π1r π1v

In the center an angel sits on a throne. Next to it stand four figures, one holding a sword, one holding an anchor, and one leaning on a book entitled Morality. On its other side, five women dance in a circle; a serpent and staff lies next to them.

π2r

The Female Spectator.

Vol. II.

“Le Luxe et le Jeu sont deux grandes Sources de
Misere. Ce n’est pas la Naissance, les Biens,
ou les grandes Emplois, qui vous rendront considerable
dans le Monde, c’est l’Usage que vous
en ferez.”
L’Abbê de Bellegarde.
Engraving of a bearded man surrounded by arabesques and on a ribbon below, the inscription “Printed by T. Gardner.”. Above the portrait is the inscription “Cowley”.

London:
Printed and published by T. Gardner, at
Cowley’s-Head, opposite St. Clement’s-Church
in the Strand. 1745M,DCC,XLV.

π2v A1r

To
Her Grace
the
Dutchess of Bedford,
This
Second Volume
of the
Female Spectator
is
Inscribed
(With all due Submission)

By
Her Grace’s
Most Devoted Servants,

The Authors.

A1v A2r

The
Female Spectator.

Book VII.

There is no one Thing more generally
talk’d of, and so little understood,
as the Sin of Ingratitude.
All complain of it in others, but
none acknowledge it in themselves;
tho’ few there are, even among the most generous
spirited Persons in the World, that are not
at some Times compell’d, by an unavoidable
Necessity, to Actions which may draw on them
the Imputation of this Vice:――The Truth is,
that to be totally free from it depends not wholly
on ourselves but on Chance, Circumstances and
the Influence of Passions:――One may be
guilty of it even without knowing we are so;
and innocent without the Direction of Principle.
――There are indeed no established A2 Rules A2v 4
Rules for it, and the Definition is no less a Mystery
than the Philosopher’s Stone.

I am led into this Reflection by a Letter that
now lies upon the Table, and the Publisher of
these Monthly Lucubrations tells me was put into
his Hands some Days since by a Person who
had more the Appearance of a Spectre than a
living Man:—I shall present my Readers with
it, not only because the Piece is pretty extraordinary
in its kind, but also as it gave Occasion to
some Speculations which have not yet perhaps
been hit upon by any of our Public Writers, and
may be of Service in clearing up those Ideas
which at present seem confused and indistinct.

“To the Female Spectator. Ladies, or Gentlemen,
Madam, or Sir,
Whether you are a single or
collective Body, whether Female,
as you pretend, or Male, as the Strength and
Energy of your Writings tempts me rather
to believe; if you have a Human Heart you
will pity the calamitous Circumstance which
occasions this Epistle.
Know then, good Spectator, without farther
Ceremony, that it was my Misfortune
(for so it hitherto has prov’d) to fall into the
Acquaintance of a young Lady, who has every thing A3r 5
thing in her worthy of universal Adoration;――
Fain would I give you the Picture of this Angel,
but no Words can paint her such as she
is; I will however venture on a Sketch, some
Out-lines of her various Excellencies, and
leave your own Imagination to fill them up.
—Her Eyes,—Oh killing Eyes! seem to invite
with their bewitching Softness the tenderest
Wishes, yet at the same time strike an
Awe into the boldest heart:—Her Skin is of
a more dazzling Whiteness than new-fallen
Snow, thro’ which, as Skhakespear says, the pure
and eloquent Blood peeps in and out in most
becoming Blushes:—Around her matchless
Mouth a thousand Loves and Graces continually
play in dimpling Smiles:—Majesty blended
with a Look of Infant Innocence is diffus’d
o’er every Feature:—Her Hair, her Hands, her
Neck, her fine turn’d Shape, would singly charm
the ravish’d Gazer, but there is something
in her Air which not the most extensive Fancy
can form any Figure of, without having seen
the Divine Original:—If she but plays her
Fan, takes Snuff, on the least Motion of a
Hand, a Finger, a sparkling Dignity flies from
her, filling all the Place.――What must she
then be when Dancing!—I once had the Honour
to lead her up a Minuet; but oh God,
how little was I capable of keeping Time to
the Musick, or observing any Step!—My ill
Behaviour must have render’d me the Ridicule
of the whole Company, had not every Eye
been too much taken up with my adorable Partner A3v 6
Partner to throw away a Look on me: She
however took but too much Notice of it, and
refused to dance with me any more, which
you may believe threw me into the most
mortal Agitations; but I shall give you, in the
close of this Epistle, a full Account of all my
Sufferings from this Ungrateful Fair, in the
mean Time I must proceed to the Detail of
her Perfections: If there could be in Nature
greater Charms than what are display’d in her
Person and Dancing, they would be found in
the extatick Accents of her Voice:—Every
Word she speaks is Harmony itself, but when
she sings, the Soul of Musick issues from her
Lips:—What the celebrated Mr. Waller says
of his Mira, may, I dare affirm, with infinitely
more Justice be applyed to my adorable Arpasia.
‘The Wretch who from her Wit and Beauty flies,If she but reach him with her Voice he dies,’
But it were an endless Task to enumerate
the many Ways she has of captivating
Mankind; I will, therefore, only give you a
brief Account of the Beauties of her Mind
in her Conduct and Behaviour, and then have
done.
She maintains a perfect Chearfulness without
the least Mixture of Levity:—She is never
the first in any Fashion, and when enter’d
into it goes not to the Extremity:――She chuses A4r 7
chuses rather to wear Cloaths less rich than her
Birth and Fortune will allow of, than to have
the least Appearance of Extravagance about
her:—She preserves a modest Reserve, yet
makes no Shew of it:—She goes but seldom
to Places of public Diversion, and never but
in the Company of some near Relation:――
In fine, all her Actions are governed by a
Prudence far above her Years, nor can Envy
find any thing to traduce.
Being such as I have describ’d, tho’ infinitely
short of what she is, you will not wonder
that I became enamour’d with her at first
Sight, or that my Passion grew more strong as
I grew more acquainted with her Perfections:
――It was however accompanied with an
Awe which would not suffer me to reveal
what it was I felt for a long Time; but alas!
there was little need of Words, every Look,
every Action spoke the Meaning of my Soul,
and said I died for her:—Indeed I lived not
but in her Presence, and when absent from
her was but the Ghost of myself.—All my
Friends took Notice of the Change in me,
nor were long without discovering both the
Cause and Object:—As they knew there could
be no Objections on the Account of my Birth,
Fortune, or Character in the World, they
laugh’d at my Timidity, and at last inspir’d
me with Courage enough to declare myself,
which you may be sure I did in the most passionate
and respectful Terms my Heart could dictate: A4v 8
dictate:—But, O God! with what a stabbing
Indifference did she receive my Suit!—Had
she treated it with Scorn or Anger, I should
have been apt to have flatter’d myself either
of these had proceeded from that Affectation
young Ladies frequently assume on the first
Addresses of a new Lover; but the cold Civility,
the unmov’d Reserve with which she
heard me, struck like a Bolt of Ice through
all my Soul, and gave a mortal Damp to all
the Fires of Hope:—I grew pale,—I trembled,
—I was ready to fall down in a Swoon at
her Feet; and fearing I should be guilty of
something unbecoming my Sex, took such a
hasty and confused Leave, that had the least
Sparks of Compassion harboured in her Breast,
must have prevail’d on her to have call’d me
back:――But alas! she suffer’d me to depart
without seeming even to observe my Disorder:
—Unequal’d Cruelty!――Barbarous
Charming Maid!—Yet this is short of what
I afterwards experienc’d from her unrelenting
Heart.
The ensuing Night I past in Agonies too terrible
for Repetition:—Sleep was an utter Stranger
to my Eyes:—The next Morning was wholly
taken up in forming a Letter to her, which at
last I did tho’ in a most distracted Strain, in
spite of all my Care, and writing over above
an hundred Times in order to render my
Meaning less deserving her Ridicule:—Nothing
notwithstanding could have been more humble, B1r 9
humble, more pity-moving:—Yet what was
the Effect?—She opened, read, and sent it
back under a Cover, in which I found this rigorous
Sentence.
‘Sir, I am very much oblig’d to the high Opinion
you have of my Merit; but as it seems to have
given Birth to an Inclination, which I am certain
will never be in my Power to encourage, must
beg you will desist your Visits till you have ceas’d
to think in the Manner you now profess to do of

Arpasia.’
Nothing but Death itself could have inflicted
more severe Pangs, than those I felt at
perusing these few Lines:—I accus’d Fate, and
the Ingratitude of my cruel Charmer, as I had
Cause to do; yet still I loved, and in the bitterest
Anguish my tortured Soul could feel,
kiss’d the Paper which contained my Doom:
I never should have done, should I go about
to relate the thousandth Part of the Particulars
of my sufferings; I will therefore only
trouble you with no more than what is absolutely
necessary to let you into the true State
of the Case:—Several of my Friends, sensible
of my Condition, renewed their Endeavours
for my Consolation; and one of them being
acquainted with the Father of Arpasia, spoke
to him in my Behalf; the old Gentleman
seem’d highly satisfied with my Estate, Person,
and Character, and said he should be very glad B to B1v 10
to have me in his Family, provided his Daughter
had the same Kindness for me; but added,
he would never put any Constraint on her Inclinations,
and therefore would give no positive
Answer till he had discoursed with her on that
Subject.
Fain would those who wish’d me well have
perswaded me that the Coldness Arpasia had
treated me with, sprung only from not having
the Sanction of her Father’s Commands to
authorize a more kind Reception, and that
every thing would now be according to my
Wishes: But all they said was ineffectual to
remove entirely that Grief, which her Behaviour
had settled on my Heart; and I remain’d
fluctuating between Hope and Despair,
till the Day appointed by her Father for giving
a decisive Answer being arrived, my Kinsman
brought me a heavy Confirmation of what I
most fear’d would be the Result,—‘That he
had sounded his Daughter’s Inclinations, and
found they were not in my Favour; so desir’d I
would not give myself any farther Trouble.’

This Message, tho’ dress’d up in many Compliments,
threw me into a Fever:—My Life
was despair’d of:—Fresh Applications were
made both to Father and Daughter:—All were
unsuccessful; yet I recovered, if a Man may
be said to be so, who is continually wasting
with inward Pinings:—I summon’d all my
Courage, imagin’d I could content myself with
seeing her, tho’ at a Distance, and quitted my Bed B2r 11
Bed, in order to pursue her with my Eyes
wherever she went:—I had the cruel Blessing
of beholding her at Church one Sunday Morning,
and flattering myself with doing so in the
Afternoon, went again, but the inexorable
Creature was not there, though she had never
been known to miss before:—I sought her in
the Park,—at the Opera,—the Play,—at each
of these Places found her once, but no more.
—In a Word, she choose to deprive herself of
every thing that gave her Pleasure, rather than
allow me that poor one of seeing the Face that
had deprived me of all other Comforts:――
Was ever Ingratitude like this!—Was ever
Fate so hard as mine!—Yet all she does cannot
abate my Passion; nor is it in her Power
to hide herself so entirely, but that I sometimes
get a Glance:――In a Disguise I watch
about the House, see her get into her Coach:
――see her with all that deluding Softness in
her Eyes, which almost tempts me to give
the Lye to my own Reason and Experience,
and pronounce her as good-natured as she is
fair.
My whole Time is taken up with haunting
her in this Manner:—All Day I skulk in Corners
like a Thief, and shun the Light, and at
Night stand Centinel opposite her Chamber-
Window, blest to see her Shadow through the
Curtains, while undressing for Bed.
B2 This, B2v 12 This, worthy Spectator, is the sole Business
I am capable of pursuing:――This the sole
Pleasure I can taste; and in this I am wholly
lost to all my Kindred, Friends, Acquaintance,
and almost to myself.—Never was there a
Cause in which your Pen could be more worthily
employed than in an Endeavour to preserve
the Senses, the Life, nay the very Soul
from Death of an unfortunate miserable Man,
who is so only by his having too great a Share
of Love and Constancy for the most amiable
Woman in the World.
Exert then all your Eloquence to move the
Heart of my obdurate Fair, to give her a lively
Sense of her Ingratitude, and convince her
how ill so foul a Vice becomes so beauteous a
Form:――She is a constant Reader of your
Essays, a great Admirer of them, has often
said the World would be happy could it once be
brought to follow the Maxims you lay down:
――Who knows, therefore, but she may be
wrought upon herself when so favourite an
Advocate vouchsafes to plead:—Ingratitude is
a copious Subject, or were it less so, my unhappy
Story might give you a sufficient Hint.—
It is a Theme I think you have never touch’d
upon, and perhaps will be no less agreeable
to a great many of your Readers, than to the
Sorrowful Amintor. ”

Poor Amintor! He is in a desperate Situation
indeed, and if the Female Spectator’s Pity will do B3r 13
do him any good, I am commissioned by our
little Club to tell him he is heartily welcome to
it; but am sorry to acquaint him withal, that we
are afraid, by the History he gives us of the
Progress of his Passion, Pity will be all the
Consolation he will ever be able to procure. Nothing
can be more plain, than that the Lady finds
no Dispositions in her Heart of that Kind,
which he places his whole Happiness in inspiring:
There is no accounting for Antipathies in
Nature, nor is the strongest Reason sufficient to
surmount them:—In vain his Love and Constancy
have a Claim to her Regard:—In vain her
Father’s Assent would authorize that Regard:
—In vain a Parity of Age, of Circumstances, of
Birth, concur to render a Marriage between
them suitable; if that secret Impulse that rules
the Heart be wanting, all other Considerations
are of no force to attach.

This therefore being evidently the Cause
that Amintor is rejected, he ought not to accuse
Arpasia for what is not in her Power to remedy:
—She can no more love him, than he can forbear
loving her:—The Sentiments on each Side
are involuntary; and where the Obligation is
not of the Will, there can be no Ingratitude in
refusing the Recompence:—Not but it were to
be wish’d, for the Happiness of both, that Arpasia
could meet so ardent and so sincere an Affection
as that of Amintor, with an equal Warmth; but
since it cannot be, and Nature is refractory, he
should endeavour rather to forget, and enable himself B3v 14
himself to live without her, than perpetuate his
Passion and Anxieties by any idle Hopes of
living with her.

There are many Methods to be taken which
may heighten and invigorate a Passion that has
once gain’d Entrance; but no human Power can
inspire it in Contradiction to the Heart: All Attempts
therefore that the Female Spectator could
make for that Purpose would be Labour lost;
and Amintor ought to think it more kind in us
to advise him to quit the vain Pursuit, than by
pretending to plead in his Favour flatter him
with deceitful Expectations, which would only
serve to add to his Disquiet in the End.――
Time, Absence, and a constant Exertion of his
Reason, may one Day restore his Liberty, but
nothing can be done for him to make him easy
in his Chains.

I would have him consider, in the first
Place, the invincible Obstacle between him and
the Accomplishment of his Wishes; and in the
next, that were there a Possibility of her ever
being prevail’d upon, by a Romantic Generosity,
to give herself to him, and do a Violence to her
own Inclinations for the Gratification of his, the
Happiness of such a Union would be far from
perfect:—A Passion so fervent as he pretends to
be inspired with, could never be sordidly contented
with being bless’d alone:—The chief Felicity
of true Affection consists in the Power of
bestowing it; and tho’ in full Possession of the Body, B4r 15
Body, he would still lannguish in a conscious
Inability of having influenc’d the Mind.

I wonder that his own good Sense did not
long ago remind him of this Truth, as it seems
not to have done by his never making any Efforts
for subduing a Passion, which, from the very
Beginning, threaten’d him with Despair:――He
confesses she received the first Overtures of it
with a Coldness which had nothing of Affectation
in it, and no sooner knew the Motives of
his Visits than she refused to see him any more:
――It was not possible for her to testify a more
sincere Dislike of his Addresses, nor a greater Inclination
to check in their Infancy Desires, which
by their Growth would be fatal to his Peace:
—He might have loved a Woman (as too
many such there are) who, fond of Admiration
even from the Man she hated, would have encourag’d
his Pretensions;—fed his Flame with
the Fewel of vain Hopes, only to make the
Damps of her Disdain more shocking, and then
triumph’d in the Ruin she occasion’d: But Arpasia
I find by his own Confession is not one of
these;—she has acted toward him with Honour
and Discretion, and I not only acquit her of all
Ingratitude, but pronounce Amintor the Person
obliged; and he ought to take Care, that in not
acknowledging he is so, he does not draw on
himself that Imputation he unjustly offers to fix
on her.

Ingratitude implies a Want of Will B4v 16
Will when one has the Power of returning a
real Benefit: Now this is so far from being the
Case before us, that, as I think I have already
proved, Arpasia in the first Place is wholly destitute
of Power to return the Benefit, if it were a
Benefit, of Amintor’s Passion, and in the next to
be loved by a Person one cannot love, is not a
Benefit
but a Persecution; at least, it is certainly
so to this Lady, since it obliges her to impose a
Banishment on herself from all the Places she has
been accustomed to frequent.

Besides, there is methinks a strange Tenaciousness
in Amintor on the score of his Passion:
――He seems to imagine it has a Right to engross
all the Attention, all the Regard, all the
Pity to itself:—If Arpasia is in reality Mistress of
one half the Perfections he ascribes to her, why
should they not have the same Effect on others?
—Why should he not have Rivals who may be
as full of Love and Misery as himself?—And
whenever she makes Choice of any one, will not
all those who are rejected have an equal Motive
for Complaint and Title to Compassion?

On the whole, therefore, if in spite of all Persuasions,
he will persist in being his own Tormentor,
hug his Disquiet, and refuse the only possible
Means of Relief, he has nothing in this World
to accuse but an Obstinacy of Nature in himself,
which taking Part with his ill Stars prolongs
their Influence, and doubles every Dart of Fate.

’Tis C1r 17

’Tis more than possible that among the Number
of my Readers, there may be some in Amintor’s
Condition, and partially induc’d, by a Parity
of Circumstances, to think I have dealt too severely
with him, and that instead of blaming his
Behaviour, I should have complied with his Request,
and reproach’d that of his Mistress:――
Many also of my own Sex, who pride themselves
in the Multiplicity of their Admirers, may
be fearful some of those, who at present compose
their Train, will be warn’d by the Example of
Amintor to retreat while they have the Power of
doing so; and wish my Pen once more in the
Goose’s Pinion it was pluck’d from, rather
than be employ’d in giving any Advice, which
may be even suspected as a Design to lessen the
Number of their Slaves: But it would ill become
the Character of a Spectator, and Censor of Errors,
(though a Female one) to flatter any thing
that may be truly call’d so; and notwithstanding
all I might have to apprehend from the Despair
of the one, and Malice of the other, I am
determined always to continue my plain Dealing
without respect of Persons, which I am certain
cannot fail of gaining the Approbation of the
justly thinking Part of both Sexes, and will in
the End deserve the Acknowledgments of those
who at present may imagine they have Reason
to resent it.

Ingratitude is on all hands agreed to be
a Vice most detestable both to God and Man,
and any flagrant Instance of it draws on the guilty C Person C1v 18
Person the severest Censure; yet, if we examine
nicely into the Nature of Things, we shall find
it next to an Impossibility to be wholly clear from
it:—“It is not only,” as Dorax says, “the Growth
of every Clime, but of every Heart;—”
the most
exalted Virtues cannot sometimes be exercis’d
without a Mixture of it:—The strictest Justice,
the softest Clemency, may betray some Tincture
of it; and what seems yet a greater Paradox,
there may happen Occasions, when to be truly
grateful one must be a little ungrateful.

I remember that many Years ago I found
in the Library of a very learned Relation of
mine a little Book, entitled The History of
Crete
; in which, tho’ there were many other
curious Passages well worthy of Remark, one
above all so much hit my Fancy, that it has
ever since dwelt strongly on my Mind. Beaumont
and Fletcher doubtless thought as I did,
since it was from thence they took the Hint for
their excellent play call’d The Laws of Candy.
The Story is this:

Once upon a Time (I know not in what
Æra) there reign’d a King, who so much hated
Ingratitude, that he made an Edict, whoever
was found guilty of it should be punished with
Death, and that the Sentence once past by the
Court, there should be no Appeal to any other
Power, no Remission but from the Complainant
himself:—I do not find there was any Trial
of this Nature during the Life of this good King, C2r 19
King, but indeed he died in a short Time after,
and leaving his Son and Successor an Infant, the
Sovereign Power was during his Minority invested
in the Senate.

The States of Candy
Formerly call’d Crete.

had for a long Time
been at War with the Venetians, and must have
been entirely overcome by that powerful Republic,
had it not been for the extraordinary Valour
of their General. It would be too tedious
to recount what is there related of this great
Man:—How when oppress’d with Numbers his
single Arm redeem’d the Honour of the Field:
—How when cover’d o’er with Blood, and his
whole Body seem’d but one great Wound, he
spurn’d the Man who offer’d him a Litter, and
grasping the Neck of his Horse when he was no
longer able to sit upright, pursued in that Posture
the flying Foe:—How when any Advantage
offer’d, he was the foremost to plunge into the
rapid Stream,—to mount the Breach,—to leap
the Parapet,—how neither craggy Rocks, nor
fenny Marshes could obstruct his Passage:――
What Wonders he perform’d would be incredible
to the present Times, nor are material to my
Purpose; it shall suffice to say, he was look’d
upon as the Guardian Angel of Candy, and so
distinguish’d by all Degrees of People, more
than by his Post, or the Name deriv’d to him
from his Ancestors.

Long did he retain these Honours unequal’d
and alone, till heaven rais’d him a Competitor C2 in C2v 20
in his own Son: The Youth whom he had train’d
to Battle from his most early Years became in
Time so to excel in it, that there was no Art of
War, for which his Father was famed, but he
knew how to practise it with a like Success:—
His Courage was not less, and his Strength and
Activity of Body superior:—He had highly signalized
himself in two Campaigns, but in the third
when the Venetians had assembled their whole
Forces, commanded by the Dogue’s own Son in
Person, this young Candyan Hero establish’d a
Reputation never to be eras’d.

The Troops of Candy were divided into two
Armies, the one led on by the old General, the
other by his Son; the former of which was able
only to keep the Field, while the other entirely
routed those they were engag’d with, then
march’d to the Relief of their former Companions;
and gain’d so compleat a Victory, that the
Venetian Prisoners themselves confess’d, must entirely
disappoint all Hopes in the Republic of
making Head again, at least for a long Time, and
be necessitated to sue for Peace; all the Flower
of their Nobility being either slain or taken: So
great was the Slaughter, that the Living were
scarce sufficient in Number to bury the Dead.—
To add to the Triumph of the young General, he
had the Glory after a long Combat, where they
fought Hand to Hand, to make the Dogue’s Son
his Captive, and after him an old and most experienc’d
Captain, on whom the Venetians much relyed C3r 21
relyed, and on whose good or bad Success that
of the whole in great Measure depended.

The Joy and Acclamations with which these
Warriors were received at their Return to the
Capital, by the Senate as well as the Populace,
was conformable to the Advantages they brought
them; but soon this Sun of Triumph was overclouded
by an unlook’d for Storm, which was
very near overwhelming them all in Ruin and
Destruction.

They had a Law in Candy which had subsisted
Time immemorial, that whoever was generally
allowed to have done most Honour to his
Country, in the Day of Battle, should at his Return
be gratified with any Demand he should
think fit to make.

On this arose a Contest between the two Generals,
in which no Considerations of Blood, Duty,
or Paternal Affection, could prevail on either
to yield:—The Father knew, and regarded the
Merit of his Son, yet thought to make a Sacrifice
of his long-worn Honours would be a Recompence
too great; and the Son, who on the
least Command of so excellent a Father would
have readily laid down his Life, could not submit
to relinquish his Title to Glory, even to the
Calls of Duty.

They both appear’d before the Senate, and
made their respective Claims:—The Father pleaded C3v 22
pleaded his ancient Services, the Son his late
Success, and the Advantages gained by it to the
Nation, which was confirmed by Ambassadors
that Moment arriving, with Orders to treat of
Peace, as well as by the unanimous Voice of the
whole Army.

The Matter was soon decided, and the young
General was pronounc’d Deliverer of his Country,
and requir’d to name the Boon he ask’d:
On which, to attone as he thought for the Umbrage
he had given his Father, he requested a
Statue of him might be erected, and all his glorious
Atchievements engrav’d on the Pedestal.
The whole Assembly wrung with Applauses of
his filial Piety, who having it in his Power to
demand whatever he pleas’d, desir’d no more
than the Perpetuation of his Father’s Honours.
But a quite contrary Effect had this Action on
the Mind of him it was intended to oblige:—
The old General, peevish through Age and Infirmities,
and before chafed to think his Glories were
about to be eclipsed by a Star, to which his Example
had at first given Light, was so far from being
pleas’d at this Proof of his Son’s Respect, that he
rather look’d upon it as Ostentation; and that he
desir’d not this Monument of his Father’s Victories,
but to shew his own had surpassed them;
and that what grateful Recompence was made,
was made in Consideration of his later and more
meritorious Services. This Imagination, however
unjust, sunk so deeply in his Soul, that he
retired to his Country Seat full of the utmost Dis- C4r 23
Discontent against his Son, whom he forbad ever
to see him more, and renounc’d with the most
bitter Imprecations.

The young General was beyond all Measure afflicted
at the Displeasure his Father had conceiv’d
against him; and finding all the Submissions he
could make served rather to increase than dimunish
it, fell into a Melancholly which all
the Honours he received had not the Power to
dispel.

In the mean Time the Princess of Candy,
Sister to the late King, and Aunt to the present,
fell desperately in Love with him;—insomuch
that she forgot her Dignity, and made him an
Offer of her Person and Treasures: But he, insensible
to her Charms, and wholly devoted to make
Peace with his Father, would consent to marry
her on no other Conditions, than first to send a
Sum of Money to his Father to redeem some
Lands, which by his former Liberality among
the Soldiers he had been obliged to mortgage;
and in the next, to keep the Thing an inviolable
Secret.

This implacable old Man received thankfully
the Donation as coming from the Princess; but
being unhappily inform’d afterwards by some one
she had trusted, of the Love she bore his Son, and
that it was by his Instigation she confer’d this
Favour on him, instead of being appeased by this
new Proof of filial Affection, became infinitely more C4v 24
more irritated against him than ever; and to be
reveng’d on the Insult, as he term’d it, formed
a Resolution the most strange and unnatural
that ever was harboured by the Heart of Man.

Borne on the Wings of Fury, and deaf to all
the Remonstrances that were made him, he flew to
the Capital and demanded Justice in the Execution
of the Law against his Son, whom in a most
pathetic Speech he accused of Ingratitude, repeated
the various Obligations he had to him both
as a Father and a Preceptor; proved that in
the Heat of Battle, while yet a Novice in the
Art of War, he had thrown himself between
him and impending Danger; received the
Wounds design’d for him, and Times unnumbered
shielded him from Death:――“For all
which Bounties,”
added he, “he stript me of the
Glories I had gain’d before he had a Being; ravished
from me the Prize of Fame, more dear
to me than Life, and brought my Age with Sorrow
to the Grave.”

The young General refused to make any
Defence, and hating a Life his Father’s Unkindness
had made wretched, submitted to the Sentence
the Senate, tho’ unwillingly, were obliged
to pass on him.

This Intelligence no sooner reached the
Princess, than wild with Grief, she ran to the Senate
House, and first by soft Persuasions endeavoured
to move the Heart of the old General; but D1r 25
but he continuing obdurate, she vow’d then he
should suffer the same Fate with his innocent
Son; and accused him of the highest Ingratitude
to her, as being obliged to her for the Redemption
of his Lands, he had contrived to deprive
her of what he knew was the most dear to her.

Her Charge was too justly founded to be denied,
and the Senate were compel’d to satisfy the
Demand she made.

The young General, who had heard with an
unshaken Courage his own Doom pronounced,
could not support that of his Father; and revolving
in his Mind what he should do to save
him, became in his turn an Accuser of the Princess:
—He urged, that having for a long Time
sought his Affections, she had at last obtained a
Promise of Marriage from him, on which she pretended
her Life depended, yet after she had won
him to her Will, had most ungratefully betrayed
a Secret he had bound her to conceal, and by
that fatal Discovery irritated his Father, and
been the Cause of both their Ruin.

To this the amorous Princess pleaded Guilty,
desirous of dying with him she loved, even cruel
as he now seemed; and as no Person whatever
was exempted by this Law from the Penalty,
she also was condemned to suffer with the rest.

The Power of preventing so tragic a Scene
lay wholly in the old General, who by remiting D the D1v 26
the Offences of his Son, had obtained of the
Princess Remission for himself, as she also had
from her Lover; but not all the Arguments
made use of by the Senate for this salutary
Purpose, not even their Tears and Entreaties,
could prevail on his inflexible Heart; and these
three illustrious Personages were about to be
conducted to their Fate, when a young Virgin,
Daughter to the General, rushed into the Council
Hall, crying with a loud Voice, as she press’d
through the Crowd, “Stop, stop the Execution
till my Claim is heard:—If these must suffer, ’tis
fit others more guilty shall partake their Fate.”

The Guards on this were ordered to bring
back the Prisoners, and all waited with Impatience
what this new Wonder was to produce, when
the Maid with an undaunted Courage began to
speak to this Effect:

“I think,” said she, “the Law against Ingratitude
falls indiscriminately on all found guilty of it;”
to
which being answered by the President, that “it
did.”
“Then I accuse you all,” resum’d she, “all you of
the Senate!—All you, who having the Power and
Treasure of the Public invested in you, forgot the
Services of this old Man, my Father, fifty Years
your General, and stiled the Guardian Angel of
his Country, and suffered him in Age to feel the
Stings of Poverty, to be reduc’d even to Beggary,
but for the Compassion of the Princess; while you
yourselves were rioting in that Affluence, preserv’d
for you by the best Part of his Blood.――If this is D2r 27
is not Ingratitude, nothing can be call’d so:—
Quit then your Seats, and be content to suffer the
Punishment of your Crime.”

Never was Consternation equal to that
which this Demand occasion’d; the Populace
seconded the Accusation, and cry’d out for Justice:
—All the Lords, which composed this august
Assembly, look’d one upon another without
the Power of Speech:—What indeed could
they say! How reply to so just, so self-convicting
a Charge!—The Law by which they were
condemn’d, was wrote in Terms too plain for
any Evasion:――There was no Remedy to be
found, and those who but a Moment past had
pronounc’d the Sentence of Death against others,
were now compel’d to submit to it themselves;
the Soldiers immediately stript those late Judges
of their Robes, and rang’d them with those who
were before their Prisoners, in order to conduct
them to the Place appointed for the Execution
of Criminals.

How dreadful a Spectacle was this, the Princess,
the two Generals, with all the Nobility and
Magistracy of the Kingdom, about to be destroy’d
at once!—Who, when they were no more, would
be left to maintain Order among the People?—
Where could there one be found to protect the
Peace of Candy?—All Administration of public
Justice must cease:—All Laws be abolish’d,
and the whole Realm involv’d in a wild Confusion.

D2 The D2v 28

The old General could now hold out no longer,
all his Obduracy melted at the Reflection of his
Country’s Ruin; and as he knew his Breath
was the Hinge on which the Lives of all depended,
forgave his Son, his Son with Tears
of Joy the Princess, and she no less readily remitted
the Offences of his Father;—the young
Lady, by whose Stratagem this happy Change
was wrought, desired the Senate to resume their
Places, and all was now restor’d to its ancient
Form; but the sad Consequences which this
Law had like to have occasion’d, and which it
would always have been liable to draw on,
made them unanimously agree to repeal it.

This little Abstract from the Cretan Annals
may serve to shew of how ambiguous and perplex’d
a Nature Ingratitude is in reality:—How
impossible it is to be entirely free from it ourselves,
and how readily we fix the Imputation of
it on others:――In fine, there yet has never been,
and possibly never will be a Standard found for
it, by which one may truly know what is or is
not so.

Lovers complain of it more than any People
in the World, and indeed with the least Reason;
and a Woman, who has the Merit or the Chance
of being address’d by several, must of Consequence
be guilty of it, since in recompensing
one, she must be guilty of what they will call
Ingratitude to all the others.

Every D3r 29

Every one, who labours under any Distress
in Life, is full of Accusations on the Ingratitude
of Persons whom he either has, or imagines he
has, confer’d some Obligation on at one Time
or another; tho’ perhaps those whom he thus
brands were never sensible of any Favour receiv’d
from him, or if they are, may not have it in their
Power to return them in the Manner he expects.

It must be confess’d, there is in most of us a
Partiality to ourselves; we are too apt to magnify
every good Office we do, and lessen the
Merit of those we receive; and this is an innate
Ingratitude, even tho’ we should in Effect repay
the Obligations confer’d on us a thousand fold.

There is also a Partiality in us to one another;
of two Persons we may happen to be acquainted
with of equal Merit, we often shall be
led by a secret Propensity which we cannot account,
nor give any Reason for, to like the one
much better than the other; and yet, perhaps,
he who most shares our good Wishes is by the
same Impulse inclined to have the least for us;
and this is a Species of Ingratitude which we fall
into unknowingly, or if we knew, have it not in
our Power to avoid, because it is implanted in
our Nature, and not to be eradicated.

Reason, however, and a thorough understanding
it in ourselves, may put a Check on Inclination,
and prevent the ill-judging Will from run- D3v 30
running into Practice:—We may do a Violence
to our own Hearts, and in our outward Behaviour
give the Preference to those who love us
rather than to those we love: But few there are
will take this Pains, and I know not indeed whether
we ought always to impose so severe a Task
on ourselves, or whether to perform it would in
all Cases be laudable, or even agreeable to the
very Person for whose Sake we undertook it.

This brings to my Mind a Story, the Veracity
of which I will not answer for, tho’ I have
heard it well attested, and is not in itself impossible;
for which Reason it may serve to corroborate
what I have said, proving how great a Command
Persons the most influenc’d by Passion or
Prejudice may obtain over themselves by the
Strength of Resolution, and also that there may
happen Circumstances, in which to exert that
Strength of Resolution would be rather a Fault
than a Praise-worthy Action.

A Gentleman in the Western Parts of
England had two Daughters at Marriage Estate,
the elder of whom was address’d by a Person
whose Birth and Fortune render’d him more
than an equal Match; but notwithstanding these
Advantages join’d to a most graceful Form, and
many great Accomplishments of Mind, she
could not be brought to listen to his Courtship
with any Degree of Satisfaction, while her younger
Sister languished in the most ardent Passion
for him:—Her Love was of that pure and disinterestedinterested D4r 31
Kind, that tho’ by what she felt she
was too well convinced that she never could be
happy without a Return in Kind; yet so much
did she prefer his Satisfaction to her own, that
she did him all the good Offices in her Power
with her Sister:――Their Father soon discover’d
the different Inclinations of his Daughters,
and fearing he should never be able to bring
the eldest to abate of her Aversion, and loth to
lose the Opportunity of so good a Match for one
of them, would fain have endeavoured to turn
the Current of the Gentleman’s Affections to the
youngest; but all Efforts of that Nature were
wholly vain,—his Reason avow’d the Merits of
the kinder Fair,—it pointed out the lasting comforts
he might enjoy with one who tenderly lov’d
him; but his Heart refused to listen to any other
Dictates than its own, and shut out all Impressions
but those it had at first receiv’d:—Not all
the Disdain he was treated with by the one, had
Power to abate the Ardour of his Flame; nor all
the soft though modest Tokens of an Affection,
adequate to her Sister’s Hate, could in the other
kindle the least Spark:――A kind Look from
the one had transported him beyond himself, but
the tender Glances of the other serv’d only to
add to his Disquiet.

Thus did the beautiful Insensible, her hapless
Sister, and despairing Lover, unwillingly continue
to torment each other, till one ill-fated Day
put a final Period to all Uncertainty and vain Dependance.

The D4v 32

The Gentleman had lately bought a little
Pinnace, beautifully ornamented and fitted up
for Pleasure; to this he invited the two Sisters,
with several other Ladies and Gentlemen who
lived near the Sea-Side, in order to give them a
Regale on Board. The Weather being calm and
clear when they set out, tempted them to sail a
considerable Distance from Shore; when all at
once the Aspect of the Heavens was changed,
and from a most serene Sky became clouded and
tempestuous:—The Winds grew every Moment
higher, and blew so strong against them, that in
spite of their Intention they were borne still farther
out at Sea.――The Storm increasing, the
Vessel being weak, and, as some say, the Mariners
unskilful, it bulg’d against a Rock and split
at the Bottom;—the Sea came pouring in on all
Sides,—there was but a Moment between the
Accident and sinking,—every one was in the utmost
Consternation,—the Circumstances admitted
no Time for Consideration,—all jump’d overboard,
taking hold of those they were most anxious
to preserve;—the Gentleman catch’d the
two Sisters one under each Arm, and for a while,
even thus encumber’d, combated the Waves;
but his Strength failing, there was an absolute Necessity
to quit his grasp of the one in order to save
the other, on which following the Emotions of
his Gratitude rather than his Love, he let go the
elder of these Ladies, and swam with the younger
till he reach’d the Shore.

One of the Sailors, who had none under his Pro- E1r 33
Protection, saw the Distress of her, whom her
Lover had left floating, and catch’d hold of her
Garments just as she was sinking; but Destiny
forbad Success to his Endeavours, a Billow too
large and boisterous for human Skill or Strength
to cope with, came rolling o’er them both, and
plung’d this unfortunate Lady, with her intended
Deliverer, in the immense Abyss.

Her Lover, who had just eas’d himself of
his Burthen, beheld from Shore what had befallen
her, and not able to survive the Shock, turn’d
to the Lady he had preserved at the Expence of
all he valued in Life, and with a Countenance full
of Horror and Despair, said to her, “Madam, I
have discharg’d my Debt of Gratitude to you for
the unsought Affection you have for me,—I must
now obey the Calls of Love, and follow her, whom
to out-live would be the worst of Hells.”
With
these Words, they say, he threw himself with the
utmost Violence among the Waves, which immediately
swallowed him up.

The young Lady had neither Power nor
Time to utter any thing to prevent so desperate a
Deed, and only giving a great Shriek fell down in
a Swoon: In which Posture she was found by
those, who seeing the Distress of the Pinnace afar
off, were coming to administer what Relief the
Occasion would admit.

Now if this Fact be real it must be owned
that the Gentleman carried his Gratitude to a E Degree E1v 34
Degree which the French call Outrèé,—beyond
Reason, and even beyond Nature, and in my
Opinion was an Action too romantic to be recommended
as an Example for Imitation. And
tho’ the Person who related it to me extoll’d
it as the highest Proof of Magnanimity; yet it
appears to me as rather proceeding from a vain
Desire of doing something to be talk’d of after
Death, than the Effects of any real Virtue or
Greatness of Mind.

These Refinings even on the most worthy
Principles, these Over-strainings of Nature, are
certainly never of any Advantage to the Persons
themselves, or those for whose Sake they are supposed
to go so much out of the common Road.
—Extravagance and Excess will always be disapproved
by Reason and good Sense, and when we
are told of Actions, the Rise of which we know
not how to account for, they only serve to puzzle
weaker Understandings, and render them unable
to judge what is really laudable, or what is the
reverse.

There may happen Times when to be grateful
may be a Vice; for Instance, if a Prince, Minister
of State, General of an Army, or any other
Person in a lower Station of Life, who has it in
his Power to confer Promotion, shall shower his
Favours on an unworthy Object, meerly to be
grateful to the Love he bears him, thereby withholding
Offices of Trust and Profit from the
more capable and deserving: Such a Prince, Minister,nister, E2r 35
or whatever he be, is unjust, not only to
those who are rejected, but to a whole Nation,
which, by this partial Indulgence, may be betray’d
to Ruin in a more or less Degree, as the
State is interested in the Employment or Post.

What passes for Gratitude is often no more
than Self-love, as Actions proceeding meerly from
Ostentation are complimented with the Name of
Liberality:—So near does Virtue border upon Vice,
that they are sometimes confounded even by the
Breast that harbours them.—We think that we
ought to do every thing in our Power for the
Person who seems to love us, and is ready on all
Occasions at our Beck, and seldom consider whether
in returning a trifling Obligation, or perhaps
the Shadow of one, we do not an essential Injury
elsewhere.

There is, I think, an old Saying, that “we
ought to be just before we are generous”
; and as
amiable a Quality as Gratitude for Benefactions
truly is, we should endeavour to find some other
Ways, if possible, of testifying it than by those
which rob Merit of its Due; and if they are not
in our Power, rather chuse to seem ungrateful
than be in reality base.――The Dilemma I confess
is hard, and many a noble Spirit has been
bewilder’d, and at a Loss to chuse between the
two Extreams.

I was never better pleas’d in my Life, than
at the Conduct of a Country Justice at the last E2 Election E2v 36
Election for Members of Parliament:――Two
Gentlemen of very opposite Characters and Principles
set up against each other;—one of these,
whom I shall call Macrobrius, had a little before
procured an Ensign’s Commission for a Nephew
of the Justice’s, so thought himself certain not
only of his Vote, but of all the Interest he could
make for him in the County. He did not however
fail going to him on that Occasion, and the
first Civilities being over, “My good Friend,” said
he, “I suppose you know I intend to stand Candidate,
and I believe are enough convinced of my
Abilities and Good Will to my King and Country
to be assured I shall not prove an unworthy Member,
therefore I depend you will do all you can to
serve me in this Matter.”

The Justice shook his Head, but without any
Hesitation made him this Reply:—“Sir, I am perfectly
acquainted with your Abilities;—but you
must pardon me, if I think the other Gentleman,
who is your Competitor, more qualified to be a Representative
of this County than you can pretend
to be; not only because he has a large Estate here,
but because he has no Manner of Dependance on
the Court, and consequently is less liable to be influenc’d:
—For these Reasons, therefore, I think
myself obliged to use all the little Interest I have
among my Neighbours that he may be chosen.”

“how!” cry’d Macrobrius in a great Passion,
“Can you be so ungrateful!――Did not I give
your Nephew a Pair of Colours the other Day?”

you E3r 37

“you did, Sir,” return’d the Justice gravely,
“I thank you for the Favour:――I am not ungrateful
and would return it in Kind:――
My Nephew wanted a Commission, you got him
one; and whenever you have any Dependant
out of Employment, send him to me and I will
make him my Clerk:――This, Sir,”
continued
he, “is all the Retaliation I can make, and I think
the Difference of our Circumstances consider’d, is
pretty adequate to the Obligation.”

The would-have-been Member was ready to
burst with inward Rage at this Sneer, but knowing
how great the Justice’s Influence was, he conceal’d
it as much as possible, and omitted nothing
that he thought might sooth and bring him into
better Humour; but his Flatteries as his Resentment,
were equally ineffectual, the Justice could
not be prevail’d upon to sacrifice his Honesty to
his Gratitude, and Macrobrius, to his great Mortification,
was obliged to leave him as he found
him.

When Favours are confer’d with a latent
View of corrupting the Integrity of a Man, or the
Chastity of a Woman, they ought, when discovered
to be such, to bring only Contempt on the
Person who bestows them:—Gratitude in this
Case would be the worst of Vices, and all Dispositions
towards it in the Heart, should be banish’d
as Traitors to Honour and Virtue.

People sometimes out of an Excess of Good-
Nature, or a timid Shamefacedness, think they may E3v 38
may recede a little from their Strictness, in Compliance
with the Desires of a Person they have received
some Obligations from; but let them take
care, the least yielding to an ill Action is inuring
the Mind to it, and by Degrees takes away the
Horror of it:—Nobody can say to themselves
“thus far will I go, and no farther”, as a late noble
Peer and Poet elegantly expresses it:

“Of Honour Men at first, like Women nice, Raise Maiden Scruples at unpractis’d Vice: But once this Fence thrown down, and they perceive
That they may taste forbidden Fruit and live, They stop not here their Course, and enter’d in, Grow strong, luxuriant and bold in Sin. ”

This Observation will ever hold good in high
and low, in public and private Life; and, therefore,
as Obligations are the Bribes by which cunning
and designing Men expect to enlist the
more unwary into their Service, every prudent
and honest Person will avoid receiving them
from such whose Principles they are not well
assur’d of.

In fine, a very little Reflection may serve to
convince us, that in a great Number of Cases
what the World calls Gratitude may be a Vice
even from the Prince to the Peasant; and in our
Sex I dare say that nobody will deny but that a
Woman who has a Number of Admirers cannot be- E4r 39
behave to them in such a Manner, as they will
allow to be a grateful Return, without rendering
herself an Object of everlasting Infamy and Contempt.

It is greatly to be wish’d, for the Happiness
and Reputation of the Kingdom, that there
were fewer Instances of this destructive Gratitude
in both Sexes than some late Years have produc’d;
and that we could prevail on ourselves rather to
return to the Rusticity of the ancient Britons,
than by this guilty Complaisance to our Betrayers
become accessary to our own Perdition, and entail
Shame and Misery on our Postetrity.

Let no one imagine that by pointing out the
Rocks on which a Temper grateful to excess is
liable to split upon, I mean to recommend its opposite
as the safest Rule to steer by:—For Heaven
forbid that so pernicious a Doctrine should
ever be propagated:—All I have said is no more
than an Endeavour to rectify some Mistakes concerning
it, and to shew that what is call’d Ingratitude
by the unthinking Part of the World is
not always so, and that even if it were, could not
sometimes be avoided without running into
Faults of an equally detestable Kind.

I have already more than once observ’d, that
it requires the utmost Penetration and deepest
Search to discover in some Circumstances how
one ought to behave in this Point; but then again
there are others in which there is no room for Hesita- E4v 40
Hesitation:—Duty, Reason, Honesty, and
Good-Nature plainly guide us to the Paths we
ought to tread, and which in swerving from we
can have no Excuse.

In the first Place the Obligations we have to
Heaven are self-evident, not to mention our Existence
(which I have heard some People, who enjoy
not every thing they wish for in this World,
refuse to acknowledge as a Blessing) nor our Redemption
and Hopes of Immortality (which too
many are hardy enough to call in Question). Exclusive,
I say, of all the glorious Prospects of an
hereafter; is not our Preservation here amidst innumerable
Dangers, which, tho’ unseen, unthought
of, continually surround us, not worthy of much
more Gratitude than is in our weak Capacities to
pay?—Those most defended from Hurts by the
Affluence of Fortune and an indolent Life:――
Those who loll in Coaches, and scarce lift their
Hands to their Head, are every Moment liable to
some inward Fraction which may throw into Disorder
their whole Frame.――I have heard Anatomists
say, that did we know the Delicacy of
the human System, the thousand and ten thousand
Fibres, which like Threads run through every
Part of the Body, and which if any one should
be crack’d or removed out of its Place would
prejudice, if not bring total Destruction to the
whole, we should tremble at moving even a Finger,
for fear of hurting their elastic Quality, and
cry out with the Royal Psalmist, Lord, F1r 41
“‘Lord, I am fearfully and wonderfully made!’”

Yet how are all our Motions so guided and
directed by an invisible Power, that very rarely
any Accident of this Kind happens, even to those
who are continually employing themselves in the
most robust Exercises.

When we look around the amazing Scenes
which this wide World affords, and consider the
various Produce of the Earth and Air, the unfathomable
Deep, and the Rivers issuing from it,
all created for our Use, and abounding with every
thing necessary for our Support and Pleasure;
how can we sufficiently testify our Gratitude to
the Dispenser of these Blessings!—But if we lift
up our Eyes to the immense Expance above,
where Miriads of Miriads of Orbs, infinitely larger
than that wherein we are placed, roll over our
Heads, self-poiz’d in Æther, and at the same
Time reflect that should one of these start
from its Sphere its Fall would crush this Globe to
Atoms; how must our whole Souls dissolve in
grateful Contemplation on that Almighty Power,
whose single Fiat regulates their Motions, so as
to be of no Prejudice to each other, or to us.

Those who disbelieve, or affect to disbelieve,
all other Obligations, readily acknowledge themselves
bound by these, and are ashamed and
angry if but suspected guilty of Ingratitude on
this Score.

F Our F1v 42

Our Parents, as next to Heaven the Authors
of our Being, and Protectors of our helpless Infancy,
certainly claim the first and greatest Share
of our Love and Gratitude:—Never is it in our
Power to recompence those tender Cares they
feel for us:—Yet what we can we ought:—Love
and Respect to them are Duties so known and
universally confess’d, that where a Person is visibly
wanting in either of these, he is deservedly
look’d upon as a Monster. Most People, therefore,
especially of the better Sort, endeavour to
maintain an exterior Shew of this Gratitude, tho’
too many have little of it in their Hearts.

Those also who under our Parents have the Care
of our Education, such as Tutors, Governors, or
Governesses, if they have discharg’d the Trust reposed
in them, by inspiring us with true Notions of
Honour and Virtue, justly demand our Gratitude;
and we ought not only to acknowledge the Obligations
we owe to their Integrity, but recompence
it by all the Acts of Friendship in our
Power.

Nor ought we to deny some Gratitude due to
our menial Servants, when the Respect they pay us
is accompanied with Love, and we perceive, as
we easily may, that what they do for us proceeds
from something more than meer Duty.—Such a
Servant is indeed a Jewel rare to be found, and
deserves to be used with all the Indulgence we can
shew without lessening our Authority.

If F2r 43

If, according to the different Relations they
stand in to us, we treat any of these in an unbecoming
Manner, we are guilty of an Ingratitude
which no Excuse can shadow over:—The Obligations
I have mention’d are plain, convincing,
and when not acknowledg’d, tho’ no human
Law exist against the unnatural Propensity.

“Heav’n seldom fails to punish it in Kind, Th’ Ungrateful does a more Ungrateful find.”

There are also others more distant tho’ not
less binding Debts of Gratitude owing from us,
such as that to a King when he is truly the Father
of his People, when he places his chief Glory in
the Happiness of the Common-Wealth, when he
exerts his Power only for our Protection, when
he seeks no Pretences to oppress us with Taxations,
nor permits a haughty over-grown Minister
to insult and ruin us:—To all the Members
of a wise and uncorrupt Senate, who speak the
Sense of those whose Representatives they are,
who despise not our Instructions, but make their
first Business the Redress of our Grievances, and
by their upright Behaviour and steady Adherence
to the Constitution, preserve the Balance
of Power between the King and People:――
To every Civil Magistrate, who is diligent in his
Office for executing Justice, and maintaining
Peace:—To those of the Clergy, whose Piety,
Charity, Temperance and Humility of Manners,
are a Proof that they themselves are convinced
of the Truth of that Doctrine they preach:――
And lastly, tho’ not least worthy our ConsiderationF2 tion F2v 44
and Regard, to the gallant Sailors, who are
the Guardians of our Commerce Abroad, and the
true and sole Bulwark of our Islands from all foreign
Force, who dare every Danger, endure
every Hardship, that we may sleep securely and
at Ease.

Whoever feels not a due Portion of Love
and Veneration for these, or any of these, is unworthy
to share the Benefit derived from them,
and ought to be banish’d to some other Country,
where the very Reverse of all these excellent Qualities
are practis’d, and no such Persons as I have
describ’d be found.

I had wrote thus far the Sense of our Society
at our last Meeting, as near as I remember’d,
and was proceeding with something of my own,
when Mira and Euphrosine came into the Room,
and looking over my Papers, “You have forgot,”
said the former of these Ladies, “to make any mention
of Authors in your Detail of those to whom
the Public is oblig’d:――Pray, is laying out the
Brain in an Endeavour to improve or to divert
the World, of no more Estimation with you than
to be pass’d over in Silence?”

Euphrosine seconded this Reproof,
which I could not but allow the Justice of, and
heartily ask Pardon for so palpable an Omission.

It is indeed to Books we owe all that which
distinguishes us from Savages, and it would be ex- F3r 45
extremely ungrateful to refuse our Good-Will to
the Composers of what affords us the greatest of
all Benefits, that of informing the Mind, correcting
the Manners, and enlarging the Understanding.

What Clods of Earth should we have been
but for Reading?――How ignorant of every
thing but the Spot we tread upon?――Books
are the Channel through which all useful Arts
and Sciences are conveyed:—By the Help of
Books we sit at Ease, and travel to the most distant
Parts; behold the Customs and Manners of
all the different Nations in the habitable Globe,
nay take a View of Heaven itself, and traverse
all the wonders of the Skies.—By Books we
learn to sustain Calamity with Patience, and bear
Prosperity with Moderation.—By Books we are
enabled to compare past Ages with the present,
to discover what in our Fore-Fathers was worthy
Imitation, and what should be avoided; to improve
upon their Virtues, and take Warning by
their Errors.—It is Books which dispel that gloomy
Melancholly our Climate but too much inclines
us to, and in its room diffuses an enlivening
Chearfulness.—In fine, we are indebted to
Books for every thing that can profit or delight
us.

Authors, therefore, can never be too much
cherish’d and encourag’d when what they write
is calculated for public Utility, whether it be for
Instruction or innocent Amusement; and it must be F3v 46
be confess’d would be a Proof of the most sordid
and ungrateful Spirit to deny the Recompence
of their Labour, yet enjoy the Advantages of it.

It may, indeed, be objected, that many of
them deserve little Thanks for occasioning that
Waste of Time the reading of them takes up; but
the same may with equal Justice be alledg’d against
all those others in public Stations I have mention’d,
since it is not to a bad King, a corrupt Parliament,
an indolent Magistrate, a haughty, ambitious,
or intemperate Clergyman, nor an unskilful
Sailor, any more than a weak, illiterate, or vicious
Author, I pretend our Gratitude is due.

On the contrary, when those who should protect,
enslave us;—when those who should defend,
betray us;—when those who should guide, lead us
out of the Way; and those, from whom we might
expect Pity and Relief, only laugh at our Distresses
and triumph in our Misery; whatever Eminence
they are placed in, or by what Name soever they
are dignified and distinguish’d, merit, in Proportion
to their Greatness, and the Power they
have of doing Good or Hurt, only Reproaches
utter’d in the utmost Bitterness of Heart.

But when any one, who has the Abilities, exerts
them for the common Good of Mankind, the
Pains taken for that Purpose deserves not only
bare Thanks, but the warmest Wishes of the
Heart:—All who hear us speak of a Praise-worthy
Action without Praise would condemn us, for our F4r 47
our own Sakes therefore we commend, but we
feel for that of others:—True Gratitude kindles
up the whole soul, and shews by the Manner more
than the Matter of what we say, that it longs
to manifest itself in something more than Words.

There is certainly something extremely amiable
in a grateful Mind, and whoever is possess’d
of it, tho’ he may be misled by the Weakness of
his Judgment to testify it in Things not altogether
commendable, yet the Effects are deserving Pardon
for the sake of the Cause; and such a one
can never be premeditately unjust or base.

But, after all that I have said, my weak Endeavours
only serve to shew how in some Instances
Gratitude may be carried to an Excess,
and how in others it never can extend itself too
far, yet is the Definition still a Secret;—a Gordian
Knot, I fear, not to be untied by any human Skill.
—To separate and distinguish it from other Passions
of a quite different Nature, which it either
covers over or is mingled with, is an Intricacy
impenetrable, but by him who sees into the inmost
Recesses of the Heart.

Nothing is more common than for Actions
which owe their Rise meerly to Pride and Ostentation
to be mistaken for this truly noble Principle:
—Many a one has requited some trifling Obligation
with another of the greatest Consequence,
only to acquire the Reputation of a grateful Person;
when at the same Time he has a thousand Times F4v 48
Times wish’d in secret that some Accident, of
how dreadful a Nature he valued not, might render
the other, whom he was about to favour, not
in a Condition to receive it.

Sir Thomas Plausible was one Day in Company
at a Tavern when Word was brought him
that young Wildman was arrested and carried to
Prison for a large Sum of Money.—“How!” said
the Baronet, “I wonder he would not send to me on
the first Notice he had of this Affair:—If I had
known he had laboured under any such Apprehensions
it never should have come to this.”

Having express’d himself to this Effect, he
call’d hastily for Pen, Ink, and Paper, and wrote
a Note to his Steward, ordering him to go and
release the Gentleman immediately, paying the
Debt and Charges, be the Amount ever so great.
This he sent by the Waiter, and perceiving so extraordinary
an Act of Liberality to one who it
was well known was in no Condition to repay it,
or ever likely to do so, astonish’d all that were
Witnesses of it, which Sir Thomas perceiving,
“Gentlemen,” said he, “I hate Ingratitude, Wildman
it is true cannot be allowed to be a Man of much
Merit in the World, but I owe him a Favour, and
rejoice in an Opportunity to return it:――You
must know,”
continu’d he, “that about five or six
Years ago, he was second to a Cousin German of
mine three Times removed, and till now Fortune
never put it in my Power to convince him how
sennsibly I was touch’d with the Obligation.”

This G1r 49

This still more amaz’d the Company, and Sir
Thomas
heard nothing the whole Time he was
with them but his own Praises:—The Thing afterwards
made a great Noise in Town, and he
passes to this Day for the most grateful and generous
spirited Man in the whole World.

But how little was this Man of Honour known!
――At the Time he was conferring this Favour
on one of the most worthless of Mankind, and
to whom in Effect he had not the least Obligation,
he refused to assist in the utmost Distress one
who had been the Companion of his Youth, and
whose Purse he had commanded when their too
expensive mutual Pleasures had reduced him to
the Want of it?

This Gentleman, whom I shall call Lostland, was
born to a plentiful Estate, but by the Negligence
or Knavery of his Guardians in the first Place,
and his own too easy Temper in the next, was
driven to great Necessities.—He lay sick at that
Time, and wanted many Things which his Condition
requir’d:—He had wrote several Letters
to Sir Thomas, reminding him of their former
Friendship, which on his Part never had subsided,
and requested some Relief in his present Exigence.
—To all which this seemingly so grateful Man
either return’d no Answers, or such as contained
trifling Excuses:—Lostland, unable to support this
Slight from a Person he thought he might have
had some Dependance upon; sunk beneath the
Weight of it more than by that of his Distemper, G and G1v 50
and died in a short Time after:――So true are
the Poet’s Words: “Fate ne’er strikes deep, but when Unkindness joins.”

Many such Plausibles are there in the World,
and so easy is it for the Hypocrite in any Virtue
to deceive us by their specious Pretences.

Opposite to these there is another Species of
Mankind in the World, a Race of odd Mortals
who boast of Justice, Generosity, and talk loudly
of their Gratitude, yet are blown up to that ridiculous
Degree by Arrogance and Self-conceit,
that they never think themselves obliged; they
imagine all that is done for them is their Due, and
every Favour overpaid in the Acceptance.――-
Bounties confer’d on them, in bare Compassion
to their Wants, they call Policy in the Donor, to
engage their Friendship and Good-Will; and set
so high a Value on vouchsafing it, that if at any
Time a Person to whom they may happen to
owe the highest Obligations speaks or looks not
just in the Manner they approve, they will threaten
to visit them no more, and indeed be as good
as their Word frequently, to the great Ease of
those who have endured their Company only thro’
an Exuberance of Good-Nature: But pleasant
enough is it to observe how they laugh and
hug themselves with the Thoughts of the Mortification
those are under who are deprived of the
Happiness of conversing with them.

If G2r 51

If a Person of this Humour happens to confer
a Favour on any one, as his Pride, if he has
the Power, will make him ready to do it, not
only the Receiver, but all who are any ways related,
he thinks bound to be his Slaves forever:
――They must no more have any Will, any Disposition
of their own, all must be govern’d by his
superior Judgment, and if he discovers they even
think in a manner different from him, base, unworthy,
thankless, are the kindest Epithets he bestows
on them.

Such a one it is equally dangerous to be civil
to, or affront; but as they are never Dissemblers,
a small Share of Discernment serves to point them
out; whoever obliges them is a Prodigal in Goodness,
but those who can condescend to be oblig’d
by them must have souls too mean to deserve
any Pity for the Treatment they receive.

There are besides a third Sort less sordid and
deceitful than the first, and of a less perverse and
crooked Disposition than the last describ’d, and
yet blameable enough too:—These are abundantly
grateful while you continue to oblige
them, approach you with with more Submissions
than you require of them, over-rate every thing
you do for them, extol you to the Skies in all
Company, and seem proud of acknowledging
every Favour they have received:—But if at last
they happen to request any thing which it does not
suit with your Convenience to grant, they set all
that is past at nought, retract the fine Things G2 they G2v 52
they have said of you, and sometimes even go
so far as to load you with the most gross Abuse.

This is a Temper, which, as it shews itself
not immediately, one cannot so well guard against;
but when once discover’d should be as much exposed
as possible, to prevent others from being deceiv’d
by it.

No one who is a Self-Lover can ever be truly
grateful or sincere, for tho’ that Passion engages a
Person to love all that love him for a Time, yet
will it make him, on the first Prospect of a greater
Advantage, presently transfer his Affections
elsewhere.

As for the Gratitude of a Lover to his Mistress,
or a Lady to her Lover, I have already
shewn in my Comments on Amintor’s Letter,
that there is no such Thing in reality, all the Actions
being govern’d by a Passion which there is
no over-ruling entirely, or if there be, that it is only
when they consent to marry those they cannot
love; for certainly that can never be a true Gratitude,
tho’ it sometimes bears the Name, which
influences a Person to join in a Union for Life,
with one, whom they must every Day render
more miserable, by giving every Day new Proofs
of Aversion.

It is therefore always owing to some latent
Self-Interest, when either Man or Woman consents
to do this Violence to Inclination.

Amelia G3r 53

Amelia, the great Fortune, yielded, after
a long Courtship, to marry Melania, a Gentleman
of a small Estate: But wherefore did she
so? Only to conceal, under the Name of Wife,
the Effects of her Criminal Conversation with
Polities the Gamester:—Yet she will tell you she
gave her Person and Fortune to Melania merely
as a Reward of his Constancy; and did this injur’d
Husband make any complaints of her Indifference
and Contempt, or was observed to
abate any Part of that Respect and Tenderness
he treated her with before Marriage, all Mankind
would brand him with the highest Ingratitude.

Could we look into the Secrets of the wedded
World, I more than fear we should find innumerable
Instances, where Gratitude in both Sexes
has been but the Pretext to mask over some less
laudable Motive.

There is, I think, another mistaken Notion
pretty general, and that is, when of two Persons
who long have lov’d, and given each other all
the Proofs of Affection in their Power, the one
shall fall off without receiving any Cause from the
other, and for the sake of a new Object forfeit all
Vows, renounce all Obligations, and leave the
forsaken Party to languish in vain Complainings:
—In such a Circumstance, ungrateful is the Epithet
commonly given to the Person guilty of violated
Faith; but I can by no Means allow it to
be just, because I once more beg Leave to assert, that G3v 54
that to love is not an Action of the Will, and
we cannot pay any farther than is in our Power:
A Person may change in the Manner I have mention’d,
yet know the Change unreasonable, and
sincerely wish there were a Possibility that the
first Obligations still retained their Force; therefore
the Transition proceeds not from Ingratitude,
but Weakness and Instability, a wavering and inconstant
Mind, which knows not how to settle,
nor what would satisfy it.

Let no one think, however, that I mean to
palliate the Crime of so gross an Abuse of Tenderness,
by attempting to prove it cannot properly
be call’d Ingratitude; on the contrary, the
Man or Woman guilty of it in my Opinion merits
the severest Censure, yet not so much, because
they change from one Object to another,
as because they did not well consult their own
Hearts before they made the first Overture:—A
Passion inspired by that Sympathy I have mention’d
founded on Reason and recompensed by
Kindness, can never alter, and a Person who declares
himself a Lover, should first ask himself
the Question, and be well assured he can be always
so.

Nor can I call it Ingratitude between married
Persons, where one of them, by the arbitrary
Power of Parents, shall be compell’d to give a
Hand without a Heart, and is afterwards unable
to subdue the fix’d Aversion, so far as to return the
Affection of the other with any Degree of Tenderness.derness. G4r 55
—This is, I confess, a Case truly pityable
on both Sides, but yet leaves no room for Reproach
on either, unless the Party who dislikes
has ungenerously conceal’d it before Marriage, or
the Party disliked is foolishly obstinate enough
to run the Hazard of becoming more engaging
afterwards.

In a Word, I can see no Ingratitude in Love
Affairs except in one Circumstance, which is this,
—If a Person is extremely beloved by one, for
whom he or she, for I do not confine myself to
Sexes, has neither Inclination nor Aversion, and
to whom either to be united or not is a Matter of
Indifference, yet endeavours to make the most of
what Affection offers, by higling for more Advantages
than his or her Fortune could any way
pretend to, without that partial Affection, such
a Behaviour is indeed ungrateful as well as sordid.

We frequently hear of Instances of this Kind,
but I heartily wish that all such thankless Persons
might meet the same Fate with one, whose Adventures,
I believe, will not be disagreeable to
my Readers.

Celemena was the Daughter and sole
Heiress of a Gentleman of a very large Estate,
perfectly agreeable in her Person without being a
Beauty; she had a good Capacity and an excellent
Disposition:—Being such, it is not to be
wonder’d at that her Parents were extrememly tender
of her, nor that they made her be instructed in G4v 56
in all the Accomplishments befitting a Person of
her Sex and Fortune.

But that to which she most apply’d herself
was Musick and Singing, she would sit the whole
Day, if not call’d from it, at her Harpsicord,
practising those Lessons which had been given her
in the Morning, and by degrees became so attach’d
to it, that in Effect she regarded nothing
else.――Her Governess often chid her for devoting
herself so much to one thing, and reminded
her, that tho’ Musick was very agreeable, yet
there were other Studies more worthy her Attention,
and ought at least to have their Share.――
This she seem’d sensible of, but could not be
brought to lay aside her Books without Reluctance,
and whatever she employ’d herself in, the
last new Song ran always in her Head:—When
the Hour in which her Master in this Science accustom’d
to visit her approach’d, she was continually
looking on her Watch, and if he came not
at the Moment she expected, discovered an Impatience
which was never seen in her on any other
Score.

This, with some Glances she was ignorant of
herself, yet observ’d by the Governess, made
that careful Creature tremble, lest her young
Charge should be no less pleas’d with the Person
of her Master than with his Art:—She kept
those Suspicions however for some time to herself,
but imagining that every Day gave her
fresh Reasons to believe they had not deceiv’d her H1r 57
her, she thought it her Duty to acquaint the Mother
of Celemena with them.

The old Lady imparted what she had heard
to her Husband, and on reasoning on the Subject,
when they considered their Daughter’s
Youth, her excessive Fondness for Musick, and
the handsome Person of the Man in question,
they began to fear the Governess had not been
mistaken.

After debating what was best to be done in
so vexatious an Affair, it seem’d most proper to
them both, to discharge Mr. Quaver, for so I
shall call him, from his Attendance, without giving
any other Reason for it than that they thought
Celemena had made a sufficient Progress, and had
no occasion for further Instructions.

The putting this Resolution into Execution
convinced them, that what they fear’d was too
sure a Truth:—The Melancholly which Celemena
fell into on the Loss of this Master, shewed not
only that she loved, but also loved him to an uncommon
Degree:—All that could be done for
her Amusement or Diversion, had not the least
Effect, and the Disorders of her Mind had so
great an Influence over her Body, that she fell in
a short Time into a violent Fever:—Her Life
for some Days was despair’d of, but her Youth,
Strength, and Constitution, joined with the Skill
of the Physicians, at length repell’d that Enemy
to Nature:—The Fever left her, but the Cause still H re- H1v 58
remaining, threw her into another Distemper,
which threaten’d no less fatal, tho’ less sudden
Consequences:—In fine, she had all the Symptoms
of a Consumption, and those who had the
Care of her, both in her late and present Illness,
easily perceiving that she labour’d under some
inward Grief, told her Parents, that without that
were remov’d, it would be in vain for them to
hope they should preserve their Daughter.

A second Consultation was held on this
afflicting News, between the Father, Mother,
and Governess of the young Lady; the Result
of which was, that the latter should, by all the
Stratagems she could invent, draw her into a
Confession of the Truth:—They flatter’d themselves,
that if the Secret was once reveal’d, the
Arguments they might make use of to her would
enable her to overcome a Passion so unworthy of
her; but if all fail’d, they resolved rather to gratify
it than see her perish in the hopeless Flame.

It was no difficult Matter for a Person, who
by her Age doubtless had some time or other in
her Life experienc’d the Passion she was about to
speak of, to talk of it in such a manner as should
discover the Progress of it in another. Celemena
betray’d herself without knowing she did so; and
when she found her Secret was reveal’d, scrupled
not to confess, that she took a strange Liking of
Mr. Quaver’s Person and Conversation from the
first Time he was introduced to her;—that the
more she saw him, the more her Inclination increased,creased, H2r 59
till it entirely engrossed her whole Heart;
and that by what she had endured since she
had been deprived of seeing him, she was very
well convinced she could not live without him;
but added, that she believed he was ignorant of
the Love she bore him, “At least,” says she, “I hope
he is; for I should dye with Shame, if I thought
he suspected me guilty of a Weakness which I cannot
forgive in myself.”

The Governess comforted her the best she
could, and perceiving that the Hurry of Spirits
this Discourse had put her in made her ready to
faint away, exceeded her Commission so far as
to give her Hopes that if she really loved to that
Excess she appear’d to do, and thought him worthy
of being her Husband, her Parents might be
brought to consent.

This seemed too great a Happiness for the
enamour’d Maid to give much Credit to; yet
the Transport she was in at the bare mention of
it, and the Agonies she fell into, as Reason abated
the pleasing Idea, assured the Person who was
Witness of them, that there was do other Means
of saving her Life than such a Confirmation.

She went directly from her to the old Lady’s
Apartment, and related to her the whole of what
had pass’d between them:—How great was her
Affliction any one may guess: But flattering herself
that Shame might work some Effect on her,
she bid the Governess let her know she had acacquaintedH2 quainted H2v 60
both her and her Father with the Secret,
“and you may tell her,” added she, “that you
have endeavour’d to prevail on us to comply with
her Inclinations; but that the Surprize and Grief
we are in at hearing she had so much demean’d herself,
as to entertain a Thought of such a Fellow,
made us give no Answer to what you said.”

The Governess went immediately about making
this Essay, tho’ certain in her Mind of the
little Success it would have:—The Passion Celemena
was inspired with, was indeed too strong to
be overcome this way; and tho’ dutiful, and
wanting in none of those Respects owing from
Children to their Parents, not all the Sorrows she
occasioned them in this Point, had Power to turn
the Current of her Affections.

Finding her Mother came not into her
Chamber the next Day as usual, she doubted not
but her Indignation against her Passion was at
least equal to the Grief for her Condition; and
despairing of any Effect of her Governess’s Promises,
her Heart, over-press’d beneath a Weight
of Anguish, refused its accustomed Motion, and
she fell into Faintings, out of which she was not
without great Difficulty recover’d.

Her Mother distracted at the Danger of so
darling a Child, cry’d out to her, that her Inclinations
should no longer be opposed,—that since
Quaver was so necessary to her Life, he should
immediately be made acquainted with his good Fortune, H3r 61
Fortune, and that the Moment of her Recovery
should join their Hands.

The Father, no less anxious, made the same
Promise, which Celemena still doubting the Performance
of, they both confirmed with the most
solemn Oath.

As it could not be supposed but that the Musician
would receive an Offer of this Nature with
an Excess of Humility and Joy, he was sent for,
and told by the Parents of Celemena, that as notwithstanding
the Disparity between them the
young Lady had thought him worthy, they too
dearly prized her to thwart her Inclinations, and
would bestow her on him in case he had no previous
Engagement.

The Astonishment he was in at the Beginning
of this Discourse was very visible in his Countetenance,
but being Master of a good Share of
Cunning it abated, and he not only recover’d himself
entirely before they had finish’d what they
had to say, but also resolved what Answer he
should make.

He had heard the young Lady had been dangerously
ill some Time, and that she still kept
her Bed, and so sudden and unexpected a Proposal
made to him by her Parents left no room to
doubt the Motive of it; so without any Consideration
of what he owed either to her Love, or
this Condescension in them, he meditated only how H3v 62
how to make the best Bargain he could for his
pretty Person, which he now thought he could
not set too high a Value upon.

After having assured them that he was under
no Engagement, and slightly thanking them
for the Honour they did him in making choice
of him for a Son in Law, he begg’d Leave to
know what Portion they intended to give their
Daughter.

Such a Question from a Man, whom they expected
would have rather thrown himself at their
Feet all in Extacy and Transport, might very
well astonish them:—They look’d one upon
another for some Minutes without being able to
reply; but the Father first regaining Presence of
Mind,—“Mr. Quaver,” said he, since I am willing
to give my Daughter to you, there is little room
for you to suppose I should bestow a Beggar on
you; but since you seem to doubt it, I will put
Five Thousand Pounds into your Hands for the
present, and according as I find you behave will
add to it.”

“Five Thousand Pounds!” cry’d the Musician:
“Sir, I live very well as I am on my Business, and
will not sell my Liberty for twice the Sum.”

Nothing could have been a greater Proof
of the Consideration this tender Father had of
his Child, than that he did not resent this Arrogance
in the Object of her Affection, by ordering his H4r 63
his Footmen to turn him out of Doors; but his
Fears for her over-rul’d all he owed to himself,
and he only reply’d, “Well, Mr. Quaver, I will
think of your Demand, and if you call Tomorrow
will acquaint you with the Result.”

’Twould be needless to repeat the Shock
such a Behaviour must be to Persons of their
Rank and Figure in the World; or how great an
Aggravation it was to their Affliction, that Celemena
should have bestowed her Heart on a
Man whose Mind was as sordid as his Birth was
mean:—They were fearful of acquainting her
with the little Regard he seem’d to have for her,
but on her being extrememly urgent to know what
had pass’d at an Interview her Peace was so
deeply interested in, they at last ventured to
repeat not only the Demand that Quaver had
made, but also describ’d the insolent Manner in
which he spoke and look’d; but withall assured
her, that for her Sake they would both forgive
and comply with it.

Celemena listen’d attentively to the
Narrative, but seem’d much less troubled than
their Apprehensions had suggested:—She fainted
not, she even wept not, but after a little Pause
thank’d her Father for the unexampled Tenderness
he express’d for her, and beseech’d him, that
since he was so good to grant every thing desir’d
by a Man, who, she confess’d, was worthy of
little either from him or herself, that she might
be placed the next Day in some Room, where she might H4v 64
might hear, unseen by him, how he received the
Condescension would be made him.

This Request was easily granted, and when
they were told he was below, a Servant was order’d
to conduct him into a Room divided only
by a thin Wainscot from Celemena’s Chamber.
She had quitted her Bed that Day, which for a
long Time she had not been able to do, and sat
with her Governess as close as she could to the
Partition, so that she could hear all that pass’d
with the same Ease as if she had been in the Room
with them.

“Well, Mr. Quaver,” said the old Gentleman,
“I think you told me Yesterday that the Price
at which you set your Liberty was Ten Thousand
Pounds:—It is certainly a great Sum for a Person
of your Vocation, who have no other Jointure
to make my Daughter than a few Music Books;
but as she has set her Heart upon you, I will not
refuse you, and the Money shall be paid on the Dvay
of Marriage.”

“Alass, Sir,” reply’d the other, “I am sorry I
was so unhappy to be mistaken; I told you that I
would not marry for twice the Sum you offer’d at
first, which you may remember was Five Thousand
Pounds;――and I think you cannot give me
less than fifteen Thousand, and five Thousand more
at the Birth of the first Child; besides, I expect you
should settle your whole Estate on me after your
Decease, that your Daughter, who I know is Heiress, I1r 65
Heiress, may not assume too much, as many Wives
do, when they have the Power of receiving Rents
lodg’d in their own Hands.”

At these Words the Father was oblig’d to
summon all his Moderation, yet could not restrain
himself from crying out, “Heavens! What have I
done to merit a Punishment so severe?—Unhappy
Celemena, to love where there is nothing but
what ought to create Contempt!”

“Whatever Opinion you may have of me,
Sir,”
return’d Quaver with a most audacious Air,
“I know myself, and shall not abate an Ace of my
Demand: If you think fit to comply with it I will
make a good Husband to your Daughter;—If not,
I am your humble Servant:—She must die.”

Celemena no sooner heard this, than
she sent her Governess to beg her Father to come
into her Chamber before he made any farther
Reply to what was said; and on his entering
threw herself at his Feet, and embracing his Knees
with a Vehemence which surpriz’d him,—“O,
Sir,”
said she, “by all the Love and Tenderness you
have ever used me with, by this last, the greatest
Proof sure that ever Child receiv’d, I conjure
you, suffer not yourself nor me to be one Moment
longer affronted and insulted by that unworthy
Fellow, whom I almost hate myself for
ever having had a favourable Thought on:—
Spurn him, I beseech you, from your Presence;— I let I1v 66
let him seek a Wife more befitting him than Celemena,
who now hates and scorns him.”

“But are you certain, my Dear,” said this
fond Father, “that you can persist in these Sentiments?”

“Forever, Sir,” answered she, “and your
Commands to unite me to such a Wretch would now
render me more miserable, than two Days past your
Refusal would have done.”

It is not to be doubted but that the old Gentleman
was transported at this unlook’d for Change,
and returning to Quaver, whom he found looking
in the Glass, and humming over a Tune of
his own composing, he told him, “That the Farce
was entirely over, Celemena had only a Mind to
divert herself with his Vanity, which having done,
he might go about his Business, for there was no
Danger of her dying, unless it were with laughing
at his so easily believing that to be serious
which was only a Jest.”

The Musician, so lately blown up with Self-
Conceit, was now quite crush’d at once; and as
those too soon elated with the Appearance of
any prosperous Event are, with the same Ease dejected
with the Reverse, he look’d like one transfix’d
with Thunder; but when he was about to
say something in a stammering Voice, by way of
Reply,—the old Gentleman cut him short, by telling I2r 67
telling him in the most contemptuous Manner,
“That as neither himself nor his Daughter had any
Disposition to continue the Frolick, he had no more
Buusiness there; but might go Home and dream of a
fine Lady with fifteeen thousand Pounds, and a
great Estate.”

To prove how much he was in earnest, he rang
his Bell, and ordered his Servants to shew him
out; on which he muttered somewhat between
his Teeth, and went away justly mortified, and
ready to hang himself for what he lost
by his egregious Folly.

Celemena, perfectly cured of her
Passion, and no otherwise troubled than ashamed
of having ever entertained one for a Person such
as he had now proved himself, soon resumed her
former Health and Vivacity; and was some time
after married to a Person of Condition, who knew
how to esteem her as he ought.

This Behaviour in Quaver I will allow to be
the highest Ingratitude, and am very certain there
are many such Examples of it in our Bargain-Makers
for Marriage, though all have not the same
Spirit and Resolution Celemena testified in resenting
it.

Thus have I attempted to obviate some of
those Errors in Judgment, concerning the Crime
of Ingratitude, which frequently mislead the
Mind; yet on the whole I must conclude as I began,gan, I2v 68
that there is no Possibility of tracing it in
all Circumstances and Cases.

That I may avoid the Imputation of being
guilty of it myself, I must not forget to acknowledge
the great Favour I have receiv’d from the
Public, by their Encouragement of these my
Monthly Lucubrations, and also for Distrario’s
Letter, which is just now come to Hand, and
which I assure him shall be inserted in the next
Female Spectator, with the Sentiments of our
Club on the Matter it contains.


End of the Seventh Book.

K1r


The
Female Spectator.


Book VIII.

Correspondents beginning
to thicken upon us, and every
one being desirous of somewhat by
way of Comment or Reply, due
Order must be observed as to inserting
and answering the Letters as they come to
Hand; we therefore hope those of a later Date
will not take it ill that we give the first Place to
that of Distrario, as having been first received.

“To the Female Spectator. Madam, The Justice you have done in recommending
Dramatick Performances, before
any other of the present more encourag’d
Diversions of the Town, renders your Monthly
Essays a proper Vehicle to convey the Groans K of K1v 70
of the Stage to the Ears of the Publick; nor
can those Gentlemen who unhappily have devoted
themselves to the Muses, find any Means
of making their Complaint with so much Probability
of Success, as through your nervous
and pathetick Strains.
Be not startled, I beseech you, at the Sight
of this long Epistle, nor imagine it is my Intention
to trouble you with any Animadversion
on the late or present Contests between the Patentees
and Players, the Town is already sufficiently
pester’d with Cases and Replies, and I
am afraid these idle Quarrels among themselves
will rather contribute to bring Acting in general
into Contempt, than be of any Service to
the Persons concern’d in them.
No, Madam, my Aim is to obviate the
more real Misfortunes of the Theatres, and
shew how the Drama is wounded through the
Sides of those by whom alone it can exist with
any Honour or Reputation.
There are two Reasons commonly assign’d
why the Nobility and better Sort of People
have of late Years very much withdrawn
that Encouragement they used to vouchsafe to
the Stage.—The first is, that the Parts in which
Wilks, Booth, Cibber senior, Oldfield, Porter,
and some others appear’d in with great Propriety,
are but ill supplied by their Successors;
but I cannot look on this as any real Objection, ‘because K2r 71
because it would be both cruel and unjust: Actors
cannot always retain the same Faculties any
more than other People, much less can they be
immortal: Besides, there are at this Time several
whose Merit ought not to be absorbed in the
Regard we pay to the memory of those who
went before them. And if even they are less
excellent, I do not perceive but the Audiences
are satisfied with their Endeavours to please us,
by imitating them as far as it lies in their
Power.――The second, were it founded on
Truth, would be of Weight indeed, and that is,
that there are now no Gentlemen of any Abilities
that will write for the Stage, and that the
Town is obliged to be content with seeing the
same Things over and over again for several
Seasons together, without any one new Subject
of Entertainment being exhibited. The latter
Part of this Objection is founded on too known
a Fact not to give some Credit to the former,
especially when propagated by those whose Interest
one would imagine it was to inculcate a
contrary Opinion; but this it is I take upon me
to confute, by displaying those latent Motives
which have occasioned a Report so injurious to
the present Age, that I wonder no-body has yet
taken the Pains to examine into it.
First, let us ask the Question whether
there are, or are not, any surviving Genius’s
truly qualified to write for the Stage?――I
believe no-body will answer in the Negative, because
nothing could be more easy than to prove the K2v 72
the contrary:—This being granted, let us ask
farther, whence it comes to pass that every one
should now despise an Avocation which was
once attended with considerable Profit, and so
much Reputation, that some of our greatest
Men have valued themselves more on their
Talents this way, than on their Coronets:――
Strange it seems, that the Name of a Dramatick
Poet should at present be so contemptible,
that no Person of real Abilities will chuse to be
distinguished by it!
Yet it is easily accounted for, if the tedious
Delays, the shocking Rebuffs, the numberless
Difficulties an Author is almost sure to meet
with in his Attempt to introduce any new
Thing on the Stage, were laid open and consider’d
as they ought.
A Person of Condition would make but an
odd Figure, if, after having taken Pains to
oblige the Town, and do Honour to the Stage,
he should be made to dance Attendance at the
Levee of an imperious Patentee for Days,
Weeks, nay Months together, and receive no
other Answers than that ‘he had not had Time to
look over his Play;—that he had mislaid it;――’

or perhaps affects to forget he ever saw it:――.
At last the Actors must be consulted, and it often
happens that those among them who are
least capable of judging, are called into the
Cabinet Council.――If any one of these happens
to dislike the Character he imagines will ‘be K3r 73
be allotted for him, then the whole Piece is
condemned; and at the Conclusion of the Season,
or it is possible at that of two or three succeeding
ones, the Author has it return’d, and is
told, ‘It is not Theatrical enough’, a Term invented
by this august Assembly, to conceal
their Inability of pointing out any real Faults,
and the Meaning of which can neither be defined
by themselves nor any body else.
But you will say, ‘Why should they behave
in this manner?――Is it not the Interest of
both Manager and Actors to receive a good Play,
which will be certain of putting Money in the
Pocket of the one, and securing the Payment of
the Salaries of the other.’
To which I answer, That it is doubtless their
their true Interest; but Avarice and Indolence
render many People blind to what is so:――
The Manager flatters himself, that if the Town
cannot have new Plays they will come to old
ones, and he shall thereby save the Profits of
the third Nights; and the Actors (those I mean
of them who are at what they call the Top of
the Business, for the others have no Influence)
having their Salaries fixed, think they have no
Occasion to take the Trouble of studying new
Parts, since they know they must be paid
equally the same without it.
These, Madam, are the false ill-judg’d
Maxims by which both Patentee and Company are K3v 74
are swayed to reject the most excellent Pieces
submitted to their Censure, and are the Motives
which deter, as far as it relates to them, an Author
from offering any thing to the Stage.
Yet while I condemn the little Inclination
those Gentlemen for the most Part testify to
oblige the Town, or give Encouragement to
the Poets, I must do them the Justice to say
that it has not been always owing to them that
so many improveing and delightful Entertainments
have been deprived of seeing the
Light. There is another more terrifick Cloud
from a superior Quarter hangs over the Author’s
Hopes, and threatens the Destruction of
his most sanguine Expectations.
I believe neither yourself, nor any of
your Readers will be at a Loss to understand I
mean the Licence-Office, at the Head of which
a great Person is placed who cannot be supposed
to have Leisure to inspect every one,
nor indeed any of the Pieces brought before
him; and there is much more than a bare Possibility
that his Deputies may either through
Weakness or Partiality err in their Judgment,
and give an unfair Report; nay, some go so
far as to imagine they are under a secret Compact
with the Managers of both Houses to reject
indiscriminately every Thing that comes,
except recommended by the higher Powers;
but this I am far from being able to lay to
their Charge, nor do indeed think either the one or L1r 75
or the other capable of entring into any such
Combination.
But to what, unless one of the foregoing
Reasons, can we impute forbidding the Tragedies
of Edwardand Eleonora, Gustavus Vasa,
and some other excellent Performances, founded
on the most interesting Parts of History, supported
by various Turns and surprizing Incidents,
and illustrated with all the Strength and
Beauty of Language, especially the former,
which for every thing that can render a Piece
improving and entertaining, finds itself not excelled
(I had almost said equall’d) by any Thing
either of the antient or modern Writers.――
Yet was this admirable Play, when just ready
to make its Appearance, forbad to be acted,
the longing Expectations of the Publick were
disappointed, and we had been totally deprived
of so elegant an Entertainment, did not, thank
Heaven, the Liberty of the Press still continue
in some measure with us.
Tho’ stript of all the Ornaments of Dress
and Action, it gives in the Reading a lasting
and undeniable Proof that it is neither Want of
Abilities, or an Indolence in exerting those Abilities,
but Permission to exhibit them in a proper
manner, that the Stage at present affords so
little Matter of Attraction.
But I will now come to the Point which
chiefly induced me to trouble the Female SpectatorL tator L1v 76
with this Letter; and having enumerated
the many Hardships Authors in general go
through in attempting to get their Plays acted,
I will proceed as briefly as the Circumstance
will admit, to lay before you those which myself
in particular has labour’d under.
I must inform you, Madam, that I have
wrote several Things which have not only been
well received by the Publick, but have also
been favoured with the Approbation of some
of our best Judges; and that it was no less owing
to their Encouragement than my own Ambition,
that I resolv’d to try the Force of my
Genius in the Dramatick Way, which, according
to one of the greatest of our English Poets, ‘――Is a bold PretenceTo Learning, Breeding, Wit and Eloquence.’
I ventured at it, notwithstanding;
and, undeter’d by Example, launch’d into that
Sea, on whose Rocks and Quicksands so many
much more skilful Pilots than myself had been
wrecked before my Eyes.
To confess the Truth, I was greatly embolden’d
by the Favour and Friendship of a Person
of Condition, a Courtier, and who I imagin’d
had Interest enough both with the Licenser
and Players to introduce whatever he should
recommend. But to return:—
As L2r 77 As my Genius inclin’d me chiefly to the
Sublime, my first Attempt was Tragedy.――
The Part of History I made Choice on, was
the famous Combat between Edward, surnamed
Ironside, King of England, and the great
Canute of Denmark.—There appear’d to me
so true a Magnanimity and paternal Affection
for his People in that heroick Prince, when, to
save the Effusion of their Blood, he set all his
own, as well as Kingdom at Stake, and fought
Hand to Hand with one who had no Equal
but himself in Strength and Courage, while
both Armies stood admiring Spectators only of
his wondrous Valour, that I thought a more
proper Subject could not have employed my
Pen.—I am not apt to be vain of my own
Performances, but the Friend abovemention’d
assured me I had done my Part as a Poet; but
withal said, he was sorry I had not pitched upon
some other Story;—that this would never do;
that it would be look’d upon as too romantick;
—that Customs were entirely chang’d since the
Days of Ironside;—that Kings were now too
sacred to hazard their Persons in that manner;
and concluded with advising me not to expose
it, as it would never pass the Office, and might
render me obnoxious.
This was a very great Mortification to me,
however I submitted to his Judgment, and
chang’d the Scene to the last Part of that glorious
Monarch’s Life, where himself and Kingdom
were betrayed and given up to Ruin, by L2 the L2v 78
the Treachery and Avarice of his first Minister
and Favourite, Edrick Duke of Mercia; but
alas! my Patron disapproved of this more
than the former, and told me, A first Minister,
especially an ill one, ought never to be represented
on the Stage; because seditious People
might take upon them to draw Parallels, thereby
lessening the Reverence due to those in Power.
I then took the Liberty of intreating he
would recommend some Part of History for me
to write upon; but he told me, as to that, he
had not Leisure to think of such Things; all
he could do was to advise me either to find out
or invent some agreeable Fable, where no King
or Prime Minister of any sort had any Business
to be introduced; and above all Things not to
lay the Scene in any of the independant Common-Wealths,
‘because,’ said he, ‘it may naturally
draw you into some Expressions that may savour
of Republicanism.’
Some Months I pass’d in considering what
he had said, and searching History in order to
find out, if possible, some Event, the Representation
of which might be liable to none of
these Objections; but the Thing was in itself
an utter Impossibility, and all my Endeavours
served only to convince me it was so.
My Ambition of acquiring the Name of a
Dramatick Author not being quelled by the
Disappointments I receiv’d, still flatter’d me with L3r 79
with better Success in the Comick Vein.—A
Whim, which I thought would be entertaining
enough, came into my Head, and I threw it
immediately into Scenes, which I afterwards
divided into five Acts, and gave the Piece the
Title of The Blunderers, from two odd Fellows
I had introduced, who were continually labouring
to do and undo, and made whatever was
bad still worse.
But, good Madam Spectator, how shall I
describe the Passion my Friend was in at seeing
this Title! ‘If I did not know,’ said he, ‘that you
were an honest Man, I should take you for the
most arrant Rascal in the World:—What is it
you mean by calling your Comedy the Blunderers?
Are you insensible that the Jacobites, and Enemies
to the Government, aspers’d the late Ministry
with the Name of Blunderers, and are they not beginning
to load the present with the same odious
Appellation?—I am surpriz’d a Poet can have
so thick a Head.’
Tho’ what he accused me of had never
before came in my Thoughts, I was now sensible
I had committed an Error, and having
confessed as much, told him, That the Title
need be no Objection to the Play itself, which
might with the same Propriety be called the
Bubbles
, there being several Characters in it
which might well deserve that Name.
This, instead of appeasing, as I expected ‘it L3v 80
it would have done, his Rage, more enflam’d it.
‘How,’ cried he, ‘then I perceive you are aiming
at Popularity:—You cannot be so ignorant
as not to know, by the Bubbles will be understood
the common People:――I will have no
more to say to you or your Productions.’
He left me in speaking these Words, nor
could I prevail on him to renew our former Familiarity
for a long Time; and I was so much
disquieted at the Thoughts of having so foolishly
forfeited the Interest I before had with him,
that I had no Capacity for writing any thing.—
At length, however, he was reconcil’d; I recover’d
his Esteem, and with it my Inclination
for the Drama, but told him, That the Mistakes
I had been guilty of had determin’d me
not to go upon my own Bottom till I had more
Experience, but would build on the Plan of
some old Author, whose Fable could no way
be brought into Comparison with the present
Transactions.
This he seeming to approve of, I mention’d
a Comedy wrote near a Century and a
half ago, by one Drawbridge Court Belchier, a
Gentleman it seems much applauded for his poetic
Works in the Age he lived: The Title of it
is, Hans Beer Pot, or the Invisible Comedy of see
me and see me not
; which I had no sooner repeated
than he cried out,—‘You must not think
of it;—it will be taken for a Reflection on the
Dutch, who, you know, tho’ they have of late ‘played L4r 81
played a little the Will o’ the Wisp with us,
are, notwithstanding, our good Friends and Allies,
and must not be affronted.’
I knock’d under, in token of yielding
myself in the wrong; and having read over a
great many old Comedies in order to find one
for my Purpose, I asked what he thought of a
Play of Middleton’s, called, A Mad World my
Masters
.—On which he shook his Head and
answer’d, ‘That may affect some Princes of Germany;
—I would not have you meddle with it.’
I then told him, that the Knight of the
burning Pestle
, wrote by Beaumont and Fletcher,
could not give Offence to any Party. ‘You are
deceived,’
said he, ‘who knows but it may with
some ignorant People bring the noblest Orders of
Knighthood into Contempt.’
‘Well then,’ resumed I, ‘the Isle of Gulls,
wrote by Mr. Day in the Reign of our Elizabeth
of immortal Memory, may surely be moderniz’d,
without incurring the Censure of any
Party.’
‘Fye, fye,’ replied he peevishly, ‘you are as
ill a Judge of other Men’s Productions as of
your own:――Such a Play would be look’d upon
as a most scandalous Libel.’
Quite impatient to hit on something out
of the Reach of Cavil, I proposed the Revival ‘of L4v 82
of Brenennoralt, or the Discontented Colonel, a
Play of Sir John Suckling’s; but that it seems
border’d too near on some late military Disgusts.
――. The Glass of Government, by Gascoigne,
might also be construed into an arrogant
Attempt to point out Defects which ought to
be concealed.――The Supposes, by the same
Author, might affront a certain great Man who
is thought to build all his Schemes on Supposition.
By the Hog has lost his Pearl, tho’ wrote
by Taylor in the Year 16111611, I should infallibly
be understood to insinuate a present Loss of
British Liberty.—Mr. Broom’s Play of the
Court Beggar would be a glaring Insult on
some of the chief Nobility round Whitehall,
and some other Places;—and the Court Secret,
by Shirley, was a Thing too delicate to be pry’d
into.—The Doubtful Heir, by the same Gentleman,
and the Fall of Tarquin by Hunt,
were equally rejected by this State Critic, tho’
without explaining his Reasons for doing so on
these two last.
Judge, Madam, how much I was vexed
and confounded at hearing Inuendoes, which
one could not have imagin’d should ever enter
into the Heart of Man; but as I was resolv’d
to try this pretended Friend to the utmost, I
told him, that since it was so impossible a Thing
either to write a new Tragedy or Comedy, or
to revive what had been wrote so many Ages
past without giving Offence, I would content
myself with modernizing an Interlude of more ‘than M1r 83
than two hundred Years old, compos’d by John
Heywood
, and intitled The four P’s. On this
he paused a little, but at last reply’d gravely,
‘That he could by no Means encourage me in any
such Attempt; for,’
said he, ‘by the four P’s may
be implied Prince, Power, Parliament and Pension,
――or perhaps, People, Poverty, Prison,
and Petition:――No, Sir, no,’
continued he,
‘avoid all such seditious Allegories I beseech you,
or we must be no longer acquainted.’
This put me beyond all Patience, and I
could not forbear answering with some Warmth,
that I found he endeavour’d to pick Meanings
where they were never intended. ‘If the four
P’s,’
said I, ‘contain any Allegory, why must it
needs be a seditious one?—Why may they not as
well be understood to mean Penitence, Pardon,
Peace, and Plenty;—or if that should seem a
little strain’d, in the present Age, may it not with
greater Propriety be turned on the coquet Part
of the fair Sex, and stand for Proud, Pretty,
Prating, and Playful?’
This Argument, tho’ certainly reasonable,
had no manner of Weight with him, any more
than some others I made use of for the same
Purpose; and only serv’d to convince myself
that there was no Possibility of writing any
thing but what might be liable to Censure from
those who made it their Business to find Matter
for it.
M ‘Thus, M1v 84 Thus, Madam, I have pointed out the Obstacles
which lye in the Way of a Dramatic
Author, and you will easily conceive the little
Probability there is that a Person of Fortune
will descend to that servile Dependance and Sollicitation
now requir’d for the Admission of his
Play; and a Poet, whose sole Support is his
Muse, is deterred from risquing on so precarious
a Hope that Time, which he is sure to be
largely paid for, if employed in the Service of
some Persons, not altogether convenient to
name.
Without some better Regulation therefore
on the Part of the Theatres, and some Abatement
of the present Severity on that of the Licenser,
the Town must despair of seeing any
new Thing exhibited, the Drama be entirely
neglected, and the Stage in a short Time become
a Desart.
Nothing can be more worthy the Pen
of a Female Spectator than to set this Affair in
a proper Light;—that good Nature you have
so amiably described, requires it of you in behalf
of distress’d Authors:—Justice demands
you should stand up in the Defence of an Institution
calculated for public Service;――and
Reason will, I doubt not, engage you to exert
yourself on so laudable an Occasion.
I am, Madam,
Very much your Admirer and
Most obedient humble Servant,
Distrario.

M2r 85

We were pretty much divided in our Opinions
on the first Perusal of this Letter; but at last
agreed, that tho’ the Complaints contained in it
might be, and it is highly probable are perfectly
just, yet Distrario may perhaps have taken the
Latitude allowed to Poets, and represented Things
somewhat higher than the Life.――We know
not how to think that either of the Patentees,
who are both of them Gentlemen of Families,
and doubtless have had an Education conformable
to their Birth, should be able to bring themselves
to treat, even the least meritorious of those who
endeavour to serve them and oblige the Town,
with that Haughtiness and Contempt he seems to
accuse them of. Good Manners is a Debt we
owe to ourselves as well as to others, and whoever
neglects to pay it forfeits all the Pretensions he
might otherwise have both to the Love and Respect
of the World. A civil Refusal takes off
the Asperity of the Disappointment, and is given
with the same Ease as a more rough and poignant
one: Sure therefore those who are at the Head of
an eternal Scene of Politeness, cannot so far vary
from what they have continually before their Eyes.
But as this is a Punctilio which regards only the
Persons of the Poets, who are very well able to
return in kind any Slights they may imagine put
upon them, and is of much less Consequence to
the Public than those their Productions meet
with, it were to be wish’d that some of the great
World would vouchsafe to interest themselves in
this Affair, and not leave it at the Option of those
who live by the Good Humour of the Town, to M2 deprive M2v 86
deprive the Town of any Entertainment it has a
Right to expect from them.

As therefore there is an Office to forbid the
Exhibition of such new Plays as by it are judg’d
to have any thing in them offensive or indecent,
it would not, methinks, be unbecoming the Wisdom
of the Legislature to erect one for the commanding
and enforcing such to be acted as on Perusal
are found proper to entertain a polite and virtuous
Audience.

Such an Office, under the Direction of Gentlemen
qualified to judge of Dramatic Performances,
would take away all Occasion of Complaint
from the Poets, and be a Motive to induce
many Gentlemen to write for the Stage, who, if
it be as Distrario says, are now deterred from it.

Besides, to prevent the Shock an Author
feels in having his Piece rejected, as well as all
Jealousies of Partiality in the Affair, every one
might send his Play without ever being known
from what Hand it came, till it had been approved
and was ordered to be acted.

’Tis certain, that according to the Opinion
we have of the Man, we are greatly prejudic’d
in Favour or Dislike of his Work; yet this is in
truth a Piece of Injustice which we ought not
to indulge ourselves in.――It is possible to excel
in one kind of Writing, yet be very bad in
another:—Few there are, if any, whose Talents are M3r 87
are universal.—Mr. Pope, whose poetical Works
will always be read with an equal Share of Pleasure
and Admiration, had, notwithstanding, no
Genius to Dramatic Writing; and Mr. Rymer,
that awful Critic on the Productions of his Contemporaries,
that great Pretender to a Reformation
of the Stage, by attempting to give a Proof
what Plays ought to be, has only shewn how little
he was qualified to write one: This, I believe,
will be allowed by every one who has read his
Edgar, a Piece which, after all his long Labour,
can but at best be called correctly dull, since the
two chief Beauties of Tragedy, Pity and Surprize,
are entirely wanting in it. Yet doubtless
the Town were in high Expectations of something
wonderful from a Pen which had been so
severe on the Performances of others.

I therefore cannot help smiling within
myself, when on the first Talk of a new Play
being in Rehearsal, the Name of the Author is
presently enquir’d into, and a strict Scrutiny made
into the Merit of his former Works; and if he
has wrote any thing, tho’ never so foreign to the
Stage, that has had the good Fortune to succeed,
People cry out,――“Oh, if it is his, it must be
good!”
and following this Conclusion, run the
first Night to give an Applause to that which
perhaps, after they have seen and well considered,
they are ashamed of having ever countenanc’d.

Nor am I less concern’d, and even shock’d,
when I hear with what Contempt the Performancemance M3v 88
of a young Author, who is in a manner
but clambering up the Hill of Fame, is treated
by some who speak of it;—how they throw
aside his Tickets, and cry,――“What obscure
Fellow is this?――What Stuff does he invite us
to?—”
and either not go to his Play at all, or go
with a Prepossession which will not suffer them to
give it a fair Hearing.

This is a Piece of Cruelty in some who
would be thought good Judges, yet are entirely
governed by Prejudice; and I have known has
been practised long before those new Hardships
which Distrario complains of were ever heard of.

Such an Office, therefore, as I have mentioned,
where Plays should be candidly examined,
without any Regard to the Merits of their Authors
in other Respects, or even knowing who
they were, would remedy all these Inconveniencies
to the Poets, and also be a Means of obliging
the Town with three or four at least new
Pieces every Season at each Theatre.

As to the Power of forbidding Plays to be
acted, now lodg’d in the Licenser, it must be
granted, that in an Age so dissolute as this, there
ought to be some Restraint on the Latitude Poets
might otherwise take, and some whom I could
name have taken, in Expectation of crowded Audiences
of the looser Part of both Sexes; but then
methinks this Restriction should have its Bounds.
—Whatever is offensive to the Majesty of Heaven,ven, M4r 89
or of its Vicegerents on Earth, would be
indeed very unfit Subjects to be exhibited on a
Stage; but to reject a valuable Play for the sake
of such strain’d Inuendoes as the Friend of Distrario
suggested, seems to overthrow that decent
Liberty which in all Ages, and in all free Nations,
has ever been allowed.

The Stage by its Institution is the School of
Virtue, and the Scourge of Vice; and when either
of these noble purposes is defeated, it is no wonder
that Persons of true Sense and Honour chuse
to absent themselves, and oblige their Families to
do so too.

The Tragedies of Edwardand Eleonora,
Gustavus Vasa, Arminius, and some others forbidden
by this Office from being acted, have
dared the Test of Examination by appearing
in Print; and I never yet found any one Person
who could penetrate into the Motives which
denied us the Pleasure of seeing them represented.

If the true Amor Patriæ be a Virtue these
Times are not ashamed of, how must every Breast
glow with the noble Ardour at the illustrious
Example of Gustavus Vasa, and his brave Dalecarlians?
――If the Desire of attaining Glory
and Renown for worthy Actions be a Principle
which ought to be inculcated in the Young, and
cherished in the Old, Arminius affords Lessons for
the laudable Ambition?—And if Courage in Distress,
Resignation to Heaven, Faith, Love, Piety and M4v 90
and Zeal, and every Virtue that can illustrate the
Character of a Christian Hero be deserving our
Regard, where can we find a greater Instance
than in our gallant Edward?

The Ladies above all have Reason to regret
the ill Treatment of this excellent Performance,
since none was ever wrote could do greater Honour
to the Sex.—The amiable Eleonora is a
Character which I believe no other History can
parallel, and her Behaviour a shining Proof that
Greatness of Mind, Fortitude, Constancy, and all
those Perfections which constitute a true Magnanimity,
are not confined to the Male Gender.

It was however thought proper to suppress
these Plays, and many others, as far as the Power
of the Licenser extended, and it is not our Province
to examine into his Reasons for so doing;
but may allow, with Distrario, that when such as
these were not permitted, it is very difficult for an
Author to find or invent any Story which may
not be liable to some Objection, and suffer the
same Fate.

If the Eye could be satisfied with seeing, or
the Ear with hearing always the same Things
over and over repeated, it must be own’d there
are many old Plays which the best of our modern
Poets would not perhaps be able to excel; but
Nature delights in Variety, and tho’ it would be
unjust and ungrateful to strip the Laurels from
the Brows of Shakespear, Johnson, Beaumont and Fletcher, N1r 91
Fletcher, Dryden, Otway, Lee, Congreve, and several
other deservedly admired Authors, to adorn
those who shall succeed them, yet we love to see
a Genius the Growth of our own Times, and
might find sufficient Trophies for the Merits of
such, without any Injury to their Predecessors.

Those most impatient for new Plays desire
not, however, that those which for so many Years
have continued to divert and please, should now
be sunk and buried in Oblivion.――The Poets
I have mention’d will always preserve the same
Charms, and would do so yet more were they
less frequently exhibited.――Some of Shakespear’s
Comedies, and all his Tragedies have
Beauties in them almost inimitable; but then it
must be confessed, that he sometimes gave a Loose
to the Luxriancy of his Fancy; so that his Plays
may be compared to fine Gardens full of the
most beantiful Flowers, but choaked up with
Weeds through the too great Richness of the
Soil: Those therefore which have had those
Weeds pluck’d up by the skilful Hands of his
Successors, are much the most elegant Entertainments.

For which Reason I was a little surprized
when I heard that Mr. Cibber, junior, had reviv’d
the Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet as it was
first acted; Cajus Marius being the same Play,
only moderniz’d and clear’d of some Part of its
Rubbish by Otway, appearing to so much more
Advantage, that it is not to be doubted but that N the N1v 92
the admirable Author, had he lived to see the
Alteration, would have been highly thankful and
satisfied with it.

It were indeed to be wished that the same
kind Corrector had been somewhat more severe,
and lop’d off not only some superfluous Scenes,
but whole Characters, which rather serve to diminish
than add to the Piece, particularly those of
the Nurse and Sulpitius, neither of them being
in the least conducive to the Conduct of the Fable,
and all they say savouring more of Comedy
than Tragedy.—It is, methinks, inconsistent
with the Character of a Roman Senator and Patrician,
to suffer himself to be entertained for half
an Hour together with such idle Chat as would
scarcely pass among old Women in a Nursery:
Nor does the wild Behaviour and loose Discourse
of Sulpitius at all agree with the Austerity of the
Times he is supposed to live in, or any way improve
the Morals of an Audience. The Description
also of the Apothecary, tho’ truly poetical,
and his meagre Appearance, always occasion a
loud Laugh, and but ill dispose us to taste the Solemnity
of the ensuing Scene.

Mr. Otway was doubtless fearful of going
too far, or he had removed every thing which
prevents this Piece from being perfect.――It
must be own’d he has improved and heightened
every Beauty that could receive Addition, and
been extremely tender in preserving all those entire
which are above the reach of Amendment. Nor N2r 93
Nor is his Judgment in this particular less to be
admired than his Candour.――Some Poets,
perhaps, to shew their own Abilities, would have
put a long Soliloquy into the Mouth of young
Marius, when he finds Lavinia at her Window
at a Time of Night when it was but just possible
for him to distinguish it was she; whereas this
judicious Emendator leaves his Author here as he
found him; and indeed what could so emphatically
express the Feel of a Lover on such an Occasion
as is couch’d in this short Acclamation: “――Oh ’tis my Love!See how she hangs upon the Cheek of NightLike a rich Jewel in an Ethiop’s Ear.”

Nor is the Tenderness and Innocence of Lavinia
less conveyed to us, when in the Fulness of
her Heart, and unsuspecting she was overheard
by any body, she cries out, “Oh Marius! Marius! wherefore art thou Marius?Renounce thy Family, deny thy Name,And in Exchange take all Lavinia.”

I mention these two Places merely because
they strike my own Fancy in a peculiar manner,
for the whole Piece abounds with others equally
strong, natural, and pathetic, and is, in my Opinion,
and that of many others, the very best and
most agreeable of all the Tragedies of that excellent
Author.

N2 John- N2v 94

Johnson’s Comedies, tho’ they have
less of Fire and Fancy than most of those of the
foregoing Author, yet are infinitely more correct,
therefore stand in need of little other Alteration
than what the Omission of some Scenes, which
render them too long for Performance, must necessarily
occasion, and which is the Fault of most
of those who wrote in former Ages.

Beaumont and Fletcher have left us
many excellent Plays; those of them which are
moderniz’d afford us very agreeable Matter of
Entertainment, and there are many others which
would be no less pleasing, if revived with a very
few Alterations.

Several also of Shirley, Broom, Masseinger,
and other antient Poets, under the Care of a skilful
Hand, might come in for their Share of Applause.
But I must still agree with Distrario, that
in Complaisance to the past, the Stage ought not
to be shut up from the present; ――that living
Genius’s should at least be admitted to a Probation,
and that our immediate Descendants should
not have it in their Power to accuse us of a Partiality
our Ancestors were not guilty of.

But I am very much afraid the Apprehensions
Distrario labours under on this Head are
too justly founded, and that the Person whom he
consulted on the Choice of his Fable, spoke no
more than the Sentiments of those in a superior
Class; and if this should happen to be the Case, it N3r 95
it will be in vain for us to hope for any new Performance
in the Dramatic Way that will be worth
our seeing.

It seems, however, extremely strange that it
should be a Crime to represent on the Stage those
Transactions which are in History, and everybody
has the Privilege of reading and commenting
on in any other kind of Writing.

But it may be thought impertinent by some,
and too arrogant by others, in me to pretend to
argue on a Matter equally impossible to account
for
as to remedy; I shall therefore forbear any
farther Discourse upon it, and proceed to the next
Letter on the Table.

“To the Female Spectator. Madam, As I look upon you to be a Person who
knows the World perfectly well, and has
the Happiness of your own Sex very much at
Heart, I wonder you have never yet thought
fit to throw out some Admonitions concerning
the immoderate Use of Tea; which however
innocent it may seem to those that practise it, is
a kind of Debauchery no less expensive, and
perhaps even more pernicious in its Consequences,
than those which the Men, who are
not professed Rakes, are generally accused of.
This, N3v 96 This, at first Sight, may be looked upon as
too bold an Assertion, but, on a nearer Examination,
I am perswaded will be found no more
than reasonable, and will undertake to prove
that the Tea-Table, as manag’d in some Families,
costs more to support than would maintain
two Children at Nurse.—Yet is this by much
the least Part of the Evil;—it is the utter Destruction
of all OEconomy,—the Bane of good
Housewifry,—and the Source of Idleness, by
engrossing those Hours which ought to be employed
in an honest and prudent Endeavour to
add to, or preserve what Fortune, or former Industry
has bestowed.――Were the Folly of
wasting Time and Money in this manner confined
only to the Great, who have enough of
both to spare, it would not so much call for
public Reproof; but all Degrees of Women
are infected with it, and a Wife now looks upon
her Tea-Chest, Table, and its Implements, to
be as much her Right by Marriage as her Wedding-Ring.
Tho’ you cannot, Madam, be insensible
that the trading Part of the Nation must suffer
greatly on this score, especially those who keep
Shops, I beg you will give me Leave to mention
some few Particulars of the Hardships we
Husbands of that Class are obliged to bear.
The first Thing the too genteel Wife does
after opening her Eyes in the Morning, is to
ring the Bell for her Maid, and ask if the TeaKettleKettle N4r 97
boils.—If any Accident has happened
to delay this important Affair, the House is
sure to eccho with Reproaches; but if there is
no Disappointment in the Case, the Petticoats
and Bed-Gown are hastily thrown over the
Shoulders, Madam repairs to her easy Chair,
sits down before her Table in Querpo with all
her Equipage about her, and sips, and pauses,
and then sips again, while the Maid attends assiduous
to replenish, as often as call’d for, the
drain’d Vehicle of that precious Liquor.
An Hour is the least can be allowed to
Breakfast, after which the Maid carries all the
Utensils down to the Kitchen, and sits down
to the Remains of the Tea (or it is probable
some fresh she has found Opportunity to purloin)
with the same State as her Mistress, takes
as much Time, and would think herself highly
injur’d should any one call her away, or attempt
to interrupt her in it: So that, between
both, the whole Morning is elapsed, and it is as
much as the poor Husband can do to get a Bit
of Dinner ready by two or three o’Clock.
Dinner above and below is no sooner
over, than the Tea-Table must be again set
forth:—Some friendly Neighbour comes in to
chat away an Hour:—Two are no Company,
and the Maid being very busy in cutting Bread
and Butter, one ’Prentice is called out of the
Shop to run this Way and fetch Mrs. Such-a-
one, and another that Way to fetch Mrs. Such- ‘a-one, N4v 98
a-one, so that the Husband must be his own
Man, and if two Customers chance to come at
the same Time, he frequently loses one for want
of Hands to serve them.
It often happens, that when the Tea-drinking
Company have almost finished their Regale,
and the Table is going to be removed, a
fresh Visitor arrives, who must have fresh Tea
made for her; after her another, who is always
treated with the same Compliment; a third,
perhaps a fourth, or more, till the Room is
quite full, and the Entertainment prolonged a
considerable Time after the Candles are lighted,
when the Days are of a moderate Length.
This is sufficient to shew the Loss of Time
both as to the Mistress and Servants, and how
much the Regularity of the Tea-Table occasions
a Want of Regularity in every Thing beside;
but, Madam, there is yet another, and
more mischievous Effect attends the Drinking
too much of this Indian Herb.
What I mean is too notorious a Fact not
to be easily guessed at; but lest it should be
misconstrued by any of your Readers, I shall
venture to explain it.
Tea, whether of the Green or Bohea kind,
when taken to Excess, occasions a Dejection of
Spirits and Flatulency, which lays the Drinkers
of it under a kind of Necessity of having recoursecourse O1r 99
to more animating Liquors.――The
most temperate and sober of the Sex find themselves
obliged to drink Wine pretty freely after
it: None of them now-a-days pretend to entertain
with the one without the other; and the
Bottle and Glass are as sure an Appendix to
the Tea-Table as the Slop-Bason.
Happy are those who can content themselves
with a Refreshment, which, tho’ not to
be had in any Perfection in England, is yet infinitely
less destructive to the human System
than some others too frequently substituted in its
Place, when it is found too weak to answer the
End proposed by taking it.
Brandy, Rum, and other Spirituous Liquors,
being of a more exhillearating Nature, at
least for the present, are become a usual Supplement
to Tea, and, I am sorry to say, by their
frequent Use grow so familiar to the Palate,
that their intoxicating Qualities are no longer
formidable, and the Vapours, Cholic, a bad Digestion,
or some other Complaint, serves as an
Excuse for drinking them in a more plentiful
degree, than the best Constitution can for any
length of Time support.
Hence ensue innumerable Maladies, Doctor’s
Fees, Apothecary’s Bills, Bath, Tunbridge,
the Spa, and all that can destroy the wretched
Husband’s Peace, or impoverish him in his
Fortune.
O ‘The O1v 100 The more is his Affection for a Wife who
takes so little Care of his Interest and Happiness,
and of her own Health and Reputation, the
more will his Affliction be; and the less will she
be able to forgive herself, when brought by a
too late and sad Experience to a right way of
Thinking.
That you will therefore use your Endeavours
that so great an Enemy to the Felicity
of the meaner sort of People may be banished
from their Houses, is the unanimous Desire of
all Husbands, and most humbly petition’d for
by him who is,
With the greatest Admiration of your Writings,
Madam,
Your most humble, and
Most obedient Servant,
John Careful.

I dare say one Half of my Readers will expect
me to be very angry at this Declamation
against an Amusement my Sex are generally so
fond of; but it is the firm Resolution of our
Club to maintain strict Impartiality in these Lucubrations;
and were any of us ever so deeply
affected by the Satire, (which thank Heaven we
are not) we should, notwithstanding, allow it to
be just.

There cannot certainly be a Subject more
tickling to the Spleen of the Ill-natur’d, or afford more O2r 101
more Matter of Concern to the Gentle and Compassionate,
than the Affectation of some Tradesmen’s
Wives in the Article Mr. Careful complains
of; and, it must be own’d, he has done it
in so Picturesque a manner, that it is impossible
to read him without imagining one sees the ridiculous
Behaviour he describes.

No Woman, who is conscious of being guilty
of it, can, in my Opinion, behold herself thus
delineated without a Confusion, which must occasion
a thorough Reformation.

Tea is, however, in itself a very harmless Herb,
and an Infusion of it in boiling Water agrees with
most Constitutions, when taken moderately; but
then, it must be confess’d, we have Plants of our
own Growth no less pleasing to the Palate, and
more effectual for all the Purposes which furnish
an Excuse for the Afternoon’s Regale.

This is a Truth allowed by all, even by
those from whom we purchase Tea at so dear a
Rate; but alas! the Passion we have for Exotics
discovers itself but in too many Instances, and we
neglect the Use of what we have within ourselves
for the same Reason as some Men do their Wives,
only because they are their own.

The three Objections which Mr. Careful
makes, or indeed that any body can make against
the Tea-Table, are First, The Loss of Time
and Hindrance to Business;――Secondly, The O2 Expence; O2v 102
Expence;――and, Lastly, The Consequences, often
arising from it, Dram-drinking and Ill-health.

To the first it may be answered, that were
Tea to be entirely banished, and Baum, Sage,
Mint, or any other English Herb substituted in
its Place, and used in the same manner, the Effect
would be the same as to that Point, because the
one would engross the Hours as well as the other.
――Nor does the second carry any great Weight,
the Expence of Tea itself, exclusive of those
other Apurtenances, which would be equally necessary
with any other Herb is an Indulgence, which,
where there is any thing of a Competency,
might be allowed the Wife without Prejudice to
the Circumstances of her Husband.――But the
third is not so easily got over: This is what indeed
renders the Use of Indian Tea, above all
other, pernicious. None, I believe, that drink it
constantly twice a Day, but have experienced the
ill Effects it has on the Constitution:—They
feel a sinking of the Heart, a kind of inward
Horror, which is no ways to be removed but by
that dangerous Remedy Mr. Careful mentions,
and which, in Time, proves worse than the Disease
itself.

It is therefore to be wished, that People of all
Ranks would endeavour to wean themselves from
it; and I have the more room to hope it will be
so, because Persons of Quality, whose Example
made it first the Mode, begin every Day to take
less and less Pleasure in the Tea-Table.—As it gain’d O3r 103
gain’d not, however, Estimation all at once, we
cannot expect it should entirely lose its Credit all
at once; and those who suffer by the Use of it,
may comfort themselves in the Assurance my
spectatorial Observation gives them, that it is already
very much declined.

I cannot conclude this Subject without repeating
what was said to me some Years ago by
a certain Lady with whom I was intimately acquainted:
—She was one of the greatest Devotees
to the Tea-Table I ever knew:—Bohea and
Bread and Butter was her chief Sustenance, and
the Society of those who loved it as well as she
did, her only Amusement.—An Accident, not
material to mention, separated us for a considerable
Time; but on the first Visit I made her afterward,
was very much surpriz’d to find she had
left off Bohea, and would drink only Green,
which I thought more prejudicial to her Constitution
than the other, she being extremely lean,
and inclining to a Consumption.—Having expressed
my Sentiments to her on this Head, “I am
sensible,”
replied she, “that it is very bad for me:—
I have had continual Pains in my Stomach ever
since I drank it, and cannot enjoy one Hour’s sound
Sleep in a whole Night:――Yet what can I do?
――I had rather endure all this than have my
Brain disordered, and I assure you, if I had continued
the Use of Bohea but a very little longer, I
should have been mad.”

These Words, delivered in the most grave and O3v 104
and solemn Accents, made me not only then, but
ever since, as often as I think on them, smile
within myself at the Infatuation of making the
drinking Tea of some kind or other of such Importance,
that there is no such thing as quitting
it, and to chuse that sort which will do us the
least Mischief, is all we have to consider.

As these Monthly Essays are published with a
View of improving the Morals, not complimenting
the Frailties of my Sex, those who remember
that Excesses in all Things are blameable, will not
think what I have said too severe.

In fine, nothing ought to be indulged till it
becomes so far habitual, that we cannot leave it off
without Difficulty, when we find it any way prejudicial
or inconvenient.

The Snuff-Box and Smelling-Bottle are pretty
Trinkets in a Lady’s Pocket, and are frequently
necessary to supply a Pause in Conversation, and on
some other Occasions; but whatever Virtues they
are possess’d of, they are all lost by a too constant
and familiar Use, and nothing can be more pernicious
to the Brain, or render one more ridiculous
in Company, than to have either of them perpetually
in one’s Hand.

I know a Lady who never sits down to Dinner
without her Snuff-Box by her Plate, and another
that cannot sleep without her Bottle of Sal
Volatile
under her Pillow;—but I shall reserve expatiat- O4r 105
expatiating on the Folly and Misfortune of this
Bigotry of Custom till some other Time, lest the
fair Author of the following Letter should think
herself neglected.

“To the Female Spectator. Dear Female Sage, Ihave a vast Opinion of your Wit;
and you may be convinced of it by my
asking your Advice;—a Compliment, I assure
you, I never paid to my own Mother, or any
Soul besides yourself.—You must know that,
among about half an hundred who make their
Addresses to me, there are three who flatter
themselves with Hopes of Success; and indeed
with some Reason, for I have given to each of
them all the Encouragement could be expected
from a Woman of Honour:—But I will give
you their Characters, and the different Sentiments
they have inspired me with, that you
may be the better able to judge which of them
I ought to make Choice of for a Partner for
Life.
The first is a tall graceful Man, of an honourable
Family, has a large Estate, and offers
me a Jointure beyond what my Fortune, tho’ it
is very considerable, could demand: He is besides
addicted to no kind of Vice, and has the
Reputation of a more than common Understanding;
but, with all these good Qualities, ‘there O4r 106
there is somewhat in him that displeases me:—
He ought, methinks, whenever we are alone
together, to entertain me with nothing but his
Passion; but, instead of that, he often talks to
me on Subjects which he may easily perceive
are not agreeable to my Humour, and are indeed
too serious to suit with the Years of either
of us, he being no more than three and twenty,
and I but seventeen.—We were a Week ago
to visit a Relation of mine whose House has a
Prospect of the Sea, and happening to look out
of one of the Windows while we waited for
my Cousin’s coming down, how do you think
he diverted me? Why with some grave Reflections
on that uncertain Element,――the unhappy
Fate of brave Admiral Balchen,—and
the Loss the Navy and whole Nation had of
him;—as if I had anything to do with the
Admiral, the Navy, or the Nation: Would it
not have better become him, since he must
needs talk of the Sea, to have compared me to
the Venus rising out of it, or to the charming
Hero, for whose sake Leander swam the Hellespont!
I could give you a thousand such odd
Instances of his Behaviour; and tho’ I am convinced
that he loves me, because he has rejected
several Proposals of more advantagious Matches
in the precarious Hopes of obtaining me, yet he
is such a strange Creature that he never once told
me that he could not live without me, or swore,
that if he could not have me, he would have ‘nobody P1r 107
nobody.—But I have said enough about him,
and will now go on to the second.
He is what you may call a Lover indeed
――He follows me wherever I go:—My
Shadow, or the Dial to the Sun, is not more
constant:—Then he is sure to approve of all
I say and do; and I frequently both act and
speak what my own Reason tells me is absurd,
merely to try how he will relish it:—But the
poor Creature seems to have no Will but mine,
and on my Conscience I believe, were I to bid
him cut off his right Hand, he would not hesitate
to obey me.—When I but smile upon
him, he is all Extasy; and if I frown, his
Countenance becomes so meagre, that you
would think he had been sick a Week.――I
have been two or three times about to give him
his final Answer, but was obliged to retract my
Words to prevent his running himself through
the Body.—In short, the Passion the Man has for
me makes him quite silly, and the greatest Objection
I have against marrying him, is, that his
excessive Fondness would render us the Jest of
our Acquaintance.—As to the rest, he has a
very good Estate, a Person agreeable enough,
a fine gilt Berlin, and the most beautiful String
of Horses, except his Majesty’s, that ever I saw
in my Life.
The third is gay, witty, genteel, handsome
as an Angel, and dresses to a charm:—He is
intimate with all the great World, knows all Vol. II. P their P1v 108
their Intrigues, and relates them in the most
agreeable manner:—Then he has a delightful
Voice, a tolerable Skill in Music, and has all
the new Tunes the Moment they come from
the Composer.――In fine, there is no one
Perfection we Women admire in the Sex, that
he does not possess in an infinite Degree.—We
never are in the Mall, at the Play, Opera, Assembly,
or any public Place, but all Eyes are
fixed upon him, and then turned on me with a
kind of malicious Leer, for engrossing so pretty
a Fellow to myself.—Such a Lover, you will
own, might be flattering enough to the Vanity
of any Woman; and I cannot say but it highly
diverts and pleases me, to observe the little Artifices
some, even among my own Acquaintance,
put in Practice in hopes of gaining him from
me.
But yet in spite of all these engaging Qualities
in him, in spite of the Gratification it
gives my Pride to see myself triumphant over
all who wish to be my Rivals, my Reason tells
me he deserves less of my Affection than either
of those I have been describing, not only because
his Estate is less, but because he seems to
make too great a Merit of preferring me to the
rest of my Sex:—He is always telling me of
the great Offers daily made to him;—of the
Invitations given him by one celebrated Beauty,
and the kind Glances he receives from another;
and tho’ he always closes these Speeches with
vowing it is not in the Power of any Thing to come P2r 109
come in Competition with me, yet he seems,
on the whole, to take more Pains to convince
me how much he is beloved, than how much he
loves; and this makes me conclude him to be
what the World calls ‘a Man too full of himself.’
This is as exact a Picture as I can give you
of my three Lovers, and I do not doubt but
you are impatient to know which of them it is
my Heart is most inclined to favour.—I will
tell you then, with the utmost Sincerity, that
they have all their Places, and I am, as it were,
divided among them.—The first has my Esteem,
—the second my Pity,—and the third
my Love:—But yet I have not so much Esteem
for the first, as should occasion me to despise
either of the others I should make Choice
of; not so much Pity to the second, as to engage
me to allow any Favours prejudicial to
whoever should be my Husband; nor so much
Love for the last, as not to be able to withdraw
it, if once I bestow my Person on a different
Object.
As I am entirely at my own Disposal, I
would fain make such a Choice as should be
approved on by the World, and afford the
greatest Prospect of Happiness to myself.—
You being a Person who can be no way prejudiced
in favour of any Pretenders to me, are
best capable of advising me in so important an P2 ‘Affair, P2v 110
Affair, and, I flatter myself, will take the Trouble
of giving me such Reasons for whatever
Part you take, as will determine me to be
wholly guided by your Opinion, and enable me
to put an End to the long Suspence the abovemention’d
Gentlemen have languished in, as
well as the fluctuating Condition of my own
Mind.
A speedy and cordial Compliance with
this Request, will lay under the greatest Obligation
her who is,
Dear Creature,
Your constant Reader,
And humble Servant,
Bellamonte.. ”

There is no Stage nor Rank in Life, that
is not attended with some Portion of Disquiet of
one kind or other, and I do not doubt but this
young Lady feels little less in the Uncertainty
which of her Lovers it will best become her to
make Choice of, than the most passionate of them
does in the Fears of being rejected. However,
if she is really as ready to take Advice as the Female
Spectator
is to give it, the best in our Power
shall be done to set her right.

It must be confessed she is no less just than
discerning in dividing the present Affections of
her Soul.――The first of her Admirers demands
all the Esteem she can bestow.—The second,cond, P3r 111
if sincere, is indeed a pity-moving Character.
—And the fine Person and Accomplishments
of the third, if really such as she imagines them
to be, may claim some Share of Inclination. But
as all these favourable Sentiments must at last center
in one, and Esteem, Pity, and Admiration
blend to compose a perfect Tenderness, it would
be well for her to consider that the two last of
themselves, without more solid Merits to attract
the former, can form but a short-liv’d and unsubstantial
Passion.—Love is not deserving to be
called Love, when not accompanied by Friendship,
and Friendship can only be founded on
Esteem.—He therefore who is found worthy of
that, has a just Title to the other also, if no Disparity
of Age, Birth, Fortune, or a disagreeable
Form, forbids the soft Impulse, and forces Nature
to oppose Reason.

By this, I dare say, Bellamonte expects I will
decree for her first Lover, as she acknowledges
none of the Impediments I have mentioned can
be alledged against him; and if her extreme
Youth will permit her to think with that Seriousness
the Matter requires, I am sure she has a sufficient
Fund of good Sense to know that Things
are not always what they seem.—A very little
Observation will serve to inform her that the most
dying Lover is frequently far removed from the
most affectionate Husband; and also, that a Man
who values himself upon his personal Excellencies,
has often been too careless of his mental
Part, to be convinced within himself that Admirationration P3v 112
ought only to be the Reward of acquir’d
Virtues
, not of such casual Perfections as a handsome
Face, well-turn’d Limbs, or an agreeable
Voice, which a thousand Accidents may deprive
him of, and consequently convert the Love he so
much plumes himself upon, into an adequate
Contempt.

If her first-mention’d Lover does not on
every Occasion fall into Despair, and threaten to
lay violent Hands on his own Life, as the second
does, it shews he has less of the Froth of Love,
but does not denote he is not more full of the
permanent and valuable Part; on the contrary, his
Passion evaporates not in Words:—The Spirit
remains entire within his Breast, and it is scarce
to be doubted will last as long as Life.

But because she seems to have an equal Share
of Good-Nature as of Wit, I would have her be
under no Apprehensions that any thing fatal will
ensue on her refusing the second Lover; the
Deaths threatened by a Man of his Cast, are as
fictitious as the Darts and Flames of his pretended
Deity; and we often see those of them
who prosecute their Aim with the greatest Vigour,
bear a Disappointment with the most Indifference.
Much less would I have her imagine,
that in preferring him to the others, she should be
certain of retaining the same Power over his Will
and Actions after Marriage as he now flatters her
with.――Many Women have been deceived by
this Shew of Obsequiousness in those who have afterward P4r 113
afterward become their Tyrants, not remembering
what the Poets says: “The humblest Lover, when he lowest lies,But kneels to conquer, and but falls to rise,”

But as mere Pity and Compassion is all our
Bellamonte bestows on this whining Strephon, I
am under no great Concern for her on his Account:
He may whistle out his Lamentations to
the Fields and Groves, or what is every whit as
likely, if not much more so, carry them to the
Feet of some less obdurate Fair, without her
breaking her Peace for his Relief.――I wish I
could say the handsome, talking, rattling, singing
Gentleman had no more Danger in him.――
The Heart is a busy, fluttering, impudent Thing:
It will not lye still when one bids it, nor are its
Dictates to be silenced by Reason, or guided
by the Head; and if the Beau by his Dress, Address,
or any other Charm, has got an Entrance
there, I am very much afraid poor Esteem will
come off a Loser in spite of all can be urged by
the Female Spectator.

I therefore sincerely wish it may be as
she says;—that the Inclination she confesses for
him may not have been so firmly establish’d, but
that she may be able easily to withdraw it; for to
deal freely with her, there is no one Part of his
Character which seems to promise her any lasting
Happiness.

However, P4v 114

However, the better to enable her to gain
this Conquest over herself, I will give her some
small Sketches of those Scenes which I may venture
to affirm there is more than a Probability she
must make an Actor in, after prevailed upon to
enter into a Marriage with this modern Narcissus.

A week or ten Days passed over, for no
more will I allow to the Douceurs of such a Union,
the Bridegroom rises, says “Good Morrow,
Madam”
, perhaps bestows a faint Kiss, repairs to
his Dressing Room, passes the whole Morning at
his Toilet, then throws himself into his Chariot,
goes to the Mall, imagines every fine Woman
regrets his being married, and puts on all her
Charms to supplant his Bride in his Affection:—
Returns Home about three;—walks backward
and forward in the Room humming over some
dull Tune, and viewing himself in the Glass every
Turn he takes.――Bellamonte looks on him all
this while with wishing Eyes, says a thousand
tender Things;—He still sings on, makes no Answer.
—Dinner is served up:—She offers to help
him, he coldly thanks her; and tho’ she begins
ever so many Subjects for Conversation, he enters
into none, nor interrupts his Meal with any thing
farther than an “Aye, Madam,” or a “No, Madam”:—
If, by Chance, he says a civil Thing, the Sound
discovers it to be forced from him rather by the
Laws of good Breeding, than those of Love,
and he looks another Way all the time he speaks.
—She has too much Penetration not to discover Q1r 115
the Change:—She weeps in secret, and her inward
Griefs at length break forth in gentle Reproaches:
This he thinks unreasonable, and replies
to with as much Peevishness as he dare, for
fear of distorting the Muscles of his Face; but
she is sure to meet, as often as she seems dissatisfied
with his Behaviour, this or the like Rebuff:
“—Gad, Madam, you are the most ungrateful Woman
in the World:—You ought to be highly contented
that I made you my Wife, in prejudice to so
many fine young Creatures, who, it is well known,
were dying for me.”

This is all her Resentment will be able to effect;
and if she endeavours to work by Fondness
on his Indifference, tells him she is never happy
but in his Company, and begs him to take a little
Tour with her among their Relations and Friends,
or to pass an Evening with her at some public
Place or other she may happen to think on, he
will be ready to cry,“――Laird, Madam, how
silly you are!—Don’t you know that the most ridiculous
Spectacle in Nature is a Man in Company
with his Wife?”

If Bellamonte can submit to this Treatment,
let her indulge her Inclination; but I am apt to
imagine what I have said will make her turn her
Eyes into the World, where she will find a sufficient
Number of Instances to prove this Truth,
that a Man who admires himself, can never sincerely
admire any thing beside.

Q I Q1v 116

I would also beg her to reflect that Marriage
is a kind of Precipice, which, when once
leap’d, there is no Possibility of reclimbing;――
and wary ought the Person who stands upon it to
be, lest, instead of a delightful Valley enamel’d
with Flowers, blooming with perpetual Sweets,
she plunges not into one where Thorns and
Briars are only shadowed over with a few gaudy
Tulips and tall Sun-Flowers, that yield no Savour,
and fade upon the Touch.

But to quit Allegory: The Gentleman first
described appears to me to have in him all the
Qualifications that can make a Woman of Merit,
such as I believe Bellamonte to be, truly happy in
a Husband; and is so far from coming into any
Degree of Competition with his two Rivals, that
in balancing between them she has been guilty of
an Injustice to him, which she can no way repair
but by giving herself speedily to him, and thereby
putting a final Period to the Hopes and Pretentions
of every other Suitor.—I dare almost answer
for him, that when the Esteem she now feels
for him shall be converted into a more warm and
tender Passion, she will have no Occasion to lament
the Want of an adequate Return:—Honour,
Good Sense, Gratitude and Duty will serve
as Oil to feed the Flame of conjugal Affection,
and the Hymeneal Torch burn with its first
Brightness to the End of Life.

I have dwelt the longer on this Subject, as
I am compelled by a secret Simpathy to take a more Q2r 117
more than ordinary Interest in the Fate of this
unknown Lady; and also as it is probable there
may be many into whose Hands these Pages may
fall, who may equally stand in need of that Advice
she alone has vouchsafed to ask: But I am
now called upon to discuss Topics of a higher and
more public nature, and it is likely that, by this
Time, a certain Gentleman, who has lately sent
me a very angry Letter, may be laughing in his
Sleeve at me, as wanting either Courage to insert,
or Ability to answer it.—The first, however, he
shall find himself mistaken in; and as for the
other, he may be sure of an Attempt, at least on
all those Heads which are proper for me to touch
upon; those which are not so, the Public will
easily see into the Motives which oblige me to Silence,
and on that Account excuse it.

He shall, however, have no Pretence to accuse
me of stifling or suppressing any Reproaches made
me: I shall present the Public with his Letter entire
as I received it, without omitting or changing any
one Word, Syllable, or even Period or Comma. “Female Spectator” Was the Superscription on the Cover of this
doughty Epistle; but on the Top of the Enclosure
he salutes me in these Terms: “Vain Pretender to Things above thy Reach!”
Then begins at the very Bottom of the Paper, Q2 thinking, Q2v 118
thinking, perhaps, by that Piece of good Breeding,
to soften the Asperity of the Invectives he
had brewed against me; or else to shew that,
however unworthy I might seem in his Eyes as
an Author, he would not forego the Decorum
owing to me as a Woman.

“Tho’ I never had any very great Opinion
of your Sex as Authors, yet I
thought, whenever you set up for such, you had
Cunning enough to confine yourselves within
your own Sphere, or at least not to raise the Expectations
of the Public by such mountainous
Promises as you have done, when you could not
be insensible they must in a short time discover
themselves to be but of the Mole-hill kind.
Whatever Design you had in this it
was a very shallow one, and betrays a Want of
Judgment, which, to do you Justice, by your
manner of handling some Subjects, I should
not have suspected you guilty of.
For God’s sake, what could move you to
make use of all those pompous Flourishes in
the sixth Page of the first Book of the Female
Spectator
?—Did the Spies you boasted of in
every Corner of Europe, deceive the Trust you
reposed in them? Or did you only dream you
had established such an Intelligence?—The latter,
I am afraid, is the most likely:――But did
you never reflect that People would grow uneasy
at the Disappointment, when, instead of ‘that Q3r 119
that full and perfect Account of the most momentous
Actions you made them hope, they
find themselves for several Months together entertained
only with Home-Amours, Reflections
on Human Nature, the Passions, Morals, Inferences,
and Warnings to your own Sex;――
the most proper Province for you, I must own,
but widely inconsistent with the Proposals of
your first setting out.
Every body imagin’d you had a Key to
unlock the Cabinet of Princes,—a Clue to
guide you through the most intricate Labyrinths
of State,—and that the secret Springs of Ambition,
Avarice and Revenge, which make such
dreadful Havock, would have been all laid
open to our View.――Yet the eternal Fund of
Intelligence you vaunted of, has given us not
a Word of all this:――Not the least Tittle
from Flanders, Italy, Germany, France, or
Spain:—Great Armies have been continually in
Motion, and the first Monarchs in Europe at the
Head of them:—The Rhine has been passed
and repassed:—The Elb, Moldau and Neckar
crossed:—Cities have been depopulated:—
Towns laid Waste:—‘Ravage! burn! and destroy
all before you,—Spare neither Sex nor Age,’

have been the Words of Command!—Sieges,
Battles, Rencounters and Escapes have filled
the World with Clamour, but not been able to
move the peaceful Bosom of the Female Spectator:
—Contributions, Loans, Subsidies, Military
and Ministerial Arts have drain’d the Sustenancetenance Q3v 120
from the wretched Subjects of almost all
the Kingdoms round us, even to Starving, yet the
Female Spectator seems ignorant or insensible
of their Calamities:—Excursions, Incursions,
Invasions, and Insurrections have been talked
of by every body but the Female Spectator:—
Huge Fleets cover the Ocean with their spreading
Sails, but not all the Wind that fills them
wafts to the Female Spectator any Account to
what Intent equipped, where directed, or what
great Feats they yet have done, or are about to
do.
Do you not blush at all this?――Are you
not under most terrible Apprehensions that, instead
of the Woman of Experience, Observation,
fine Understanding, and extensive Genius
you would pass for, you should be taken for an
idle, prating, gossiping old Woman, fit only to
tell long Stories by the Fire-side for the Entertainment
of little Children or Matrons, more
antiquated than yourself?
I do assure you, I am truly ashamed for
you:――It is not my Nature to be severe on
the Failings or Mistakes of any one; and had
your Boastings been less glaring, or your Execution
of what you pretended to undertake,
any way answered the Expectation of the Public,
I would have been the last that should have
condemned you, but had overlooked small Deficiencies
in Consideration of your Sex, and
the Desire you shewed of performing your Pro- Q4r 121
Promises, which, at the Time of making, I
should have been charitable enough to have
judg’d you thought less difficult to accomplish
than you afterwards found them.
Yet were it so, some modest Apology methinks
would have become you:――The least
you could have done was to have confessed
your Inability, entreated Pardon of the Town
for having imposed on their Credulity, and as
you now perceived you had overshot your
Mark, and had it not really in your Power to
entertain them with Matters of any very great
Importance, at least to the Generality of your
Readers, beseeched them to accept of such as
fell within your Compass.
To deal plainly with you, the best that can
be said of the Lucubrations you have hitherto
published, is, that they are fit Presents for Country
Parsons to make to their young Parishioners;
――to be read in Boarding-Schools, and recommended
as Maxims for the well regulating
private Life; but are no way fit for the polite
Coffee-Houses, or to satisfy Persons of an inquisitive
Taste.
Whether you have received any Remonstrances
of the Nature I now send you, and
have thought it prudent to take no Notice of
them, I will not pretend to say, nor do I accuse
you with it; but of this you may be certain,
that I have alledg’d no more against you than is Q4v 122
is the Sense of most of the Wits, as well as
Men of Fashion I converse with, as it is probable
you may hereafter have further Reason
to be convinced of from others beside
Curioso Politico. P. S. To shew you that Malice had no Share
in dictating the above Lines, if there is any
Possibility of your mending your Hand, you
are at your own Liberty to insert them or
not:—My Intention, in sending them, being
not so much to expose as to reprove, I
shall be very glad to find that, by holding to
you this faithful Mirror, you are enabled to
wipe off whatever is a Blemish in your Writings,
and for the future supply those Deficiencies
which you seem to me to have hitherto
been wholly insensible of.
――Farewel.”

I heartily thank Mr. Politico for the
Permission he is so good to vouchsafe me as to
keeping his Reprimand a Secret; but it would
be abusing so extraordinary a Favour to accept
it:—The Pains he has been at must not be totally
thrown away, and whether I am able or not
to improve by what he has wrote, it would be
great Pity he should not have the Satisfaction of
seeing it in Print.

The Public will be the best Judges how far I deserve R1r 123
deserve the Severity he has treated me with, and
to them I readily submit my Cause.

I do not pretend to deny but that, in the Introduction
to this Work, I said that I had found
Means to extend my Speculations as far as
France, Rome, Germany, and other foreign Parts,
and that I then flattered myself with being able
to penetrate into the Mysteries of the Alcove, the
Cabinet, or Field, and to have such of the Secrets
of Europe, as were proper for the Purpose of a
Female Spectator, laid open to my View; but I
never proposed, nor, I believe, did any body but
this Letter-Writer expect that these Lucubrations
should be devoted merely to the Use of News-
Mongers:—A Change-Broker might, I think,
have as much Cause to resent my taking no Notice
of the Rise or Fall of Stocks.

Several of the Topics he reproaches me
for not having touch’d upon, come not within
the Province of a Female Spectator; —such as
Armies marching,—Battles fought,—Towns
destroyed,—Rivers cross’d, and the like:—I
should think it ill became me to take up my own,
or Reader’s Time, with such Accounts as are
every Day to be found in the public Papers.

Oh but the Meaning of all this he calls upon
me to unravel:—I must unfold the Mystery, lay
open the secret Springs which set these great Machines
in Motion:—Why he has done it for me,
Ambition, Avarice, and Revenge have set the Vol. II. R mighty R1v 124
mighty Men of the Earth a madding, and there
is indeed no other Mystery in it than what all
the World may, and do easily see into.

I grant some Turns and Counter-Turns
in Politics have been too abstruse to be accounted
for by the Rules of common Reason, and no way
to be fathom’d but by that Intelligence he wants
me to receive from the Cabinets where they were
hatch’d;—and yet perhaps, if once revealed,
there would appear so little in them, that one
might justly enough compare them to the Knots
Children tye at School in Packthread, only to
puzzle one another to undo again.

Be that as it may;—how far soever the Female
Spectator
, or any one else, may be able to penetrate
into these dark Paths of State, the Attempt
of making them a common Road might
be imprudent, and perhaps unsafe.

There is an old Adage in the Mouth of
every one, “viz.――All Things that are lawful
are not expedient:”
To which one may add, that
“many Things are expedient, or necessary, which may
not be deemed lawful:”
If either of these should
happen to be the Case, the Silence of the Female
Spectator
may very well be pardoned.

If Princes have a Mind to play at Bo-peep
with each other, or with their respective Subjects,
who shall dare to draw the Curtain, and call the
Rabble in to be Witness of what they do!—We little R2r 125
little People may hear and see, but must say nothing.
――There are some sort of Secrets which
prove fatal if explored, and like massive Buildings
erected by Enchantment, will not endure too near
Approach, but fall at once, and crush the bold
Inspector with their Weight.

But I will not pretend to measure what Extent
of Power the Guardian Angel entitled the
Liberty of the Press may yet retain: Of this I am
certain, that the better we regulate our Actions in
private Life, the more we may hope of public
Blessings
, and the more we shall be enabled to sustain
public Calamities.

To check the enormous Growth of Luxury,
to reform the Morals, and improve the Manners
of an Age, by all confess’d degenerate and sunk,
are the great Ends for which these Essays were
chiefly intended; and the Authors flatter themselves
that nothing has been advanced, but may
contribute in a more or less Degree to the accomplishing
so glorious a Point.――Many little Histories,
it is true, are interspers’d, but then they
are only such as serve to enforce Precept by Example,
and make the Beauty of Virtue, and the
Deformity of Vice sink deeper into the Reader’s
Mind.—When we would strike at any favourite
Passion, it requires the utmost Delicacy to do
it in such a manner as shall make the Person
guilty of it ashamed of being so, without being
angry at the Detection; and no way so likely to R2 succeed R2v 126
succeed, as to shew him the Resemblance of himself
in the Character of another.

Thus much I thought proper to say in Defence
of myself and Partners in this Undertaking,
which I doubt not but will be look’d upon
as a sufficient Answer to all the Objections Mr.
Politico
has started for the present, and hereafter
perhaps we may be better Friends.

I readily agree with him, that the Public
may reasonably desire and expect to be let into
the Knowledge of Affairs which relate chiefly to
themselves.—In those Countries which are under
the Subjection of Tyranny and Superstition,—
where the despotic Will of the Prince is the sole
Law of the People, and Bigotry rides triumphant
over Truth, all writing and speaking of State
Matters, and the Use of the Bible are equally
forbid under the most severe Pains and Penalties.
The Reason of this is plain, a very little Enquiry
might detect the Frauds the Ministry put
in Practice in the one, and the Perversion of the
other by the Priests; but in a Constitution such
as our’s happily is, there can be no such Prescription:
—Every one here, who contributes to the
Support of the Government, has a Right to be
protected by the Government in any decent Attempt
made for the Discovery of iniquitous Practices
in those of the highest, as well as the lowest
Stations of Life.

When Richard I. surnamed Cœur de Lyon, instigated R3r 127
instigated by his Zeal for Christianity, and the
Example of divers Kings and Princes of those
Times, had determin’d to go to Jerusalem and
make War against the Infidels, many of his Subjects
were greatly dissatisfied because of the Expence
which must necessarily attend such an Expedition,
and which they expected must be levied
from their Purses.—This good King being informed
of their Complaints, and truly sensible of
the Dangers of incurring a national Disaffection,
bethought himself of an Expedient to enable
him to pursue his Undertaking without burthening
his People:――He mortgaged the City of
London to the Knights of Malta for a considerable
Sum of Money, which Obligation was to be
discharged by stated annual Paymens out of his
own Revenue: Nor was there any Tax or Impost
laid on the Nation on account of this War,
which occasion’d one Jeofry Rudal, a Provencial
Poet, who accompanied the King in his Embarkation
to write this Stanza: “The English Kings Account must giveTo all sworn Leigemen how they live,Or from no Peril will they fend,Nor ought of Succour to him lend.”

It would then be hard, if those who contentedly
bear the Expence of Fleets and Armies, of Subsidies,
Negotiations, Congresses and Embassies,
should not have the Privilege of enquiring how,
and for what Ends their Money is laid out.—The
People of England have always been accounted tenacious R3v 128
tenacious enough of their Liberty in this Point,
and God forbid they should ever wholly lose that
glorious Spirit, which in so many Instances has
bore up against all the Efforts for introducing arbitrary
Power, in whatever Shape, and by what
Name soever disguised, or endeavoured to be palliated.

The Power of making War and Peace, is
indeed lodg’d in the Hands of whoever sits upon
the Throne:――It is the undoubted Prerogative
of the Crown, and sad would be the Day
when either of the two other States of the Kingdom
should offer to infringe it:――Fatal Instances
are on Record on this Score, such as will,
I hope, be a Warning to the latest Posterity,—
yet does not this Power, great and extensive as it
is, deny every Englishman the Privilege of enquiring
by his Representative in Parliament the
Motives by which the Sovereign is induced to
declare a War, or conclude a Peace.

It is an allowed Maxim, that the King himself
can do no Wrong:—Whatever Mistakes in
Point of Government may happen, his sacred
Person is still out of the Question; but I know
of no Law nor Reason to restrain us from examining
into the Conduct of his Ministers, his
Admirals, or Generals, when suspected to have
taken Measures destructive, or to the Honour or
Interest of the Kingdom.

The meanest Person has also an equal Right with R4r 129
with the greatest, to expect a satisfactory Account
in every thing relating to the Common-Wealth:
—He has his all at Stake as well as the most
Opulent, and in case of any foul or unskilful Play
in those who are entrusted with the shuffling of
the Cards, must share in the same Ruin.

This is so just, so natural, and so consistent
with that Freedom which by our Constitution is
entailed on us and our Posterity, that those who
have attempted to urge any thing against it, have
argued in so aukward and weak a manner, as
plainly shews they were ashamed of the Cause
they had been prevailed upon to assert.

But tho’ this Curiosity be not only pardonable
but laudable also, there may be Reasons which
render it improper, as I said before, for any one
to take upon themselves to satisfy it, even tho’
they were possessed of the most sure Materials
and greatest Abilities.

This may serve, however, to convince Mr.
Politico
that the Female Spectator is not altogether
so indolent and insensible to public Transactions as
he imagines; and if he allows (as sure he must)
that Virtue is the surest Preservative of Freedom,
he must at the same time allow, that an Endeavour
to rectify the Morals of Individuals, is the first
Step ought to be taken for rousing up a general
Ardor for maintaining and asserting those Privileges
our Ancestors purchased for us with their best R4v 130
best Blood, and we have renewed the Lease of by
almost all our Treasure.

In this Road, therefore, I have travelled since
the Beginning of these Lucubrations, and from
this I shall not through the whole Course of them
depart. But this I assure my Readers, and Mr.
Politico
in particular, that whenever any thing
new and untouched on by other Authors shall
present itself, I shall not fail to communicate it.

A Piece of the Nature I have mention’d,
and entirely genuine, lies now before us on the
Table, but being of too great a Length to insert
at this Time, must be deferred till the next
Month, when the Public may depend on seeing
it, with such Animadversions as the Nature of
the Thing, and the Situation of the Times will
admit.


End of the Eighth Book.

S1r

The Female Spectator.


Book IX.

“Short is th’ uncertain Reign and Pomp of Mortal
Pride:
New Turns and Changes every Day Are of inconstant Chance the constant Arts. Soon she gives, soon takes away, She comes, embraces, nauseats you and parts: But if she stays, or if she goes, The wise Man little Joy or little Sorrow shews.”

What indeed is more fluctuating
than human Promotion!—What
more strange than to see Persons,
who know very well that Wisdom
and Virtue are only capable of constituting
true Greatness, pursue with Eagerness
those shadowy Honours which flow from Favour, Vol. II. S and S1v 132
and the same Breath that gives, may in an Instant
take away.

But tho’ the many notable Changes which
have lately happen’d, and others daily expected
to happen, naturally lead one into these Reflections,
and likewise so much engross the present
Attention of the Public, that we might possibly
be excused from entering into any other Subject
at this Time: Yet the Desires, or rather the
Challenge of Mr. Politico, the Promise made to
the Town in our last, and the Gratitude due to
the Gentleman from whom we received the following
Piece, are Obligations which we cannot
prevail on ourselves to dispense with on any Account
whatever.

“To the Female Spectator. Madam, It was my good Fortune to be very lately
introduc’d to a polite Assembly, compos’d
chiefly of Ladies, some of whom I found were
Hanoverians, but spoke English perfectly well:
One above the rest distinguish’d herself in a
manner no less agreeable than particular.—I
know not how the Conversation happened to
turn upon Politics, but somewhat being mention’d
concerning the unhappy Antipathy there
seem’d to be between his Majesty’s Subjects
of Great Britain, and those of his German
Dominions, it gave occcasion to a Dispute, in
which the Lady above-mentioned, and one of ‘our S2r 133
our own Country had an opportunity of exerting,
in a very great Degree, that Good Sense
and Eloquence they were both possess’d of;
and they were indeed so equally capable of managing
what they undertook, that the rest of
the Company took too much Pleasure in hearing
them, to offer any Interruption, by taking
the Part either of the one or the other.
There is certainly something so perswasively
pathetic in the Manner of your Sex,
whenever you go about to plead the Cause of
any thing you have a real Interest in yourselves,
that it gives a double Weight to all you say.
I must confess, my Reason yielded to them
both by Turns:—I was convinced, confuted,
and convinced again as often as either of them
spoke:—Every Argument urg’d by each of
these fair Antagonists had greater force with
me, than all Tully’s Orations could have had,
even tho’ I had heard them deliver’d by himself,
and accompanied with those Graces which
History reports him so great a Master of, and
records as inimitable.
I thought I never owed so great an
Obligation to my Memory, as when I found
it had faithfully treasured up whatever had been
said, during this whole Debate; which I put
down in writing the Moment I came home,
and now send it to you, as believing you would
look upon it as no unwelcome Present.
I S2v 134 I shall be extremely glad to see it published
through your Canal, with such Observations
on the several Arguments, as you shall
think proper to make.—If you should happen
to find any Errors, either as to Matters of Fact,
or the Terms in which they are made mention
of, I beseech you to rectify them in justice to
the Authors, who argued too much dispassionately
and unprejudiced to be guilty of any Mistakes
this way, and must therefore lie wholly
on the Transcriber. I am,
With very great Respect,
Madam,
Your most humble,
And most obedient Servant,
A.B.
P. S. You will perceive the Manuscript begins
after the Commencement of the Dispute;
the Reason of which is, that several others of
the Company, having their Part in the Discourse
previous to it; and on the first Questions
and Repartees made by the Ladies themselves,
I had not the least Notion of its becoming
a particular Controversy, it made the less
Impression on me, and I could not therefore
be so exact, as I now wish I had been, in remarking
what was said on that Occasion.
S3r 135 A
Dialogue
Between
An English and a Hanoverian Lady:
Wherein the Motives are laid open of that small
Share of sincere Love or Esteem which both Nations
unhappily regard each other with.
Hanoverian Lady.Whatever you alledge against us
is Matter of Imagination only, whereas
we have real and undeniable Facts to complain
of against you:—Have you not deprived us of
the Presence of our dear Elector and all his amiable
Family?――Do you not now engross all
those Blessings to which we have a natural Right,
and grudge we should have the least Share in?
――What Heart-burnings?――What Murmurings
are there among you on the least Talk
of his Majesty’s visiting his German Dominions,
even when the Necessity of your own Affairs requires
his Presence on the Continent!—And is
it not plain, that those of us who attend him here
are look’d upon as Intruders?――His very Menials
are envy’d by a People who would enjoy all
the Comforts of his Reign, yet refuse the least
Encouragement to those who were born in the
same Air, and some of them nurtur’d from their
Infancy near his Royal Person.—Can any thing
be more cruel, more unjust to us, or indeed more dis- S3v 136
disrespectful to him, than to wish to take from
him the Privilege of chusing his own Servants!
English Lady.I Believe, Madam, there
are none amongst us so blind as not to see the
inestimable Benefits these Kingdoms have receiv’d
from the Accession of that illustrious House,
which now fills the Throne; nor were the English
ever accounted an ungrateful or inhospitable
People: Much less can those Vices at present with
any Shadow of Reason be imputed to us, when
we have done all in our Power to testify the Sense
we have both of their late and present Majesty’s
Goodness to us in vouchsafing to take us under
their Protection.—Have we not annihilated that
Clause in the Act of Settlement which forbid them
going to Hanover without Consent of Parliament?
Have we not readily augmented the Civil List
Revenue to almost double what was allowed in
any former Reign?――Have we not relinquished
our ancient Privilege of tacking Redress
of Grievances to the Money-Bills?—Have we
not granted without Reserve all the Supplies demanded,
and assented to every Vote of Credit required
of us?—These, I take it, are not Acts of
meer Duty, but of the most fervent Affection and
implicit Faith, that ever any Monarch was regarded
with by his Subjects: But tho’ I willingly allow
that all we can pay is not too much, yet
methinks it is ungenerous to lessen the Merit of
these Works of Supererrogation, by attempting
to tinge them with a self-interested Hue; for certainly
it is far from the Interest of these Kingdomsdoms T1r 137
that his Majesty should visit Hanover so
frequently, or that yielding to every Demand of
the Crown is for the Advantage of our future
Liberty, tho’ at present it may suffer no Prejudice
by that Confidence.
Hanoverian Lady.How easy it is to put a
Gloss on any thing!—A Stranger to the Affairs
of England would imagine, by what you say, that
the Prince lay under immense Obligations to the
People; whereas, in reality, all you have done
has only, under the Colour of Loyalty to him,
been entirely to serve yourselves, as I doubt not
to make appear to all who hear me.
In the first Place, you had experienced the
Benefits of his Majesty’s Presence at Hanover,
by several Negotiations carry’d on there with a
Success which, without him, could not have been
hop’d for; and as you were involv’d in Perplexities
by former Treaties, which you know
not how soon might call for his Assistance to unravel,
you wisely judg’d it proper to cancel a
Clause which might have detained him here, till
it had been too late, either to enter into any Alliances
for the Interest of Great Britain, or prevent
those which might have been formed against her
by the Powers on the Continent.
The Increase of the Civil List Revenue, I
think, has the next Place in your Roll of National
Obligations: But, Madam, can you deny
that in this England had not an Eye to her own Vol. II. T Grandeur? T1v 138
Grandeur?—Does not the Magnificence of the
Sovereign shew the Opulence of the Kingdom,
and besides gratifying a domestic Ostentaion,
does it not raise your Reputation Abroad, enlarge
your Credit, and bring Foreigners to throw their
Money into your Funds?—Yet in spite of all
the Advantages it brought to yourselves;—in
spite of the real Necessity there was for supporting
so many Branches of the Royal Family in
a manner becoming their Dignity, I am sorry to
say this Addition was not made without a very
strenuous Opposition; and when granted, raised
such Murmurs, as some of you ought not to remember
without blushing.
As to the old Custom of tacking Redress of
Grievances to the Money-Bills, that must necessarily
subside when there were no longer any Grievances
to complain of;—and that there were
no real ones, is evident by the very Persons who
alone rais’d the Clamour, having since not only
given up the Point, but also confess’d they were
ashamed of having ever asserted it.
But above all I am surpriz’d, that a Lady of
your good Sense and Impartiality in other Things,
should mention the necessary supplies granted to
his Majesty as any particular Favour done to his
Royal Person.—What must equip your Fleets?
—Maintain your Armies?—Disburse the Subsidies
paid to foreign Princes for their Assistance,
or at least their Neutrality?—What support
your Intelligence?—Enable you to keep Spies in every T2r 139
every Quarter of the World, and many other
Articles of Secret Service?――Is all this to be
done with Air!—Will empty Words suffice to
preserve your Commerce, and defend you from
the continually impending Dangers of Popery
and Slavery?—The Obligation therefore on
this Head is wholly from the People to the Prince,
who exerts his Wisdom and Goodness in laying
out their Money to the best Advantage.
This being granted, as it must by every thinking
Person, Votes of Credit are no more than
an Appendix to the Supplies allowed by Parliament,
since they only enable his Majesty to raise
what Sums he shall have occasion for, when the
Members of both Houses may be retired to their
respective Seats, and at too great a Distance to be
called together so timely as the Exigence of Affairs
demands.
Thus, Madam, have I in a few Words rendered
it I think pretty obvious, that all those boasted
Proofs of Love and Loyalty to your King
are no more than so many Obligations to yourselves;
and that in not being always ready to confer
them, you must be both a contemn’d and miserable
People.
English Lady.A Person of much less Wit
and Eloquence than yourself, might easily maintain
a Tenet, which is of too nice and delicate a
Nature to be discuss’d with that Freedom and
Plain-Dealing Truth requires:――But I have T2 this T2v 140
this Consolation, that those Replies which are
improper for me to make may be found in the
Speeches of several of our most worthy Representatives
in Parliament, as well as of those who
are now turned Apostates to the glorious Cause of
Liberty.
But, Madam, in my Opinion you have wandered
from the Mark first levell’d at, and instead
of proving that England had nothing to complain
of on the Score of Hanover, as you seem’d to
undertake to do, you confound the Obligations
we have to his Majesty with those, you pretend,
we have to love his Country.—This, I think, is
not quite a fair way of arguing; but I shall follow
you in your own way as far as it is convenient
for me to do so, and perhaps even foil you at
the very Weapons you have made Choice of.
Supposing that all we have done has been
no more than our Duty:—Supposing that we
are at present under the most indispensible Necessity
of maintaining those vast Armaments which
are so expensive and burthensome to the Nation;
and supposing those Supplies and Votes of Credit,
a Consequence of that Necessity, which is not
to be avoided, I beg you will answer me one
short Question, Whether we were brought into
that Necessity by any Circumstance meerly our
own, or whether we owe not so great a Misfortune
to a Cause more remote, and which in fact
we ought to have no manner of Concern with?
Hano- T3r 141 Hanoverian Lady.Did I not see into the
Motives which induce you to make this Interrogatory,
I should be infinitely surprized to find you
can affect an Ignorance of what none can really
be uninformed:—You cannot sure deny that
Great Britain was under an immediate Necessity
of entering into a War on the Continent on her
own Score, tho’ she appear’d only as an Auxiliary
to the Queen of Hungary.
English Lady.Whatever may be my
private Opinion, Madam, the People in general
think in a different way, tho’ indeed till they perceived
the sad Effects of carrying on the War at
such a Distance, their natural Generosity made
them readily enter into Measures for the Relief
of that distress’d Princess.――But I should be
glad to know what other Intetrest, except the Protection
of her Fellow-Subjects of Hanover, Great
Britain
could propose to herself in such a War?
Hanoverian Lady.Now, Madam, you explain
yourself, and shew, without Disguise, that
Inveteracy we have to complain of:—Yes, it is
not difficult to make it appear, your own Interest
was at the Bottom of all you have done for Germany;
—as thus:
Consider the exorbitant Power the House
of Bourbon now enjoys:—It has all France, in
which Name are comprized a Congregation of
various other Kingdoms, which later Ages have
added to it:—Spain, and its almost boundless Dependences,pendences, T3v 142
are under a Branch of the same Family;
as also the Two Sicilies:—They are partly
Masters of the Empire, by having its present
Head at their Devotion; and if his Britannic Majesty
had not interpos’d, how easy had it been for
them to have subdued the King of Sardinia’s
Dominions; then deprived the Queen of Hungary
of all she possesses in Italy?—The Austrian
Inheritance in Germany had next become their
Prey; afterwards they would have taken Portugal,
then Flanders, and having swallowed up
all these, pour’d down on the United Provinces,
whence there would have been a small Step to
England.—What Course then could Great Britain
take, but to endeavour to put a Stop to this
spreading Evil, which, having over-run the rest
of Europe, would have seiz’d her at last?
English Lady.A Career very extraordinary
indeed! Not to be match’d in all the fabulous
Conquests of Antiquity!—Those of Amadis
de Gaul
, Don Bellianis of Greece, or the Seven
Champions, are meer Trifles to it!――Why,
these French and Spaniards are perfect Tygers for
Nimbleness and Strength; but methinks the
Austrians, Sardinians, Portuguese, Flanderkyns
and Hollanders are but little obliged to you for
representing them as such tame Sheep to suffer
themselves to be devour’d without the Protection
of an English Mastiff!
But to be serious: If there were the least
Foundation for Belief, that the Attempt you mentiontion T4r 143
were practicable, or even intended, what
Reason has Great Britain to take the first Alarm,
which, by your own Confession, would be the last
would suffer by it?――It cannot be denied but
that the Queen of Spain has very much at Heart
the aggrandizing her Sons; and it may with Probability
enough be supposed, that France would
assist her Projects on that Head; the King of
Sardinia therefore by his Situation may have
somewhat to apprehend if the Settlement of
the Infant Don Philip should take Place, as
his Dominions would then be in a manner
hem’d in between those of that Prince, and of
France: But the King of Portugal you see is under
no kind of Terror, and tho’ possess’d of
Wealth that might well tempt an avaritious
Conqueror, in Peace and Security enjoys his immense
Treasures, and looks with Pity on the Devastation
that Jealousy and Ambition have occasion’d.
—The Dutch too have seen a French
Army in their Neighbourhood, and beheld the
taking of Menin, Ypres, and Furnese, without
expressing any great Matter of Concern:—
The Sweets of an uninterrupted Commerce had
more Weight with it than all the Bug-bear Stories
of universal Monarchy:—They could not think
of parting with a real Good, which they every
Day experienced, for an ideal Glory, in futuro,
of contributing to support the Balance of Power
between the Houses of Austria and Bourbon.—
’Tis true, that in Compliance with their Treaties,
they at last gave some Assistance to the Queen of
Hungary; but the many Pretences, the long Delayslays T4v 144
they made, shewed with how much Unwillingness
they were dragg’d to it, and how loth
they were to break with France.
And yet, Madam, it has always been allowed
the Policy of Great Britain never to engage in a
War on the Continent but in Conjunction with
the Dutch, and being first sollicited to it by them.
―― How strange an Alteration is therefore in
our Conduct since the Interest of Hanover has
been made the Interest of England! And how
little possible is it for us to regard, with any degree
of Affection, a Country, whose Alliance
has been so expensive to us, and for whose Sake
we are wounded in the most tender Parts, our Liberty
and Glory.
Hanoverian Lady.Not so hasty, good Madam;
were all you say founded on real Fact,
which I can by no Means allow, how does your
Liberty or Glory suffer by any Considerations
your Ministry may have testify’d for us?
English Lady.I am sorry, Madam, to find
myself oblig’d by this Question to give an Answer,
which you may imagine, has somewhat of
Sharpness in it; but all the Friendship and Complaisance
we would wish to pay to particular Persons
must yield to the Justice and Regard we ought
to have for our Country:—I must therefore tell you,
Madam, that Liberty is a meer Chimera, in a Land
where none must hope for Favour, who do not adapt
foreign Maxims in manifest Contradiction to their own U1r 145
own.—And pitifully indeed the Glory and Renown
of a Kingdom must be sunk, when it descends
to become the Province to a petty State;
such as Hanover once was, and would be still, were
England what it once was.
Hanoverian Lady.All this is easily said,
and I know very well is the vulgar Cry;—but
I call upon you to prove your Assertion, and
shew what real Benefits have accrued to Hanover
by the Accession of her Elector to the British
Throne.
English Lady.This might easily be done by
innumerable Instances; yet as it is not what Hanover
has gained, but what these Realms have
lost, which justify’d the Complaint on our Side,
I shall confine myself to that.
The World beholds with Astonishment the
Self-destructive Schemes which of late Years have
been pursued:—The humbling ourselves to almost
every Power in Europe, the numberless Alliances
we have entered into, and Treaties made
and broke as often as the Interest of Hanover required
it, are the least we have done for that Electorate;
yet so entirely did it engross our Attention,
that nothing relating to ourselves could come
in for a Share: How neglectful did we seem
of all that formerly was dear to us!—Commerce,
the very Life and Soul of these Islands, was no
more remember’d!—The Honour of the British
Flag and the Sovereignty of the Seas became Vol. II. U an U1v 146
an empty Name, no longer worthy our Regard,
and the most glaring Insults, cruel Depredations,
and every kind of Outrage, the Avarice and Pride
of Spain could treat us with, was with the most
shameful Patience submitted to.
Our Trade to the West-Indies near wholly lost,
our Colonies in the utmost Danger and daily menac’d
by the unresisted Foe, cried loudly to us
for Protection and Revenge; yet how deaf, how
insensible, how incapable of being rous’d was
this lethargic State for a long Time! and when
compell’d, as it were, by the incessant Clamours
of an almost ruin’d People, War was at last declar’d,
the Manner in which it was carried on
had more the Face of Pageantry than Reality.
A gallant Fleet indeed was fitted out,
which made a fine Shew at Spithead, and part of
which defy’d the Spaniards quite as far as the
Nore, while the Galleons and Assogues (Shameful
Remembrance!) laden with Treasure sailed
safe into their Ports.
A most brave and worthy Admiral also
with much ado obtained Permission to go on an
Expedition no less glorious for himself than serviceable
to his Country, had it been accomplish’d,
as it questionless would have been, had Integrity
at Home seconded his Zeal and Courage Abroad:
But how cruelly and shamefully his glorious Projects
were defeated none can be ignorant.
In U2r 147 In fine, the Minister then at the Helm had
other Business on his Hands than humbling the
Pride of Spain; he call’d this War the Merchants
War
, and to the Merchants he left the
Care of it: Nor was the Name ill-judg’d, since
more was done against the Enemy by those Ships
which were equipt by the Trading Part of the
Nation, than by the whole Royal Navy.
But now the fatal Reason of this seeming Inactivity
came out:—I say seeming, because the
Minister was not in effect lazy as to what concern’d
his own Interest, Promotion or Security;
and could he have found his particular Good in
the Good of the Nation, he had doubtless had no
other Point in View; but his Dependance lying
a different way, he was oblig’d to pursue such
Measures as were inconsistent perhaps with his
own Wishes, could they have coincided with his
Ambition.—But to return,—The Mistery was
this:
Jealousies of the new Emperor, and yet
greater of Prussia, rose on the Score of Hanover;
and some Means to secure that darling Spot must
be found, whatever became of Great Britain.
A French Army in the Heart of Germany, and
the piteous Complaints made by the Queen of
Hungary, gave a Pretence for reviving the old
Story of maintaining the Balance of Power; a
Thing ’tis certain much to be desired by all the
inferior States, who in their Turns have been U2 equally U2v 148
equally oppress’d by the Houses of Austria and
Bourbon, but wholly impracticable by any one
Power:—Great Britain alone could never hope
to do it, even at the Time of her greatest Opulence;
much less could such visionary Schemes
now take Place with any thinking Person.
Therefore to disguise, as much as possible,
the glaring Madness of such an Undertaking, we
were told the Dutch would go Hand in Hand
with us:――That Russia would bear a great
Share in the Expences:――That Poland would
furnish all the Assistance in her Power; and Sardinia
come heartily into the Cause. All which
Expectations, except the last, we see have vanish’d
into Air; and this perhaps had done the same,
had not the Sums advanced by us to the Queen
of Hungary, great Part of which was apply’d
that way, served to fix his Resolution as to what
Part he ought to take.
The People thus cajoled, and made to believe
what was doing was for the Honour of the Nation,
came at first with a supposing Readiness
into this Project, concerted by one Ministry,
and put in Execution by a succeeding one, with a
Front which, I believe, no Age can parallel.――
The Balance of Power, Success to the Queen of
Hungary, and pulling down the French King, were
the general Toasts from the Table of the Peer
to the Cobler in his Alehouse; tho’ if we had
once remembered some Treatment we had received
from the late Emperor, and that too on the U3r 149
the Account of Hanover, we should have found
ourselves under little Obligation to be so warm
in the Cause of his Daughter; nor at that Time
had we any Manner of Reason to fall out with
France.
So strong, however, was the Infatuation, and
so vehement were we in the Interests of Germany,
that our Concerns in the West Indies and the daily
Seizures of our Trading Vessels by the Spaniards
seem’d utterly forgotten, tho’ Bankruptcies at
Home, like the Ghost of former Opulence, and
depreciated Credit Abroad, stared us every Day
full in the Face:—We acted indeed, as one of
our Public-Writers took notice, exactly like a
Man, who having his own House on Fire left it,
and ran to extinguish that of another at a great
Distance off, while all belonging to himself perish’d
in the Flames.
Now the whole Business was to raise Men and
Money; every Street echo’d with Drums on the
Score of the one, and our Senators rack’d their
Brains on that of the other:—A difficult Task
indeed, since every Produce, every Benefit of
the Earth and Air were already under Imposts
which would scarce receive Addition; yet in
spite of all this, new Ways and Means were found
to furnish the Sinews of War; Embarkations on
Embarkations issued from our Ports, and Mercenaries
were hired from every Quarter to assist
this Expedition.
But U3v 150 But that which above all other Impositions
calls most in Question British Penetration is,
that entering into this War only as Auxiliaries
ourselves, we suffer’d Hanoverian Troops to be
taken into our Service, and paid the Subjects of
that Electorate for joining with us in Defence of
their own Country.
This is what will scarcely be credited in after
Ages, especially when to the Account of it shall
be subjoined the shameful Behaviour of these
Hirelings, and the Audacity and Ingratitude
with which they treated those to whom they owe
their All.
These, Madam, are some of the Reasons
which will not permit the People of England to
look on their Fellow-Subjects of Hanover with
so friendly an Eye as might be wish’d, and give
a very great Alloy to the Value of those Blessings
we might otherwise enjoy in being govern’d by
a Prince of that Country.
Hanoverian Lady.And all these Reasons,
Madam, pompous as they seem at first View, will
be found, on a nearer Examination, to be no more
than Shadows formed by English Jealousy and
natural Discontent: The common People indeed
of all Nations, as one of your own Poets elegantly
expresses it, are ――A U4r 151 ‘―― A scarce animated Clod,Ne’er pleas’d with ought above them, Prince
or God.’
But the English, more than any Nation in the
World, think they have a Right to be made acquainted
with all the Misteries of State; and if
the least Part, tho’ never so inconvenient to be
made public, be denied them, they presently form
a thousand Chimeras, which they as readily vouch
for Truths.
Besides, you have another odd Way, artful
enough it must be confess’d, and that is to avoid
the Indecency of accusing your Prince with any
thing you think a Miscarriage in Point of Government,
you lay the Blame wholly on the Ministry;
—the Ministry give up the Liberties of
their Country;—the Ministry are influenced by
foreign Interests;—the Ministry does every
thing that you imagine is, or would represent, as
a Grievance to the Nation; when at the same
time you know very well that the Ministry can
do nothing without the Consent of the King,
and have been seldom known to advise any thing
which may be displeasing to him, because the
very Existence, as well as Continuance of their
Ministry, depends wholly on his Royal Will:—
This Mode of Speech is known to all Europe,
so that every Invective publish’d against the Ministry
testifies your Disaffection to your King, as
all your Murmurings against Hanover are so many
Reflections on that Partiality you would have him U4v 152
him be thought guilty of, to a Land which gave
Birth to him, and all his great Progenitors.
But admitting there were a Tenderness in
him towards us, not altogether agreeable to the
British Pride, which would engross all Regard, all
Attention to itself, how unreasonable is it in you
to disapprove that very Principle in him which
you call so glorious in yourselves!—Must he renounce
all Affection, all paternal Love for a People
he was born to govern, in order to humour
those he was call’d to rule over, meerly to protect
and shield from the worst Mischiefs they could
fall into?—He is your King ’tis true, and happy
for you he is so, but he is still our Elector and
Sovereign, and cannot nor ought not to forget
the Claim we have in him.
English Lady.I thought, Madam, from
the Beginning of your Discourse, you were about
to make some Attempt of confuting those Arguments
I urg’d to prove the Misfortunes Great
Britain
was brought into by her so strict Alliance
with Hanover; but I find you too wise to enter the
Lists on that Topic; and fall upon a ‘Mode of Speech’,
as you call it, which, if no more, is both loyal
and respectful in us, and shews how very loth we
are to throw out any thing which may cast a Blemish
on the Lustre of the Throne:――But,
Madam, it would be easy to find Instances of
Ministers, who have abused the Royal Confidence,
and given up the Glory of their Master at the
same time that they had sacrificed the Interest of the X1r 153
the People, both which indeed, if rightly consider’d,
are essentially the same; but as such
a Discussion is altogether foreign to the present
Debate between us, I shall leave you to make
what Inferences you please, and only take Notice
of the Justice of that Claim you seem to
boast of, as to his Majesty’s particular Attachment.
Suppose, Madam, a Woman of an illustrious
and ancient Descent, beautiful in her Person,
unblemish’d in her Honour, and Heiress of immense
Wealth, should throw herself into the
Arms of a Man of small Fortune, and only worthy
of her by the Reputation of his Virtue.
The Ceremony of Marriage over, and the
Husband in full and undisturb’d Possession of all
that a reasonable Mind could have to wish; what
would the World say of him, if thus happy,—
thus oblig’d, he continued his Attachment to a
little Mistress he had before enjoyed?—And what
must the Wife feel, if he become froward and ungentle
to her;—if he returned her Endearments
only with Sullenness and Frowns;—if she saw
her richest Jewels converted into Ornaments for
her tawdry Rival;—found her Coffers emptied;
her Estate mortgag’d;――and all her late Affluence
reduc’d to pinching Want?――Surely,
when thus depress’d, tho’ Duty and Affection
might restrain her from making any Complaints
against her Husband, she could not be expected Vol. II. X to X1v 154
to pay either Friendship or Esteem to the Woman
who triumphs over her dearest Hopes, and
is enriched only by her Spoils.
Far be it from me to intimate that Britannia is
this injur’d Wife, or make an Application so injurious
to the known Wisdom, Justice, and Goodness
of his most sacred Majesty:—But while we
acknowledge our Happiness in having a King
above all mean Prejudice or Partiality, we cannot
avoid expressing some Discontent to find a petty
State imagines she has a Pretence to outrival us
in his Royal Care and Affection.
Hanoverian Lady.Meer Jealousy and
groundless Apprehensions! But it is in vain to
argue with your Nation on this Point:—The
English it is known are no less positive than proud,
and are not to be convinced, but by Time and
Experience, that they have been in the Wrong;
else it would be easy for you to see that whatever
Inconveniences you may labour under for the
Sake of Hanover, we endure no less on the Score
of Great Britain.
English Lady.That indeed appears a strange
Position!—I should be glad to be inform’d as
how?
Hanoverian Lady.Nothing more easy
than to oblige you, Madam;—as thus,—Being
both Subjects of the same Prince, on any Broil Eng- X2r 155
England shall happen to be involv’d in on the
Continent, whatsoever Power is disoblig’d will
in Revenge immediately fall upon Hanover, not
only as the nearest, but as she is the least capable
of defending herself:—So that our Country
may become the Seat of War, perhaps be laid
waste, before any Succours from Great Britain
can arrive, who, in such a Case, I believe you will
allow, ought to afford us her Protection.
English Lady.Undoubtedly, Madam.—
I grant also that the Apprehensions you mention
are fully justified by Reason;—but then that
they are so is one of those Misfortunes to us
of which you are the innocent Cause; since to
preserve you from the Dangers to which you
might be liable on our Account, we may be
oblig’d to behave with greater Complaisance to
the Powers on the Continent than would be consistent
with our Interest or Glory.
Hanoverian Lady.But as there is an absolute
Necessity for your acting in this Manner, you
ought not to hate and upbraid us for every little
Condescension you make.
English Lady.Neither do we, Madam,
yet we may wish it were not so.
Hanoverian Lady.The same Liberty then
with greater Reason may be allowed to us, since
you can never suffer so much from yielding in X2 such X2v 156 such trifling Points as would be required of you,
either by any of the Powers of Germany, or by
any Prince who may happen to have an Army
in the Empire, as we must infallibly do by their
Resentment, should you ever by any Act of Obstinacy
provoke them.
English Lady.Yet as nothing is so dear as
Glory to a brave People, how hard is the Dilemma,
when either that or our Generosity must
be sacrificed.
Hanoverian Lady.Alas, Madam, it only
seems so, because whatever you find yourself
oblig’d to do for us you do with Reluctance and
Ill-will:—In fine, you envy us, are jealous of
us, and industriously seek out Pretences for Complaint
against us:—Whereas you ought rather
to use your utmost Endeavours for banishing
those narrow selfish Views which keep up the
Animosity between us, to cease all Revilings, all
injurious Reflections, and at least behave towards
us as if you regarded us with a Sisterly Affection.
—This I think it would become you to do
for your own Sakes.
English Lady.Madam, whatever Vices
may be laid to the Charge of our Nation, none
could ever yet tax us with that of Dissimulation;
and it would be strange if we should now begin
to practise it in favour of a People from whom we X3r 157
we cannot flatter ourselves with even the most distant
Hope of ever receiving the least Obligation.
―― You must therefore make it very evidently
appear, which I believe will be a pretty difficult
Task, that it would become us, for our own Sakes,
to feign this Sisterly Affection to Hanover.
Hanoverian Lady.Because in the first place
it would be a Proof of Love and Respect to
your King; and in the next, while you enjoy the
invaluable Blessings of his Reign, or after him
of any of his Royal Descendants, even to the
End of Time, there will always be an absolute
Necessity for the Interest of Hanover and Great
Britain
to be inseparable.――So that I leave
it to yourself, whether to submit chearfully to
what you may think an Inconvenience (tho’ I am
far from allowing it to be such) be not more prudent,
than by continual Repinings, vain Clamours,
and ridiculous Oppositions, lose all the
Merit of the Obligation (if it be one) both with
his Majesty and those belonging to him, and proclaim
at the same time to all the neighbouring
Nations the Restlessness and Quixotism of your
own Natures.
English Lady.Madam, I have done;—
your last Argument is indeed not to be answer’d:
—Whatever is unavoidable must be
yielded to:—But however, we may say to ourselves
with the Poet, that Plea- X3v 158 ‘Pleasure never comes sincere to Man,But sent by Heaven upon hard Usury:And while Jove holds us out the Bowl of Joy,E’re it can reach our Lips, ’tis dash’d with
Gall
By some left-handed God.’
Thus ended a Dispute which I am of Opinion
will give very near the same Satisfaction
to the Readers as to those who heard it.”

Aefter thanking Mr. A.B. for the Favour he
has done us in communicating this Manuscript,
I am desir’d by our little Assembly to assure him,
that if it has the same Effect on the Public as it
has had on us, he will find his Opinion confirm’d
in all Companies where the Female Spectator is
admitted.

Nothing certainly is more pleasing than
when we find Arguments, especially on any tender
Point as this was, urg’d with Moderation
and Sweetness:――The Temper with which
these two Ladies carried on their Dispute ought
to make those blush who cannot hear themselves
contradicted without Virulence and bitter Speeches.

At first reading I was indeed sometimes in
Pain for my Country-Woman, and trembled lest
the artful Evasions, frequently going from the
Point, blending Things proper to be discanted upon X4r 159
upon with others which were not so, and many such
like Subterfuges practis’d by the other, should
have made her lose that Patience and Calmness
so becoming in an argumentative Discourse; but
to my great Satisfaction she soon convinced me
she knew how to separate those Topics her Antagonist
endeavoured to huddle together, and to
be silent where Prudence required she should be
so, as well as to treat with a genteel Irony those
Things which merited not a serious Reply.

There is something which to me seems altogether
unfair, and too much designing in the
Method pursued by the Hanoverian Lady in this
Debate.—She condemns the English for charging
all Errors in Government on the Ministry,
and attempts to prove what none of us either dare,
or even wish to do, that the Ministry are only
so many Tools to the Will of the King.—This I
cannot forbear looking upon, and I believe every
Body else will view it in the same Light, as an invidious
Artifice to silence all Complaints of Grievances,
or to render the Continuance a Breach of
Duty and Respect to his Majesty.

But this is a stale Pretence, and has been so
often made use of by our English-Hanoverians,
that it is grown Thread-bare:—The Tenet is
now thrown out of Doors, and while there is
any Spark of Liberty remaining, it will shew itself
at least in expressing our Dislike of any Measures
which tend to our Oppression.

It X4v 160

It is an old but very true Maxim, that England
can be undone only by herself:—Our Constitution,
like a Wall of Brass too thick to be
broke through, too high to be overlook’d by the
Power of the Crown, preserves the People from
any Encroachments from that Quarter; yet
may this Wall be undermined by those entrusted
to repair and keep it, and it is therefore our Business
to have a watchful Eye on whomsoever this
weighty Trust is reposed, lest for the Sake of
private and particular Interest, that of the whole
should be utterly destroyed, and this glorious Fabrick,
the Envy and Admiration of other Nations,
and so long our Defence and Happiness,
thrown down, and all our boasted Freedom perish
in its Ruins.

But I will not dwell on so ungrateful a Subject,
nor alarm myself or Readers with Apprehensions,
which, whatever Foundation they may
have had, ought now to vanish with the Power
and Influence of those Persons by whose Conduct
they were first excited.

What, tho’ Coronets adorn their Brows!—
What tho’ they riot in the Spoils of suffering
Millions, and securely laugh at the Mischiefs
they have done, their Day is over, their Sting is
spent, detected tho’ unpunish’d, the Beguilers can
beguile no more, and all Dangers to our Civil
Rights seem now as far as removed as those we
were lately threaten’d with from foreign Foes.

The Y1r 161

The Hanoverian Lady is so pleasantly whimsical
in her Description of the galloping Progress
of the French and Spanish Armies thro’ Italy,
Germany, Portugal, Flanders, and the United Provinces,
in order to reach these Kingdoms, that I
thought we all, especially Euphrosine, should never
have done laughing:—Nothing certainly
could have been added to the Humour of this
Raw-Head and Bloody Bones Expedition, unless
the ingenious Inventress of it had made them
call at Rome in their Way, and brought the Pope
and the Pretender on their Backs.

Bless us! what a terrible Monster is this
House of Bourbon! If these Ideas of it should
reach some distant Countries in Great Britain
and Ireland, it might fright the good Women
into Fits, and occasion many a Miscarriage, and
thereby lessen the Number of future Soldiers,
which would be a great Prejudice to us should
the War continue, or we continue to be engag’d
in it till the Queen of Hungary, the French King,
or Spanish Queen are willing to recede from the
Views they at present seem to have.

If any one should think I treat this Matter too
ludicrously, the Hanoverian Lady must bear the
Blame, who has really put me quite out of the
way of serious Reasoning.

But I will return to myself as soon as I can;
for going on in this wild way puts me in Mind
of the old humorous Poet.

Vol. II. Y What Y1v 162 “What need have we for Sack and Sherry, When our own Miseries can make us merry?”

This is not a Time indeed to laugh, and I
heartily beg Pardon of my Country for it:—Instead
of diverting the Thoughts of our Calamities,
we ought rather to bend our utmost Endeavours
for the Ease of them; which can only be
procured by observing a strict Oeconomy and
Frugality in our Apparel, Food and Furniture; in
fine, to retrench our Expences as to all the Necessaries
of Life, as well as the Pleasures of it,
otherwise how shall we be for any long Time enabled
to pay those Taxes which are requisite for
the Support of the War; and to join in the most
fervent Prayers to Heaven, that it may soon end
in an honourable and lasting Peace, and the ambitious
Great Ones of the World be made to see
their Error, and bid Rapine and Devastation
cease!

But tho’, for the general Good of all Europe as
well as ourselves, we ought to wish the Broils on
the Continent were amicably adjusted, yet if the
War should conclude without receiving any Satisfaction
on the Part of Spain, for the Insults and
Damages we have received from her, I believe no
Briton will be sorry to see the whole Force of our
Arms turn’d against that haughty Power, in order
to retrieve the Verdure of our too much
blasted Lawrels, preserve our Commerce, and defend
our Colonies.

This Y2r 163

This is truly our own War, and justifiable by
all Laws both divine and human:—Here, if we
conquer, we reap the Advantage of it ourselves;
besides, Naval Fights, when made in good earnest,
are seldom unfortunate for England; but in
a Land War there is much more than a Possibility
of being undone by our own Victory, and becoming
greater Losers than those we overcome.

But there is little left for me say on this Head,
the English Championess has, in too pathetic a
Manner, describ’d the Wildness of our engaging
in a War on the Continent, the much we have to
fear, and the little we have to hope, whatever
the Event shall happen to prove, for me to imagine
any thing I could add would render it more
plain.

Besides, after those Clouds and Tempests with
which the Bark of English Expectations has so
long been lost under the Direction of unskilful,
or unfaithful Pilots, a rising Sun begins to dawn
upon us, and promises to dispel the horrid Gloom,
calm the swelling Waves, and glad us with the
near Prospect of that wish’d for Harbour we have
sought, but sought in vain, for many tedious
Years.

Even now while I am writing, a Messenger of
Joy arrives:—Fame sounds her Golden-Trump
with Energy Divine, and thus reports:――Our
Island’s Genius rouses from his dreary Bed,――
shakes off inglorious Sloth, and once more active,Y2 tive Y2v 164
inspires his chosen Sons with Godlike Fires
to quell Oppression, save the sinking State,
and recall long banish’d Virtue to her ancient
Seat.

Midst all the Snares that artful Vice has laid
to catch the Passions and enslave the Heart:――
Midst all the Numbers that have renounced their
God, and bowed the Knee to Baal, a Patriot
Band, an uncorrupted few have still remained, unawed
by Frowns, unbought by Smiles, or all the
glittering Toys a Court bestows; alike impregnable
to Force or Fraud, Strangers at once to softning
Luxury and overbearing Pride, and Foes to
all Ambition but that of doing Good.

Years after Years did they behold their Country’s
falling Honours, but deceived with specious
Words, and outward Shews of Virtue, wise but yet
unsuspicious; and fearing by vindicating public
Right to do a private Wrong, they bore with
Temper what they saw with Grief; ’till bold Iniquity,
of her own Accord, pluck’d off the Vizard
of Hypocrisy, avowed her Influence, and
disclos’d the Traytors, by different Means to different
Ends aspiring, but all assisting to bind
Britannia in eternal Chains.

All was at Stake;—but one Step more was
wanting to tread down Liberty, and erect an Idol
of their own Formation in its Place:—Successful
Villany had well nigh gained its horrid Point, and Y3r 165
and free born Souls had been compell’d to bend
to Power illegal.

Now rise these Sons of Honour, and tho’ long
disunited by the base Artifices of their common
Foes, forget all petty Feuds, and resolve to stem
Destruction’s Tide, or perish in the brave Effort.

“O Glorious Coalition!—O Crisis, never to be
forgotten!”

The noble Ardour kindled in their Veins represents
the Occasion such as it is, admitting no Delay,
and this blest Moment they hasten to the
Throne, there will they prostrate, fall, and never
rise till they have wrought upon the Royal
Mind to listen and give Sanction to their Suit.

This is the Boon they ask, and are determined
with all becoming Decency to assert:

That his Majesty will vouchsafe Permission,
that all the Impositions, Deceits, Perjuries, Oppressions,
Misrepresentations, and other enormous
Crimes which these State-Harpys have been
guilty of to the Nation, may be laid before him;
and in Consequence of a full Detection, that he
will be pleas’d to render them for the future
incapable of holding any Office, Post, or Employment,
either in the Government or about
his Person; and in fine, drive them forever from
his Presence, that his Royal Ear no more may be
poisoned by their Councils, nor the most faithful Sub- Y3v 166
Subjects ever Prince could boast traduced by their
Insinuations.

This is the glorious Project which the Voice
of Fame assures us is on Foot, and if once ripen’d
into Action, how dear to the present Age,
and how immortal to a long Succession of Ages,
will be the Names of all who have a Share in it!

Even should any baleful Planet, Foe to
England’s Glory, interpose with dark’ning Influence
and blast the Attempt, the very making it is
sufficient to deserve Statues more durable and
more ornamented than any placed in the Capital
of ancient Rome.

But let us not perplex ourselves with idle
Doubts, they say, “Who fears his Fate deserves it”;
and should we imagine his most sacred Majesty
will be deaf to the united Voice of his whole People,
deliver’d to him by the most faithful, noble
and wise of his Subjects, it would be an Injustice
to his Goodness, which sure no loyal Heart
could ever forgive itself.

Let us rather rejoice in the almost certain
Hope of seeing this Petition made and granted,
—That those Court Moths, those Canker-Worms
of State will be no longer suffered to gnaw even
into the very Vitals of our Constitution, but be
expell’d and driven from all the nobler Part of the
Creation, and henceforth compell’d to associate
only with their Fellow-Insects.

In Y4r 167

In lone Retirement let them repent, at least
regret their past Abuse of Power:—Deprived
of every Means to oppress or to betray the Innocent,
let them upbraid and become Tormentors
to each other:—Too mild a Doom for Crimes
so consummate, so complicated as theirs!—For
if, as Cato says, “ ――What Pity ’tisA Man can dye but once to serve his Country!”
Certainly for those “Who trusted by their Country have betray’d it,To die but once is Punishment too small.”

But these truly worthy Patriots retain the same
Moderation with which they have ever behav’d,
and shew that tho’ now oblig’d to exert themselves,
they exert themselves only to save Britannia,
not to destroy the very worst and most
degenerate of her Sons.

What indeed can they desire less, or what is
more absolutely necessary than that those should
be removed, who if trusted would deceive, and
if not trusted would be perpetually contriving
Means to obstruct all their Measures, and render
abortive their best-concerted Schemes!

No Councils without a perfect Unanimity can
prosper; but when Men, tho’ of never so different
Interests and Principles in other Things, shall
happen to agree and pursue with Vigour one favouritevourite Y4v 168
Point, be it of what kind soever, one seldom
sees them miscarry in their Aim.

This Argument has a thousand Times been
made use of, both within and without Doors, by a
late eminent fallen Patriot; he cannot therefore
take it ill, or be surpriz’d that it is now urg’d
against himself, tho’ he both may and ought
to be asham’d of having given the Occasion.

Oh Curio! Curio! once so admired, so lov’d!
―― Most thought thee honest,――All believed
thee wise;—thou Terror of one Party, Darling
and chief Dictator of the other; how do the one
despise, the other hate thee now! —Verres himself
less shunn’d, and more excused.

Verres, train’d up from Infancy in the
low Arts of Gain,—Stranger to Ease and Affluence,
yet in his Soul vain-glorious and ambitious,
might easily be tempted to join in any
thing to raise his Fortune; which having done,
in a short Time, beyond what Hope could promise,
the Sweets of ill-got Wealth, and the prosperous
Success of those Crimes to which he owed
it, embolden’d him to act still greater, and to stop
at nothing; and when at last swell’d to enormous
Size, Justice began to shake the brandish’d Sword,
in order to ward off the impending Stroke, he
found himself oblig’d to pursue Measures more
wicked yet, more mischievous than ever:—As
his Indigence therefore had led him, so his Security
compell’d him to persist.

But Z1r 169

But you, O Curio! had no such Pretence;
born to, and in Possession of Demesns sufficient
to prevent all sordid Aims from entering your
Breast:—Nurtur’d in Patriotism, long you trod
the Path of Glory, and your Country’s Happiness
seem’d more your Aim than ought belonging
meerly to yourself; or if you wish’d Reward,
it was only because it would be a Proof to after
Times of British Gratitude, and shew your Labours
had attain’d their End:—For more than
twenty Years did you pursue this Verres;—explored
his dark Designs, and oft prevented the
Execution of them:—All Offers you rejected,
all Menaces disdained,—and firm in the Cause
of Liberty, with unwearied Zeal spoke, wrote,
and acted as became a Briton:—At last, the
long-desir’d,—the long-sought Time arrived, to
crown your Toils with an assured Success:—Fortune
herself seem’d weary of her Minion, and
left him on the Verge of Ruin:――The meaner
Instruments of his Oppressions already mourn’d
his Fate, and trembled for their own:—Each
honest Heart exulted, and Liberty secured with
all its salutary Barrier Laws was now the general
Hope:—This you beheld, and with what grateful
Raptures each Eye look’d on you, and each
Tongue spoke of you:――Every Relief from
ill, every expected Blessing, they own’d chiefly
to Curio owing:— Curio! the Friend of Public
Good;—Curio! his Country’s Prop:—Agent
of Heaven, to shield Britannia from impending
Danger.

Vol. II. Z Such Z1v 170

Such Love, such Praises as were shower’d upon
you might have converted even Treachery into
Truth, much more confirmed the Heart inured
to Honour:――Yet then, O most infatuated,
most ill-starr’d of Men!—When arrived at the
utmost Summit of human Perfection, you fell at
once into the lowest Abyss of Infamy and Perdition:
――Betray’d the People who so trusted
in you;—renounced the Cause you had so long
maintain’d;—favoured the Abuse, and screen’d
the Abuser you had sworn never to quit till you
had seen chastised.

Amazing Change! In one ill-fated Hour the
Prize of your whole former Life wantonly thrown
away; it cannot be call’d sold, since barter’d for
a Toy you might have even commanded,
illustrated with real Glories had you remain’d
yourself, not daub’d and tinsell’d over such as
this, which, instead of adorning, but deforms
your Brows, and renders your Shame the more
conspicuous.

We all remember, nor can you sure forget,
how happy you seem’d to think yourself when
the pernicious Scheme of the Excise was on
Foot, and your Influence in the Senate had put
to Shame the Minister and his Adherents!――
How true, how permanent an Honour then you
thought it to make Millions happy!—And how
laudable was that Ambition in you of receiving
merited Applause!—When you beheld the best
and wealthiest of our Citizens waiting the hop’d but Z2r 171
but fear’d Result of that important Hour:—You
hasted to relieve their Anxiety, and said aloud
these remarkable Words:
“Gentlemen! Date your Liberties from this Day.”

“We do,—We do, Sir”, replied they with a
Shout that seem’d to shake the spacious Dome:
—The joyful Tidings resounded to the Gates of
the Hall:—The Crowd without heard it, and
eccho’d back the Cry of “Liberty! Liberty! and
no Excise!”
—Hung on your Chariot Wheels and
bore you home in greater Triumph than old
Rome e’er knew: While Verres, pale and trembling,
sculked amidst his Guard of Hirelings, and
scarce escap’d the just Resentment of a People
whose Slavery he had projected.

How truly glorious for you was this Night!
―― The Fires and Illuminations which blazed
in every Street less proclaim’d the general Joy
for the Benefit received, than that to you we
owed it.—O had this Spirit still existed in you,
“What might you not have been?”――Shocking
Reflection!—“What are you now!”—But I have
done.—Verres and Curio link’d, compose a Prodigy
such as no past Age can parallel, and all
future ones will stand aghast at the Description
of.

I forbear making any particular mention of
the many Followers of this guilty Pair; who Z2 like Z2v 172
like their Patrons, lost in a Moment all their former
Animosity, and shook Hands with those
who not a Week before they had pursued to Destruction.

England, however, will reap this double
Advantage from the Crimes of both Minister and
Patriot:—The Detection of the One will, ’tis to
be hop’d, deter all future Statesmen from treading
in the same Steps; and the Apostacy of the Other
serve as a Warning to the Nation not to place
too entire a Confidence in any Professions whatsoever.

Those who sincerely labour for their Country’s
Welfare will certainly find their Reward in
the Success of their Enterprize; and if the great
Work, which I hear is now in Hand, should be
accomplish’d before these Lucubrations see the
Light, I dare answer the Satisfaction will be too
great to render stale or displeasing what I have
said on the Occasion.

However, till Suspense is wholly swallowed
up in Certainty, there will be Emotions in the
Heart that will not suffer us to be quite compos’d:
—We are, as it were, divided between Pain and
Pleasure, and having been already so often deceived,
are apt to cry out in the Words of the
Psalmist:
“There is no Confidence in Man!”

A Z3r 173

A Letter we have just received seems very
much adapted to the fluctuating Situation of our
present Expectations, and as it directs to that Side
of the Question, which will render us most easy,
is highly proper to be inserted in this Place.

“To the Female Spectator. Madam, As you have hitherto seem’d to exert your
speculative Capacity wholly for the Improvement
of the Morals, and a due regulating
the Conduct; and in order to give Success
to your Endeavours, there is an absolute Necessity
to begin with the Passions, I flatter myself
you will not think it impertinent in me to offer
to your Consideration some Reflections which
casually came into my Head this Morning.
Hope and Fear are the first Passions that
agitate the human Mind:—In our very Infancy
they find Entrance, and operate before we are
capable of receiving any other:—They guide
our Actions in Maturity;—retain their Vigour
even to extreme old Age, and never utterly forsake
us till Death and Eternity close the Scene,
and leave nothing more to wish for.
They are Passions, which if taken in a religious
Sense seem inspired by the Creator himself;
for what can more instigate us to Acts
of Piety and Devotion than the everlasting
Rewards which Hope presents in prospect to the Z3v 174
the virtuous Mind?—Or what Restraint from
Crimes equal to that which arises from the
Fear of those tremendous Punishments threatned
to the guilty?—But as this is a Truth none
but Free-Thinkers and Deists will deny, I shall
only mention a few of those Advantages or Disadvantages,
the being possess’d of them is to
our temporal Satisfaction and Happiness.
Hope is, in my Opinion, the most precious
Good we can enjoy, our sure Defence in
all the Assaults of adverse Fortune, and a main
Step to the Attainment of more prosperous
Events:—Whoever chides it from him, and
encourages its opposite, sinks beneath the Burthen
of his Fate, and is in danger of rising no
more; but he who preserves it will be climbing
still, and tho’ he may be oft repulsed, is untoiled
with Disappointment, and never loses
the Prospect of his Wish.—Our inimitable
Cowley has given us a beautiful Definition of
this Passion in one of his Pindarick Odes;
which, tho’ I doubt not but you have read, I
cannot help transcribing for the Benefit of those
who may not: ‘Hope of all Ills that Men endureThe only cheap and universal Cure!Thou Captive’s Freedom, and thou sick Man’s
Health!
Thou Loser’s Victory, and thou Beggar’s Wealth!Thou Manna which from Heav’n we eat;To every Taste a several Meat!ThouZ4r175Thou strong Retreat! Thou sure entailed
Estate,
Which nought has Power to alienate!Thou pleasant honest Flatt’rer; for noneFlatter unhappy Man but thou alone!Hope, thou First-Fruits of Happiness,Thou gentle Dawning of a bright Success,Who out of Fortune’s Reach dost stand,And art a Blessing still in Hand.Happiness itself’s all oneIn thee or in Possession.Best Apprehender of our Joys, which hastSo long a Reach, and yet can’st hold so fast!Men leave thee by obtaining, and strait fleeSome other way again to thee.’
It was chiefly by being strongly possess’d of
this Passion that Julius Cæsar gain’d the Battle
of Pharsalia; and had Cato not been entirely
abandoned by it, he had persisted in his Endeavours
for the Liberty of his Country, and possibly
retrieved it too.
Alexander the Great thought so
highly of it, that when chosen General of the
United States against Persia, he divided his whole
Kingdom of Macedon among his Officers, giving
Towns to some, Cities to others, and whole
Provinces to those whose Capacities in his Judgment
merited them. Parmerio, who was one
that profited by this extraordinary Bounty, beheld
it with Surprize, and ask’d his Majesty
what he reserved for himself?――‘Hope!’ repliedplied Z4v 176
that Prince, implying that he esteemed it
above every thing; and indeed his future Glories
proved it was with Justice he did so, since it was
by that encourag’d and embolden’d he acquired
them.
On what Pursuit soever the Soul of Man is
bent, whether to the Attainment of Love, Honour,
or Riches, how languid, how enervate will
be the Efforts he makes, if not animated by the
Hope of succeeding! Yet notwithstanding this
obvious Truth, those People who judge of Things
only as they appear to themselves, are apt to
turn this glorious Passion into Ridicule:—They
look on a Person who aims at any thing which
they imagine is out of his Reach, as an Extravagant,
and treat all the Schemes he proposes as so
many visionary Delusions:—He is laugh’d at by
his Enemies, and pity’d by his Friends, who perhaps
by their mistaken Counsels avert the Inspiration
of his good Genius, and turn him from
the only Means by which he might arrive at
Happiness.
But I would fain know of these obstinate
Opugners of Hope, what Reasons they can give
for our endeavouring to repel the Dictates of so
pleasing, and at the same time so beneficial a Passion:
—For my Part I must confess it comes not
within the reach of my Apprehension to conceive
any thing their surly Wisdoms can offer,
that would be sufficient to compensate for what we Aa1r 177
we should lose in being deprived of Hope, even
tho’ it happen to be vain, because the very
Deception it puts upon us is a Blessing for the
Time it lasts.
The ancient Philosophers have proved by
Arguments, I think, unanswerable, that the real
Attainment of our Wishes brings with it no
Proportion of Happiness which can come in
Competition with the Idea of it, while we remain
in a State of Expectation:—If this is
granted, it must also be confess’d, that those
delightful, those rapturous Ideas are made so
only by Hope, since it would be far from a Felicity
to contemplate on a Good we wish, but
are fearful will never be in our Possession.
In fine, while we have Hope we are all we
would be
, and when robb’d of that, all we would
not be
.
How many living Spectres do we see who, lost
to Hope, wander about the World, so wan and
pin’d with Care and Discontent, their very Souls
would seem dead were it not that ever and anon
their Starts and Groans discover they apprehend
some worse Calamity than what they feel already?
—These are the Slaves of Fear, the Antagonist
of Hope, and the meanest, poorest of all
Passions:――It makes the Wretch who harbours
it anticipate the Ills he is doom’d to suffer,
and tremble for others that Fate never intended
to bring on him.
Vol. II. Aa There Aa1v 178 There is indeed but one Step between this
Passion and Despair, and that is made only by
some Remains of Hope, which however is a
very unquiet Situation, because the Mind is perpetually
toss’d and knows not where to fix;
――all Joy one Moment, and all Grief the
next;—sometimes lifted up to the highest
Pitch of rapturous Expectation; at others
sunk, abash’d, and trembling to pursue what
most it wishes.
But notwithstanding all I have said in the
behalf of Hope, I must allow that there is
Danger in indulging it too much:—Presumption,
Arrogance, and Self-Conceit are as
frequently Attendants on this Passion, as a
mean Bashfulness, or a sneaking Behaviour, and
an Inability of exerting ourselves in a proper
Manner, are of its Opposite:――Hope is apt
to inspire us with too great a Warmth, Fear
with too much Coldness.
It is therefore the first Employment we
ought to give our Reason to keep a due Medium;
—to moderate both these Passions,
and not to suffer the One to hurry us to any
Actions unbecoming of our Characters and
Stations in Life, nor the Other to with-hold us
from the Pursuit of any thing that in itself is
laudable, because it may seem attended with
some Difficulties.
It Aa2r 179 It is also the Business of Wisdom to conceal,
as much as possible, the natural Propensity
we have to either of these Passions:――
To be conscious of having testify’d a too
sanguine Hope in any thing we may chance to
fail in the Attainment of, gives double Asperity
to Disappointment;—and to shew we have
been restrained by Fear from undertaking any
thing for the Advantage either of ourselves,
our Friends, or Country, which has been easily
accomplish’d by another, makes us be look’d
upon as unworthy the Respect or Confidence
of the World.
I may add to this, that Hope is apt to make
us place too great a Confidence in Things and
Persons, as Fear, on the other Hand, inspires
us with too much Distrust:—The One sometimes
renders us the Tools of our worst Enemies,
and the Other guilty of Injustice to our
best Friends.
Dissimulation therefore in this Case is
no more than Prudence:—Happy is he who
can seem to have no Excess of Hope or Fear of
any thing; but more happy is he who knows
how to command both, and has Penetration
enough to discover when, and to which he
ought most to incline!
There are certainly many Things we
ought to fear, and others which it would be
unjust for us to hope:――Virtue and good Aa2 Mo- Aa2v 180
Morality will point them out, as Wisdom will
direct in a great measure how either Apprehension
or Expectation may be justify’d.
But because the Scale of human Probability
frequently deceives us, and Events greatly depend
on what we call Chance or Fortune, the
safest way is not to build on any thing.
To bear Prosperity with Temper, and Adversity
with Fortitude, is the truest and noblest
kind of Heroism, the Crown as well as Proof
of Virtue, and will render us more easy to ourselves,
more agreeable to our Neighbours, and
more accceptable in the Sight of Heaven, than
all the gilded Trophies of the Field, or Favours
of a Prince.
The Man then that would attain or preserve
this happy Situation, let him make all Things as
indifferent to him as possible, but always take
care rather to hope the best than fear the worst.
I am,
Madam,
Your very humble and
Most obedient Servant
. Philo-Serenitas.”

The Conclusion of this Letter, tho’ perhaps
not intended in a political Sense, contains the best Ad- Aa3r 181
Advice can be given us while in expectation
of the Event at present depending.

The having been deceived, does not imply
we shall again be so, tho’ there is a Possibility we
may, because the best of Men are still but Men:
―― All have Passions of one kind or other to
gratify, and none can answer for himself, that in
some unguarded Hour the Fiend within him
may not prove too strong for the Angel.

One of our Weekly Papers, of which a certain
great Man before his Apostacy was said to be
the Patron, has given us some Maxims on this
Head, which ought never to be forgotten; and
as they cannot therefore be too often repeated, I
shall give them in his own Words:

“When a Person in Power finds his best Endeavours
to maintain his Popularity fruitless,
if he finds his most innocent, nay meritorious
Actions blasted, and what he administers for
Nourishment converted into Poyson; unless
he is another Socrates or Confucius, his Heart
must unavoidably be turned against us; and
that Affection, that Zeal, and that Fidelity
which was before divided between Prince and
People will center in the first only, and thenceforward
he may become so much a Prey to
his Passions as to lay hold on every Opportunity
to distress those, whom he found it impossible
to oblige.”
Let Aa3v 182 “Let it be a Rule with us then so to behave,
as, that in case those at the Helm should desert
the Interest to which they owe their
Greatness, they may have no Excuse for their
Apostacy.
Liberty is the true Palladium of our State;
and the meanest Briton is as much concern’d
in its Preservation as the greatest:――Let
every Briton then be as watchful over it as
ever:――Let a blind Confidence be placed
in no Man whatever:――It is what no honest
Man would desire, what no wise Man
can expect, and what no wicked Man deserves.
But let us not fire the Beacon, and cry out
the Enemy! the Enemy! before there is any
visible Danger.
It is a good Thing to be upon one’s Guard:
――It is a very bad one to be in Confusion.
――He that draws to defend himself when attack’d,
is both wise and brave:――He that
fences with the Wind is either a Bully or a
Madman.
If the present Managers act up to their Pretensions,
every honest Man in Great Britain
will be in their Interest and at their Devotion:
—If they fall short of, or act in Contradiction
to them, the Prejudice in their Favour will soon
wear off; their Enemies will retort their own
Arguments upon them; and, what is worst of all, Aa4v 183
all, Patriotism in State Affairs will run some
risque of being put on a footing with Hypocrisy
in Religion, than which a more affecting
Curse can hardly visit this Land of Liberty.”

I need not tell my Reader that this was
wrote at the Time of our late Jehu Minister’s
first coming into Power, and when there were
some who, as it prov’d, too justly apprehended
that when he had catch’d the Fish he would throw
away the Net.

We owe, however, some Obligation to him
that he shewed himself so soon; a Man more artful
and less daring might have proceeded by such
imperceptible Degrees as, before we were aware,
might have entail’d Slavery in perpetuity on these
Nations.

Long were we cajoled, and flatter’d out of
our very Reason by his timid Predecessor; and
perhaps had he not been forced by Counsels, not
his own, into some Measures which discover’d the
pernicious Mark he aim’d at, he might have compleated
the Destruction he had begun.

The above Rules will therefore be of excellent
Sercvice to us, if well observ’d, under all Administrations,
even tho’ composed of Men, who, on
the Score of former Patriotism, should happen to
be the greatest Darlings of the Time; for, if we
may credit the Poet,

The Aa4v 184 “The Court’s a golden, but a fatal Circle, Upon whose Magic Skirts a thousand Devils, In Crystal Forms, sit tempting Innocence, And beckon early Virtue from its Centre. ”

But I am quite weary of the unfathomable
Mysteries of State, and the yet more unfathomable
Depths of great Men’s Hearts:—He who sees
all Things is alone able to unravel them; even
Time itself cannot do it, for tho’ he brings all
Actions to Light, the Motives of them frequently
remain a Secret, and will do so to all Eternity.

The Author of the following Letter, notwithstanding,
seems to have a great Opinion of my
Abilities this way; but I am afraid he will be of
another way of thinking, when he perceives a
Question, which perhaps to him may appear to
be of a Nature easily answered, is in reality too
puzzling for my Comprehension.

“To the Female Spectator. Worthy Dame, Tho’ I never found you set up either for
a British Apollo or Athenian Mercury,
nor had given out any Bills or Advertisements
to signify you resolv’d all lawful Questions,
yet I have Dependance enough on your Capacity
and Good-Nature to flatter me you will
give your casting Vote in a Dispute, in which all Bb1r 185
all concern’d have agreed to submit to your Decision.
I was last Night engag’d in a good deal of
Company at the Bedford-Head Tavern, Covent-
Garden
, when, among many other fashionable
Healths, Success to the Queen of Hungary
went chearfully round the Table.
A certain Gentleman took Occasion, on
naming that Princess, to say that he thought Nature
was growing frolicksome, and, swerving
from her ordinary Course, had transfer’d those
Souls which ought to be confined to us of the
Masculine Gender into that of the Feminine:
‘That Sex,’ said he, ‘has long been encroaching on
our Province of Wit, but I think it is too much
they should rob us of our Glory likewise:—Some
Share of Policy I am ready to allow them, but
can by no means consent they should be Warriors.’
He then run great lengths in praise of her
Hungarian Majesty, as being above the little
softening Follies which are the Characteristick
of Womanhood:—Intrepid, undaunted,
and despising all Passions but those of Glory
and Ambition.――‘How truly noble,’ continu’d
he, ‘did she behave, when News arrived that
Prince Charles of Lorrain’s Army was all cut to
Pieces, instead of putting Finger in Eye, as some
Women would have done, and lamenting the
untimely Fate of so many thousand gallant Men, Vol. II. Bb No Bb1v 186 “No Matter for the Army,” said she, “if the General
be safe.”
――What great Things would she
not be able to accomplish at the Head of an Army
if her Childing Condition did not prevent it?’
Another seeing him so warm, told him,
that tho’ he could not but agree with him in
what he said of this German Heroine, yet he
thought the Queen of Spain yielded to her in
none of those Points which seem’d so much to
attract his Admiration:—That she was no
less anxious for aggrandizing her Family;—
was no less insensible of those tender Emotions
which, as the Poet says, ‘Drag Men backward from immortal Actions.’
That she took no less Pride in Conquest;—
was no less intrepid after a Deafeat;—no less
inflexible to all Offers of Accommodation, unless
they tallied exactly with her Wish; and in
fine, that she was in every thing as little of a
Woman as the other could possibly be.
This, the Champion for her Hungarian
Majesty denied, and the Arguments between
them continued, till by Degrees every one in
the Room listed himself either on the one or
the other Side:――The Numbers on both
happen’d to be equal, and it was at length
concluded to consult the Female Spectator,
and that we should allow that Opinion to be
most just which you should pronounce to be so.
I Bb2r 187 I Forbear to acquaint you who I am, and
also which Party I took, because I would not
be thought to influence you to any Partiality
in my Favour: All are Witnesses of what I
write, and join to beg you will give Judgment
with Freedom and Impartiality, which will
confer a lasting Obligation on a Set of Gentlemen
who are most of them your Subscribers,
and all Admirers of your Speculations, particularly
him who at present must only be known
to you by the Title of
Your humble Servant, The Querist. P. S. Madam, If you think it improper
to insert this in your next Publication, or print
any thing in Answer to it, please to favour us
with your private Sentiments on the Debate,
directed for me (as I have above subscribed
myself) to be left at Will’s Coffee-House in
Great Russel-Street, Covent-Garden.”

As I can perceive no Manner of Reason which
should oblige me to stifle this Epistle, unless, as
I said before, my Want of Power to comply with
the Request contained in it so definitely as may
be expected, the Directions given in the Postscript
were altogether unnecessary.

But to shew my readiness to oblige my Correspondent,Bb2 respondent, Bb2v 188
I will give my Sentiments on the
Matter in Question to the best of my Judgment.

The Dispute, I think, is, whether the Queen
of Hungary or of Spain may be allowed to have
the greatest Share of Spirit:—A moot Point
I must confess:――To consider either singly
one would imagine her Equal was not to be
found; but when we come to compare them, not
only the Conduct of both, but the Motives also
of that Conduct, ought strictly to be examined
into.

The Queen of Spain being but second Wife
to the present King, disdains the Sons born of her
should be Subjects of a Prince who is the Issue
of a former Marriage; and to establish them in
some degree of Equality with their elder Brother,
attempts to erect into Kingdoms certain Dominions,
some of which she looks upon herself as Heiress,
and set the Crowns of them upon their Heads.—
The first of these Enterprizes has succeeded to her
Wish:—Don Carlos is King of the Two Sicilies,
and the Infant Don Philip, but for us, would be in a
fair way of obtaining a no less powerful Monarchy.
—It is not our Business to shew the Legality
or Illegality of the Claims pretended to by this
Princess; it is enough to say she pursues her Aim
with the utmost Vigour and Resolution;—that
no Disappointments shake her Fortitude;—no
Obstacles alarm her Courage; and that by the Strength Bb3r 189
Strength of her own Genius, more than by her
Royal Consort’s Armies, she has got the better of
Difficulties which were look’d upon by the rest
of the World as unsurmountable.

The Queen of Hungary, on the other Side, is
the Heiress of a Family, which ’tis well known
had always an Eye towards rendering the Imperial
Crown hereditary, and entailing it on a Prince
of its own:—How far such a View is consistent
with the Liberties of Germany, or the Privileges
and Dignity of the Electoral Princes, I will not
take upon me to say, nor is it any thing to the
present Purpose; the late Emperor however had
it no less at Heart than his Predecessors, as ’tis
plain by his not suffering even the Duke of Lornrain,
whom he intended should marry his eldest
Daughter, to be elected King of the Romans,
flattering himself perhaps that he should have a
Son of his own.

This was a mortal Stab to the Ambition of the
Arch-Dutchess Maria Theresa, who at his Decease
inheriting the vast Dominions of both the Austrias,
Hungary, Bohemia, Parma, Placentia, all the Milanese,
and to these a long Et cetera of Appendixes,
could not support the Thought of seeing a Power
above her, therefore resolved to put all she was in
Possession of at Stake rather than relinquish the noble
Hope of being the first Potentate in Europe:
—To this end she protested against the Election
of a new Emperor,—rais’d Armies to oppose him, Bb3v 190
him,—ran in Person through Bohemia, Hungary,
&c. &c.—encouraging her Subjects, and at the
same time solliciting, bribing, and exciting all
the neighbouring Princes to espouse her Cause;
—those even who by reason of their Distance,
and many other Motives, she could the least depend
on for Assistance, she made Tryal of, nor
try’d in vain.

Tho’ oft repuls’d, and sometimes on the
Brink of losing all, still her unconquerable Will
remained the same;――firm to her first Resolves,
she has beheld Germany, that Country, which in
all her numerous Manifestos, Rescripts and Letters
she calls so dear, become the Scene of Confusion
and Devastation;――fearless, unmoved,
while in the Road to Empire, tho’ wading thro’
whole Seas of Blood to reach the Goal.

A greater length of Time has indeed given
her Majesty of Spain more Opportunities to
prove her Prowess; but it is scarce to be doubted,
but that if Fate prevents it not, either by cutting
the Thread of Life, or throwing in her Lap
whatever she has to wish, her Royal Competitor
in the Fame of Female Daring will not be behind-hand
with her.

It must be confess’d, that at present they seem
so much on an Equality, that I do not wonder
the Number of those Gentlemen who disputed on
this Head should be equal too.

But Bb4r 191

But since my Opinion is absolutely insisted
on, I must say, that if the Queen of Hungary
has in so short a Time overtaken her Majesty of
Spain in her long Race of Glory and Ambition,
we may expect she will outstrip her in the End,
and therefore for that very Reason, if no other,
to her the Palm, as it appears to me, must necessarily
be due.

Thus far in answer to the Querist; but having
enter’d into this Subject I cannot take leave
of it without adding some Thoughts of my own,
which in spite of me force themselves into my
Head whenever I hear any mention made of this
enterprizing Queen.

Supposing that after having reduced all Germany,
expell’d the Emperor, and seated the Grand
Duke in the Imperial Throne, humbled the Power
of France, and driven them from all their Holds
in Flanders, she should take a Fancy to extend
her Conquests to the United Provinces, is there not
a Possibility Great Britain might have an unquiet
Neighbour of her?――The Danger indeed is
far remote, yet I think not more so than that
which of late has rung so great a Peal in our
Ears concerning the Designs of France against us,
at least from that Quarter.

O! but were this practicable, some will say,
her Majesty of Hungary is too much oblig’d to
us ever to entertain any Designs to our Prejudice:
To which it may be replied, that all Princes act not Bb4v 192
not upon the same Principles with private Persons;
what in a Subject might be Ingratitude, Tricking,
and Chicanery, is refined Policy in them, and
for all the Outcry that we make against Violation
of Treaties, that Prince who is entirely innocent
of it may throw the first Stone.

In the mean time the Justice and Magnanimity
of this Princess, methinks, would appear in a more
advantageous Light, if some Equivalent were
made to Great Britain for that Expence of Blood
and Treasure lavish’d in her Cause, at a Time
when it could so ill be spared, and when no other
Power, without being largely paid for it, would
espouse her Cause. Ostend, for Instance, is a Demesn
she might very well afford to part with,
and, as it would be of great Service to our Trade,
give us a more plausible Pretence for serving
her than any we yet have been able to find.

End of the Ninth Book.

Cc1r


The
Female Spectator.


Book X.

Tho’ my late celebrated Brother,
and many other Authors, have
given the World their various
Opinions concerning Jealousy, I
fancy it will not be impertinent
to add something to what has been already said
on a Subject which has, and will forever continue
to create the most terrible Disorder that can
befal Mankind; not only because whatever may
serve as a Preservative against it cannot be too
often repeated, but also because, I think, with all
due Deference to those who have hitherto treated
on it, that they have not been so copious as might
have been expected, and that the greatest Part of Vol. II. Cc them Cc1v 194
them have done it more Honour than it deserves.

What I mean by doing it more Honour than
it deserves, is, that they speak of it only as the Effect
of a too ardent Love and Admiration of the
Object; whereas, tho’ this may sometimes be the
Case, is far from being always so; and, I believe,
we shall find no Difficulty to prove, that the
Origin of it may more often be deduc’d from the
very worst instead of the noblest Passion of the
Soul:—It may, indeed, with great Propriety, be
call’d the Bane of Love; but whenever it is found
the Offspring, it can only be of a base and degenerate
Inclination, not of that pure and refined
Passion which is alone worthy of the Name of
Love.

This certainly can be denied by none who
allow that true Love is founded on that Esteem
which the Opinion we have of the good Qualities
of the Object excites in us; and, I believe,
few Examples can be produc’d of the real and
unfeign’d Permanence of the one, when the other
wholly ceases to exist.

I believe I shall be easily understood to
mean that Affection which is between Persons
who are either already married, or engag’d to be
so to each other by mutual Assurances of a lasting
Tenderness.

For Cc2r 195

For as to that Timidity which is the natural
Companion of Love in its Infancy, and before it
receives Encouragement necessary to strengthen
Hope, it proceeds only from a Diffidence of our
own Merits, not from a Distrust of the beloved
Object, and can, with no degree of Propriety,
be term’d Jealousy.

As it is therefore only after being possess’d of
all we had to wish, or having been flatter’d with
a Belief we should infallibly be so, that those distracting
Ideas, which constitute Jealousy, can find
any Entrance in the Brain; I think it sufficiently
justifies my Assertion, that this mischievous Passion
discovers rather the meanest Opinion of the
Object than a too vehement Admiration, unless
suspecting a Person guilty of Perjury, Inconstancy,
and the most shocking and worst kind of
Deceit, can be call’d so.

There are People in the World who know
not how to support Prosperity, and when arrived
at the End they long have labour’d under, find in
themselves something which will not suffer them
to be at quiet;—they have attained all,――they
have no more to wish, and, like the Macedonian
Conqueror, are vex’d they have nothing farther
to oppose them:—This Restlessness of Mind puts
them on reflecting how, and by what means they
may possibly be deprived of what they have acquired,
and whatever is possible, they soon present
to themselves as highly probable too; and by degreesgrees Cc2v 196
bring up into a downright Certainty of
happening.

Fancy is a creative Faculty, and when agitated
by Fear, can work Wonders:—It forms
Apparitions, and then shews them as real Substances;
—it turns what is, into what is not, and
converts nothing into something;—it levels the
Mountain, and exalts the Vale;—it unites the
greatest Contraries, and divides the firmest and
most cemented Bodies;—in a word, it either
makes or overthrows whenever it pleases, destroys
the Order of all Things, and performs what Nature
has not the Power to do. “When Reason sleeps, our mimic Fancy wakes,Supplies her Part, and wild Ideas takes,From Words and Things ill-suited and misjoin’d,The Anarchy of Thought, and Chaos of the
Mind. ”

Thus by an Impatience of Temper, and the
Force of Imagination, are many misled to ruin
their own Peace, and that of the Person they pretend
to love; yet is this the least unpardonable
Source from which Jealousy proceeds, because it
may, as the Poet says, be taken “For the high Pulse of Passion in a Fever! ”

And if the Faults of Love by Love are to be
justified, those who are rendered uneasy on this Score Cc3r 197
Score may the more readily excuse the Effects, in
consideration of the Cause.

But what have they to alledge in Vindication
of the Discontent they occasion, in whom “No Sign of Love remains,But that which sick Men have of Life, their
Pains! ”

Many there are, Heaven knows, too many of
such, whom a moderate Share of Observation may
point out:—There are those who, without being
capable of feeling one tender Emotion, or having
any true Regard even for the Person of him or
her to whom they happen to be join’d, have
discovered a Jealousy, which has rendered all
within the reach of its Effects, extremely miserable.

This is, indeed, so common a Case, unnatural
as it may seem, that I dare answer there is not
one into whose Hands the Female Spectator may
fall, that have not some time or other in their
Lives had an Acquaintance with Families where
it has happen’d; but following the received
Maxim, that Jealousy is the Effect of Love, have
rather pity’d than condemn’d the Extravagancies
they may have seen occasioned by it.

But well may a disinterested Person judge in
this Manner, when those most concern’d, and best able Cc3v 198
able to discover the Truth, have frequently been
deceived; and when treated in the most cruel and
injurious Manner have submitted to it with a secret
Satisfaction, and even plumed themselves
upon the Force of a Passion, which they imagin’d
excited only by an Excess of Inclination.

This kind of Infatuation puts me in Mind of
a Story I have heard of the Russian Women, who,
they say, look on Blows as the greatest Proof of
Affection their Husbands can bestow upon them;
and if they are not well beaten, once a Day at
least, will run to their Friends and complain of
the Injustice they are treated with.――Whether
there is any Truth in this I will not pretend to
say, having never yet employed any Silph in the
Examination; but according to the Delicacy of
my Country-Women in other Respects, it appears
full as odd to me, that any of them can be
pleased with such Words and Actions as may justly
be look’d upon in England equally injurious
with Blows in the Territories of Russia.

But as Vanity, and a high Opinion of Self-
Merit, sometimes renders one Party easy and
contented, nay, as I before observed, even delighted
with Reproaches and ill Usage; so is it
Pride, and an over-bearing Arrogance in the
other, which will not suffer them to endure the
least innocent Civility to be paid to any but themselves:
—The Person to whom they have vouchsafed
to give their Hand must not dare to think
of any thing but pleasing them;—no Merit but their Dd1r 199
their own must be taken Notice of;――they
must forgo all Complaisance, all Decency, and
be rude and savage to every one beside;――a
Smile, a Courtesy, is a Crime deserving the most
opprobrious Reflections, and they must behave
in such a manner, as to deserve the Hatred and
Contempt of all the rest of the World, to engage
a tolerable Regard from this over tenacious
Partner for Life.

Another Humour there is also which very
much prevails in some People, and that is, to
avoid being thought weak and incapable of diving
to the Bottom of Things, they affect to find
out Mysteries in every thing;――they construe
into Meanings the most insignificant Trifles;—
their Eyes, their Ears are perpetually upon the
Watch, and interpret the very humming over a
Tune, and even the Gait of the suspected Person,
as Indications of some latent Plot to delude their
Penetration.

Thus by endeavouring to be wiser than their
Neighbours, they become the veryest Fools in Nature;
and while they imagine every Body stands
in awe of their Discernment, are the Jest and Ridicule
of as many as have any Acquaintance with
them.

I must confess these over-cunning People are,
of all others, most my Aversion, and certainly
must be the most troublesome to have any Concern
with.—I once knew a Gentleman of this Vol. II. Dd Cast, Dd1v 200
Cast, who had a very agreeable, and I dare answer,
a very virtuous Woman for his Wife; but the
poor Soul could not keep a Thread-Paper without
his examining into it:—If a Servant happen’d
to come into the Room, and whisper’d her on
any domestic Affair, she must immediately repeat
the Words that had been spoke; yet this
was not thought sufficient to be certain of not
being imposed upon; he would go immediately
out of the Room, call for the Servant, and oblige
her or him, whichever it were, to tell him on
what Occasion that Whisper had been; and if
every Word did not exactly agree with the Report
his Wife had made, he presently concludes
there was some Design on Foot between them, to
the Prejudice of his Honour, for the Prevention
of which the Servant was that Instant discharg’d,
and his Wife confin’d to her Chamber:—Nobody
could ever knock at the Door without his
running to the Window, then half way down
Stairs, list’ning to what was said: If too low a
Voice deprived him of the desir’d Intelligence,
he would go into the Hall, and oblige the Person,
whoever it was, to relate the whole Purport of
their Errand in his Presence:—In fine, it is impossible
for any Family to suffer greater Persecutions
than what his did, through this Peculiarity
of Temper, for in other Things he behav’d well
enough.

There are still a third Sort, industrious to
torment themselves and all about them:—Conscious
of former Crimes, they judge the Virtue of Dd2r 201
of others by the Standard of their own; and imagine
nobody has the Power of resisting a Temptation
to which themselves have yielded:—These
are not to be satisfied by any Means that can be
put in Practice;—tho’ Locks and Bars secure
the Body, still will they believe the Mind is roving,
and be jealous of Intention:――the more is
said, and the greater Care is taken to eradicate these
Apprehensions, the deeper Root they take;—all
is look’d upon as Hypocrisy and Dissimulation,
and resented as an Aggravation of the Crime, and
an Affront to their Understanding.

After all, what but Pride in the Women, and
a too nice Sense of Honour in the Men, occasions
most of the Jealousies we hear of!――Love inspires
a noble Confidence, both gives and takes
all decent Liberties, sets every Action in the fairest
Light, nor will believe itself imposed upon
but by Conviction.

How great an Injustice is it therefore to this
Passion to annex to it another of so pernicious a
kind:—A late noble Poet has, in my Judgment,
excellently describ’d the Nature and Happiness
of a virtuous Love in these Words: “Love, the most gen’rous Passion of the Mind,The softest Refuge Innocence can find:The safe Director of unguided Youth,Fraught with kind Wishes, and secur’d by Truth. Dd2TheDd2v202The Cordial Drop Heav’n in our Cup has
thrown,
To make the nauseous Draught of Life go down:On which one only Blessing God might raise,In Lands of Atheists, Subsidies of Praise:For none did e’er so dull and stupid prove,But felt a God, and bless’d his Power in Love. ”

Nobody will deny that this illustrious Author
was perfectly acquainted with Human Nature,
and all the Passions incident to it, nor that
Mr. Congreve was less so, who having occasion
to mention Jealousy, has these Words: “Vile Doubts and Fears to Jealousy will turn;The hottest Hell in which a Heart can burn. ”

Had this judicious Gentleman thought that
Jealousy was any Consequence of Love, he would
doubtless have said, “A Love too fierce to Jealousy will turn:”

Whereas he says, “Vile Doubts and Fears”,
&c.――Which, I think, plainly indicates he
means a mean Distrust, a Restlessness of Nature,
and an unsatisfied Disposition, are the chief Materials
on which Jealousy is built.

But we need not quote Authorities, nor ransack
Texts, to prove a Truth, which, whoever
takes Reason for their Guide, may easily explore
on any Examination into their own Hearts.

For Dd3r 203

For my Part, tho’ I should be extremely sorry
for the Sake of those happy few whom Love
has join’d in Marriage, that Jealousy were a kind
of Appendix to that Passion, yet I should be
equally rejoic’d to find wherever there is Jealousy
there were some Love, in consideration of Millions
who have all the Bitters of the One without
any Mixture of the Sweets of the Other.

Aurelia had lived to the Age of Twenty-six,
had known all the Gaities of Life, some
say was not unacquainted with the Gallantries of
it, taken in the worst Sense of the Word:—She
then married with Lucilius, because it was for
her Interest and Reputation to do so, but without
feeling for him the least Spark of tender Inclination;
yet had he not been two Months her
Husband before she became excessively jealous of
him;—any little Civility he paid to our Sex, tho’
before her Face, gave her the Vapours; but to be
told he visited any Woman of what Condition
soever, threw her into Fits:—A Pinch of Snuff
offered by him to a Cousin-German one Day occasion’d
a Quarrel between them, which she
would by no means make up till he had sworn
never to speak to that Lady more:—She sent
Spies after him to watch wherever he went, and
if inform’d he was at any Place she did not happen
to approve of his frequenting, work’d herself
up into such Agonies as terminated into real or
feign’d Convulsions, which he was sure to bear
his Part of at his Return.

Fa- Dd3v 204

Fatiguing as such a Life must nec essarily
be for a Time, he bore it with a Temper which
surpriz’d all who knew him;――humoured her
tender Foibles, as he term’d them, to make her
easy; debarr’d himself of every thing which he
thought would give her the least Subject for Discontent;
and imputing all she did to the Excess of
her Love for him, not to seem ungrateful to it,
counterfeited a Tenderness for her which his
Heart had never avowed; for, in effect, there
was as small a Share of Inclination on the one as
on the other Side.

The Matter was this:――An Uncle of Aurelia’s
had in it his Power to be extremely serviceable
to Lucilius in a Post he enjoyed under him
and the old Gentleman thinking it necessary his
Neice should have the Sanction of Marriage to
cover some Liberties which, to him, seem’d not
becoming in a Virgin State, took upon him to
make the Match between them.—The Thing
was no sooner proposed than agreed to by both,
as conformable to their several Interests; so that
all the Protestations they made each other, during
the small Space of Courtship, were of a Piece
with those they continued after Marriage, unfelt
by themselves, and equally untouching to those
they were address’d.

It was therefore wholly owing to the Good-
Nature of Lucilius that he submitted to obey
whatever was dictated by the preposterous Jealousy
of his Wife, as that Jealousy had indeed no Dd4r 205
no other Source than what he least imputed it to,
an Extravagance of Pride and Vanity, to shew
the World she had Charms which could render
a Husband even more obsequious than a Lover.

As she found her Account in treating him in
this Manner, she would doubtless have persisted
in it, but how long his Patience and Philosophy
would have enabled him to sustain it is altogether
uncertain;――an Accident happened which
put an End to their mutual Dissimulation, and
shewed those sublime Scenes of dying Love between
them to be no more than Farce and Buffoonry.

It was a Custom with Lucilius to rise early,
and walk an Hour or two before Breakfast, in
the Park, into which their House had a Back-
Door:—In one of those Mornings he took it
into his Head to call on a Friend who lived in
the Neighbourhood, for which Reason he made
a Circuit, and return’d Home by the Street-Way;
—He was within three or four Yards of his own
Door, when he saw the Footman, that waited on
his Wife, come out of the House reading the
Superscription of a Letter he had in his Hand,
and which, on the first Glimpse he had of his
Master, he put hastily into his Pocket.

Lucilius either saw, or imagin’d he
saw, a strange Confusion in the Fellow’s Face;
and tho’ Jealousy was a Passion he was wholly
unacquainted with, yet there was a secret something,thing, Dd4v 206
which he knew not how to account for,
at that Instant push’d him on to inform himself
to whom that Letter was directed:—In order
to do this, without being taken notice of by any
Persons who might possibly be at their Windows,
he stepp’d into a narrow Passage, which led into
another Street, and having beckoned the Man to
come to him, commanded him to deliver the
Letter he had seen in his Hand:—The Fellow
durst not refuse, and Lucilius was no less amaz’d
than shock’d to find it his Wife’s Hand, and directed
to one of the most dissolute and notorious
Libertines, tho’ a Man of Quality, in Town:—
As that was not a proper Place to examine the
Contents, he made the Fellow follow him into
an adjacent Tavern, where he hastily broke the
Seal, and found it contain’d these Lines.

“To the Agreeable Miramount. Sir, I Have considered on your Request, and my
Pity has at last prevail’d upon me to grant
it;――all Things indeed seem favourable to
your Wishes, Lucilius is engag’d for this
Evening with Company, who, I know, will
keep him late; but as I am under some Apprehensions
of being known at the Place mention’d
in your’s, desire our Rendezvous may be
at the Bagnio in Long-Acre, where you may
depend I shall come to you about Six:—Yet,
dear Miramount, be assured, that nothing less
than the Preservation of a Life so valuable to the Ee1r 207
the World as yours is, should make me injure a
Husband who adores me to Distraction.—I rely
on your Honour as to an inviolable Secrecy, and
every thing else that can render me perfectly
happy in being
Your’s, Aurelia.”

Had Lucilius really loved, how wretched must
such a Discovery of her Levity, Perfidy and Deceit
have made him!—All indifferent as he was
to her Charms, the Consideration of his own Honour
was too dear to him not to take all possible
Methods to put it out of her Power to sacrifice
it.

After giving some Moments to Reflection,
he examined the Fellow as to what he knew of
his Lady’s Acquaintance with Miramount, when
and where it had began, and how long there had
been a Correspondence between them.

These Enquiries were enforc’d by such terrible
Menaces, mingled with Assurances of Protection
and Rewards if he reveal’d the whole
Truth, that a Person of more Resolution and
Courage than could be expected in one of his
Station, would have been won to answer every
thing demanded of him.

He inform’d Lucilius, that he believed his Lady
first saw the Gentleman in Question at the House Vol. II. Ee of Ee1v 208
of Clelia, where she frequently went to play at
Cards;—and this, to the best of his Remembrance,
was about three Weeks past; that they
afterwards had met, either by Chance or Appointment,
in the Mall, and that he had carry’d
no more than one Letter to him, in answer, as
he supposed, to one she had received from him;
that when she delivered to him the foregoing, and
that which his Honour had now intercepted, she
had given him Money, and the strictest Charge
never to mention that there was any Intercourse
between her and Miramount; and promised him,
if he were found faithful in this Affair, he should
be taken out of Livery and handsomely provided
for.

Lucilius listen’d to all with Agitations
which it is easy for any one to conceive, but recovering
himself as soon as he could, he call’d for
Pen and Paper, and imitating his Wife’s Hand
tolerably well, he copy’d her Letter Word for
Word, only chang’d the Place of Assignation,
from the Bagnio in Long-Acre, to the Swan at
Chelsea, and having seal’d it, order’d the Fellow
to carry that to Miramount, and bring what Answer
he should send to him, who would wait his
Return at the Tavern where they now were.

The Footman had now no Inducement to be
insincere to his Master, for as the Affair was discover’d
he had nothing to expect from Miramount
in case he should let him know what had
happen’d, but was sure to suffer all that the Rage of Ee2r 209
of Lucilius could inflict on him if he were found
to have acted contrary to the Orders he had given
him.

The Answer which Miramount return’d was
such as might be expected, full of Acknowledgments
and Protestations of an everlasting Constancy
and Love.—This Lucilius put into his
Pocket, and bid the Man tell his Lady that her
Lover had a great deal of Company with him,
and could have no Opportunity to write without
being taken Notice of, but that she might
be sure of his obeying her with the utmost Punctuality.

Lucilius then went Home, breakfasted
as usual with his Lady, and so well conceal’d
his Discontent, that she had no Cause to suspect
any thing of what had happen’d: He staid with
her however as short a Time as possible;—he
dress’d, and having soon determin’d within himself
what Course to take, went directly to her
Uncle, and acquainted him with the Discovery he
had made, and produc’d the Letter Aurelia had
wrote to Miramount, with his Answer to it.

’Tis hard to say, whether the old Gentleman’s
Surprize or Rage was most predominant;
he was truly a worthy honest Person, and tho’ he
had thought his Neice’s Conduct not altogether
so prudent as he could have wish’d before Marriage,
yet he never suspected she would have gone
such Lengths after being a Wife:――He was Ee2 for Ee2v 210
for going with Lucilius, and joining with him in
those Reproaches her Guilt thus plainly proved
might justify; but this injur’d Husband would
by no Means consent to that:—He thought all
they could say would have less Force, and the
Shock of being detected lose half its Force, if
not given her at the very Place where she intended
to perpetrate her Crime:—He therefore proposed
that they should go together to the Bagnio
somewhat before the Hour in which she had promised
Miramount to come, and when expecting
to be received with open Arms by a fond Lover,
she should be saluted with the Frowns and Upbraidings
of a wronged Husband and incensed
Parent.

This the Uncle agreed to, and after Dinner
was over at Home Lucilius perform’d his last Act
of Dissimulation towards his Wife by embracing
her in the most seeming tender Manner, when he
took Leave of her, in order to go, as she imagined,
to those Friends, with whom, as she had wrote
to Miramount, he had promised to pass that Evening;
she behaved to him with no less Softness,
and conjured him not to leave her too long alone,
but to return as soon as he could possibly disengage
himself with Decency.

How wretched, how contemptible a Figure did
she now make in his Eyes! But he conceal’d the
Disdain of his Heart under a fervent Kiss, feeling
however a kind of gloomy Satisfaction in his Mind
at the Thoughts that now there would be an End of Ee3r 211
of all Constraint, and he should no more be under
the Necessity of feigning Ardors to which
his Nature had ever been repugnant.

Both, tho’ from very different Motives, were
impatient enough for the appointed Hour; which
being arrived, and the Uncle and Husband waiting
her Approach, the Clock had but just struck
when a Hackney-Chair brought the too punctual
Fair into the Entry, whence she was shewed up
Stairs by a Waiter who had Orders what to do:
――How she was confounded, when tripping
gaily into the Room she found who were there
to receive her, any one may judge.

All her natural Assurance, of which few Women
had a greater Share, was too little to enable
her to bear up against a Sight more dreadful,
more alarming to her guilty Mind than had a
Messenger from the other World appear’d to
admonish her of her Crime.

In the first Emotions of her Fright she was
about to run out of the Room, and with one
Jump had got as far as the Door, when Lucilius
took hold of her Arm and oblig’d her to come
back,—“Tho’ Madam,” said he with the most stabbniing
Sneer, “the agreeable Miramount is not here,
and you are disappointed of the Entertainment
you expected, such as a Husband and an Uncle,
who have both of them a due Sense of your Merit,
can afford, you may be sure to find.”

She Ee3v 212

She made no Answer to these Words, but
threw herself into a Chair with a Look that
shewed an inward Rancour, and would have
made her pass with any one who had been present
and unacquainted with her Crime rather for
the Person injur’d than the guilty one; so true is
this Sentiment of the Poet: “Forgiveness to the Injur’d does belong,But they ne’er pardon who have done the
wrong. ”

But however the Greatness of her Spirit might
have supported her against the Reproaches of a
Husband, those her Uncle loaded her with, and
the Sight of her own Letter wholly subdued her;
and finding there was no Evasion nor Possibility
either of denying or excusing what she had
done, she fell on her Knees, and with a Shower
of undissembled Tears, confess’d her Fault, and
begg’d to be forgiven.

After having endeavoured to make her sensible
of her Fault, they acquainted her with the
Resolution they had mutually agreed to pursue,
which was, that in consideration of her Family
no public Noise should be made of it; but that
to prevent her taking any future Steps to the Prejudice
of her Reputation, and consequently to the
Honour of her Husband, she must pass some
time with an old Relation who lived at a great
Distance from London, nor hope to return till
she had given evident Proofs of her Conversion:sion: Ee4r 213
――This her Uncle told her it would become
her not only to consent to, but also to go
with a Chearfulness which should make every Body
think it an Act of Choice.

It was to no Purpose she entreated, in the most
submissive Terms, a Remission of a Sentence she
acknowldg’d she had but too justly incur’d:—
In vain she made the most solemn Vows and
passionate Imprecations never to be guilty of any
future Miscarriage in Conduct; Lucilius was inexorable
to all, nor did her Uncle attempt to render
him more pliable:—She was that Night
carefully watch’d, and early the next Morning
sent down into the Country with a Person, whose
Integrity her Husband could confide in, to attend
her, and at the same time to keep a strict Eye
over her Behaviour.

It must be confess’d, that the Precautions taken
to keep this Affair a Secret were perfectly
prudent; for as the Crime of Aurelia had been
only in Intention, the Law would not have allowed
of a Divorce, yet that Intention was sufficient
to have rendered both of them the Subject
of Ridicule; nor indeed was there any Possibility
of their living together in any Harmony
after such a Discovery, even tho’ there had been
a Certainty of her becoming a real Penitent.

Whether she were so or not Heaven only
can determine; but I am inform’d, that she had
not been many Weeks in that Retirement to which Ee4v 214
which she was banish’d, before the Grief and Shame
either of being guilty, or of having been detected
in it, threw her into a violent Fever, of which
she died, and left Lucilius no inconsolable Widower.

The Truth of this Affair had however remain’d
a Secret, had her Lover been endu’d with
the same Discretion as her Husband; but that
vain Man finding she came not to the Swan as
he expected, and on sending the next Day to
her House being told she was gone into the
Couuntry, made him not doubt but that some
Accident had discover’d their Correspondence to
Lucilius, and that he had taken this Method to
prevent their Meeting; on which, partly instigated
by Revenge against the Husband, and partly
by the Vanity of being thought to be too well
with the Wife, he made a Jest, among his Companions,
of the Jealousy of the One and the Levity
of the Other, and even scrupled not to expose
the Letters of that unfortunate Lady as a Proof
of what he said.

He had so little Circumspection as to whom
he talk’d in this Manner, that it soon reach’d
the Ears of Lucilius, who, unable to endure
with Patience this Aggravation of the Insult offer’d
to his Honour, sent him a Challenge, which
the other was too gallant a Man not to accept.—
They met and fought, both were very much hurt,
especially Miramount, whose Wounds at first were
reckon’d dangerous, but he recover’d of them as Ff1r 215
as well as Lucilius, and had Honour enough,
after he did so, to confess himself every way the
Aggressor, and ask Pardon for the Injury he had
intended him, as well as for his foolish boasting
of it afterwards:—As all this happened before
the Death of Aurelia, ’tis possible she might, some
way or other, be inform’d of it, and that might
be one great Means of hastening on her Fate.—
She was a Woman of Understanding, and being
such, and in a Place where she had no Enchantments
to lull asleep Reflection, could not
be without a lively Sense of that Shame she had
brought on herself and Family; for, as Mr. Waller
elegantly expresses it, “Our Passions gone, and Reason in the Throne,Amaz’d we see the Mischiefs we have done.After a Tempest, when the Winds are laid,The calm Sea wonders at the Wrecks it made. ”

But it is not to my present Purpose to make
any farther Comments on this Story, than as it
proves the Assertion for which I related it, that
there may be a great deal of Jealousy without
one Spark of Love:—Happy had it been for
Aurelia had she known the one as well as the
other; for tho’ the former of these Passions
might have been troublesome to her Husband,
yet the latter would have secured him from receiving
any Injustice from her, or Outrage from
the World, and sav’d herself from falling into
the Infamy she did.

Vol. II. Ff It Ff1v 216

It is, doubtless, a very melancholly Thing
when a Woman of real Virtue, and who has a
tender Affection for the Man to whom she is
married, either has, or imagines she has, any justifiable
Cause to suspect he returns not the Love
she bears him with an equal Degree of Warmth;
but much more so when she fears he transfers
those Ardors, to which she has an undoubted
Right, to any other Object: Yet, excuseable as
Jealousy may seem in such a Circumstance, it is
to be wish’d, that every Wife would endeavour
to discourage rather than listen to any Reports
made her from Abroad, that might tend to increase
those Suspicions her too tender Passion
may suggest:—To arm herself against any Insinuations
of that Kind, either from her own Heart,
or the Malice, Folly, or mistaken Zeal of those
she converses with; I would wish her to do Justice
to herself, and consider, that if even it were
certain that her Husband gave a loose to an inordinate
and temporary Pleasure, her Mortification
would be but momentary, and terminate to her
Advantage:—He would, when once the hurry of
a fleeting Passion was over, consider the Merits of
a Woman of Virtue, and who had Love enough
for him not only to forgive, but overlook those
Failings which every Man has not always the
Power to avoid falling into.

He that most loves Company finds a Pleasure in
a comfortable Recess from it, at sometimes, with
his Wife and Family; but if he meets with Reproaches
there, how justly soever he may deserve them, Ff2r 217
them, thinks the Dignity of his Nature affronted,
and flies out again, and perhaps in Revenge runs
into worse Evils than those for which he was before
upbraided:—I know not if there can be a
more lively Picture how little Force Female Arguments
can have on a transgressing Husband, than
is given us by Mr. Dryden, in his Play of Aurenzebe,
where he puts into the Emperor’s Mouth
these Words: “What can be sweeter than our native Home!Thither for Ease and soft Repose we come:Home is the sacred Refuge of our Life,Secured from all Approaches but a Wife:If thence we fly, the Cause admits no Doubt,None but an inmate Foe could drive us out:Clamours our Privacies uneasy make,Birds leave their Nests disturb’d, and Beasts
their Haunts forsake. ”

Few Men of any Condition are gross in their
Amours, and wherever there is room to hope
the best, a Wife ought never to harbour Fears of
the worst:—A thousand Accidents may happen
to which Rumour and Imagination may give the
Face of Guilt, that in themselves are perfectly innocent,
but even when the Appearances are most
strong, it is Wisdom to overlook them.

Besides, there is one Thing which in my
Opinion should deter a Woman of Virtue from
discovering any Marks of Jealousy, even where
the most fragrant Proofs of the roving Inclination Ff2 of Ff2v 218
of her Husband might, according to some People’s
way of thinking, be a Justification of it; and that
is, because the most abandon’d Prostitutes of the
Town, tho’ known to make Sale of their Endearments
to any Purchaser without Distinction, no
sooner find a Man weak enough to treat them in
a manner to which their way of Living has no
Claim, than they give themselves an Air, on
every little Absence, to be extremely jealous;—
they have Tears at Command;—can fall into
Fits, and sometimes play the Roxana, and menace
the offending Keeper with a drawn Dagger:
—Some Instances we have had where they have
carry’d the Matter yet farther, and pierced in reality
the Breast that durst refuse Obedience to the
most unreasonable or extravagant of their Demands:
――A modest Wife should therefore
never affect the Virago, and for her own Sake be
wary, even when most provok’d, that nothing
in her Behaviour should bear the least Resemblance
with such Wretches.—I have in a former
Spectator taken Notice, that it is not by Force
our Sex can hope to maintain their Influence
over the Men, and I again repeat it as the most
infallible Maxim, that whenever we would truly
conquer we must seem to yield.

To be jealous without a Cause, is such an Injury
to the suspected Person as requires the utmost
Affection and Good-Nature to forgive; because
it wounds them in the two most tender Parts, their
Reputation and Peace of Mind; lays them under
Restraints the most irksome to Human Nature, or Ff3r 219
or in a manner obliges them to Measures which
are the Destruction of all Harmony.

Those few therefore who truly love, are in
Possession of the Object of their Wishes, and
yet suffer this poisonous Passion to disturb the
Tranquility of their Lives, may be compar’d to
Misers that pine amidst their Stores, and are incapable
of enjoying a present Plenty through the
Fears of future Want.

That Desire of prying into every thing a
Husband does, and even into his very Thoughts,
appears to me rather a childish Fondness than a
noble generous Passion; and tho’ it may be pleasing
enough to a Man in the first Months of
his Marriage, will afterwards grow tiresome and
insipid to him, as well as render both of them ridiculous
to others.

We may depend on this, that the most innocent
Persons in the World, in some Humours,
or unguarded Moments, may happen to say or
do something which might not be altogether
pleasing to us to be inform’d of:—How mad a
Thing then is it to seek out Occasions of Disquiet!
Yet this too many Women are ingenious
in doing, and afterwards no less industrious in
throwing fresh Matter on the Mole-hill they have
discovered, till they raise it to a Mountain:—
Trifles perhaps too light to retain any Place
in the Husband’s Memory, and no sooner over
than forgotten, or if of Consequence enough to
be remember’d by him, are thought on with Re- Ff3v 220
Remorse, are reviv’d by Reproaches, and made
seem less faulty than they are, by the Wife’s attempting
to represent them as more so.

Nor is this all: Upbraidings when most just,
if too often repeated, lose their Force, and he
to whom they are given becomes harden’d; but
if wantonly thrown out, and to gratify a spleenatick
or naturally suspicious Temper, without any
solid Foundation, they are intolerable to him,
make him grow peevish, perverse, and not seldom
drive him to be in effect guilty of that which,
without being guilty, he daily receives the Punishment
of.

On the whole then, since Jealousy is the worst
Rack the Heart that harbours it can possibly sustain,
is it not better to cease those Enquiries
which can never give us a perfect Satisfaction,
and as there is no proving what has no Existence
may be as lasting as our Lives; or if which
should chance to end in a Certainty of what is so
dreadful to us in the Apprehension, must confirm
us for ever miserable!

Many a Man has been guilty of an Error,
and on Reflection sincerely repented of it, and
become a more endearing Husband than before;
for it is by the Tribunal in our own Bosoms we
alone are justify’d or condemn’d;—all Efforts
from without are ineffectual to convince us we
have done amiss, if Conscience does not take a
Part in the Accusation; and as Human Nature is Ff4r 221
is averse to all Compulsion, especially from those
we think have no Authority over us, as in the
Case of Husband and Wife, the Pride of Contradiction
has perhaps, more often than Inclination,
occasion’d that to happen which otherwise
might have never been.

I have been sorry to observe, that even among
my own Sex, where an Error of this Kind is less
excusable than in the other, Revenge for having
been unjustly suspected, join’d with the Pride of
being able to disappoint all the Precautions of a
jealous Husband, has sometimes been too strong
for that Virtue, which, without these additional
Excitements, might never have been subdued.

Sabina was educated in the strictest Principles
of Virtue, and in a Family where she saw
nothing but Examples of it before her Eyes; and
Manilius, to whom she was married very young,
received the sincerest Congratulations of his
Friends for having obtained a Lady who, they
thought, could not but render him extremely happy;
and there is no doubt but her Behaviour
had every way answered the most sanguine of
their Expectations, had not his own imprudent
Carriage to her, in that respect I have been speaking
of, perverted in her those generous Sentiments
she receiv’d from Nature and from Precept.

When one would bring a Person of a Spirit
off from any Propensity, which either is, or we think Ff4v 222
think a Fault, the greatest Care ought to be taken
that they may not imagine we take a Pleasure
in opposing them;—we ought rather to
make them believe it is with the utmost Grief
of Heart we cannot find in ourselves the Power
of approving what they do, and endeavour to
win them by Endearments, not attempt to controul
them by Authority.

Manilius had been a Man of Pleasure, always
professed an Aversion to Marriage, and nothing
but the extremest Passion could have made
him change his Resolution;—he was fifteen
Years older than Sabina when she became his
Wife, and the Conciousness of this Disparity,
join’d with the too great Success he had formerly
met with in his Amours, rendered him less confident
than was consistent with his Peace of Mind
of the Virtue of this young Lady:—It had always
been a Maxim with him that all Women
were to be won, and that a Husband should never
be too secure; and this made him, even from
the first, keep a watchful Eye over all her Actions,
Words, and Looks.

As she was perfectly innocent, she was ignorant
of Circumspection; nor ever had once a
Thought of restraining herself from any of those
Liberties she saw others take:――It was enough
for her she did no ill, and was alas too thoughtless
what Pretences Ill-Nature might form to judge by
Appearances:—She fell soon after her Marriage into Gg1r 223
into Acquaintance, which took a greater Latitude
than she had been accustomed to see while in her
Virgin State; but they were People of Condition,
and Reputation too, and therefore she made no
Scruple of doing as they did:—She went frequently
to the Public Diversions of the Town,—
and made one at most of the Assemblies;—
Cards sometimes engross’d a good Part of the
Night; yet did she not think all this an Error,
because she perceiv’d it was the Fashion:—Her
Youth might easily have excused the inadvertent
Steps she took, since they were far from being
guilty ones in reality, or in the Opinion of any
other than Manilius; and had he in gentle Terms
reminded her, that the less she were seen at any
of those Places, the more it would redound to her
Praise; and in the lieu of those dangerous Amusements
prepared others to entertain the Sprightliness
of her Humour, it would doubtless have
been no difficult Task to have rendered her Conduct
by degrees such as he most desired it should
be.

But instead of taking proper Measures to
sooth her from those Pleasures, so enchanting to
our early Years of Life,――he received her
with Frowns whenever she happened to stay more
late Abroad than he approv’d of; and at length
finding that was not effectual, plainly told her,
that if she desired to live well with him, she must
not only keep better Houurs, but also entirely refrain
all Conversation with some particular Persons
of both Sexes, whom he nam’d to her.

Vol. II. Gg The Gg1v 224

The abrupt Manner in which he laid this Injunction
was more disobliging to her than the Injunction
itself, unjust and cruel as it seem’d;—
she knew not how to support such an assuming
and majesterial Behaviour from a Man who, but
a few Months past, had seem’d to have no Will
but her’s, nor could conceive any Reason why the
Name of Husband should convert the Slave into
the Tyrant:――Her good Sense, as well as the
Precepts that had been given her on her Marriage,
made her know the Man had a Superiority over
his Wife, but then she never imagined he was to
exert it where nothing of an essential Wrong was
done, and in such Trifles as these Manilius took
upon him to condemn:—She saw that all the Ladies
of her Acquaintance allowed themselves greater
Liberties after they became Wives than they
were permited to do before, and stung to the quick
at this arbitrary Proceeding, reply’d to him, that
he was extremely in the wrong to marry a Person
whom he did not think capable of governing
herself without his Direction;――that while
she could answer to herself what she did, nor gave
the World any Reason to call her Conduct in
question, she did not look on herself under any
Obligation to incur the Ridicule of as many as
knew her, and live like a Recluse, meerly to humour
the Caprice of any one Person, even tho’
it were a Husband.

This resolute Answer, which was also accompanied
with a Look and Tone of Voice denoting the
Displeasure she was in, made him repent he had not Gg2r 225
not testify’d his Dislike of her Behaviour with
somewhat less Austerity;—he excused it however
as well as he could, but as he stuck to his Point,
and insisted on her keeping only such Company
as should be approved by him, all he could say
was far from abating her Discontent, and the Affection
she had for him too weak to hinder her
from conceiving a Spite that made her take a
Pleasure in contradicting him.

In fine, his Remonstrances had so ill an Effect,
that instead of complying with the least of his
Desires she acted in every thing the very reverse:
—He interpreted all she did in the worst Sense,
and never Man was more uneasy.

Those who knew the very Soul of Sabina
aver, that it was impossible for any one to be
more free from all guilty Inclinations; and tho’,
it must be own’d, she gave, more than became
a Woman of strict Honour, into all the Gaities
of Life, yet they will have it, that she did so
more in Revenge to her Husband, and to shew
both him and the World that she disdain’d any
Proofs of Submission to a Will which she thought
too arbitrary, than to any vicious Propensity in
herself.

’Tis certain, indeed, that his Proceeding contributed
a great deal towards bringing on the
Misfortune he so much dreaded; because it not
only by degrees destroy’d all the Respect and
Tenderness she had for him, and render’d him Gg2 weak Gg2v 226
weak and contemptible in her Eyes, but also
gave Encouragement to Addresses, which no
Man of Sense will make to a Woman who lives
in Harmony with her Husband.

She was yet too young not to be pleased with
Adoration, and being entertain’d Abroad with
those tender Declarations which Manilius, tho’ he
still lov’d her to Distraction, was too sullen and
discontented to flatter her with at Home:—His
Presence and his House grew every Day more
disagreeable, and she was never easy but when in
other Company.

When a Woman once comes to be pleased
with hearing fine Things said to her, she is in
great Danger of being too much pleased with
him that says them; and as I would have all Husbands
take Warning by Manilius, not to urge
or exasperate a Wife too much, so I would
have all Wives beware how on any little Discontent
at Home they seek a Consolation Abroad:
—There are always sly Seducers, who, like the
Serpent in Eden, are on the Watch to betray Innocence;
these no sooner find any Dissatisfaction
between the wedded Pair, than they improve it
by a thousand subtle Insinuations, till they have
entirely stole into the Heart, and usurp’d the
Place of him who is the lawful, and ought to be
the sole Lord thereof.

But to return:――Among the many
who took Advantage of the Disagreement betweentween Gg3r 227
Sabina and her Husband, there was one
whose Person and Address gave a double Weight
to the Arguments he made use of in order to
widen the Breach;――she found a secret yielding
in her Heart to all he said, and wishing to
be totally convinced, easily became so:—Manilius
long indifferent became disagreeable, and at length
hateful;――the Thoughts of living with him
grew insupportable, and on Perswasion of him
who was the present Object of her softer Inclinations,
she one Night pack’d up all her Jewels,
and the richest of her Cloaths, and quitted forever
his House and Presence:――To avoid all
Prosecutions, her Lover prevail’d on her to go with
him to Boulogne in France, where, changing their
Names, they eluded all Enquiry.

Manilius raved like a Madman, spared
no Expence, of Pains or Money, to find the
Place of her Retreat, or who it was that had seduced
her; but all his Efforts were fruitless, ’till
the Person, at whom his Revenge was levell’d,
was no more.

Sabina enjoy’d but a very short Time the
Pleasures of her guilty Flame;—her Lover fell
into a Fever and dyed at Boulogne in less than
two Months after her Elopement:――Those
Friends who were trusted with the Affair, in order
to remit Money for the Expences of these
self-exil’d Pair, and inform them how Matters
went, now thought themselves no longer under
any Obligations of Secrecy, and made no Scruple of Gg3v 228
of divulging all that had been reposed in them,
so that too late for the Gratification of the only
Passion now remaining in him, that of Revenge,
he heard by whom he had been injur’d.

As for Sabina, the Sight of Death, and that of
one so fatally dear to her, brought her to a more
just way of Reason than she had for some time
past accustom’d herself; and resolving to abandon
the World, its destructive Pleasures, its Follies, and
the Shame which sooner or later overtakes all
those who yield to its Allurements, she entered
into a Monastery, where she still lives a Pensioner,
but with the same Strictness as those who are
profess’d Nuns and have taken the Veil.

These were the sad Consequences of a Jealousy,
which most People will cry arose from an
Excess of Love, but I still take upon me to maintain
the contrary:—Manilius loved Sabina ’tis
certain, yet was it not his Love, but the ill Opinion
he had of Womenkind in general, which
put him on those mistaken Measures to secure her
to himself.

For my Part, I cannot help thinking but that
this unfortunate Lady has a great Plea for Compassion;
for tho’ no ill Usage of what kind soever
from a Husband can excuse us from revenging
it in the Manner she did, yet when one considers
the Frailty of Human Nature, and how prevalent,
especially in our Sex, is that false Pride
which prompts us to return Injury for Injury; we Gg4r 229
we may justly say, that it is Pity a Mind of itself
not disposed to ill, should receive any Provocations
to be so.

Sabina, indeed, was bred up in the utmost
Abhorrence of Vice; those who had the Care of
her Education told her what she must do in order
to acquire the Love and Esteem of this
World, and the Happiness promised to the Virtuous
in the other; but then they indulg’d her
in all the modish Amusements of the present Age,
and suffered her to lavish on them too much of
that Time which ought to have been employ’d
in improving her Understanding;――in fine,
she was train’d up in the Ways young Ladies in
England ordinarily are; her Relations following
the common Opinion, that to sing, dance, play
on the Spinet, and work at her Needle, are Accomplishments
sufficient for a Woman:—Wit
she had enough, but was never taught that to accustom
herself to Reflection was necessary to ripen
that Wit into Wisdom; and every one knows,
that the One without the Other, like a Ship with
too much Ballast, is liable to sink with its own
Weight.

We were beginning to lament the Misfortunes
our Sex frequently fall into through the Want of
those Improvements we are, doubtless, capable of,
when a Letter, left for us at our Publisher’s,
was brought in, which happening to be on that
Subject, cannot any where be more properly insertted
than in this Place.

To Gg4v 230

“To the Female Spectator. Ladies, Permit me to thank you for the kind
and generous Task you have undertaken
in endeavouring to improve the Minds and
Manners of our unthinking Sex:—It is the
noblest Act of Charity you could exercise in an
Age like ours, where the Sense of Good and
Evil is almost extinguish’d, and People desire
to appear more vicious than they really are, that
so they may be less unfashionable: This Humour,
which is too prevalent in the Female
Sex, is the true Occasion of the many Evils
and Dangers to which they are daily exposed:
—No wonder the Men of Sense disregard us!
and the Dissolute triumph over that Virtue
they ought to protect!
Yet, I think, it would be cruel to charge the
Ladies with all the Errors they commit; it is
most commonly the Fault of a wrong Education,
which makes them frequently do amiss,
while they think they not only act innocently
but uprightly;—it is therefore only the Men,
and the Men of Understanding too, who, in effect,
merit the Blame of this, and are answerable
for all the Misconduct we are guilty of:—Why
do they call us silly Women, and not endeavour to
make us otherwise?—God and Nature has endued
them with Means, and Custom has establishedblished Hh1r 231
them in the Power of rendering our
Minds such as they ought to be;――how
highly ungenerous is it then to give us a wrong
turn, and then despise us for it!
The Mahometans, indeed, enslave their Women,
but then they teach them to believe their
Inferiority will extend to Eternity; but our
Case is even worse than this, for while we live
in a free Country, and are assured from our excellent
Christian Principles that we are capable
of those refined Pleasures which last to Immortality,
our Minds, our better Parts, are wholly
left uncultivated, and, like a rich Soil neglected,
bring forth nothing but noxious Weeds.
There is, undoubtedly, no Sexes in Souls,
and we are as able to receive and practise the
Impressions, not only of Virtue and Religion,
but also of those Sciences which the Men engross
to themselves, as they can be:—Surely
our Bodies were not form’d by the great Creator
out of the finest Mould, that our Souls
might be neglected like the coarsest of the
Clay!
O! would too imperious, and too tenacious
Man, be so just to the World as to be more
careful of the Education of those Females to
whom they are Parents or Guardians!――
Would they convince them in their Infancy
that Dress and Shew are not the Essentials of a
fine Lady, and that true Beauty is seated in the Vol. II. Hh Mind; Hh1v 232
Mind; how soon should we see our Sex retrieve
the many Virtues which false Taste has
bury’d in Oblivion!—Strange Infatuation!
to refuse us what would so much contribute to
their own Felicity!—Would not themselves
reap the Benefit of our Amendment? Should
we not be more obedient Daughters, more
faithful Wives, more tender Mothers, more
sincere Friends, and more valuable in every
other Station of Life?
But, I find, I have let my Pen run a much
greater Length than I at first intended:――If
I have said any thing worthy your Notice, or
what you think the Truth of the Case, I hope
you will mention this Subject in some of your
future Essays; or if you find I have any way
err’d in my Judgment, to set me right will be
the greatest Favour you can confer on,
Ladies,
Your constant Reader,
And humble Servant,
Cleora.”

After thanking this Lady for the Favour of
her obliging Letter, we think it our Duty to
congratulate her on being one of those happy
Few who have been blest with that Sort of Education
which she so pathetically laments the Want
of in the greatest Part of our Sex.

Those Hh2r 233

Those Men are certainly guilty of a great
deal of Injustice who think, that all the Learning
becoming in a Woman is confined to the
Management of her Family; that is, to give
Orders concerning the Table, take care of her
Children in their Infancy, and observe that her
Servants do not neglect their Business:—All this
no doubt is very necessary, but would it not be
better if she performs those Duties more through
Principle than Custom? and will she be less punctual
in her Observance of them, after she becomes
a Wife, for being perfectly convinced, before
she is so, of the Reasonableness of them, and
why they are expected from her?

Many Women have not been inspired with
the least Notion of even those Requisites in a
Wife, and when they become so, continue the
same loitering, lolloping, idle Creatures they
were before; and then the Men are ready enough
to condemn those who had the Care of their Education.

Terrible is it, indeed, for the Husband, especially
if he be a Tradesman, or Gentleman of small
Estate, who marries with a Woman of this Stamp,
whatever Fortune she brings will immediately run
out, and ’tis well if all his own does not follow:
—Even Persons of the highest Rank in
Life will suffer greatly both in their Circumstances
and Peace of Mind, when she, who ought to be
the Mistress of the Family, lives in it like a Stranger,Hh2 ger, Hh2v 234
and perhaps knows no more of what those
about her do than an Alien.

But supposing her an excellent Oeconomist,
in every Respect what the World calls a notable
Woman, methinks the Husband would be yet infinitely
happier were she endued with other good
Qualities as well as a perfect Understanding in
Houshold Affairs:—The Governess of a Family,
or what is commonly call’d Houskeeper, provided
she be honest and careful, might discharge
this Trust as well as a Wife; but there is, doubtless,
somewhat more to be expected by a Man
from that Woman whom the Ceremony of Marriage
has made Part of himself:—She is, or ought
to be, if qualified for it, the Repository of his
dearest Secrets, the Moderator of his fiercer Passions,
the Softner of his most anxious Cares, and
the constantly chearful and entertaining Companion
of his more unbended Moments.

To be all this she must be endued with a consummate
Prudence, a perfect Eveness of Temper,
an unshaken Fortitude, a gentle affable Behaviour,
and a sprightly Wit:—The Foundation of these
Virtues must be indeed in Nature, but Nature
may be perverted by ill Customs, or, if not so,
still want many Embellishments from Education;
without which, however valuable in itself, it would
appear rude and barbarous to others, and lose more
than half the Effect it ought to have.

The Hh3r 235

The younger Dryden’s Translation of that admirable
Satire of Juvenal has these Words: “Children, like tender Oziers, take the Bow,And as they first are fashion’d always grow:For what we learn in Youth, to that alone,In Age we are by second Nature prone. ”

How much therefore does it behove those
who have the Care of Youth, to mould their tender
Minds to that Shape which will best become
those Stations in Life they may be expected to
fill.

Outr Sex, from their very Infancy, are encourag’d
to dress and fondle their Babies; a Custom
not improper, because it gives an early Idea of
that Care and Tenderness we ought to shew those
real Babes to whom we may happen to be Mothers:
But I am apt to think, that without this
Prepossession, Nature would inform us what was
owing from us to those whom we have given
Being:—The very Look and innocent Crys of
those little Images of ourselves would be more
prevailing than any Rules could be:—This the
meerest Savages who live without Precept, and
are utterly ignorant of all moral Virtues, may inform
us;――nay, for Conviction in this Point,
we may descend yet lower, and only observe the
tender Care which the Beasts of the Field and the
Fowls of the Air take of their young ones.

To Hh3v 236

To be good Mothers, therefore, tho’ a Duty
incumbent on all who are so, requires fewer Lessons
than to be good Wives:――We all groan
under the Curse entail’d upon us for the Transgression
of Eve.

“Thy Desire shall be to thy Husband, and he
shall rule over thee.”

But we are not taught enough how to lighten
this Burthen, and render ourselves such as would
make him asham’d to exert that Authority, he
thinks he has a Right to, over us.

Were that Time which is taken up in instructing
us in Accomplishments, which, however
taking at first Sight, conduce little to our essential
Happiness, employ’d in studying the Rules
of Wisdom, in well informing us what we are,
and what we ought to be, it would doubtless inspire
those, to whom we should happen to be
united, with a Reverence which would not permit
them to treat us with that Lightness and Contempt,
which, tho’ some of us may justly enough
incur, often drives not only such, but the most
innocent of us, to Extravagancies that render
ourselves, and those concern’d with us equally
miserable.

Why then, as Cleora says, do the Men, who
are and will be the sole Arbitrators in this Case,
refuse us all Opportunities of enlarging our Minds,
and improving those Talents we have received from Hh4r 237
from God and Nature; and which, if put in
our Power to exert in a proper Manner, would
make no less their own Happiness than our
Glory?

They cry, of what use can Learning be to us,
when Custom, and the Modesty of our Sex, forbids
us to speak in public Places?—’Tis true
that it would not befit us to go into the Pulpit,
nor harangue at the Bar; but this is a weak and
trifling Argument against our being qualify’d for
either, since all Men who are so were never intended
for the Service of the Church, nor put on
the long Robe; and by the same Rule therefore
the Sons as well as Daughters of good Families
should be bred up in Ignorance.

Knowledge is a light Burthen, and, I believe,
no one was ever the worse for being skilled in a
great many Things, tho’ he might never have occasion
for any of them.

But of all Kinds of Learning the Study of
Philosophy is certainly the most pleasant and profitable:
—It corrects all the vicious Humours of
the Mind, and inspires the noblest Virtues;—it
enlarges our Understanding;—it brings us acquainted
with ourselves, and with every thing that
is in Nature; and the more we arrive at a Proficiency
in it, the more happy and the more worthy
we are.—Mr. Prior tells us, On Hh4v 238 “On its best Steps each Age and Sex may rise,’Tis like the Ladder in the Patriarch’s Dream,Its Foot on Earth, its Height beyond the Skies. ”

Many Examples have there been of Ladies
who have attained to very great Perfection in
this sublime and useful Science; and doubtless the
Number had been greatly increased but for the
Discouragement our Sex meets with, when we aim
at any thing beyond the Needle.

The World would infallibly be more happy
than it is, were Women more knowing than they
generally are; and very well worth the while of
those who have the Interest of the Female Part
of their Family at Heart, to instruct them early
in some of the most necessary Rudiments of Philosophy:
—All those little Follies now ascrib’d
to us, and which, indeed, we but too much incur
the Censure of, would then vanish, and the
Dignity of Human Nature shine forth in us, I will
venture to say, with, at least, as much Splendor as
in the other Sex.

All that Restlessness of Temper we are accused
of, that perpetual Inclination for gadding
from Place to Place;—those Vapours, those Disquiets
we often feel meerly for want of some material
Cause of Disquiet, would be no more, when
once the Mind was employ’d in the pleasing Enquiries
of Philosophy;—a Search that well rewards
the Pains we take in it, were we even to
make no considerable Progress; because even the most Ii1r 239
most minute Discovery affords Matter for Reflection
and Admiration.

Whether our Speculations extend to the
greatest and most tremendous Objects, or pry
into the smallest Works of the Creation, new
Scenes of Wonder every Moment open to our
Eyes; and as Love and Reverence to the Deity
is by every one allowed to be the Ground-Work
of all Virtues and Religion, it is, methinks, no
less impolitick than unjust to deny us the Means
of becoming more good as well as more wise.

From the Brute Creation we may learn Industry,
Patience, Tenderness, and a thousand
Qualities, which tho’ the Human Soul possesses
in an infinitely larger Degree, yet the Observation
how exercis’d by Creatures of inferior Specie, will
oblige us to look into ourselves, and blush at the
Remembrance, that for want of Reflection we
have sometimes forgot what we are, and perhaps
acted beneath those very Animals we despise, and
think on as no more than the Dust from which
they sprung.

It is certainly a very great Misfortune as well as
a Fault in us, that we are apt to have Pride enough
to value ourselves highly on the Dignity of our
Nature, but yet have not enough to act up in
any Measure to it:――This is, methinks, paying
too great a Regard to Names, and neglecting
Essentials.

Vol. II. Ii The Ii1v 240

The Men in this respect are, indeed, as much
to blame as we, nay, much more so, those at least
of a liberal Education, who having those Advantages
of Learning, which are deny’d to us, behave
as tho’ they had never been instructed in any thing
but how to