nation, and even with comfort. She provided the frugal meal, and he read to her while employed in the little offices of domestic concern. Their fellowprisoners admired their contentment, and whenever they had a desire of relaxing into mirth, and enjoying those little comforts that a prison affords, Sabinus and Olinda were sure to be of the party. Instead of reproaching each other for their mutual wretchedness, they both lightened it, by bearing each a share of the load imposed by Providence.

binus, a youth formed by nature to make a con- | Olinda to comfort him in his miseries. In this quest wherever he thought proper; but the con- mansion of distress they lived together with resigstancy of his disposition fixed him only with Olinda. He was indeed superior to her in fortune, but that defect on her side was so amply supplied by her merit, that none was thought more worthy of his regards than she. He loved her, he was beloved by her; and in a short time, by joining hands publicly, they avowed the union of their hearts. But, alas! none, however fortunate, however happy, are exempt from the shafts of envy, and the malignant effects of ungoverned appetite. How unsafe, how detestable are they who have Whenever Sabinus showed the least concern on this fury for their guide! How certainly will it his dear partner's account, she conjured him, by lead them from themselves, and plunge them in the love he bore her, by those tender ties which now errors they would have shuddered at, even in ap- united them forever, not to discompose himself; prehension! Ariana, a lady of many amiable that so long as his affection lasted, she defied all qualities, very nearly allied to Sabinus, and highly the ills of fortune and every loss of fame or friendesteemed by him, imagined herself slighted, and ship; that nothing could make her miserable but injuriously treated, since his marriage with Olinda. his seeming to want happiness; nothing please By incautiously suffering this jealousy to corrode but his sympathizing with her pleasure. A conin her breast, she began to give a loose to passion; tinuance in prison soon robbed them of the little she forgot those many virtues for which she had they had left, and famine began to make its horrid been so long and so justly applauded. Causeless appearance; yet still was neither found to mursuspicion and mistaken resentment betrayed her mur: they both looked upon their little boy, who, into all the gloom of discontent; she sighed with- insensible of their or his own distress, was playout ceasing; the happiness of others gave her intolerable pain; she thought of nothing but revenge. How unlike what she was, the cheerful, the prudent, the compassionate Ariana!

She continually laboured to disturb a union so firmly, so affectionately founded, and planned every scheme which she thought most likely to disturb it.

ing about the room, with inexpressible yet silent anguish, when a messenger came to inform them that Ariana was dead, and that her will in favour of a very distant relation, who was now in another country, might easily be procured and burnt; in which case all her large fortune would revert to him, as being the next heir at law.

A proposal of so base a nature filled our unFortune seemed willing to promote her unjust happy couple with horror; they ordered the mesintentions; the circumstances of Sabinus had been senger immediately out of the room, and falling long embarrassed by a tedious law-suit, and the upon each other's neck, indulged an agony of sorcourt determining the cause unexpectedly in favour row, for now even all hopes of relief were banished. of his opponent, it sunk his fortune to the lowest The messenger who made the proposal, however, pitch of penury from the highest affluence. From was only a spy sent by Ariana to sound the dispothe nearness of relationship, Sabinus expected sitions of a man she at once loved and persecuted. from Ariana those assistances his present situation This lady, though warped by wrong passions, was required; but she was insensible to all his en- naturally kind, judicious, and friendly. She found treaties and the justice of every remonstrance, un- that all her attempts to shake the constancy or the less he first separated from Olinda, whom she re-integrity of Sabinus were ineffectual; she had garded with detestation. Upon a compliance with therefore begun to reflect, and to wonder how she her desire in this respect, she promised that her could so long and so unprovokedly injure such unfortune, her interest, and her all, should be at his common fortitude and affection. command. Sabinus was shocked at the proposal; She had from the next room herself heard the he loved his wife with inexpressible tenderness, reception given to the messenger, and could not and refused those offers with indignation which avoid feeling all the force of superior virtue; she were to be purchased at so high a price. Ariana therefore reassumed her former goodness of heart; was no less displeased to find her offers rejected, she came into the room with tears in her eyes, and and gave a loose to all that warmth which she had acknowledged the severity of her former treatment. long endeavoured to suppress. Reproach generally She bestowed her first care in providing them all produces recrimination; the quarrel rose to such the necessary supplies, and acknowledged them as a height, that Sabinus was marked for destruction, the most deserving heirs of her fortune. From and the very next day, upon the strength of an this moment Sabinus enjoyed an uninterrupted old family debt, he was sent to gaol, with none but happiness with Olinda, and both were happy in

tain victory.

the friendship and assistance of Ariana, who, dy- and that in their hearts they rather envy than coning soon after, left them in possession of a large demn that levity they affect to despise. estate, and in her last moments confessed, that The Spectator, whose constant object was the virtue was the only path to true glory; and that good of mankind in general, and of his own nation however innocence may for a time be depressed, in particular, should, according to his own princia steady perseverance will in time lead it to a cer- ples, place cheerfulness among the most desirable qualities; and probably, whenever he contradicts himself in this particular, it is only to conform to the tempers of the people whom he addresses. He asserts, that gaiety is one great obstacle to the But are those of a prudent conduct of women. melancholic temper, as the English women generally are, less subject to the foibles of love? I am NOTHING is so uncommon among the English acquainted with some doctors in this science, to as that easy affability, that instant method of ac-whose judgment I would more willingly refer than quaintance, or that cheerfulness of disposition, to his. And perhaps, in reality, persons naturally which make in France the charm of every socie- of a gay temper are too easily taken off by differ ty. Yet in this gloomy reserve they seem to pride [ent objects, to give themselves up to all the exthemselves, and think themselves less happy if cesses of this passion.

THE SENTIMENTS OF A FRENCH.
MAN ON THE TEMPER OF THE
ENGLISH.

obliged to be more social. One may assert, with- Mr. Hobbes, a celebrated philosopher of his naout wronging them, that they do not study the tion, maintains that laughing proceeds from our method of going through life with pleasure and pride alone. This is only a paradox if asserted of tranquillity like the French. Might not this be a laughing in general, and only argues that misanproof that they are not so much philosophers as thropical disposition for which he was remarkable. they imagine? Philosophy is no more than the To bring the causes he assigns for laughing unart of making ourselves happy: that is in seeking der suspicion, it is sufficinnt to remark, that proud pleasure in regularity, and reconciling what we people are commonly those who laugh least. owe to society with what is due to ourselves. Gravity is the inseparable companion of pride. To

This cheerfulness, which is the characteristic of say that a man is vain, because the humour of a our nation, in the eye of an Englishman passes al-writer, or the buffooneries of a harlequin, excite his most for folly. But is their gloominess a greater laughter, would be advancing a great absurdity. mark of their wisdom? and, folly against folly, is We should distinguish between laughter inspired not the most cheerful sort the best? If our gaiety makes them sad, they ought not to find it strange if their seriousness makes us laugh.

As this disposition to levity is not familiar to them, and as they look on every thing as a fault which they do not find at home, the English who live among us are hurt by it. Several of their authors reproach us with it as a vice, or at least as a ridicule.

by joy, and that which arises from mockery. The malicious sneer is improperly called laughter. It must be owned, that pride is the parent of such laughter as this: but this is in itself vicious; whereas the other sort has nothing in its principles or effects that deserves condemnation. We find this amiable in others, and is it unhappiness to feel a disposition towards it in ourselves?

When I see an Englishman laugh, I fancy I Mr. Addison styles us a comic nation. In my rather see him hunting after joy than having opinion, it is not acting the philosopher on this caught it: and this is more particularly remarkapoint, to regard as a fault that quality which con-ble in their women, whose tempers are inclined to tributes most to the pleasure of society and happi-melancholy. A laugh leaves no more traces on ness of life. Plato, convinced that whatever makes their countenance than a flash of lightning on the men happier makes them better, advises to neglect face of the heavens. The most laughing air is innothing that may excite and convert to an early stantly succeeded by the most gloomy. One habit this sense of joy in children. Seneca places would be apt to think that their souls open with it in the first rank of good things. Certain it is, difficulty to joy, or at least that joy is not pleased at least, that gaiety may be a concomitant of all with its habitation there. sorts of virtue, but that there are some vices with which it is incompatible.

In regard to fine raillery, it must be allowed that it is not natural to the English, and therefore those As to him who laughs at every thing, and him who endeavour at it make but an ill figure: Some who laughs at nothing, neither has sound judg- of their authors have candidly confessed, that ment. All the difference I find between them is, pleasantry is quite foreign to their character; but that the last is constantly the most unhappy. according to the reason they give, they lose nothing Those who speak against cheerfulness, prove no- by this confession. Bishop Sprat gives the fol thing else but that they were born melancholic, lowing one; "The English," says he, "have too

much bravery to be derided, and too much virtue what people ate, and drank, and saw, was not what and honour to mock others."

THE BEE, No. VIII.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1759.

ON DECEIT AND FALSEHOOD.

THE following account is so judiciously conceived that I am convinced the reader will be more pleased with it than with any thing of mine, so I shall make no apology for this new publication.

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE BEE.

they ate, and drank, and saw, but something further, which they were fond of because they were ignorant of it. In short, nothing was itself, but something beyond itself; and by these artifices and amusements the heads of the world were so turned and intoxicated, that at last there was scarcely a sound set of brains left in it.

In this state of giddiness and infatuation it was no very hard task to persuade the already deluded, that there was an actual society and communion between human creatures and spiritual demons. And when they had thus put people into the power and clutches of the devil, none but they alone could have either skill or strength to bring the prisoners back again.

But so far did they carry this dreadful drollery, and so fond were they of it, that to maintain it and SIR, themselves in profitable repute, they literally sacriDECEIT and falsehood have ever been an over- ficed for it, and made impious victims of numbermatch for truth, and followed and admired by the less old women and other miserable persons, who majority of mankind. If we inquire after the rea- either, through ignorance, could not say what they son of this, we shall find it in our own imagina- were bid to say, or, through madness, said what tions, which are amused and entertained with the they should not have said. Fear and stupidity perpetual novelty and variety that fiction affords, made them incapable of defending themselves, and but find no manner of delight in the uniform sim- frenzy and infatuation made them confess guilty plicity of homely truth, which still sues them un- impossibilities, which produced cruel sentences, der the same appearance. and then inhuman executions.

He, therefore, that would gain our hearts, must Some of these wretched mortals, finding themmake his court to our fancy, which, being sovereign selves either hateful or terrible to all, and befriendcomptroller of the passions, lets them loose, and in- ed by none, and perhaps wanting the common neflames them more or less, in proportion to the force cessaries of life, came at last to abhor themselves as and efficacy of the first cause, which is ever the much as they were abhorred by others, and grew more powerful the more new it is. Thus in mathe- willing to be burnt or hanged out of a world which matical demonstrations themselves, though they was no other to them than a scene of persecution seem to aim at pure truth and instruction, and to and anguish. be addressed to our reason alone, yet I think it is pretty plain, that our understanding is only made a drudge to gratify our invention and curiosity, and we are pleased, not so much because our discoveries are certain, as because they are new.

Others of strong imaginations and little understandings were, by positive and repeated charges against them, of committing mischievous and supernatural facts and villanies, deluded to judge of themselves by the judgment of their enemies, whose weakness or malice prompted them to be accusers. And many have been condemned as witches and dealers with the devil, for no other reason but their knowing more than those who accused, tried, and passed sentence upon them.

I do not deny but the world is still pleased with things that pleased it many years ago, but it should at the same time be considered, that man is naturally so much of a logician, as to distinguish between matters that are plain and easy, and others that are hard and inconceivable. What we un- In these cases, credulity is a much greater error derstand, we overlook and despise, and what we than infidelity, and it is safer to believe nothing know nothing of, we hug and delight in. Thus than too much. A man that believes little or nothere are such things as perpetual novelties; for we thing of witchcraft will destroy nobody for being are pleased no longer than we are amazed, and nothing so much contents us as that which confounds us.

under the imputation of it; and so far he certainly acts with humanity to others, and safety to himself: but he that credits all, or too much, upon This weakness in human nature gave occasion that article, is obliged, if he acts consistently with to a party of men to make such gainful markets as his persuasion, to kill all those whom he takes to they have done of our credulity. All objects and be the killers of mankind; and such are witches. facts whatever now ceased to be what they had been It would be a jest and a contradiction to say, that for ever before, and received what make and mean- he is for sparing them who are harmless of that ing it was found convenient to put upon them: tribe, since the received notion of their supposed

contract with the devil implies that they are engaged, by covenant and inclination, to do all the mischief they possibly can.

If we inquire what are the common marks and symptoms by which witches are discovered to be such, we shall see how reasonably and mercifully those poor creatures were burnt and hanged who unhappily fell under that name.

I have heard many stories of witches, and read many accusations against them; but I do not remember any that would have induced me to have In the first place, the old woman must be proconsigned over to the halter or the flame any of digiously ugly; her eyes hollow and red, her face those deplorable wretches, who, as they share our shriveled; she goes double, and her voice tremlikeness and nature, ought to share our compas-bles. It frequently happens, that this rueful figure sion, as persons cruelly accused of impossibilities. frightens a child into the palpitation of the heart: But we love to delude ourselves, and often fancy home he runs, and tells his mamma, that Goody or forge an effect, and then set ourselves as gravely Such-a-one looked at him, and he is very ill. The as ridiculously to find out the cause. Thus, for good woman cries out, her dear baby is bewitched, example, when a dream or the hyp has given us and sends for the parson and the constable. false terrors, or imaginary pains, we immediately It is moreover necessary that she be very poor. conclude that the infernal tyrant owes us a spite, It is true, her master Satan has mines and hidden and inflicts his wrath and stripes upon us by the treasures in his gift; but no matter, she is for all hands of some of his sworn servants among us. that very poor, and lives on alms. She goes to For this end an old woman is promoted to a seat Sisly the cook-maid for a dish of broth, or the heel in Satan's privy-council, and appointed his execu- of a loaf, and Sisly denies them to her. The old tioner-in-chief within her district. So ready and woman goes away muttering, and perhaps in less civil are we to allow the devil the dominion over than a month's time, Sisly hears the voice of a us, and even to provide him with butchers and cat, and strains her ancles, which are certain signs hangmen of our own make and nature. that she is bewitched.

I have often wondered why we did not, in choosing our proper officers for Beelzebub, lay the lot rather upon men than women, the former being more bold and robust, and more equal to that bloody service; but upon inquiry, I find it has been so ordered for two reasons: first, the men having the whole direction of this affair, are wise enough to slip their own necks out of the collar; and secondly, an old woman is grown by custom the most avoided and most unpitied creature under the sun, the very name carrying contempt and satire in it. And so far indeed we pay but an uncourtly sort of respect to Satan, in sacrificing to him nothing but dry sticks of human nature.

We have a wondering quality within us, which finds huge gratification when we see strange feats done, and can not at the same time see the doer or the cause, Such actions are sure to be attributed to some witch or demon; for if we come to find they are slily performed by artists of our own species, and by causes purely natural, our delight dies with our amazement.

A farmer sees his cattle die of the murrain, and his sheep of the rot, and poor Goody is forced to be the cause of their death, because she was seen talking to herself the evening before such an ewe departed, and had been gathering sticks at the side of the wood where such a cow run mad.

The old woman has always for her companion an old gray cat, which is a disguised devil too, and confederate with Goody in works of darkness. They frequently go journeys into Egypt upon a broom-staff in half an hour's time, and now and then Goody and her cat change shapes. The neighbours often overhear them in deep and solemn discourse together, plotting some dreadful mischief you may be sure.

There is a famous way of trying witches, recommended by King James I. The old woman is tied hand and foot, and thrown into the river, and if she swims she is guilty, and taken out and burnt; but if she is innocent, she sinks, and is only drowned.

The witches are said to meet their master freIt is, therefore, one of the most unthankful offi- quently in churches and church-yards. I wonces in the world, to go about to expose the mis- der at the boldness of Satan and his congregation, taken notions of witchcraft and spirits; it is robbing in revelling and playing mountebank farces on conmankind of a valuable imagination, and of the secrated ground; and I have so often wondered at privilege of being deceived. Those who at any the oversight and ill policy of some people in altime undertook the task, have always met with lowing it possible. rough treatment and ill language for their pains, It would have been both dangerous and impious and seldom escaped the imputation of atheism, be- to have treated this subject at one certain time in cause they would not allow the devil to be too pow-this ludicrous manner. It used to be managed erful for the Almighty. For my part, I am so much with all possible gravity, and even terror: and ina heretic as to believe, that God Almighty, and not deed it was made a tragedy in all its parts, and the devil, governs the world, thousands were sacrificed, or rather murdered, by

such evidence and colours, as, God be thanked! | to pleasure, and language was by them cultivated we are this day ashamed of. An old woman may only as a mode of elegance. Hence it became be miserable now, and not be hanged for it.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE AUGUSTAN
AGE OF ENGLAND.

more enervated, and was dashed with quainti esses, which gave the public writings of those times a very illiberal air.

L'Estrange, who was by no means so bad a writer as some have represented him, was sunk in party faction; and having generally the worst side THE history of the rise of language and learn-of the argument, often had recourse to scolding, ing is calculated to gratify curiosity rather than to pertness, and consequently a vulgarity that dissatisfy the understanding. An account of that covers itself even in his more liberal compositions. period only when language and learning arrived He was the first writer who regularly enlisted at its highest perfection, is the most conducive to himself under the banners of a party for pay, and real improvement, since it at once raises emulation fought for it through right and wrong for upwards and directs to the proper objects. The age of Leo of forty literary campaigns. This intrepidity X. in Italy is confessed to be the Augustan age with them. The French writers seem agreed to give the same appellation to that of Louis XIV.; but the English are yet undetermined with respect to themselves.

gained him the esteem of Cromwell himself, and the papers he wrote even just before the revolution, almost with the rope about his neck, have his usual characters of impudence and perseverance. That he was a standard writer can not be disowned, because a great many very eminent authors formed their style by his. But his standard was far from being a just one; though, when party considerations are set aside, he certainly was possessed of elegance, ease, and perspicuity.

have known a Pope, at least in the meridian lustre he now displays. But Dryden's excellencies as a writer were not confined to poetry alone. There is, in his prose writings, an ease and elegance that have never yet been so well united in works of taste or criticism.

Some have looked upon the writers in the times of Queen Elizabeth as the true standard for future imitation; others have descended to the reign of James I. and others still lower, to that of Charles II. Were I to be permitted to offer an opinion upon this subject, I should readily give my vote for the reign Dryden, though a great and undisputed genius, of Queen Anne, or some years before that period. had the same cast as L'Estrange. Even his plays It was then that taste was united to genius; and discover him to be a party man, and the same prinas before our writers charmed with their strength ciple infects his style in subjects of the lightest of thinking, so then they pleased with strength nature; but the English tongue, as it stands at and grace united. In that period of British glory, present, is greatly his debtor. He first gave it rethough no writer attracts our attention singly, gular harmony, and discovered its latent powers. yet, like stars lost in each other's brightness, they | It was his pen that formed the Congreves, the have cast such a lustre upon the age in which they Priors, and the Addisons, who succeeded him; lived, that their minutest transactions will be at- and had it not been for Dryden, we never should tended to by posterity with a greater eagerness than the most important occurrences of even empires which have been transacted in greater obscurity. At that period there seemed to be a just balance between patronage and the press. Before it, men were little esteemed whose only merit was genius; and since, men who can prudently be content to The English language owes very little to Otway, catch the public, are certain of living without de- though, next to Shakspeare, the greatest genius pendence. But the writers of the period of which England ever produced in tragedy. His excellenI am speaking were sufliciently esteemed by the cies lay in painting directly from nature, in catchgreat, and not rewarded enough by booksellers to ing every emotion just as it rises from the soul, and set them above independence. Fame, conse- in all the powers of the moving and pathetic. He quently, then was the truest road to happiness; a appears to have had no learning, no critical knowsedulous attention to the mechanical business of ledge, and to have lived in great distress. When the day makes the present never-failing resource. he died (which he did in an obscure house near The age of Charles II., which our countrymen the Minories), he had about him the copy of a term the age of wit and immorality, produced tragedy, which, it seems, he had sold for a trifle to some writers that at once served to improve our Bentley the bookseller. I have seen an advertiselanguage and corrupt our hearts. The king him- ment at the end of one of D'Estrange's political self had a large share of knowledge, and some wit; papers, offering a reward to any one who should and his courtiers were generally men who had been brought up in the school of affliction and experience. For this reason, when the sunshine of their fortune returned, they gave too great a loose

bring it to his shop. What an invaluable treasure was there irretrievably lost, by the ignorance and neglect of the age he lived in!

Lee had a great command of language, and vast