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I might be reproached when I should come to | tions, articles, and settlements, ran away with my aunt's estate.

the daughter of his father's groom; and my aunt, upon this conviction of the perfidy of man, resolved never to listen more to amorous addresses.

I was now relieved from part of my misery; a large fortune, though not in my power, was certain and unalienable; nor was there now any danger that I might at last be frustrated of my hopes by fret of dotage, the flatteries of a chamber-maid, the whispers of a tale-bearer, or the officiousness of a nurse. But my wealth was yet in reversion, my aunt was to be buried before I could emerge to grandeur and pleasure; and there was yet, according to my father's observation, nine lives between me and happiness.

In all the perplexities or vexations which want of money brought upon us, it was our constant practice to have recourse to futurity. If any Ten years longer I dragged the shackles of exof our neighbours surpassed us in appearance, pectation, without ever suffering a day to pass in we went home and contrived an equipage, with which I did not compute how much my chance which the death of my aunts was to supply us. was improved of being rich to-morrow. At last If any purseproud upstart was deficient in re- the second lady died, after a short illness, which spect, vengeance was referred to the time in yet was long enough to afford her time for the which our estate was to be repaired. We register-disposal of her estate, which she gave to me after ed every act of civility and rudeness, inquired the the death of her sister. number of dishes at every feast, and minuted the furniture of every house, that we might, when the hour of affluence should come, be able to eclipse all their splendour, and surpass all their magnificence. Upon plans of elegance, and schemes of pleasure, the day rose and set, and the year went round unregarded, while we were busied in laying out plantations on ground not yet our own, and deliberating whether the manor-house should he rebuilt or repaired. This was the amusement of our leisure, and the solace of our exigences; we met together only to contrive how our ap- I however lived on, without any clamours of proaching fortune should be enjoyed; for in this discontent, and comforted myself with considerour conversation always ended, on whatever sub-ing that all are mortal, and they who are contiject it began. We had none of the collateral in-nually decaying, must at last be destroyed. terests, which diversify the life of others with But let no man from this time suffer his felicity joys and hopes, but had turned our whole attention on one event, which we could neither hasten nor retard, and had no other object of curiosity than the health or sickness of my aunts, of which we were careful to procure very exact and carly intelligence.

This visionary opulence for a while soothed our imagination, but afterwards fired our wishes, and exasperated our necessities, and my father could not always restrain himself from exclaiming, that no creature had so many lives as a cat and an old maid. At last upon the recovery of his sister from an ague, which she was supposed to have caught by sparing fire, he began to lose his stomach, and four months afterwards sunk into the grave.

My mother, who loved her husband, survived him but a little while, and left me the sole heir of their lands, their schemes, and their wishes. As I had not enlarged my conceptions either by books or conversation, I differed only from my father by the freshness of my cheeks, and the vigour of my step: and, like him, gave way to no thoughts but of enjoying the wealth which my aunts were hoarding.

At length the eldest fell ill. I paid the civilities and compliments which sickness requires with the utmost punctuality. I dreamed every night of escutcheons and white gloves, and inquired every morning at an early hour, whether there were any news of my dear aunt. At last a messenger was sent to inform me that I must come to her without the delay of a moment. I went and heard her last advice, but opening her will, found that she had left her fortune to her second sister.

I hung my head; the youngest sister threatened to be married, and every thing was disappointment and discontent. I was in danger of losing irreparably one third of iny hopes, and was condemned still to wait for the rest. Of part of my terror I was soon eased; for the youth, whom his relations would have compelled to marry the old lady, after innumerable stipula

to depend on the death of his aunt. The good gentlewoman was very regular in her hours, and simple in her diet; and in walking or sitting still, waking or sleeping, had always in view the preservation of her health. She was subject to no disorder but hypochondriac dejection; by which, without intention, she increased my miseries, for whenever the weather was cloudy, she would take her bed and send me notice that her time was come. I went with all the haste of eagerness, and sometimes received passionate injunctions to be kind to her maid, and directions how the last offices should be performed; but if before my arrival the sun happened to break out, or the wind to change, I met her at the door, or found her in the garden, bustling and vigilant, with all the tokens of long life.

Sometimes, however, she fell into distempers, and was thrice given over by the doctor, yet she found means of slipping through the gripe of death, and after having tortured me three months at each time with violent alternations of hope and fear, came out of her chamber without any other hurt than the loss of flesh, which in a few weeks she recovered by broths and jellies.

As most have sagacity sufficient to guess at the desires of an heir, it was the constant prac tice of those who were hoping at second hand, and endeavoured to secure my favour against the time when I should be rich, to pay their court, by informing me that my aunt began to droop, that she had lately a bad night, that she coughed feebly, and that she could never climb May hill; or, at least, that the autumn would carry her off Thus was I flattered in the winter with the pierc ing winds of March, and in summer with the fogs of September. But she lived through spring and fall, and set heat and cold at defiance, till, after near half a century, I buried her on the fourteenth of last June, aged ninety-three years, five months, and six days.

For two months after her death I was rich, and was pleased with that obsequiousness and reverence which wealth instantaneously pro

cures. But this joy is now past, and I have re-thing more than the symptoms of some deeper turned again to my old habit of wishing. Being malady. He that is angry without daring to accustomed to give the future full power over my confess his resentment, or sorrowful without the mind, and to start away from the scene before liberty of telling his grief, is too frequently in me to some expected enjoyment, I deliver up my-clined to give vent to the fermentations of his self to the tyranny of every desire which fancy mind at the first passages that are opened, and suggests, and long for a thousand things which to let his passions boil over upon those whom I am unable to procure. Money has much less accident throws in his way. A painful and te power than is ascribed to it by those that want dious course of sickness frequently produces such it. I had formed schemes which I cannot exe- an alarming apprehension of the least increase cute, I had supposed events which do not come of uneasiness, as keeps the soul perpetually on to pass, and the rest of my life must pass in crav- the watch, such a restless and incessant soliciing solicitude, unless you can find some remedy tude, as no care or tenderness can appease, and for a mind corrupted with an inveterate disease can only be pacified by the cure of the distemper, of wishing, and unable to think on any thing but and the removal of that pain by which it is exwants, which reason tells me will never be sup- cited. plied.

I am, &c.

No. 74.] SATURDAY, DEC. 1, 1750.

CUPIDUS.

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Nearly approaching to this weakness, is the captiousness of old age. When the strength is crushed, the senses are dulled, and the common pleasures of life become insipid by repetition, we are willing to impute our uneasiness to canses not wholly out of our power, and please ourselves with fancying that we suffer by neglect, unkindness, or any evil which admits a remedy, rather than by the decays of nature, which cannot be prevented or repaired. We therefore revenge our pains upon those on whom we resolve to charge them; and too often drive mankind away at the time we have the greatest need of tenderness and assistance.

MEN seldom give pleasure when they are not pleased themselves; it is necessary, therefore, to cultivate an habitual alacrity and cheerfulness, But though peevishness may sometimes claim that in whatever state we may be placed by Pro- our compassion, as the consequence or concomividence, whether we are appointed to confer or tant of misery, it is very often found, where noreceive benefits, to implore or to afford protec- thing can justify or excuse its admission. It is tion, we may secure the love of those with whom frequently one of the attendants on the prosper we transact. For though it is generally imagin-ous, and is employed by insolence in exacting ed, that he who grants favours, may spare any homage, or by tyranny in harassing subjection. attention to his behaviour, and that usefulness It is the offspring of idleness or pride; of idlewill always procure friends; yet it has been ness anxious for trifles; or pride unwilling to enfound, that there is an art of granting requests, dure the least obstruction of her wishes. Those an art very difficult of attainment; that officious-who have long lived in solitude, indeed naturally ness and liberality may be so adulterated, as to lose the greater part of their effect; that compliance may provoke, relief may harass, and liberality distress.

contract this unsocial quality, because, having long had only themselves to please, they do not readily depart from their own inclinations; their singu larities therefore are only blameable, when they No disease of the mind can more fatally disa- have imprudently or morosely withdrawn themble it from benevolence, the chief duty of social selves from the world; but there are others, who beings, than ill humour or peevishness; for have, without any necessity, nursed up this habit though it breaks not out in paroxysms of outrage, in their minds, by making implicit submissive nor bursts into clamour, turbulence, and blood-ness the condition of their favour, and suffering shed, it wears out happiness by slow corrosion, and small injuries incessantly repeated. It may be considered as the canker of life, that destroys its vigour, and checks its improvement, that creeps on with hourly depredations, and taints and vitiates what it cannot consume.

Peevishness, when it has been so far indulged, as to outrun the motions of the will, and discover itself without premeditation, is a species of depravity in the highest degree disgusting and offensive, because no rectitude of intention, nor softness of address, can ensure a moment's exemption from affront and indignity. While we are courting the favour of a peevish man, and exerting ourselves in the most diligent civility, an unlucky syllable displeases, an unheeded circumstance ruffles and exasperates; and in the moment when we congratulate ourselves upon having gained a friend, our endeavours are frustrated at once; and all our assiduity forgotten in the casual tumult of some trifling irritation.

This troublesome impatience is sometimes no

none to approach them, but those who never speak but to applaud, or move but to obey.

He that gives himself up to his own fancy, and converses with none but such as he hires to lull him on the down of absolute authority, to soothe him with obsequiousness, and regale him with flattery, soon grows too slothful for the labour of contest, too tender for the asperity of contradiction, and too delicate for the coarseness of truth, a little opposition offends, a little restraint enrages, and a little difficulty perplexes him; having been accustomed to see every thing give way to his humour, he soon forgets his own littleness, and expects to find the world rolling at his beck, and all mankind employed to acommodate and delight him.

Tetrica had a large fortune bequeathed to her by an aunt, which made her very early inde pendent, and placed her in a state of superiority to all about her. Having no superfluity of un derstanding, she was soon intoxicated by the flatteries of her maid, who informed her that

No. 75.]

THE RAMBLER.

ladies, such as she, had nothing to do but take it is much oftener of base extraction, the child of pleasure their own way; that she wanted nothing vanity, and nursling of ignorance.

from others, and had therefore no reason to value their opinion; that money was every thing; and

TUESDAY, DEC. 4, 1750.

Diligitur nemo, nisi cui Fortuna secunda est,
Qua, simul intonuit, proxima quaque fugat.

When smiling Fortune spreads her golden ray,
All crowd around to flatter and obey:
But when she thunders from an angry sky,
Our friends, our flatterers, our lovers fly.

OVID.

MISS A. W⭑

that they who thought themselves ill-treated, No. 75.] should look for better usage among their equals. Warm with these generous sentiments, Tetrica came forth into the world, in which she endeavoured to force respect by haughtiness of mien and vehemence of language; but having neither birth, beauty, nor wit, in any uncommon degree, she suffered such mortifications from those who thought themselves at liberty to return her insults, as reduced her turbulence to cooler malignity, and taught her to practise her arts of vexation only where she might hope to tyrannize without resistance. She continued from her twentieth to her fifty-fifth year to torment all her inferiors with THE diligence with which you endeavour to culti so much diligence, that she has formed a princi-vate the knowledge of nature, manners, and life, ple of disapprobation, and finds in every place will perhaps incline you to pay some regard to something to grate her mind, and disturb her the observations of one who has been taught to know mankind by unwelcome information, and quiet. whose opinions are the result, not of solitary con jectures, but of practice and experience.

SIR,

TO THE RAMBLER.

I was born to a large fortune, and bred to the knowledge of those arts which are supposed to accomplish the mind, and adorn the person of a woman.

If she takes the air, she is offended with the heat or cold, the glare of the sun, or the gloom of the clouds; if she makes a visit, the room in which she is to be received, is too light, or too dark, or furnished with something which she canTo these attainments, which custom not see without aversion. Her tea is never of the right sort; the figures on the China give her and education almost forced upon me, I added disgust. Where there are children, she hates some voluntary acquisitions by the use of books, the gabble of brats; where there are none, she and the conversation of that species of men whom cannot bear a place without some cheerfulness the ladies generally mention with terror and averand rattle. If many servants are kept in a house, sion under the name of scholars, but whom I she never fails to tell how Lord Lavish was ru-have found a harmless and inoffensive order of ined by a numerous retinue; if few, she relates the story of a miser that made his company wait on themselves. She quarrelled with one because she had an unpleasant view from their windows; with another, because the squirrel From these men, however, if they are by kind leaped within two yards of her; and with a third, because she could not bear the noise of the parrot. treatment encouraged to talk, something may be Of milliners and mantua-makers she is the gained, which, embellished with elegancy, and proverbial torment. She compels them to alter softened by modesty, will always add dignity and their work, then to unmake it, and contrive it value to female conversation; and from my acafter another fashion; then changes her mind,quaintance with the bookish part of the world, I and likes it better as it was at first; then will have a small improvement. Thus she proceeds till no profit can recompense the vexation; they at last leave the clothes at her house and refuse to serve her. Her maid, the only being that can endure her tyranny, professes to take her own course, and hear her mistress talk. Such is the consequence of peevishness; it can be borne only when it is despised.

beings not so much wiser than ourselves, but that they inay receive as well as communicate knowfamily,ledge, and more inclined to degrade their own character by cowardly submission, than to overbear or oppress us with their learning or their wit.

derived many principles of judgment and maxims of prudence, by which I was enabled to draw upon myself the general regard in every place of concourse or pleasure. My opinion was the great rule of approbation, my remarks were re membered by those who desired the second degree of fame, my mien was studied, my dress was imitated, my letters were handed from one family to another, and read by those who copied them as sent to themselves; my visits were solicited as honours, and multitudes boasted of an

I shall make no scruple of confessing that I was pleased with this universal veneration, be cause I always considered it as paid to my in

It sometimes happens that too close an attention to minute exactness, or a too rigorous habit of examining every thing by the standard of per-intimacy with Melissa, who had only seen me by fection, vitiates the temper, rather than improves accident, and whose familiarity had never prothe understanding, and teaches the mind to dis-ceeded beyond the exchange of a compliment, or cern faults with unhappy penetration. It is inci- return of a courtesy. dent likewise to men of vigorous imagination to please themselves too much with futurities, and to fret because those expectations are disappointed, which should never have been formed. Know-trinsic qualities and inseparable merit, and very ledge and genius are often enemies to quiet, by suggesting ideas of excellence, which men and the performances of men cannot attain. But let no man rashly determine, that his unwillingness to be pleased is a proof of understanding, unless his superiority appears from less doubtful evidence; for though peevishness may sometimes justly boast its descent from learning or from wit, Q

easily persuaded myself that fortune had no par in my superiority. When I looked upon my glass, I saw youth and beauty, with health that might give me reason to hope their continuance; when I examined my mind, I found some strength of judgment, and fertility of fancy: and was told

* Anna Williams.

that every action was grace, and that every accent was persuasion.

better than covert insults, which serve to give vent to the flatulence of pride, but they are now and then imprudently uttered by honesty and benevolence, and inflict pain where kindness is intended; I will, therefore, so far maintain my antiquated claim to politeness, as to venture the remind another of misfortunes of which the sufferer does not complain, and which there are no means proposed of alleviating. You have no right to excite thoughts which necessarily give pain whenever they return, and which perhaps might not have revived but by absurd and un

In this manner my life passed like a continual triumph amidst acclamations, and envy, and courtship, and caresses: to please Melissa was the general ambition, and every stratagem of artful flattery was practised upon me. To be flat-establishment of this rule, that no one ought to tered is grateful, even when we know that our praises are not believed by those who pronounce them; for they prove, at least, our power, and show that our favour is valued, since it is purchased by the meanness of falsehood. But, perhaps, the flatterer is not often detected; for an honest mind is not apt to suspect, and no one ex-seasonable compassion. erts the power of discernment with much vigour when self-love favours the deceit.

The number of adorers, and the perpetual distraction of my thoughts by new schemes of pleasure, prevented me from listening to any of those who crowd in multitudes to give girls advice, and kept me unmarried and unengaged to my twenty-seventh year, when, as I was towering in all the pride of uncontested excellency, with a face yet little impaired, and a mind hourly improving, the failure of a fund, in which my money was placed, reduced me to a frugal competency, which allowed little beyond neatness and independence.

I bore the diminution of my riches without any outrages of sorrow, or pusillanimity of dejection. Indeed, I did not know how much I had lost, for, having always heard and thought more of my wit and beauty, than of my fortune, it did not suddenly enter my imagination, that Melissa could sink beneath her established rank, while her form and her mind continued the same; that she could cease to raise admiration but by ceasing to deserve it, or feel any stroke but from the hand of time.

It was in my power to have concealed the loss, and to have married, by continuing the same appearance, with all the credit of my original fortune; but I was not so far sunk in my own esteem, as to submit to the baseness of fraud, or to desire any other recommendation than sense and virtue. I therefore dismissed my equipage, sold those ornaments which were become unsuitable to my new condition, and appeared among those with whom I used to converse with less glitter, but with equal spirit.

My endless train of lovers immediately withdrew, without raising any emotions. The greater part had indeed always professed to court, as it is termed, upon the square, had inquired my fortune, and offered settlements; these had undoubtedly a right to retire without censure, since they had openly treated for money, as necessary to their happiness, and who can tell how little they wanted any other portion? I have always thought the clamours of women unreasonable, who imagine themselves injured because the men, who followed them upon the supposition of a greater fortune, reject them when they are discovered to have less. I have never known any lady, who did not think wealth a title to some stipulations in her favour: and surely what is claimed by the possession of money is justly forfeited by its loss. She that has once demanded a settlement has allowed the importance of fortune; and when she cannot show pecuniary merit, why should she think her cheapener oblig ed to purchase?

My lovers were not all contented with silent desertion. Some of them revenged the neglect which they had formerly endured by wanton and superfluous insults, and endeavoured to mortify me, by paying, in my presence, those civilities to other ladies, which were once devoted only to me. But, as it had been my rule to treat men according to the rank of their intellect, I had never suffered any one to waste his life in suspense, who could have employed it to better purposes, and had therefore no enemies but corcombs, whose resentment and respect were equally below my consideration.

The only pain which I have felt from degraI found myself received at every visit with sor-dation, is the loss of that influence which I had row beyond what is naturally felt for calamities always exerted on the side of virtue, in the dem which we have no part, and was entertained fence of innocence, and the assertion of truth. with condolence and consolation so frequently I now find my opinions slighted, my sentiments repeated, that my friends plainly consulted rather criticised, and my arguments opposed by those their own gratification than my relief. Some that used to listen to me without reply, and strugTom that time refused my acquaintance, and for-gle to be first in expressing their conviction. bore, without any provocation, to repay my visits; The female disputants have wholly thrown off come visited me, but after a longer interval than usual, and every return was still with more delay; nor did any of my female acquaintances fail to Introduce the mention of my misfortunes, to compare my present and former condition, to tell me how much it must trouble me to want the splendour which I became so well, to look at pleasures which I had formerly enjoyed, and to sink o a level with those by whom I had been considered as moving in a higher sphere, and who had hitherto approached me with reverence and submission, which I was now no longer to ex

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my authority; and if I endeavour to enforce my reasons by an appeal to the scholars that happen to be present, the wretches are certain to pay their court by sacrificing me and my system to a finer gown; and I am every hour insulted with contradiction by cowards, who could never find till lately that Melissa was liable to error.

There are two persons only whom I cannot charge with having changed their conduct with my change of fortune. One is an old curate that has passed his life in the duties of his profession, with great reputation for his knowledge and piety; the other is a lieutenant of dragoons. The parson made no difficulty in the height of

look round upon the rest of mankind, to find others tainted with the same guilt; they please themselves with observing, that they have numbers on their side; and that, though they are hunted out from the society of good men, they are not likely to be condemned to solitude.

my elevation to check me when I was pert, and | seeking for some remedy within themselves, they instruct me when I blundered; and if there is any alteration, he is now more timorous lest his freedom should be thought rudeness. The soldier never paid me any particular addresses, but very rigidly observed all the rules of politeness, which he is now so far from relaxing, that whenever he serves the tea, he obstinately carries me the first dish, in defiance of the frowns and whispers

of the table.

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It is easy for every man, whatever be his character with others, to find reasons for esteeming himself, and therefore censure, contempt, or conviction of crimes, seldom deprive him of his own favour. Those, indeed, who can see only external facts, may look upon him with abhorrence; but when he calls himself to his own tribunal, he finds every fault, if not absolutely effaced, yet so much palliated by the goodness of his intention, and the cogency of the motive, that very little guilt or turpitude remains; and when he takes a survey of the whole complication of his character, he discovers so many latent excellences, so many virtues that want but an opportunity to exert themselves in act, and so many kind wishes for universal happiness, that he looks on himself as suffering unjustly under the infamy of single failings, while the general temper of his mind is unknown or unregarded.

It is natural to mean well, when only abstracted ideas of virtue are proposed to the mind, and no particular passion turns us aside from rectitude; and so willing is every man to flatter himself, that the difference between approving laws, and obeying them, is frequently forgotten; he that acknowledges the obligations of morality, and pleases his vanity with enforcing them to others, concludes himself zealous in the cause of virtue, though he has no longer any regard to her precepts, than they conform to his own desires; and counts himself among her warmest lovers, because he praises her beauty, though every rival steals away his heart.

There are, however, great numbers who have little recourse to the refinements of speculation, but who yet live at peace with themselves, by means which require less understanding, or less attention. When their hearts are burthened with the consciousness of a crime, instead of

It may be observed, perhaps without exception, that none are so industrious to detect wickedness, or so ready to impute it, as they whose crimes are apparent and confessed. They envy an unblemished reputation, and what they envy they are busy to destroy; they are unwilling to suppose themselves meaner and more corrupt than others, and therefore willingly pull down from their elevations those with whom they cannot rise to an equality. No man yet was ever wicked without secret discontent, and according to the different degrees of remaining virtue, or unextinguished reason, he either endeavours to reform himself, or corrupt others; either to regain the station which he has quitted, or prevail on others to imitate his defection.

It has always been considered as an alleviation of misery not to suffer alone, even when union and society can contribute nothing to resistance or escape; some comfort of the same kind seems to incite wickedness to seek associates, though indeed another reason may be given; for as guilt is propagated the power of reproach is diminished, and among numbers equally detestable every individual may be sheltered from shame, though not from conscience.

Another lenitive, by which the throbs of the breast are assuaged, is the contemplation not of the same, but of different crimes. He that cannot justify himself by his resemblance to others, is ready to try some other expedient, and to inquire what will rise to his advantage from opposition and dissimilitude. He easily finds some faults in every human being, which he weighs against his own, and easily makes them preponderate while he keeps the balance in his own hand, and throws in or takes out at his pleasure circumstances that make them heavier or lighter. He then triumphs in his comparative purity, and sets himself at ease, not because he can refute the charges advanced against him, but because he can censure his accusers with equal justice, and no longer fears the arrows of reproach, when he has stored his magazine of malice with weapons equally sharp and equally envenomed.

This practice, though never just, is yet spe cious and artful, when the censure is directed against deviations to the contrary extreme. The man who is branded with cowardice, may, with some appearance of propriety, turn all his force of argument against a stupid contempt of life, and rash precipitation into unnecessary danger. Every recession from temerity is an approach towards cowardice; and though it be confessed that bravery, like other virtues, stands between faults on either hand, yet the place of the middle point may always be disputed; he may therefore often impose upon careless understandings, by turning the attention wholly from himself, and keeping it fixed invariably on the opposite fault; and by showing how many evils are avoided by his behaviour, he may conceal for a time those which are incurred.

But vice has not always opportunities or a l dress for such artful subterfuges; men often ca

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