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The two next were written after the day of our marriage was fixed.

at this time, but if you saw the poor withered hand which sends you these minutes, I am sure you will smile to think that there "September 25, 1671. "MADAM,-It is the hardest thing in still as so welcome a present, after forty is one who is so gallant as to speak of it the world to be in love, and yet attend bu-years' possession of the woman whom he siness. As for me, all that speak to me writes to. find me out, and I must lock myself up, or other people will do it for me. A gentle"June 23, 1711. man asked me this morning, 'What news "MADAM,-I heartily beg your pardon from Holland,' and I answered, She is for my omission to write yesterday. It was exquisitely handsome.' Another desired no failure of my tender regard for you; but to know when I had been last at Windsor. having been very much perplexed in my I replied, She designs to go with me.' thoughts on the subject of my last, made Pr'ythee, allow me at least to kiss your me determine to suspend speaking of it hand before the appointed day, that my until I came myself. But my lovely creamind may be in some composure. Me-ture, know it is not in the power of age, or thinks I could write a volume to you, but misfortune, or any other accident which all the language on earth would fail in say- hangs over human life, to take from me the ing how much, and with what disinterested pleasing esteem I have for you, or the mepassion, I am ever your's." mory of the bright figure you appeared in, when your gave your hand and heart to, Madam, your most grateful husband, and obedient servant. T.

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Non est vivere, sed valere, vita.

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Sept. 30, 1671, 7 in the morning. "DEAR CREATURE,-Next to the influence of heaven, I am to thank you that I see the returning day with pleasure. To pass my evenings in so sweet a conversa- No. 143.] Tuesday, August 14, 1711. tion, and have the esteem of a woman of your merit, has in it a peculiarity of happiness no more to be expressed than returned. But I am, my lovely creature contented to be on the obliged side, and to employ all my days in new endeavours to convince you and all the world of the sense I have of your condescension in choosing, Madam, your most faithful, most obedient humble

servant.

'He was, when he writ the following letter, as agreeable and pleasant a man as any in England.

Martial, Epig. lxx. 6. For life is only life, when blest with health. Ir is an unreasonable thing some men expect of their acquaintance. They are ever complaining that they are out of order, or displeased, or they know not how, and are so far from letting that be a reason 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 indisposed but his physician? If a man laments in com"October 20, 1671. pany, where the rest are in humour enough "MADAM,-I beg pardon that my paper to enjoy themselves, he should not take it is not finer, but I am forced to write from ill if a servant is ordered to present him a coffee-house where I am attending about with a porringer of caudle or posset-drink, business. There is a dirty crowd of busy by way of admonition that he go home to faces all around me talking of money, while bed. That part of life which we ordinarily all my ambition, all my wealth, is love; understand by the word conversation, is an love, which animates my heart, sweetens indulgence to the sociable part of our my humour, enlarges my soul, and affects make; and should incline us to bring our every action of my life. It is to my lovely proportion of good-will or good-humour charmer, I owe that many noble ideas are among the friends we meet with, and not continually affixed to my words and actions: to trouble them with relations which must it is the natural effect of that generous pas- of necessity oblige them to a real or feigned sion to create in the admirers some simili-affliction. Cares, distresses, diseases, uneatude of the object admired; thus my dear am I every day to improve from so sweet a companion. Look up, my fair one, to that heaven which made thee such, and join with me to implore its influence on our tender innocent hours, and beseech the author of love to bless the rites he has ordained, and mingle with our happiness a just sense of our transient condition, and a resignation to his will, which only can regulate our minds to a steady endeavour to please him and each other. I am, for ever, your faithful servant."

sinesses, and dislikes of our own, are by no means to be obtruded upon our friends. If we would consider how little of this vicissitude of motion and rest, which we call life, is spent with satisfaction, we should be more tender of our friends, than to bring them little sorrows which do not belong to them. There is no real life but cheerful life; therefore valetudinarians should be sworn, before they enter into company, not to say a word of themselves until the meeting breaks up. It is not here pretended, that we should be always sitting with chaplets of flowers round our heads, or be 'I will not trouble you with more letters crowned with roses in order to make our

his ordinary sleep. Thus is his being one uniform and consistent series of cheerful diversions and moderate cares, without fear or hope of futurity. Health to him is more than pleasure to another man, and sickness less affecting to him than indisposition is to others.

I must confess, 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 observe, from the hour she rises, a certain weariness of all that passes about her. I know more than one who is much too nice to be quite alive. They are sick of such strange frightful people that they meet; one is so awkward, and another so disagreeable, that it looks like a penance to breathe the same air with them. You see this is so very true, that a great part of ceremony and good-breeding among the ladies turns upon their uneasiness; and I will undertake, if the howd'ye-servants of our women were to make a weekly bill of sickness, as the parish clerks do of mortality, you would not find, in an account of seven days, one in thirty that was not downright sick or indisposed, or but a very little better than she was, and so forth.

entertainment agreeable to us; but if (as it | moment is not of half the duration as is is usually observed) they who resolve to be merry, seldom are so, it will be much more unlikely for us to be well-pleased, if they are admitted who are always complaining they are sad. Whatever we do, we should keep up the cheerfulness of our spirits, and never let them sink below an inclination at least to be well-pleased. The way of this, is to keep our bodies in exercise, our minds at ease. That insipid state wherein neither are in vigour, is not to be accounted any part of our portion of being. When we are in the satisfaction of some innocent pleasure, or pursuit of some laudable design, we are in the possession of life, of human life. Fortune will give us disappointments enough, and nature is attended with infirmities enough, without our adding to the unhappy side of our account by our spleen or illhumour. Poor Cottilus, among so many real evils, a chronical distemper and a narrow fortune, is never heard to complain. That equal spirit 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 necessary, if it is not the way to an estate, is the way to what men aim at by getting an estate. This temper will preserve health in the body, as well as tranquillity in the mind. Cottilus sees the world in a hurry, with the same scorn that a sober person sees a man drunk. Had he been contented with what he ought to have been, how could, says he, such a one have met with such 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 had a part of his passion, her levity had been his cure; she could not then have been false and amiable at the same time.

We

It is certain that to enjoy life and health as a constant feast, we should not think pleasure necessary, but if possible, to arrive at an equality of mind. It is as mean to be overjoyed upon occasions of good fortune, as to be dejected in circumstances of distress. Laughter in one condition is as unmanly as weeping in the other. should not form our minds to expect transport on every occasion, but know how to make it enjoyment to be out of pain. Ambition, envy, vagrant desire, or impertinent mirth, will take up our minds, without we can possess ourselves in that sobriety of heart which is above all pleasures, and can be felt much better than described. But the ready way, I believe, to the right enjoyment of life, is, by a prospect towards another, to have but a very mean opinion of it. A great author of our time* has set this in an excellent light, when, with a philosophic pity of human life, he spoke of it in his Theory of the Earth in the following manner:

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Since we cannot promise ourselves constant health, let us endeavour at such a temper as may be our best support in the decay of it. Uranius has arrived at that composure of soul, and wrought himself up to such a neglect of every thing with which the generality of mankind is enchanted, that nothing but acute pains can give him disturbance, and against those too he will tell his intimate friends he has a secret which gives him present ease. Uranius is so thoroughly persuaded of another life, and endeavours so sincerely to secure an interest in it, that he looks upon pain but as a quickening of his pace to a home where he shall be better provided for than in his present 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 such. He thinks at the time of his birth he entered into an eternal being; and the short article of death he will not * Dr. Thomas Burnet, Master of the Charter-house. allow an interruption of life; since that author of "Telluris sacra Theoria."

For what is this life but a circulation of little mean actions? We lie down and rise again, dress and undress, 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 imaginations. Our reason lies asleep by us, and we are for the time as arrant brutes as those that

sleep in the stalls, or in the field. Are | She has not lost the native simplicity of her not the capacities of man higher than aspect, to substitute that patience of being these? And ought not his ambition and ex- stared at, which is the usual triumph and pectations to be greater? Let us be adven- distinction of a town lady. In public assemturers for another world. It is at least a blies you meet her careless eye diverting fair and noble chance; and there is nothing itself with the objects around her, insensiin this worth our thoughts or our passions. ble that she herself is one of the brightest If we should be disappointed, we are still in the place. no worse than the rest of our fellow mortals; and if we succeed in our expectations, we are eternally happy.' T.

-Noris quam elegans formarum Spectator siem. Ter. Eun. Act. iii. Sc. 5. You shall see how nice a judge of beauty I am.

Dulcissa is of quite another make, she is almost a beauty by nature, but more than one by art. If it were possible for her to let her fan or any limb about her rest, she would do some part of the execution she

No. 144.] Wednesday, August 15, 1711. meditates; but though she designs herself a prey, she will not stay to be taken. No painter can give you words for the different aspects of Dulcissa in half a moment, wherever she appears: so little does she accomplish what she takes so much pains for, to be gay and careless.

It

Merab is attended with all the charms of woman and accomplishments of man. is not to be doubted but she has a great deal of wit, if she were not such a beauty; and she would have more beauty had she not so much wit. Affectation prevents her excellences from walking together. If she has a mind to speak such a thing, it must be done with such an air of her body; and if she has an inclination to look very care

less, there is such a smart thing to be said at the same time, that the design of being admired destroys itself. Thus the unhappy Merab, though a wit and a beauty, is allowed to be neither, because she will always be both.

BEAUTY has been the delight and torment of the world ever since it began. The philosophers have felt its influence so sensibly, that almost every one of them has left us some saying or other, which intimated that he too well knew the power of it. One* has told us, that a graceful person is a more powerful recommendation than the best letter that can be written in our favour. Another desires the possessor of it to consider it as a mere gift of nature, and not any perfection of his own. A third‡ calls it a short-lived tyranny; a fourth a 'silent fraud,' because it imposes upon us without the help of language; but I think Carneades spoke as much like a philosopher as any of them, though more like a lover, when he calls it royalty without force. It is not indeed to be denied, but there is something irresistible in a beauteous form; the most severe will not pretend, that they do not feel an immediate prepossession in favour of the handsome. No one denies them the privilege of being first heard, and being regarded before others in matters of ordinary consideration. At the same time the handsome should consider that it is a possession, as it were, foreign to them. No one can give it himself or pre serve it when they have it. Yet so it is, that people can bear any quality in the world better than beauty. It is the consolation of all who are naturally too much affected with the force of it, that a little attention, if a man can attend with judgment, will cure them. Handsome people Eudosia adds to the height of her stature usually are so fantastically pleased with a nobility of spirit which still distinguishes themselves, that if they do not kill at first her above the rest of her sex. Beauty in sight, as the phrase is, a second interview others is lovely, in others agreeable, in disarms them of all their power. But I others attractive, but in Eudosia it is comshall make this paper rather a warning-manding. Love towards Eudosia is a senpiece to give notice where the danger is, than to propose instructions how to avoid it when you have fallen in the way of it. Handsome men shall be the subject of another chapter, the women shall take up the present discourse.

Albacinda has the skill as well as power of pleasing. Her form is majestic, but her aspect humble. All good men should beware of the destroyer. She will speak to you like your sister, until she has you sure; but is the most vexatious of tyrants when you are so. Her familiarity of behaviour, her indifferent questions, and general conversation, make the silly part of her votaher power. ries full of hopes, while the wise fly from

She well knows she is too

beautiful and too witty to be indifferent to any who converse with her, and therefore knows she does not lessen herself by familiarity, but gains occasions of admiration by seeming ignorance of her perfections.

timent like the love of glory. The lovers of other women are softened into fondness, the admirers of Eudosia exalted into ambition.

tion with a more kindly pleasure, and as Eucratia presents herself to the imaginashe is woman, her praise is wholly feminine. If we were to form an image of dignity in a man, we should give him wisdom and valour, as being essential to the cha* Aristotle. † Plato. Socrates. § Theophrastus.racter of manhood. In like manner,

Amaryllis, who has been in town but one winter, is extremely improved with the arts of good-breeding, without leaving nature.

if you

describe a right woman in a laudable sense, | yourself more usefully than in adjusting the she should have gentle softness, tender laws of disputation in coffee-houses and accifear, and all those parts of life which dis- dental companies, as well as in more formal tinguish her from the other sex; with some debates. Among many other things which subordination to it, but such an inferiority your own experience must suggest to you, that makes her still more lovely. Eucratia it will be very obliging if you please to take is that creature, she is all over woman, notice of wagerers. I will not here repeat kindness is all her art, and beauty all her what Hudibras says of such disputants, arms. Her look, her voice, her gesture, which is so true, that it is almost proverand whole behaviour is truly feminine. A bial; but shall only acquaint you with a set goodness mixed with fear gives a tincture of young fellows of the inns of court, whose to all her behaviour. It would be savage fathers have provided for them so plentito offend her, and cruelty to use art to gain fully, that they need not be very anxious to her. Others are beautiful, but, Eucratia, get law into their heads for the service of thou art beauty! their country at the bar; but are of those Omniamante is made for deceit, she has who are sent (as the phrase of parents is,) an aspect as innocent as the famed Lucrece, to the Temple to know how to keep their but a mind as wild as the more famed Cleo-own.' One of these gentlemen is very loud patra. Her face speaks a vestal, but her heart a Messalina. Who that beheld Omniamante's negligent unobserving air, would believe that she hid under that regardless manner the witty prostitute, the rapacious wench, the prodigal courtesan? She can, when she pleases, adorn those eyes with tears like an infant that is chid; she can cast down that pretty face in confusion, while you rage with jealousy, and storm at her perfidiousness; she 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 presents.

But I go too far in reporting only the dangers in beholding the beauteous, which I design for the instruction of the fair as well as their beholders; and shall end this rhapsody with mentioning what I thought was well enough said of an ancient sage* to a beautiful youth, whom he saw admiring his own figure in brass. What,' said the philosopher, 'could that image of yours say for itself if it could speak?"It might say, (answered 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 brass is capable?'

T.

No. 145.] Thursday, August 16, 1711.
Stultitiam patiuntur opes-

and captious at a coffee-house which I frequent, and being in his nature troubled with a humour of contradiction, though withal excessively ignorant, he has found a way to indulge this temper, go on in idleness and ignorance, and yet still give himself the air of a very learned and knowing man, by the strength of his pocket. The misfortune of the thing is, I have, as it happens sometimes, a greater stock of learning than of money. The gentleman I am speaking of takes advantage of the narrowness of my circumstances in such a manner, that he has read all that I can pretend to, and runs me down with such a positive air, and with such powerful arguments, that from a very learned person I am thought a mere pretender. Not long ago I was relating that I had read such a passage in Tacitus, up starts my young gentleman in a full company, and pulling out his purse offered to lay me ten guineas, to be staked immediately in that gentleman's hands, (pointing to one smoking 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 such a remarkable incident as that could not escape him. He has at this time three considerable wagers depending between him and some of his companions, who are rich enough to hold an argument with him. He has five guineas upon questions in geography, two that the Isle of Wight is a peninsula, and three guineas to one that the world is round. We have a gentleman comes to our

Hor. Lib. 1. Ep. xviii. 29. Their folly pleads the privilege of wealth. IF the following enormities are not amended upon the first mentioning, I de-coffee-house, who deals mightily in ansire further notice from my correspon

dents.

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twenty pieces upon a point of history, to tique scandal; my disputant has laid him wit, that Cæsar never lay with Cato's sister, as is scandalously reported by some people.

'There are several of this sort of fellows in town, who wager themselves into statesmen, historians, geographers, mathematicians, and every other art, when the persons with whom they talk have not wealth equal to their learning. I beg of you to prevent, in these youngsters, this compendious way to wisdom, which costs other

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'Coffee-house near the Temple, Aug. 12, 1711.

T.

people so much time and pains: and you will | wire, to increase and sustain the bunch of oblige your humble servant. fold that hangs down on each side; and the hat, I perceive is decreased in just propor'MR. SPECTATOR,-Here is a young tion to our head-dresses. We make a regugentleman that sings opera-tunes or whis-lar figure, but I defy your mathematics to tles in a full house. Pray let him know give name to the form you appear in. Your that he has no right to act here as if he architecture is mere gothic, and betrays a were in an empty room. Be pleased to worse genius than ours; therefore if you are divide the spaces of a public room, and cer- partial to your own sex, I shall be less than tify whistlers, singers, and common orators, am now, your humble servant.' that are heard farther than their portion of the room comes to, that the law is open, and that there is an equity which will relieve us from such as interrupt us in our lawful discourse, as much as against such who stop us on the road. I take these persons, Mr. Spectator, to be such trespassers as the officer in your stage-coach, and am of the same sentiment with counsellor Ephraim. It is true the young man is rich, and, as the vulgar say, needs not care for any body; but sure that is no authority for him to go whistle where he pleases. I am, sir, your most humble servant.

P. S. I have chambers in the Temple, and here are students that learn upon the hautboy: pray desire the benchers that all lawyers who are proficients in wind-music may lodge to the Thames.'

No. 146.] Friday, August 17, 1711.
Nemo vir magnus sine aliquo afflatu divino unquam fuit.
Tull.
No man was ever great without some degree of inspi
ration.

WE know the highest pleasure our minds are capable of enjoying with composure, when we read sublime thoughts communicated to us by men of great genius and eloquence. Such is the entertainment we meet with in the philosophic parts of Cicero's writings. Truth and good sense have there so charming a dress, that they could hardly be more agreeably represented with the addition of poetical fiction, and the power of numbers. This ancient author, and a modern one, have fallen into my hands 'MR. SPECTATOR,-We are a company within these few days; and the impressions of young women who pass our time very they have left upon me have at the present The much together, and obliged by the merce- quite spoiled me for a merry fellow. nary humour of the men to be as merce- modern is that admirable writer the author narily inclined as they are. There visits of the Theory of the Earth. The subjects among us an old bachelor whom each of with which I have lately been entertained us has a mind to. The fellow is rich, and in them both bear a near affinity; they knows he may have any of us, therefore are upon inquiries into hereafter, and the is particular to none, but excessively ill-thoughts of the latter seem to me to be bred. His pleasantry consists in romping, raised above those of the former, in proporhe snatches kisses by surprise, puts his tion to his advantages, Scripture and revelahands in our necks, tears our fans, robs us tion. If I had a mind to it, I could not at of ribands, forces letters out of our hands, present talk of any thing else; therefore I looks into any of our papers, and a thou-shall translate a passage in the one, and sand other rudenesses. Now what I will desire of you is, to acquaint him, by printing this, that if he does not marry one of us very suddenly, 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 sisterhood I take my leave of you, and am, as they all are, your constant reader and well-wisher.'

'MR. SPECTATOR,-I and several others of your female readers have conformed ourselves to your rules, even to our very dress. There is not one of us but has reduced our outward petticoat to its ancient sizeable 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 censure too far. But we find you men secretly 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, so are those with

transcribe a paragraph out of the other, for the speculation of this day. Cicero tells us,* that Plato reports Socrates, upon receiving his sentence, to have spoken to his judges in the following manner:

'I have great hopes, O my judges, that it is infinitely to my advantage that I am sent to death: for it must of necessity be, that one of these two things must be the consequence. Death must take away all these senses, or convey me to another life. If all sense is to be taken away, and death is no more than that profound sleep without dreams in which we are sometimes buried, oh, heavens! how desirable it is 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 passage to places which they who lived before us do now inhabit, how much still happier is it to go from those who call themselves judges to appear before those who are really such; before Minos, Rhadamanthus, Æacus, and Trip

*Tusculan. Quæstion. lib. 1.

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