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this consideration, that the little disappointments in a life of pleasure are as terrible as those in a life of business; and if the end of one man is to spend his time and money as agreeably as he can, that of the other to save both, an interruption in either of these pursuits is of equal consequence to the pursuers. Besides, as every trifle raiseth the mirth and gayety of the men of good circumstances, so do others as inconsiderable expose them to spleen and passion, and as Solomon says, 'according to their riches, their anger riseth."

Even the men that are distinguished by, and envied for, their superior good sense and delicacy of taste, are subject to several uneasinesses upon this account, that the men of less penetration are utter strangers to; and every little absurdity ruffles these fine judgments, which would never disturb the peaceful state of the less discerning.

I shall end this essay with the following story. There is a gentleman of my acquaintance, of a fortune which may not only be called easy, but superfluous; yet this person has, by a great deal of reflection, found out a method to be as uneasy as the worst circumstances could have

One of the most bitter circumstances of poverty has been observed to be, that it makes men appear ridiculous; but I believe this affirm-made him. By a free life he had swelled himation may with more justice be appropriated to riches, since more qualifications are required to become a great fortune, than even to make one; and there are several pretty persons about town, ten times more ridiculous upon the very account of a good estate, than they possibly could have been with the want of it.

I confess, having a mind to pay my court to fortune, I became an adventurer in one of the late lotteries; in which, though I got none of the great prizes, I found no occasion to envy some of those that did; comforting myself with this contemplation, that nature and education having disappointed all the favours fortune could bestow upon them, they had gained no superiority by an unenvied affluence.

It is pleasant to consider, that whilst we are lamenting our particular afflictions to each other, and repining at the inequality of condition, were it possible to throw off our present miserable state, we cannot name the person whose condition in every particular we would embrace and prefer; and an impartial inquiry into the pride, ill-nature, ill-health, guilt, spleen, or particularity of behaviour of others, generally ends in a reconciliation to our dear selves.

This my way of thinking is warranted by Shakspeare, in a very extraordinary manner, where he makes Richard the Second, when deposed and imprisoned, debating a matter, which would soon have been discussed by a common capacity, whether his prison or palace was most eligible, and with very philosophical hesitation leaving the preference undetermined, in the following lines,

-Sometimes am I a king,
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so indeed I'am. Then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king,
Then am I king'd again.

Prior says very prettily:
Against our peace we arm our will:
Amidst our plenty something still
For horses, houses, pictures, planting,
To thee, to me, to him is wanting.
That cruel something unpossest
Corrodes and leavens all the rest.
That something if we could obtain,
Would soon create a future pain.
Give me leave to fortify my unlearned reader
with another bit of wisdom from Juvenal, by
Dryden :

Look round the habitable world, how few
Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue!
How void of reason are our hopes and fears!
What in the conduct of our life appears
So well designed, so luckily begun

self above his natural proportion, and by a restrained life had shrunk below it, and being by nature splenetic, and by leisure more so, he began to bewail this his loss of flesh (though otherwise in perfect health) as a very melancholy diminution. He became, therefore, the reverse of Cæsar, and as a lean, hungry-looked rascal was the delight of his eyes, a fat, sleekheaded fellow was his abomination. To support himself as well as he could, he took a servant, for the very reason every one else would have refused him, for being in a deep consumption; and whilst he has compared himself to this creature, and with a face of infinite humour contemplated the decay of his body, I have seen the master's features proportionably rise into a boldness, as those of his slave sunk and grew languid. It was his interest, therefore, not to suffer the too hasty dissolution of a being, upon which his own, in some measure depended. In short, the fellow, by a little too much indulgence, began to look gay and plump upon his master, who, according to Horace,

Invidus alterius macrescit rebus opimis.

Lib. 1. Ep. ii. 57.

Sickens thro' envy at another's good: and as he took him only for being in a consumption, by the same way of thinking, he found it absolutely necessary to dismiss him for not being in one; and has told me since, that he looks upon it as a very difficult matter, to furnish himself with a footman that is not altogether as happy as himself.

No. 55.]

Thursday, May 14, 1713.

-quis enim virtutem amplectitur ipsam,"
Præmia si tollas?
Juv. Sat. x. 141.
For who would virtue for herself regard,
Or wed, without the portion of reward? Dryden.

It is usual with polemical writers to object ill designs to their adversaries. This turns their argument into satire, which, instead of showing an error in the understanding, tends only to expose the morals of those they write against. I shall not act after this manner with respect to the free-thinkers. Virtue and the happiness of society, are the great ends which all men ought to promote; and some of that sect would be thought to have a heart above the rest of mankind. But supposing those who make that profession, to carry on a good design

But, when we have our wish, we wish undone! in the simplicity of their hearts, and according

to their best knowledge, yet it is much to be feared, those well-meaning souls, while they endeavoured to recommend virtue, have in reality been advancing the interests of vice; which, as I take to proceed from their ignorance of human nature, we may hope, when they become sensible of their mistake, they will, in consequence of that beneficent principle they pretend to act upon, reform their practice for the future.

The sages whom I have in my eye, speak of virtue as the most amiable thing in the world; but at the same time that they extol her beauty, they take care to lessen her portion. Such innocent creatures are they, and so great strangers to the world, that they think this a likely method to increase the number of her admirers.

rouse and awaken our hopes and fears, like those prospects that warm and penetrate the heart of a christian, but are not regarded by a free-thinker?

It is not only a clear point, that a christian breaks through stronger engagements whenever he surrenders himself to commit a criminal ac tion, and is stung with a sharper remorse after it than a free-thinker; but it should even seem that a man who believes no future state, would act a foolish part in being thoroughly honest. For what reason is there why such a one should postpone his own private interest, or pleasure, to the doing his duty? If a christian foregoes some present advantage for the sake of his conscience, he acts accountably, because it is with the view of gaining some greater future good: but he that, having no such view, should yet conscientiously deny himself a present good in any incident where he may save appearances, is altogether as stupid as he that would trust

Virtue has in herself the most engaging charms; and Christianity, as it places her in the strongest light, and adorned with all her native attractions, so it kindles a new fire in the soul, by adding to them the unutterable re-him at such a juncture. wards which attend her votaries in an eternal state. Or, if there are men of a saturnine and heavy complexion, who are not easily lifted up by hope, there is the prospect of everlasting punishments to agitate their souls, and frighten them into the practice of virtue, and an aversion from vice.

Whereas, your sober free-thinkers tell you, that virtue indeed is beautiful, and vice deformed; the former deserves your love, and the latter your abhorrence; but then it is for their own sake, or on account of the good and evil which immediately attend them, and are inseparable from their respective natures. As for the immortality of the soul, or eternal punishments and rewards, those are openly ridiculed, or rendered suspicious by the most sly and la

boured artifice.

I will not say these men act treacherously in the cause of virtue; but will any one deny, that they act foolishly, who pretend to advance the interest of it by destroying or weakening the strongest motives to it, which are accommodated to all capacities, and fitted to work on all dispositions, and enforcing those alone which can affect only a generous and exalted mind!

Surely they must be destitute of passion themselves, and unacquainted with the force it hath on the minds of others, who can imagine that the mere beauty of fortitude, temperance, and justice, is sufficient to sustain the mind of man in a severe course of self-denial against all the temptations of present profit and sensuality.

It is my opinion that free-thinkers should be treated as a set of poor ignorant creatures, that have not sense to discover the excellency of religion; it being evident those men are no witches, nor likely to be guilty of any deep design, who proclaim aloud to the world, that they have less motives to honesty than the rest of their fellow-subjects, who have all the inducements to the exercise of any virtue which a free-thinker can possibly have, and besides, the expectation of never-ending happiness or misery, as the consequence of their choice.

Are not men actuated by their passions? and are not hope and fear the most powerful of our passions? and are there any objects which can

It will, perhaps, be said, that virtue is her own reward, that a natural gratification attends good actions, which is alone sufficient to excite men to the performance of them. But although there is nothing more lovely than virtue, and the practice of it is the surest way to solid natural happiness, even in this life; yet titles, estates, and fantastical pleasures, are more ar dently sought after by most men, than the na tural gratifications of a reasonable mind; and it cannot be denied, that virtue and innocence are not always the readiest methods to attain that sort of happiness. Besides, the fumes of passion must be allayed, and reason must burn brighter than ordinary, to enable men to see and relish all the native beauties and delights of a virtuous life. And though we should grant our free thinkers to be a set of refined spirits, capable only of being enamoured of virtue, yet what would become of the bulk of mankind who have gross understandings, but lively senses, and strong passions? What a deluge of lust, and fraud, and violence, would in a little time over flow the whole nation, if these wise advocates for morality were universally hearkened to! Lastly, opportunities do sometimes offer, in which a man may wickedly make his fortune, or indulge a pleasure, without fear of temporal damage, either in reputation, health, or fortune. In such cases what restraint do they lie under who have no regards beyond the grave; the inward compunctions of a wicked, as well as the joys of an upright mind being grafted on the sense of another state?

The thought, that our existence terminates with this life,' doth naturally check the soul in any generous pursuit, contract her views, and fix them on temporary and selfish ends. It dethrones the reason, extinguishes all noble and heroic sentiments, and subjects the mind to the slavery of every present passion. The wise heathens of antiquity were not ignorant of this: hence they endeavoured by fables, and conjec tures, and the glimmerings of nature, to possess the minds of men with the belief of a future state, which has been since brought to light by the gospel, and is now most inconsistenly decried by a few weak men, who would have us

believe that they promote virtue, by turning after, Enmity lying in ambush for her, became religion into ridicule.

No. 56.]

Friday, May 15, 1713.

Quid mentum traxisse polo, quid profuit altum
Erexisse caput? pecudum si more pererrant.

Claud.

What profits us, that we from heaven derive
A soul immortal, and with looks erect
Survey the stars; if, like the brutal kind,
We follow where our passions lead the way?

the father of him whom you saw along with me. The temper of our mother inclines us to the same sort of business, the informing mankind of their faults; but the different complexions of our fathers make us differ in our designs and company. I have a natural benevolence in my mind which engages me with friends; and he a natural impetuosity in his, which casts him among enemies.'

As he thus discoursed, we came to a place where there were three entrances into as many several walks, which lay aside of one another. We passed into the middlemost, a plain straight regular walk, set with trees, which added to the beauty of the place, but did not so close their boughs over head as to exclude the light from it. Here, as we walked, I was made to observe, how the road on one hand was full of rocks and precipices, over which Reproach (who had already gotten thither) was furiously driving unhappy wretches: the other side was all laid out in gardens of gaudy tulips, amongst whose leaves the serpents wreathed, and at the end of every grassy walk the enchantress Flattery was weaving bowers to lull souls asleep in. We continued still walking on the middle way, till we arrived at a building in which it terminated. This was formerly erected by Truth for a watchtower, from whence she took a view of the earth, and, as she saw occasion, sent out Reproof, or even Reproach, for our reformation. Over the door I took notice that a face was carved with a heart upon the lips of it, and presently called to mind that this was the ancients' emblem of sincerity. In the entrance I met with Freedom of Speech and Complaisance, who had for a long time looked upon one another as enemies; but Reproof has so happily brought them together, that they now act as friends and fellow agents in the same family. Before I ascended the stairs, I had my eyes purified by a water which made me see extremely clear; and I think they said it sprung in a pit, from whence (as Democritus had reported) they formerly brought up Truth, who had hid herself in it. I was then admitted to the upper chamber of prospect, which was called the Knowledge of Mankind: here the window was no sooner opened, but I perceived the clouds to roll off and part before me, and a scene of all the variety of the world presented itself.

I was considering last night, when I could not sleep, how noble a part of the creation man was designed to be, and how distinguished in all his actions above other earthly creatures. From whence I fell to take a view of the change and corruption which he has introduced into his own condition, the grovelling appetites, the mean characters of sense, and wild courses of passions, that cast him from the degree in which Providence had placed him; the debasing himself with qualifications not his own; and his degenerating into a lower sphere of action. This inspired me with a mixture of contempt and anger; which, however, was not so violent as to hinder the return of sleep, but grew confused as that came upon me, and made me end my reflections with giving mankind the opprobrious names of inconsiderate, mad, and foolish. Here, methought, where my waking reason left the subject, my fancy pursued it in a dream; and I imagined myself in a loud soliloquy of passion, railing at my species, and walking hard to get rid of the company I despised; when two men who had overheard me, made up on either hand. These I observed had many features in common which might occasion the mistake of one for the other in those to whom they appear single; but I, who saw them together, could easily perceive, that though there was an air of severity in each, it was tempered with a natural sweetness in the one, and by turns constrained or ruffled by the designs of malice in the other. I was at a loss to know the reason of their joining me so briskly; when he, whose appearance displeased me most, thus addressed his companion: Pray, brother, let him alone, and we shall immediately see him transformed into a tiger. This struck me with horror, which the other perceived, and, pitying my disorder, bid me be of good courage, for though I had been But how different was mankind in this view savage in my treatment of mankind, (whom I from what it used to appear! Methought the should rather reform than rail against) he would, very shape of most of them was lost; some had however, endeavour to rescue me from my dan- the heads of dogs, others of apes or parrots, and, ger. At this I looked a little more cheerful, and in short, wherever any one took upon him the while I testified my resignation to him, we saw inferior and unworthy qualities of other creathe angry brother fling away from us in a pas-tures, the change of his soul became visible in sion for his disappointment. Being now left to my friend, I went back with him at his desire, that I might know the meaning of those words which had so affrighted me.

As we went along, 'To inform you,' says he, with whom you have this adventure, my name is Reproof, and his Reproach, both born of the same mother; but of different fathers. Truth is our common parent. Friendship, who saw her, fell in love with her, and she being pleased with him, he begat me upon her; but, a while

his countenance. The strutting pride of him who is endued with brutality instead of courage, made his face shoot out into the form of a horse's; his eyes became prominent, his nostrils widened, and his wig untying, flowed down on one side of his neck in a waving mane. The talkativeness of those who love the ill-nature of conversation made them turn into assemblies of geese, their lips hardened to bills by eternal using, they gabbled for diversion, they hissed in scandal, and their ruffles falling back on their

and susceptible of admonition. Expose the beasts whose qualities you see them putting on where you have no mind to engage with their persons. The possibility of their applying this is very obvious. The Egyptians saw it so clearly that they made the pictures of animals explain their minds to one another instead of writing and, indeed, it is hardly to be missed, since Esop took them out of their mute condition and taught them to speak for themselves with relation to the actions of mankind.'

My guide had thus concluded, and I was promising to write down what was shown me for the service of the world, when I was awakened by a zealous old servant of mine, who brought me the Examiner, and told me, with looks full of concern, he was afraid I was in it again.

No. 57.]

Saturday, May 16, 1713.

arms, a succession of little feathers appeared, which formed wings for them to flutter with from one visit to another. The envious and malicious lay on the ground with the heads of different sorts of serpents; and not endeavouring to erect themselves, but meditating mischief to others, they sucked the poison of the earth, sharpened their tongues to stings upon the stones, and rolled their trains unperceivably beneath their habits. The hypocritical oppressors wore the face of crocodiles: their mouths were instruments of cruelty, their eyes of deceit; they committed wickedness, and bemoaned that there should be so much of it in the world; they devoured the unwary and wept over the remains of them. The covetous had so hooked and worn their fingers by counting interest upon interest, that they were converted to the claws of harpies, and these they still were stretching out for more, yet still seemed unsatisfied with their acquisitions. The sharpers had the looks of camelions; they every minute changed their appearance, and fed on swarms of flies which fell as so many cullies amongst them. The bully seemed a dunghill cock: he crested well, and bore his comb aloft; he was beaten by almost every one, yet still sung for triumph; and only the mean coward pricked up the ears of a hare to fly be-terests of virtue are supplanted by common cus fore him. Critics were turned into cats, whose pleasure and grumbling go together. Fops were apes in embroidered jackets. Flatterers were curled spaniels, fawning and crouching: The crafty had the face of a fox, the slothful of an ass, the cruel of a wolf, the ill-bred of a bear, the lechers were goats, and the gluttons swine. Drunkenness was the only vice that did not change the face of its professors into that of another creature; but this I took to be far from a privilege, for these two reasons:-because it sufficiently deforms them of itself, and because none of the lower rank of beings is guilty of so foolish an intemperance.

Quam multa injusta ac prava fiunt moribus!
Ter. Heaut. Act iv. Sc. 6.
How many unjust and wrong things are authorised
by custom!

It is of no small concern to me that the in

tom and regard for indifferent things. Thus mode and fashion defend the most absurd and tenance for doing what every body practices, unjust proceedings, and nobody is out of coun though at the same time there is no one who is not convinced in his own judgment of the er rors in which he goes on with the multitude. My correspondent, who writes me the following letter, has put together a great many points which would deserve serious consideration, as much as things which at first appearance bear a weightier aspect. He recites almost all the little arts that are used in the way to matrimony, by the parents of young women. There is no thing more common than for people, who have good and worthy characters, to run without respect to the laws of gratitude, into the most exorbitant demands for their children, upon no other foundation than that which should incline them to the quite contrary, the unreserved affec tion of the lover. I shall at this time, by insert ing my correspondent's letter, lay such offences before all parents and daughters respectively and reserve the particular instances to be con

'To Nestor Ironside, Esquire.

As I was taking a view of these representations of things without any more order than is usual in a dream, or in the confusion of the world itself, I perceived a concern within me for what I saw! My eyes began to moisten, as if the virtue of that water with which they were purified was lost for a time, by their being touched with that which arose from a passion. The clouds immediately began to gather again, and close from either hand upon the prospect. I then turned towards my guide, who address-sidered in future precautions. ed himself to me after this manner: You have seen the condition of mankind when it descends from its dignity; now, therefore, guard yourself from that degeneracy by a modest greatness 'SIR,-I have for some time retired myself of spirit on one side, and a conscious shame on from the town and business to a little seat the other. Endeavour also with a generosity of where a pleasant campaign country, good roads goodness to make your friends aware of it; let and healthful air, tempt me often abroad; and them know what defects you perceive are grow-being a single man, have contracted more ac ing upon them; handle the matter as you see reason, either with the airs of severe or humourous affection; sometimes plainly describing the degeneracy in its full proper colours, or at other times letting them know, that, if they proceed as they have begun, you give them to such a day, or so many months, to turn bears, wolves, or foxes, &c. Neither neglect your more remote acquaintance, where you see any worthy

quaintance than is suitable to my years, or agreeable to the intentions of retirement I brought down with me hither. Among others I have a young neighbour, who yesterday, im parted to me the history of an honourable amour, which has been carried on a considerable time with a great deal of love on his side, and (as he says he has been made to believe) with some thing very unlike aversion on the young lady's

But so matters have been contrived, that he could never get to know her mind thoroughly. When he was first acquainted with her, he might be as intimate with her as other people; but since he first declared his passion, he has never been admitted to wait upon her, or to see her, other than in public. If he went to her father's house, and desired to visit her, she was either to be sick or out of the way, and nobody would come near him in two hours, and then he should be received as if he had committed some strange offence. If he asked her father's leave to visit her, the old gentleman was mute. If he put it negatively, and asked if he refused it, the father would answer with a smile, "No, I don't say so, neither." If they talked of the fortune, he had considered his circumstances, and it every day diminished. If the settlements came into debate, he had considered the young gentleman's estate, and daily increased his expectations. If the mother was consulted, she was mightily for the match, but affected strangely the showing her cunning in perplexing matters. It went off seemingly several times, but my young neighbour's passion was such that it easily revived upon the least encouragement given him; but tired out with writing, (the only liberty allowed him,) and receiving answers at cross purposes, destitute of all hopes, he at length wrote a formal adieu; but it was very unfortunately timed, for soon after he had the long wished-for opportunity of finding her at a distance from her parents. Struck with the joyful news, in heat of passion, resolute to do any thing rather than leave her, down he comes post, directly to the house where she was, without any preparatory intercession after the provocation of an adieu. She, in a premeditated anger to show her resentment, refused to see him. He in a kind of fond frenzy, absent from himself, and exasperated into rage, cursed her heartily; but returning to himself, was all confusion, repentance, and submission. But in vain; the lady continued inexorable, and so the affair ended in a manner that renders them very unlikely ever to meet again. Through the pursuit of the whole story (whereof I give but a short abstract) my young neighbour appeared so touched, and discovered such certain marks of unfeigned love, that I cannot but be heartily sorry for them both. When he was gone, I sat down immediately to my scrutoire, to give you the account, whose business, as a Guardian, it is to tell your wards what is to be avoided, as well as what is fit to be done. And I humbly propose, that you will, upon this occasion, extend your instructions to all sorts of people concerned in treaties of this nature, (which of all others do most nearly concern human life) such as parents, daughters, lovers, and confidants of both sexes. I desire leave to observe, that the mistakes in this courtship (which might otherwise probably have succeeded happily) seem chiefly these four, viz.

'1. The father's close equivocal management, so as always to keep a reservation to use upon occasion, when he found himself pressed.

2. The mother's affecting to appear extremely artful.

3. A notion in the daughter (who is a lady of singular good sense and virtue) that no man

can love her as he ought, who can deny any thing her parents demand.

4. Carrying on the affair by letters and confidants, without sufficient interviews.

'I think you cannot fail obliging many in the world, besides my young neighbour and me, if you please to give your thoughts upon treaties of this nature, wherein all the nobility and gentry of this nation (in the unfortunate methods marriages are at present in) come at one time or other unavoidably to be engaged; especially it is my humble request, you will be particular in speaking to the following points, to wit,

1. Whether honourable love ought to be mentioned first to the young lady, or her parents?

2. If to the young lady first, whether a man is obliged to comply with all the parents demand afterwards, under pain of breaking off dishonourably?

3. If to the parents first, whether the lover may insist upon what the father pretends to give, and refuse to make such settlement as must incapacitate him for any thing afterwards, without just imputation of being mercenary, or putting a slight upon the lady, by entertaining views upon the contingency of her death?

4. What instructions a mother ought to give her daughter upon such occasions, and what the old lady's part properly is in such treaties, her husband being alive?

5. How far a young lady is in duty obliged to observe her mother's directions, and not to receive any letters or messages without her knowledge?

6. How far a daughter is obliged to exert the power she has over her lover, for the ease and advantage of her father and his family; and how far she may consult and endeavour the interest of the family she is to marry into?

7. How far letters and confidants of both sexes may regularly be employed, and wherein they are improper?

8. When a young lady's pen is employed about settlements, fortunes, or the like, whether it be an affront to give the same answers as if it had been in the hand-writing of those that instructed her?

Lastly, be pleased at your leisure to correct that too common way among fathers, of publishing in the world, that they will give their daughters twice the fortune they really intend, and thereby draw young gentlemen, whose estates are often in debt, into a dilemma, either of crossing a fixed inclination, contracted by a long habit of thinking upon the same person, and so being miserable that way; or else beginning the world under a burden they can never get quit of.

Thus, sage sir, have I laid before you all that does at present occur to me on the important subject of marriage; but before I seal up my epistle, I must desire you farther to consider, how far treaties of this sort come under the head of bargain and sale; whether you cannot find out measures to have the whole transacted in fairer and more open market than at present. How would it become you to put the laws in execution against forestallers, who take up the young things of each sex before they are ex

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