'writ, therefore befeech you to pardon the first 'hints of my mind, which I have expressed in so ⚫ little order. I am, dearest creature, Your most obedient, 'moft devoted fervant." The two next were written after the day for our marriage was fixed.' 'MADAM, September, 25, 1671. me, T is the hardest thing in the world to be in < every good angel in your attendance. To have my thoughts ever fixed on you, to live in con'ftant fear of every accident to which human life is liable, and to send up my hourly prayers to avert them from you; I fay, Madam, thus to think, and thus to fuffer, is what I do for her who is in pain at my approach, and calls all my tender forrow impertinence. You are 6 now before my eyes, my eyes that are ready to flow with tendernefs, but cannot give relief to my gufhing heart, that dictates what I am "now faying, and yearns to tell you all its achings. How art thou, oh my foul, ftolen from thyfelf! My books are blank paper, and my ⚫ friends intruders. I have no hope of quiet but from your pity; to grant it, would make " more for your triumph. To give pain is the tyranny, to make happy the true empire of beauty. If you would confider aright, you • would find an agreeable change in difmiffingplied, She designs to go with me. Pr'ythee the attendance of a flave, to receive the complaifance of a companion. I bear the former in hopes of the latter condition: as I live in chains without murmuring at the power which inflicts them, fo I could enjoy freedom without forgetting the mercy that gave it. • Madam, I am Your most devoted, most obedient servant.' Though I made him no declarations in his favour, you fee he had hopes of me when he writ this in the month following.' • Madam, B September 3, 1671. EFORE the light this morning dawned upon the earth, I waked, and lay in expectation of its return, not that it could give any new fenfe of joy to me, but as I hoped it would bless you with its chearful face, after a quiet which I wished you last night. If my · prayers are heard, the day appeared with all the influence of a merciful Creator upon your perfon and actions. Let others, my lovely charmer, talk of a blind being that difpofes their hearts, I contemn their low images of • love. I have not a thought which relates to you, that I cannot with confidence befeech the all-feeing Power to blefs me in. May he direct you all in your fteps, and reward your < innocence, your fan&ity of manners, your prudent youth, and becoming piety, with the con'tinuance of his grace and protection! This is an unufual language to ladies; but you have a mind elevated above the giddy notions of a ⚫ fex infnared by flattery, and mifled by a falfe and fhort adoration into à folid and long contempt. Beauty, my faireft creature, palls in the poffeffion, but I love alfo your mind; your foul is as dear to me as my own; and if the advantages of a liberal education, fome knowledge, and as much contempt of the world, I joined with the endeavours towards a life of trict virtue and religion, can qualify me to raife new ideas in a breaft fo well difpofed as yours is, our days will pafs away with joy; and old age, instead of introducing melancholy 'profpects of decay, give us hope of eternal youth in a better life. I have but few minutes from the duty of my employment to write in, and without time to read over what I have 'all that speak to me find me out, and 1 muft lock myself up, or other people will do it for me. A gentleman asked me this morning 'what news from Holland, and I answered, she is exquifitely handfome. Another desired to 'know when I had been laft at Windfor, I re 'allow me at leaft to kifs your hand before the Dear Creature, N September 30, 1671. Seven in the morning. EXT to the influence of Heaven, I am. to thank you that I fee the returning day with pleasure. To pafs my evenings in fo fweet a converfation, and have the esteem of a woman of your merit, has in it a particula'rity of happiness no more to be expreffed than "returned. But I am, my lovely creature, contented to be on the obliged fide, and to employ all my days in new endeavours to convince 6 you and all the world of the fenfe I have of your condefcenfion in choofing, October 20, 1671. BEG pardon that my paper is not finer, but I am forced to write from a coffeehoufe where I am attending about bufinefs. There is a dirty crowd of bufy faces all around me talking of money, while all my ambition, all my wealth is love: love which animates my heart, fweetens my humour, enlarges my foul, and affects every action of my life. It is to my lovely charmer I owe that many noble ideas are continually affixed to my words and actions: it is the natural effect of that generous paffion to create in the admirer fome fimilitude of the object admired; thus, my dear, am I every day to improve from fo fweet a companion. Look up, my fair one, to that Heaven which made thee fuch, and join with me to implore its influence on our tender innocent hours, and befeech the author of love to blefs the rites he has ordained, and mingle with our happiness a juft fenfe of our tranfient conditi'on and a refignation to his will, which only can regulate our minds to a fteady endeavour to please him and each other. I will not trouble you with more letters at this time, but if you saw the poor withered hand which fends you thefe minutes, I am fure you will fmile to think there is one who is fo gallant as to speak of it ftill as fo welcome a prefent, after forty years poffeffion of the woman whom he writes to.' I Madam, June 23, 1711. Heartily beg your pardon for my omiffion to write yesterday. It was no failure of my tender regard for you; but having been very much perplexed in my thoughts on the fubject of my laft, made me determine to fufpend speaking of it until I came myself. But, my lovely "creature, know it is not in the power of age, or misfortune, or any other accident which hangs over human life, to take from me the pleafing efteem I have for you, or the memory of the bright figure you appeared in when you gave C your hard and heart to, с mour. minds at ease. That infipid state wherein neither are in vigour, is not to be accounted any part of our portion of being. When we are in the fatiffaction of fome innocent pleasure, or pursuit of fome laudable defign, we are in the poffeflion of life, of human life. Fortune will give us difappointments enough, and nature is attended with infirmities enough, without our adding to the unhappy fide of our account by our fpleen or ill-huPoor Cottilus, among fo many real evils, a chronical diftemper and a narrow fortune, is never heard to complain: that equal fpirit of his, which any man may have, that, like him, will conquer pride, vanity and affectation, and follow nature, is not to be broken, because it has no points to contend for. To be anxious for nothing but what nature demands as neceflary, if it is not the way to an eftate, is the way to what men aim at by getting an estate. This temper will preferve health in the body, as well as tranquility in the mind. Cottilus fees the world in an hurry, with the fame fcorn that a fober perfon fees a man drunk. Had he been contented with what he ought to have been, how could, fays he, fuch a one have met with fuch a disappointment? If another had valued his mistress for what he ought to have loved her, he had not been in her power: if her virtue had a part of his paffion, her levity had been his cure; fhe could not then have been falfe and amiable at the fame time. T is an unreasonable thing fome men expect of their acquaintance. They are ever complaining that they are out of order, or difpleafed, or they know not how, and are fo far from letting that be a reafon for retiring to their own homes, that they make it their argument for coming into company. What has any body to do with accounts of a man's being indifpofed but his phyfician? If a man laments in company, where the reft are in humour enough to enjoy themselves, he should not take it ill if a fervant is ordered to prefent him with a porringer of caudle or poffetdrink, by way of admonition that he go home to bed. That part of life which we ordinarily underftand by the word converfation, is an indulgence, to the fociable part of our make; and should incline us to bring our proportion of good-will or good-humour among the friends we meet with, and not to trouble them with relations which must of neceflity oblige them to a real or feigned affliction. Cares, diftreffes, diseases, uneafineffes, and diflikes of our own, are by no means to be obtruded upon our friends. If we would confider how little of this viciffitude of motion and reft, which we call life, is spent with fatisfaction, we fhould be more tender of our friends, than to bring them little forrows which do not belong to them. There is no real life, but chearful life; therefore Valetudinarians fhould be fworn before they enter into company, not to fay a word of themselves until the meeting breaks up. It is not here pretended, that we should be always fitting with chaplets of flowers round our heads, or be crowned with rofes in order to make our entertainment agreeable to us; but if, as it is usually obferved, they who refolve to be merry, feldom are fo; it will be much more unlikely for us to be well pleased, if they are admitted who are always complaining they are fad. Whatever we do we should keep up the chearfulness of our fpirits, and never let them fink below an inclination at least to be well-pleafed the way to this, is to keep our bodies in exercife, our Since we cannot promife ourselves conftant health, let us endeavour at fuch a temper as may be our best support in the decay of it. Uranius has arrived at that compofure of foul, and wrought himself up to fuch a neglect of every thing with which the generality of mankind is enchanted, that nothing but acute pains can give him difturbance, and against thofe too he will tell his intimate friends he has a fecret which gives him prefent ease. Uranius is fo thoroughly perfuaded of another life, and endeavours fo fincerely to secure an interest in it, that he looks upon pain but as a quickening of his pace to an home, where he shall be better provided for than in his prefent apartment. Instead of the melancholy views which others are apt to give themselves, he will tell you that he has forgot he is mortal, nor will he think of himself as fuch. He thinks at the time of his birth he entered into an eternal being; and the fhort article of death he will not allow an interruption of life; fince that moment is not of half the duration as is his ordinary fleep. Thus is his being one uniform and confiftent series of chearful diverfions, and moderate cares, without fear or hope of futurity. Health to him is more than pleasure to another man, and fickness less affecting to him than indifpofition is to others. I must confefs, if one does not regard life after this manner, none but idiots can pass it away with any tolerable patience. Take a fine lady who is of a delicate frame, and you may obferve from the hour fhe rifes a certain weariness of all that palles about her. I know more than one who is much too nice to be quite alive. They are fick of fuch ftrange frightful people that they meet; one is fo aukward, and another fo difagreeable, that it looks like a penance to breathe the fame air with them. You fee this is fo very true, that a great part of ceremony and good - breeding among the ladies turns upon their uneafinefs; and I will undertake, if the how-d'ye fervants of our women were to make a weekly bill of ficknefs, as the parish clerks do of mortality, you would not find in an A a account account of feven days, one in thirty that was not downright fick or indifpofed, or but a very little better than she was, and fo forth. It is certain that to enjoy life and health as a conftant feast, we fhould not think pleasure necefiary; but, if poffible, to arrive at an equality of mind. It is as mean to be overjoyed upon occafions of good-fortune, as to be dejected in circumftances of diftrefs. Laughter in one condition, is as unmanly as weeping in the other. We should not form our minds to expect tranfport on every occafion, but know how to make it enjoyment to be our of pain. Ambition, envy, vagrant defire, or impertinent mirth will take up our minds, without we can poflefs ourselves in that fobriety of heart which is above all pleafures, and can be felt much better than defcribed. But the ready way, I believe, to the right enjoyment of life, is by a profpect towards another to have but a very mean opinion of it. A great author of our time has fet this in an excellent light, when with a philofophic pity of human life, he fpoke of it in his Theory of the Earth in the following man ner. "For what is this life but a circulation of little mean actions? We lie down and rife again, drefs and undres, feed and wax hungry, work, or play, and are weary, and then we lie down again, and the circle returns. We spend the day in trifles, and when the night comes we throw ourselves into the bed of folly amongst dreams and broken thoughts and wild imagina❝tions. Our reaton lies afleep by us, and we are for the time as errant brutes as thofe that fleep 4 in the italls or 1: the field. Are not the capacities of man higher than thefe? And ought *not his ambition and expectations to be greater? Let us be adventurers for another world: it is at least a fair and noble chance; and there is "nothing in this worth our thoughts or our paf* fions. If we should be difappointed, we are * ftill no worfe than the rest of our fellow-mortals; and if we fucceed in our expectations, we are eternally happy." B T N° 144. WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 15. -Nóris quàm elegans formarum fpe&tator fiem. Ter. Eun. Act. 3. Sc. 5. You fhall fee how nice a judge of beauty I am. EAUTY has been the delight and torment of the world ever fince it began. The phiTofophers have felt its influence fo fenfibly, that almoft every one of them has left us fome faying or other, which intimated that he too well knew the power of it. One has told us that a graceful perfon is a more powerful recommendation than the beft letter that can be writ in your favour. Another defires the poffeffor of it to confider it as a mere gift of nature, and not any perfection of his A third calls it a fhort-lived tyranny; a fourth, a filent fraud, because it impofes upon us without the help of language; but I think Carneades fpoke as much like a philofopher as any of them, though more like a lover, when he called it royalty without force. It is not indeed to be denied, that there is fomething irresistible in a beauteous form; the most fevere will not pretend, that they do not feel an immediate prepoffeffion in favour of the handfome. No one denies them the own. privilege of being fut heard, and being regarded before others in matters of ordinary confideration. Amaryllis, who has been in town but one winter, is extremely improved with the arts of goodbreeding, without leaving nature. She has not loft the native fimplicity of her afpect, to substitute that patience of being ftared at, which is the ufual triumph and diftinction of a town-lady. In public affemblies you meet her careless eye diverting itfelf with the objects around her, infenfible that the herself is one of the brighteft in the place. Dulciffa is quite of another make, fhe is almoft a beauty by nature, but more than one by art. If it were poilible for her to let her fan or any limb about her reft, fhe would do fome part of the execution the meditates; but though the defigns herfelf a prey, the will not ftay to be taken. painter can give you words for the different afpects of Dulciffa in half a moment, wherever the appears: fo little does the accomplish what the takes fo much pains for, to be gay and careless. No Merah is attended with all the charms of woman and accomplishments of man. It is not to be doubted but the has a great deal of wit, if fhe were not fuch a beauty; and she would have more beauty had the not fo much wit. Affectation prevents her excellencies from walking together. If he has a mind to fpeak fuch a thing, it must be done with fuch an air of her body; and if she has an inclination to look very careless, there is fuch a fmart thing to be faid at the fame time, that the defign of being admired destroys itself. Thus the unhappy Merah, though a wit and beauty, is allowed to be neither, because he will always be both. Albacinda has the fkill as well as power of pleafing. Her form is majestic, but her aspect humble. All good men fhould beware of the deftroyer. She will speak to you like your fifter until he has you fure; but is the most vexatious of tyiants when you are fo. Her familiarity of behaviour, her indifferent queftions, and general converfation, make the filly part of her votaries full of hopes, while the wife fly from her power. She well knows he is too beautiful and too witty to be indifferent to any who converfe with her, and therefore knows fhe does not leffen herfelf by familiarity, but gains occafions of admiration, by feeming ignorance of her perfections. Eudofia adds to the height of her ftature a nobility of spirit which ftill diftinguishes her above the rest of her fex. Beauty in others is lovely, in others agreeable, in others attractive; but in Eudofia it is commanding: Love towards Eudofia is a fentiment like the love of glory. The lovers of other other women are foftened into fondnefs, the admirers of Eudofia exalted into ambition, Eucratia prefents herself to the imagination with a more kindly pleasure, and as fhe is woman, her praife is wholly feminine. If we were to form an image of dignity in a man, we fhould give him wifdom and valour, as being effential to the character of manhood. In like manner, if you defcribe a right woman in a laudable fenfe, fhe fhould have gentle foftnefs, tender fear, and all thofe parts of life, which diftinguish her from the other fex; with fome fubordination to it, but fuch an inferiority that makes her still more lovely. Eucratia is that creature, fhe is all over woman, kindness is all her art, and beauty all her arms, Her look, her voice, her gefture, and whole behaviour is truly feminine. A goodness mixed with fear, gives a tincture to all her behaviour. It would be favage to offend her, and cruelty to use art to gain her. Others are beautiful, but Eucratia, thou art beauty! to take notice of wagerers. I will not here re peat what Hudibras fays of fuch difputants, which is fo true, that it is almoft proverbial; but fhall only acquaint you with a fet of young fellows of the Inns of Court, whofe fathers have provided for them so plentifully, that they 'need not be very anxious to get law into their heads for the fervice of their country at the bar; but are of thofe who are fent, as the phrafe of parents is, to the Temple to know how to keep their own. One of thefe gentlemen is very loud and captious at a coffee-houfe which I frequent, and being in his nature troubled with 'an humour of contradiction, though withal exceffive ignorant, he has found a way to indulge this temper, go on in idleness and ignorance, and yet ftill give himself the air of a very learned and knowing man, by the ftrength of his pocket. The misfortune of the thing is, I have, as it happens fometimes, a greater stock of learning than of money. The gentleman I am speaking Omnamante is made for deceit, fhe has an af- of, takes advantage of the narrowness of my pect as innocent as the famed Lucrece, but a circumftances in fuch a manner, that he has mind as wild as the more famed Cleopatra. Her read all that I can pretend to, and runs me face fpeaks a veftal, but her heart a Meffalina. 'down with fuch a pofitive air, and with fuch Who that beheld Omnamante's negligent unob- powerful arguments, that from a very learned ferving air, would believe that she hid under that perfon I am thought a mere pretender. Not regardless manner the witty profitute, the rapa- 'long ago 1 was relating that I had read fuch a cious wench, the prodigal courtezan: She can, paffage in Tacitus, up ftarts my young gentlewhen the pleafes, adorn thofe eyes with tears like man in a full company, and pulling out his an infant that is chid: he can caft down that 'purfe offered to lay me ten guineas, to be ftaked pretty face in confufion, while you rage with jea-immediately in that gentleman's hands, pointloufy, and ftorm at her perfidioufnefs; fhe can wipe her eyes, tremble and look frighted, until you think yourself a brute for your rage, own yourself an offender, beg pardon, and make her new prefents. ing to one fmoking at another table, that I was 'utterly mistaken. I was dumb for want of ten guineas; he went on unmercifully to triumph ' over my ignorance how to take him up, and told the whole room he had read Tacitus twenty times over, and fuch a remarkable incident as that could not efcape him. He has at this time three confiderable wagers depending between him and fome of his companions, who are rich ' enough to hold an argument with him. He has five guineas upon queftions in geography, two But I go too far in reporting only the dangers in beholding the beauteous, which I defign for the inftruction of the fair as well as their beholders; and fhall end this rhapfody with mentioning what I thought was well enough faid of an antient fage to a beautiful youth, whom he faw admiring his own figure in brass. "What," faid the phi-that the Ifle of Wight is a peninfula, and three lofopher, "could that image of yours fay for it felf if it could fpeak?"" It might fay," anfwered the youth, "that it is very beautiful." "And are not you ashamed,” replied the cynic, "to value yourself upon that only of which a "piece of brafs is capable? N° 145. THURSDAY, AUGUST 16. T HOR. Ep. 18. 1. 1. v. 29. Their folly pleads the privilege of wealth. guineas to one that the world is round. We have a gentleman comes to our coffee-house, 'who deals mightily in antique fcandal; my difputant has laid him twenty pieces upon a point of history, to wit, that Cæfar never lay with 'Cato's fifter, as is fcandalously reported by fome people. There are feveral of this fort of fellows in town, who wager themfelves into ftatefmen, 'hiftorians, geographers, mathematicians, and every other art, when the perfons with whom they talk have not wealth equal to their learning. I beg of you to prevent, in these youngfters, this compendious way to wifdom, which other people fo much time and pains, and уси will oblige F the following entertainments are not amend-cofts ed upon the first mention, I defire farther notice from my correfpondents. • Mr. Spectator, I ' Mr. Spectator, H Your humble fervant," Coffee-houfe near the Temple. Aug. 12, 1711. Be AM obliged to you for your difcourfe the the other day upon frivolous difputants, ⚫ who with great warmth, and enumeration of ERE is a young gentleman that fings opemany circumstances and authorities undertake ra-tunes, or whiftles in a full houfe. to prove matters which nobody living denies. Pray let him know that he has no right to act You cannot employ yourself more usefully than here as if he were in an empty room. in adjusting the laws of difputation in coffee- pleafed to divide the fpecies of a public room, houfes and accidental companies, as well as in and certify whiftlers, fingers, and common more formal debates. Among many other 'Orators, that are heard further than their porthings which your own experience muft fug-tion of the room comes to, that the law is geft to you, it will be very obliging if you pleafe open, and that there is an equity which will re Mr. Speator, W E are a company of young women who pafs our time very much together, and obliged by the mercenary humour of the men to be as mercenarily inclined as they are. There visits among us an old bachelor whom each of us has a mind to. The fellow is rich, and knows he may have any of us, therefore is particular to none, but exceffively ill-bred. His pleafantry confifts in romping, he fnatches kiffes by furprife, puts his hand in our necks, tears our fans, robs us of ribbons, forces letters out of our hands, looks into any of our papers, and a ⚫ thousand other rudeneffes. Now what I will defire of you is to acquaint him, by printing this, that if he does not marry one of us very fuddenly, we have all agreed, the next time he pretends to be merry, to affront him, and use him like a clown as he is. In the name of the fifterhood I take leave of you, and am, as they all are, Your conftant reader and well-wisher,' • Mr. Spectator, I And feveral others of your female readers have conformed ourfelves to your rules' even to our very drefs. There is not one of us, but has reduced our outward petticoat to its ancient fizable circumference, though indeed < we retain still a quilted one underneath; which • makes us not altogether unconformable to the < fashion; but it is on condition, Mr. Spectator extends not his cenfure too far. But we find you men fecretly approve our practice, by imitating our pyramidical form. The skirt of ⚫ your fashionable coats forms as large a circumference as our petticoats; as these are set out with whalebone, fo thofe are with wire, to increafe and fuftain the bunch of fold that hangs ⚫ down on each fide; and the hat, I perceive, is decreased in juft proportion to our head-dreffes. We make a regular figure, but I defy your mathematics to give name to the form you appear in. Your architecture is mere Gothic, and betrays a worse genius than ours; therefore if you are partial to your own fex, I fhail be lefs than I am now. T Your humble fervant.' N° 146. FRIDAY, AUGUST 17. Nemo vir magnus fine aliquo afflatu divino unquam fuit. All great men are in fome degree inspired. W TULL. E know the highest pleasure our minds are capable of enjoying with compofure, when we read fublime thoughts communicated to us by men of great genius and eloquence. Such is the entertainment we meet with in the philofophic parts of Cicero's writings. Truth and good fenfe have there fo charming a dress, that they could hardly be more agreeably reprefented with the addition of poetical fiction and the power of numbers. This ancient author, and a modern one, have fallen into my hands within these few days; and the impreffions they have left upon me, have at the prefent quite fpoiled me for a merry fellow. The modern is that admirable writer the author of "the Theory "of the Earth." The fubjects with which I have lately been entertained in them both bear a near affinity; they are upon inquiries into hereafter, and the thoughts of the latter feem to me to be raised above thofe of the former, in proportion to his advantages of Scripture and Revelation. If I had a mind to it, I could not at prefent talk of any thing else; therefore I shall tranflate a paffage in the one, and tranfcribe a paragraph out of the other, for the fpeculation of this day. Cicero tells us, that Plato reports Socrates, upon receiving his fentence, to have fpoken to his Judges in the following manner. "I have great hopes, O my Judges, that it is "infinitely to my advantage that I am fent to "death for it must of neceffity be, that one "of these two things must be the confequence. "Death must take away all these fenfes, or con vey me to another life. If all fenfe is to be ta"ken away, and death is no more than that pro"found fleep without dreams, in which we are "fometimes buried, O Heavens! how defirable "is it to die? how many days do we know in "life preferable to such a state? But if it be true "that death is but a paffage to places which they who lived before us do now inhabit, how "much still happier is it to go from thofe who that really are fuch; before Minos, Rhada"call themselves Judges, to appear before thofe "manthus, acus, and Triptolemus, and to "meet men who have lived with juftice and "truth? Is this, do you think, no happy jour"ney? Do you think it nothing to fpeak with "Orpheus, Mufæus, Homer, and Hefiod? I "would, indeed, fuffer many deaths to enjoy "these things. With what particular delight "fhould I talk to Palamedes, Ajax, and others, "who like me have fuffered by the iniquity of "their judges! I fhould examine the wisdom of "that great prince, who carried fuch mighty "forces against Troy; and argue with Ulyffes "and Sifyphus, upon difficult points, as I have in "converfation here, without being in danger of "being condemned. But let not thofe among 66 you who have pronounced me an innocent "man be afraid of death. No harm can arrive "at a good man whether dead or living; his af"fairs are always under the direction of the "Gods; nor will I believe the fate which is al lotted to me myself this day to have arrived by chance; |