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.

Ten years longer I dragged the shackles of expectation, without ever suffering a day to pass in which I did not compute how much my chance was improved of being rich to-morrow. At last the second lady died, after a short illness, which yet was long enough to afford her time for the disposal of her estate, which she gave to me after the death of her sister.

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 chainber-maid, the whispers of a tale-bearer, or the of ficiousness 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 of our neighbours surpassed us in appearance, we went home and contrived an equipage, with which the death of my aunts was to supply us. If any purseproud upstart was deficient in respect, vengeance was referred to the time in which our estate was to be repaired. We registered every act of civility and rudeness, inquired the 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 be 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 atten- to depend on the death of his aunt. The good tion on one event, which we could neither hasten gentlewoman was very regular in her hours, and nor retard, and had no other object of curiosity simple in her diet; and in walking or sitting still, than the health or sickness of my aunts, of which waking or sleeping, had always in view the prewe were careful to procure very exact and early servation of her health. She was subject to no intelligence. 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.

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 my 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

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 practice 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 piercing 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 inme 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.

Rixatur de lana sape caprina.

For nought tormented, she for nought torments.

HOR.

ELPHINSTON.

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 causes 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 attention to his behaviour, and that usefulness will always procure friends; yet it has been found, that there is an art of granting requests, an art very difficult of attainment; that officiousness 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.

No disease of the mind can more fatally disable it from benevolence, the chief duty of social beings, than ill humour or peevishness; for though it breaks not out in paroxysms of outrage, nor bursts into clamour, turbulence, and bloodshed, 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 of fensive, 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

homage, or by tyranny in harassing subjection.
It is the offspring of idleness or pride; of idles
ness anxious for trifles; or pride unwilling to en-
dure the least obstruction of her wishes. Those
who have long lived in solitude, indeed naturally
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
have imprudently or morosely withdrawn them-
selves from the world; but there are others, who
have, without any necessity, nursed up this habit
in their minds, by making implicit submissive
ness the condition of their favour, and suffering
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 contradic-
tion, and too delicate for the coarseness of truth,
a little opposition offends, a little restraint en-
rages, 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 het 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

3.

TUESDAY, DEC. 4, 1750.

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

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 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 Tue diligence with which you endeavour to cultiso 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 quiet. know mankind by unwelcome information, and whose opinions are the result, not of solitary conjectures, but of practice and experience.

SIR,

woman.

TO THE RAMBLER,

MISS A. W."

To these attainments, which custom and education almost forced upon me, I added some voluntary acquisitions by the use of books, and the conversation of that species of men whom the ladies generally mention with terror and aversion under the name of scholars, but whom I have found a harmless and inoffensive order of beings not so much wiser than ourselves, but that they may receive as well as communicate knowledge, and more inclined to degrade their own character by cowardly submission, thah to overbear or oppress us with their learning or their wit.

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 I was born to a large fortune, and bred to the which she is to be received, is too light, or too knowledge of those arts which are supposed to dark, or furnished with something which she can-accomplish the mind, and adorn the person of a not see without aversion. Her tea is never of the right sort; the figures on the China give her disgust. Where there are children, she hates the gabble of brats; where there are none, she cannot bear a place without some cheerfulness and rattle. If many servants are kept in a house, she never fails to tell how Lord Lavish was ruined by a numerous retinue; if few, she relates the story of a miser that made his company wait on themselves. She quarrelled with one family, because she had an unpleasant view from their windows; with another, because the squirrel leaped within two yards of her; and with a third, From these men, however, if they are by kind 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 ac after 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.

accident, and whose familiarity had never proceeded beyond the exchange of a compliment, or return of a courtesy.

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 remembered 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 It sometimes happens that too close an atten- them as sent to themselves; my visits were soli3tion to minute exactness, or a too rigorous habit cited as honours, and multitudes boasted of an 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 the understanding, and teaches the mind to discern faults with unhappy penetration. It is incident likewise to men of vigorous imagination to I shall make no scruple of confessing that I please themselves too much with futurities, and was pleased with this universal veneration, beto fret because those expectations are disappoint- cause I always considered it as paid to my ined, 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,

L

Q

easily persuaded myself that fortune had no part 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,

122

THE RAMBLER.

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
establishment of this rule, that no one ought to
remind another of misfortunes of which the suf-
ferer 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-

My lovers were not all contented with silent desertion. Some of them revenged the neglect which they had formerly endured by wanton and It was in my power to have concealed the loss, superfluous insults, and endeavoured to mortify and to have married, by continuing the same ap- me, by paying, in my presence, those civilities to pearance, with all the credit of my original for- other ladies, which were once devoted only to tune; but I was not so far sunk in my own es- me. But, as it had been my rule to treat men teem, as to submit to the baseness of fraud, or according to the rank of their intellect, I had to desire any other recommendation than sense never suffered any one to waste his life in susand virtue. I therefore dismissed my equipage, pense, who could have employed it to better pursold those ornaments which were become unsuit-poses, and had therefore no enemies but coxable to my new condition, and appeared among combs, whose resentment and respect were equalthose with whom I used to converse with less ly below my consideration. glitter, but with equal spirit.

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 dein 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 strugfrom that time refused my acquaintance, and for- gle to be first in expressing their conviction. bore, without any provocation, to repay my visits; Bome 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 expect.

Observations like these are commonly nothing

The female disputants have wholly thrown off 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 num-
bers 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 free-
dom 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.

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.

It is easy for every man, whatever be his cha- Another lenitive, by which the throbs of the
racter with others, to find reasons for esteeming breast are assuaged, is the contemplation not of
himself, and therefore censure, contempt, or con- the same, but of different crimes. He that can-
viction of crimes, seldom deprive him of his own not justify himself by his resemblance to others,
favour. Those, indeed, who can see only exter-is ready to try some other expedient, and to in-
nal 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 charac-
ter, he discovers so many latent excellences, so
many virtues that want but an opportunity to ex-
ert 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

quire what will rise to his advantage from oppo-
sition and dissimilitude. He easily finds some
faults in every human being, which he weighs
against his own, and easily makes them prepon-
derate 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 to-
wards 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 variably 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 address for such artful subterfuges; men often ex