quickly forced to retire; they were too trifling for me when I was grave, and too dull when I was cheerful. Yet I cannot but value myself upon this token of regard from a lady who is not afraid to stand before the torch of Truth. Let her not, however, consult her curiosity more than her prudence; but reflect a moment on the fate of Semele, who might have lived the favourite of Jupiter, if she could have been content without his thunder. It is dangerous for mortal beauty or terrestrial virtue, to be examined by too strong a light. The torch of Truth shews much that we cannot, and all that we would not see. In a face dimpled with smiles, it has often discovered malevolence and envy, and detected, under jewels and brocade, the frightful forms of poverty and distress. A fine hand of cards have changed before it into a thousand spectres of sickness, misery, and vexation; and immense sums of money, while the winner counted them with transport, have at the first glimpse of this unwelcome lustre vanished from before him. If her ladyship, therefore, designs to continue her assembly, I would advise her to shun such dangerous experiments, to satisfy herself with common appearances, and to light up her apartments rather with myrtle than the torch of Truth, 'A MODEST young man sends his service to the author of the Rambler, and will be very willing to 'assist him in his work; but is sadly afraid of being 'discouraged by having his first essay rejected; a disgrace he has wofully experienced in every offer he 'had made of it to every new writer of every new pa'per: but he comforts himself by thinking, without ' vanity, that this has been from a peculiar favour of the Muses, who saved his performance from being 'buried in trash, and reserved it to appear with lustre ' in the Rambler.' F 2 I am equally a friend to modesty and enterprise ; and, therefore, shall think it an honour to correspond with a young man who possesses both in so eminent a degree. Youth is, indeed, the time in which these qualities ought chiefly to be found; modesty suits well with inexperience, and enterprise with health and vigour, and an extensive prospect of life. One of my predecessors has justly observed that, though modesty has an amiable and winning appearance, it ought not to hinder the exertion of the active powers, but that a man should show under his blushes a latent resolution. This point of perfection, nice as it is, my correspondent seems to have attained. That he is modest, his own declaration may evince; and, I think, the latent resolution may be discovered in his letter by an acute observer. I will advise him, since he so well deserves my precepts, not to be discouraged, though the Rambler should prove equally envious, or tasteless with the rest of this fraternity. If his paper is refused, the presses of England are open; let him try the judgment of the publick. If, as it has sometimes happened in general combinations against merit, he cannot persuade the world to buy his works, he may present them to his friends; and if his friends are seized with the epidemical infatuation, and cannot find his genius, or will not confess it, let him then refer his cause to posterity, and reserve his labours for a wiser age. Thus have I dispatched some of my correspondents in the usual manner, with fair words, and general civility. But to Flirtilla, the gay Flirtilla, what shall I reply? Unable as I am to fly, at her command, over lands and seas, or to supply her, from week to week, with the fashions of Paris, or the intrigues of Madrid, I am yet not willing to incur her further displeasure; and would save my papers from her monkey on any reasonable terms. By what propiti ation, therefore, may I atone for my former gravity, and open, without trembling, the future letters of this sprightly persecutor? To write in defence of masquerades is no easy task; yet something difficult and daring may well be required, as the price of so important an approbation. I, therefore, consulted, in this great emergency, a man of high reputation in gay life, who, having added, to his other accomplishments, no mean proficiency in the minute philosophy, after the fifth perusal of her letter, broke out with rapture in these words :...." And can you Mr. Rambler, stand out against this charming creature? 'Let her know, at least, that from this moment Ni'grinus devotes his life and his labours to her service. 'Is there any stubborn prejudice of education that 'stands between thee and the most amiable of man'kind? Behold, Flirtilla, at thy feet, a man grown gray in the study of those noble arts by which right and wrong may be confounded; by which reason may be blinded, when we have a mind to escape from 'her inspection; and caprice and appetite instated in • uncontrouled command, and boundless dominion! Such a casuist may surely engage, with certainty ' of success, in vindication of an entertainment which, in an instant, gives confidence to the timorous, and 'kindles ardour in the cold; an entertainment where ⚫ the vigilance of jealousy has so often been eluded, and the virgin is set free from the necessity of languishing in silence; where all the outworks of chas'tity are at once demolished; where the heart is laid • open without a blush: where bashfulness may survive virtue, and no wish is crushed under the frown of modesty. Far weaker influence than Flirtilla's ❝ might gain over an advocate for such amusements. It was declared by Pompey, that, if the commonwealth was violated, he could stamp with his foot, ' and raise an army out of the ground: if the rights ' of pleasure are again invaded, let but Flirtilla crack ‹ her fan, neither pens nor swords shall be wanting at the summons, the wit and the colonel shall march out at her command; and neither law nor reason 'shall stand before us.' No. XI. TUESDAY, APRIL 24, 1750. Non Dindymene, non Adytis quatit Sic geminant corybantes æra, Tristes ut iræ......... Yet O! remember, nor the God of wine, Can with their sounding cymbals shake the breast, Like furious anger. HOR. FRANCIS. THE maxim which Periander of Corinth, one of the seven sages of Greece, left as a memorial of his knowledge and benevolence, was, xóλe xpάTE!.... be master of thy anger. He considered anger as the great disturber of human life, the chief enemy both of publick happiness and private tranquillity, and thought that he could not lay on posterity a stronger obligation to reverence his memory, than by leaving them a sa1 utary caution against this outrageous passion. To what latitude Periander might extend the word, the brevity of his precept will scarce allow us to conjecture. From anger, in its full import, protracted into malevolence, and exerted in revenge, arise, indeed, many of the evils to which the life of man is exposed. By anger operating upon power are produced the subversion of cities, the desolation of countries, the massacre of nations, and all those dreadful and astonishing calamities which fill the histories of the world, and which could not be read at any distant point of time, when the passions stand neutral, and every motive and principle is left to its natural force, without some doubt of the truth of the relation, did we not see the same causes still tending to the same effects, and only acting with less vigour for want of the same concurrent opportunities. But this gigantic and enormous species of anger falls not properly under the animadversion of a writer whose chief end is the regulation of common life, and whose precepts are to recommend themselves by their general use. Nor is this essay intended to expose the tragical or fatal effects even of private malignity. The anger which I propose now for my subject, is such as makes those who indulge it more troublesome than formidable, and ranks them rather with hornets and wasps, than with basilisks and lions. I have therefore prefixed a motto, which characterizes this passion, not so much by the mischief that it causes, as by the noise that it utters. There is in the world a certain class of mortals, known, and contentedly known by the appellation of ⚫ passionate men,' who imagine themselves entitled by that distinction to be provoked on every slight occasion, and to vent their rage in vehement and fierce vociferations, in furious menaces and licentious reproaches. Their rage, indeed, for the most part fumes away in outcries of injury and protestation of vengeance, and seldom proceeds to actual violence, unless a drawer or link-boy fall in their way; but they interrupt the quiet of those that happen to be within the reach of their clamours, obstruct the course of conversation, and disturb the enjoyment of society. Men of this kind are sometimes not without understanding or virtue; and are, therefore, not always treated with the severity which their neglect of the ease of all about them might justly provoke: they |