all these different Moods with his dear
Life, and at the same time see they are wholly put on; and yet not
be hard-hearted enough to tell the dear good Creature that she is
an Hypocrite. This sort of good Man is very frequent in the
populous and wealthy City of <italic>London,</italic> and is the true <italic>Hen-Peckt</italic> Man;
the kind Creature cannot break through his Kindnesses so far as to
come to an Explanation with the tender Soul, and therefore goes on
to comfort her when nothing ails her, to appease her when she is
not angry, and to give her his Cash when he knows she does not want
it; rather than be uneasy for a whole Month, which is computed by
hard-hearted Men the Space of Time which a froward Woman takes to
come to her self, if you have Courage to stand out.</paragraph>
<paragraph>There are indeed several other Species of the <italic>Hen-peckt,</italic> and in my Opinion
they are certainly the best Subjects the Queen has; and for that
Reason I take it to be your Duty to keep us above Contempt.</paragraph>
<paragraph>I do not know whether I make my self understood in the Representation of
an <italic>Hen-peckt</italic> Life, but I shall take leave to give you an Account of
my self, and my own Spouse. You are to know that I am reckoned no
Fool, have on several Occasions been tried whether I will take ill
Usage, and yet the Event has been to my Advantage; and yet there is
not such a Slave in <italic>Turkey</italic> as I am to my Dear. She has a good Share
of Wit, and is what you call a very pretty agreeable Woman. I
perfectly doat on her, and my Affection to her gives me all the
Anxieties imaginable but that of Jealousy. My being thus confident
of her, I take, as much as I can judge of my Heart, to be the
Reason, that whatever she does, tho' it be never so much against my
Inclination, there is still left something in her Manner that is
amiable. She will sometimes look at me with an assumed Grandeur,
and pretend to resent that I have not had Respect enough for her
Opinion in such an Instance in Company. I cannot but smile at the
pretty Anger she is in, and then she pretends she is used like a
Child. In a Word, our great Debate is, which has the Superiority in
point of Understanding. She is eternally forming an Argument of
Debate; to which I very indolently answer, Thou art mighty pretty.
To this she answers, All the World but you think I have as much
Sense as your self. I repeat to her, Indeed you are pretty. Upon
this there is no Patience; she will throw down any thing about her,
stamp and pull off her Head-Cloaths. Fie, my Dear, say I; how can a
Woman of your Sense fall Into such an intemperate Rage? This is an
Argument which never fails. Indeed, my Dear, says she, you make me
mad sometimes, so you do, with the silly Way you have or treating
me like a pretty Idiot. Well, what have I got by putting her into
good Humour? Nothing, but that I must convince her of my good
Opinion by my Practice; and then I am to give her Possession of my
little Ready Money, and, for a Day and half following, dislike all
she dislikes, and extol every thing she approves. I am so
exquisitely fond of this Darling, that I seldom see any of my
Friends, am uneasy ill all Companies till I see her again; and when
I come home she is in the Dumps, because she says she is sure I
came so soon only because I think her handsome. I dare not upon
this Occasion laugh; but tho' I am one of. the warmest Churchmen in
the Kingdom, I am forced to rail at the Times, because she is a
violent Whig. Upon this we talk Politicks so long, that she is
convinc'd I kiss her for her Wisdom. It is a common Practice with
me to ask her some Question concerning the Constitution, which she
answers me in general out of <italic>Harrington's Oceana:</italic>
<footnote name="(1)" url="../september_footnotes/footnote176.xml"></footnote> Then I
commend her strange Memory, and her Arm is immediately lock'd in
mine. While I keep her in this Temper she plays before me,
sometimes dancing in the Midst of the Room, sometimes striking an
Air at her Spinnet, varying her Posture and her Charms in such a
Manner that I am in continual Pleasure: She will play the Fool if I
allow her to be wise; but if she suspects I like her for [her]
Trifling, she immediately grows grave.</paragraph>
<paragraph>These are the Toils in which
I am taken, and I carry off my Servitude as well as most Men; but
my Application to you is in Behalf of the <italic>Hen-Peckt</italic> in general, and
I desire a Dissertation from you in Defence of us. You have, as I
am informed, very good Authorities in our Favour, and hope you Will
not omit the mention of the Renowned <italic>Socrates,</italic> and his Philosophick
Resignation to his Wife <italic>Xantippe.</italic> This would be a very good Office
to the World in general, for the <italic>Hen-Peckt</italic> are powerful in their
Quality and Numbers, not only in Cities but in Courts; in the
latter they are ever the most obsequious, in the former the most
wealthy of all Men. When you have considered Wedlock throughly, you
ought to enter into the Suburbs of Matrimony, and give us an
Account of the Thraldom of kind Keepers and irresolute Lovers; the
Keepers who cannot quit their Fair Ones tho' they see their
approaching Ruin; the Lovers who dare not marry, tho' they know
they never shall be happy without the Mistresses whom they cannot
purchase on other Terms.</paragraph>
<paragraph>What will be a great Embellishment to your
Discourse, will be, that you may find Instances of the Haughty, the
Proud, the Frolick, the Stubborn, who are each of them in secret
downright Slaves to their Wives or Mistresses. I must beg of you in
the last Place to dwell upon this, That the Wise and Valiant in all
Ages have been <italic>Hen-Peckt:</italic> and that the sturdy Tempers who are not
Slaves to Affection, owe that Exemption to their being enthralled
by Ambition, Avarice, or some meaner Passion. I have ten thousand
thousand Things more to say, but my Wife sees me Writing, and will,
according to Custom, be consulted, if I do not seal this
immediately.</paragraph>
<paragraph><italic>Yours,</italic></paragraph>
<paragraph>Nathaniel Henroost.</paragraph>
<paragraph>T.</paragraph>

<paragraph>1. The <italic>Oceana</italic> is an
ideal of an English Commonwealth, written by James Harrington,
after the execution of Charles I. It was published in 1656, having
for a time been stopped at press by Cromwell's government. After
the Restoration, Harrington was sent to the Tower by Charles II. on
a false accusation of conspiracy. Removed to Plymouth, he there
lost his health and some part of his reason, which he did not
regain before his death, in 1677, at the age of 66. His book argues
that Empire follows the balance of property, which, since Henry
VII.'s time, had been daily falling into the scale of the Commons
from that of the King and Lords. In the Oceana other theories of
government are discussed before Harrington elaborates his own, and
English history appears under disguise of names, William the
Conqueror being called Turbo; Kingg John, Adoxus; Richard II.,
Dicotome; Henry VII., Panurgus; Henry VIII., Coraunus; Queen
Elizabeth, Parthenia; James I., Morpheus; and Oliver Cromwell,
Olphaus Megaletor. Scotland is Marpesia, and Ireland, Panopoea. A
careful edition of Harrington's Oceana and other of his works,
edited by John Toland, had been produced in 1700.</paragraph>
</text>
</issue>
