truth, it is necessary that all likewise should | perpetually shifted her ground, and let fly her learn to hear it; for no species of falsehood is arrows in different directions; for she certainly more frequent than flattery, to which the cow-found that her strength failed, whenever the eye ard is betrayed by fear, the dependant by inte- of Truth darted full upon her. rest, and the friend by tenderness. Those who are neither servile nor timorous, are yet desirous to bestow pleasure; and while unjust demands of praise continue to be made, there will always be some whom hope, fear, or kindness, will dispose to pay them. The guilt of falsehood is very widely extended, and many whom their conscience can scarcely charge with stooping to a lie, have vitiated the morals of others by their vanity, and patronised the vice which they believe themselves to abhor. Truth is, indeed, not often welcome for its own sake; it is generally unpleasing because contrary to our wishes and opposite to our practice: and as our attention naturally follows our interests, we hear unwillingly what we are afraid to know, and soon forget what we have no inclination to impress upon our memories. For this reason many arts of instruction have been invented, by which the reluctance against truth may be overcome; and as physic is given to children in confections, precepts have been hidden under a thousand appearances, that mankind may be bribed by pleasure to escape de struction. Truth had the awful aspect though not the thunder of her father, and when the long conti nuance of the contest brought them near to one another, Falsehood let the arms of Sophistry fall from her grasp, and holding up the shield of Impudence with both her hands, sheltered herself amongst the passions. Truth, though she was often wounded, always recovered in a short time; but it was common for the slightest hurt, received by Falsehood, to spread its malignity to the neighbouring parts, and to burst open again when it seemed to have been cured. Falsehood, in a short time, found by experience that her superiority consisted only in the celerity of her course, and the changes of her posture. She therefore ordered Suspicion to beat the ground before her, and avoided with great care to cross the way of Truth, who as she never varied her point, but moved constantly upon the same line, was easily escaped by the oblique and desultory movements, the quick retreats, and ac tive doubles which Falsehood always practised, when the enemy began to raise terror by her approach. While the world was yet in its infancy, Truth By this procedure Falsehood every hour en came among mortals from above, and Falsehood croached upon the world and extended her emfrom below. Truth was the daughter of Jupi-pire through all climes and regions. Wherever ter and wisdom; Falsehood was the progeny of Folly impregnated by the wind. They advanced with equal confidence to seize the dominion of the new creation: and, as their enmity and their force were well known to the celestials, all the eyes of heaven were turned upon the contest. Truth seemed conscious of superior power and juster claim, and therefore came on towering and majestic, unassisted and alone; Reason indeed always attended her, but appeared her follower, rather than companion. Her march was slow and stately, but her motion was perpetually progressive, and when once she had grounded her foot, neither gods nor men could force her to reure. she carried her victories she left the passions in full authority behind her; who were so well pleased with command, that they held out with great obstinacy when Truth came to seize their posts, and never failed to retard her progress, though they could not always stop it; they yield. ed at last with great reluctance, frequent rallies, and sullen submission; and always inclined to revolt when Truth ceased to awe them by her immediate presence. Truth, who, when she first descended from the heavenly palaces, expected to have been received by universal acclamation, cherished with kindness, heard with obedience and invited to spread her influence from province to province, Falschood always endeavoured to copy the now found, that, wherever she came, she must mien and attitudes of Truth, and was very suc-force her passage. Every intellect was preclud cessful in the arts of mimicry. She was sured by Prejudice, and every heart preoccupied by rounded, animated, and supported, by innume- Passion. She indeed advanced, but she advanced rable legions of appetites and passions; but, slowly; and often lost the conquests which she like other feeble commanders, was obliged often left behind her, by sudden insurrections of the to receive law from her allies. Her motions were appetites, that shook off their allegiance, and sudden, irregular, and violent; for she had no ranged themselves again under the banner of steadiness nor constancy. She often gained her enemy. conquests by hasty incursions, which she never hoped to keep by her own strength, but maintained by the help of the passions, whom she generally found resolute and faithful. It sometimes happened that the antagonists net in full opposition. In these encounters, Falsehood always invested her head with clouds, and commanded Fraud to place ambushes about her. In her left hand she bore the shield of Impudence, and the quiver of Sophistry rattled on her shoulder. All the passions attended at her call; Vanity clapped her wings before, and Obstinacy supported her behind. Thus guarded and assisted, she sometimes advanced against Truth, and sometimes waited the attack; but always endeavoured to skirmish at a distance, Truth, however, did not grow weaker by the struggle, for her vigour was unconquerable; yet she was provoked to see herself thus baffled and impeded by an enemy, whom she looked on with contempt, and who had no advantage but such as she owed to inconstancy, weakness and artifice. She, therefore, in the anger of disappointment, called upon her father Jupiter to restablish her in the skies, and leave mankind to the disor der and misery which they deserved, by submit. ting willingly to the usurpation of Falsehood. Jupiter compassionated the world too much to grant her request, yet was willing to ease her labours and mitigate her vexation. He com manded her to consult the Muses by what me thods she might obtain an easier reception, and In the time of the "Spectator," excepting sometimes in appearance in the ring, sometimes at a good and chosen play, sometimes on a visit at the house of a grave relation, the young ladies contented themselves to be found employed in domestic duties; for then routs, drums, balls, as semblies, and such-like markets for women, were not known. Modesty and diffidence, gentleness and meekness, were looked upon as the appropriate virtues and characteristic graces of the sex. And if a forward spirit pushed itself into notice, it was exposed in print as it deserved. reign without the toil of incessant war. It was then discovered that she obstructed her own progress by the severity of her aspect, and the soTemnity of her dictates; and that men would never willingly admit her, till they ceased to fear her, since, by giving themselves up to Falsehood, they seldom made any sacrifice of their ease or pleasure, because she took the shape that was most engaging, and always suffered herself to be dressed and painted by Desire. The Muses wove, in the loom of Pallas, a loose and changeable robe, like that in which Falsehood captivated her admirers; with this they invested Truth, and named her Fiction. She now went out again to The churches were almost the only places conquer with more success; for when she de- where single women were to be seen by stranmanded entrance of the Passions, they often mis-gers. Men went thither expecting to see them, took her for Falsehood, and delivered up their and perhaps too much for that only purpose. charge: but when she had once taken possession, she was soon disrobed by Reason, and shone out, in her original form, with native effulgence and resistless dignity. No. 97.] TUESDAY, FEB. 19, 1751. Facunda culpa secula nuptias HOR. FRANCIS. But some good often resulted, however improper might be their motives. Both sexes were in the way of their duty. The man must be abandoned, indeed, who loves not goodness in another; nor were the young fellows of that age so wholly lost to a sense of right, as pride and conceit have since made them affect to be. When therefore they saw a fair-one, whose decent behaviour and cheerful piety showed her earnest in her first duties, they had the less doubt, judging politically only, that she would have a conscien tious regard to her second. With what ardour have I seen watched for, the rising of a kneeling beauty; and what additional charms has devotion given to her recommunicat ed features! In patriam populumque fluxit. Fruitful of crimes, this age first stain'd Their hapless offspring, and profaned The nuptial bed; from whence the woes, Which various and unnumber'd rose From this polluted fountain head, O'er Rome and o'er the nations spread. THE reader is indebted for this day's entertain- The men were often the better for what they ment to an author from whom the age has re- heard. Even a Saul was once found prophesying ceived greater favours, who has enlarged the among the prophets whom he had sent out to deknowledge of human nature, and taught the pas-stroy. To a man thus put into good humour by sions to move at the command of virtue. SIR, TO THE RAMBLER. WHEN the "Spectator" was first published in single papers, it gave me so much pleasure, that it is one of the favourite amusements of my age to recollect it; and when I reflect on the foibles of those times, as described in that useful work, and compare them with the vices now reigning among us, I cannot but wish that you would oftener take cognizance of the manners of the better haif of the human species, that if your precepts and observations be carried down to posterity, the Spectators may show to the rising generation what were the fashionable follies of their grandmothers, the "Rambler" of their mothers, and that from both they may draw instruction and warning. When I read those Spectators which took notice of the misbehaviour of young women at church, by which they vainly hope to attract admirers, I used to pronounce such forward young women Seekers, in order to distinguish them by a mark of infamy from those who had patience and decency to stay till they were sought. But I have lived to see such a change in the manners of women, that I would now be willing to compound with them for that name, although I then thought it disgraceful enough, if they would deserve no worse; since now they are too generally given up to negligence of domestic business, to idle amusements, and to wicked rackets, without any settled view at all but of squandering time. a pleasing object, religion itself looked more amiable. The Men Seekers of the Spectator's time loved the holy place for the object's sake, and loved the object for her suitable behaviour in it. Reverence mingled with their love, and they thought that a young lady of such good principles must be addressed only by the man who at least made a show of good principles, whether his heart was yet quite right or not. Her Nor did the young lady's behaviour, at any time of the service, lessen this reverence. eyes were her own, her ears the preacher's. Women are always most observed when they seem themselves least to observe, or to lay out for observation. The eye of a respectful lover loves rather to receive confidence from the withdrawn eye of the fair-one, than to find itself obliged to retreat. When a young gentleman's affection was thus laudably engaged, he pursued its natural dictates; keeping then was a rare, at least a secret and scandalous vice, and a wife was the summit of his wishes. Rejection was now dreaded, and pre-engagement apprehended. A woman whom he loved, he was ready to think must be admired by all the world. His fears, his uncertainties, increased his love. Every inquiry he made into the lady's domes tic excellence, which, when a wife is to be chosen, will surely not be neglected, confirmed him in his choice. He opens his heart to a common friend, and honestly discovers the state of his fortune. His friend applies to those of the young lady, whose parents, if they approve of his pro posals, disclose them to their daughter. She perhaps is not an absolute stranger to the passion of the young gentleman. His eyes, his assiduities, his constant attendance at a church, whither, till of late, he used seldom to come, and a thousand little observances that he paid her, had very probably first forced her to regard, and then inclined her to favour him. That a young lady should be in love, and the love of the young gentleman undeclared, is a heterodoxy which prudence, and even policy, must not allow. But, thus applied to, she is all resignation to her parents. Charming resignation, which inclination opposes not. Her relations applaud her for her duty; friends meet; points are adjusted; delightful perturbations, and hopes, and a few lover's fears, fill up the tedious space till an interview is granted; for the young lady had not made herself cheap at public places. page is required to qualify the frequenters for such emulous appearance. By the natural infection of example, the lowest people have places of sixpenny resort, and gaining-tables for pence. Thus servants are now in duced to fraud and dishonesty, to support extra vagance, and supply their losses. As to the ladies who frequent those public places, they are not ashamed to show their face wherever men dare go, nor blush to try who shall stare most impudently, or who shall laugh loudest on the public walks. The men who would make good husbands, if they visit those places, are frighted at wedlock, and resolved to live single, except they are bought at a very high price. They can be spectators of all that passes, and if they please, more than spectators, at the expense of others. The companion of an evening, and the companion for life, require very different qualifications. The time of interview arrives. She is modestly reserved; he is not confident. He declares Two thousand pounds in the last age, with a his passion; the consciousness of her own worth, domestic wife, would go farther than ten thou and his application to her parents, take from her sand in this. Yet settlements are expected, that any doubt of his sincerity; and she owns herself often, to a mercantile man especially, sink a forobliged to him for his good opinion. The in- tune into uselessness: and pin-money is stipu quiries of her friends into his character, have lated for, which makes a wife independent, and taught her that his good opinion deserves to be destroys love, by putting it out of a man's power valued. to lay any obligation upon her, that might enShe tacitly allows of his future visits; he re-gage gratitude, and kindle affection. When to news them; the regard of each for the other is confirmed; and when he presses for the favour of her hand, he receives a declaration of an entire acquiescence with her duty, and a modest acknowledgement of esteem for him. He applies to her parents therefore for a near day; and thinks himself under obligation to them for the cheerful and affectionate manner with which they receive his agreeable application. With this prospect of future happiness, the marriage is celebrated. Gratulations pour in from every quarter. Parents and relations on both sides, brought acquainted in the course of the courtship, can receive the happy couple with countenances illumined, and joyful hearts. The brothers, the sisters, the friends of one family, are the brothers, the sisters, the friends of the other. The two families, thus made one, are the world to the young couple. Their home is the place of their principal delight, nor do they ever occasionally quit it but they find the pleasure of returning to it augmented in proportion to the time of their absence from it. all this the card-tables are added, how can a pru dent man think of marrying? And when the worthy men know not where to find wives, must not the sex be left to the foplings, the coxcombs, the libertines of the age, whom they help to make such? And need even these wretches marry to enjoy the conversation of those who render their company so cheap? And what, after all, is the benefit which the gay coquette obtains by her flutters? As she is approachable by every man without requiring, I will not say incense or adoration, but even common complaisance, every fop treats her as upon the level, looks upon her light airs as invitations, and is on the watch to take the advantage: she has companions, indeed, but no lovers; for love is respectful and timorous; and where among all her followers will she find a husband? Set, dear Sir, before the youthful, the gay, the inconsiderate, the contempt as well as the danger to which they are exposed. At one time or other, women not utterly thoughtless, will be convinced of the justice of your censure, and the charity of your instruction. Oh, Mr. Rambler. forgive the talkativeness, But should your expostulations and reproofs of an old man! When I courted and married my have no effect upon those who are far gone in Lætitia, then a blooming beauty, every thing fashionable folly, they may be retailed from their passed just so! But how is the case now? The mouths to their nieces, (marriage will not often ladies, maidens, wives, and widows, are engross-have entitled these to daughters.) when they, ed by places of open resort and general entertain- the meteors of a day, find themselves elbowed ment, which fill every quarter of the metropolis, off the stage of vanity by other flutterers; for and being constantly frequented, make home irksome Breakfasting-places, dining-places, routs, drums, concerts, balls, plays, operas, masquerade for the evening, and even for all night; and lately, public sales of the goods of broken housekeepers, which the general dissoluteness of manners has contributed to make very frequent, come in as another seasonable relief to these modern time-killers. the most admired women cannot have many Your sincere admirer, &c.* *This paper was written by Richardson, the author of "Clarissa," In the summer there are in every country-eyed in style and sentiment, was the only pay er which Pamela," &c. and although mean and hacktown assemblies; Tunbridge, Bath, Cheltenham, had a great sale during the publication of the "ambler, Scarborough! What expense of dress and equi- in its original form. ELPHINSTON. TO THE AUTHOR OF THE RAMBLER. You have truly described the state of human beings, but it may be doubted whether you have accommodated your precepts to your description; whether you have not generally considered your readers as influenced by the tragic passions, and susceptible of pain or pleasure only from powerful agents, and from great events. To an author who writes not for the improvement of a single art, or the establishment of a controverted doctrine, but equally intends the advantage, and equally courts the perusal of all the classes of mankind, nothing can justly seem unworthy of regard, by which the pleasure of conversation may be increased, and the daily satisfaction of familiar life secured from interruption and disgust. For this reason you would not have injured your reputation, if you had sometimes descended to the minuter duties of social beings, and enforced the observance of those little civilities and ceremonious delicacies, which, inconsiderable as they may appear to the man of science, and difficult as they may prove to be detailed with dignity, yet contribute to the regulation of the world, by facilitating the intercourse between one man and another, and of which the French have sufficiently testified their esteem, by terming the knowledge and practice of them Scavoir vivre, the art of living. Politeness is one of those advantages which we never estimate rightly but by the inconvenience of its loss. Its influence upon the manners is constant and uniform, so that, like an equal motion, it escapes perception. The circumstances of every action are so adjusted to each other, that we do not see where any error could have been committed, and rather acquiesce in its propriety than admire its exactness. But as sickness shows us the value of ease, a little familiarity with those who were never taught to endeavour the gratification of others, but regulate their behaviour merely by their own will, will soon evince the necessity of established modes and formalities to the happiness and quiet of common life. Wisdom and virtue are by no means sufficient, without the supplemental laws of good breeding, to secure freedom from degenerating to rudeness, or self-esteem from swelling into insolence; a thousand incivilities may be committed, and a thousand offices neglected, without any remorse of conscience, or reproach from reason. be rather ease than pleasure. The power of The true effect of genuine politeness seems to delighting must be conferred by nature, and cannot be delivered by precept, or obtained by imitation: but though it be the privilege of a very small number to ravage and to charm, every man may hope by rules and caution not to give pain, and may, therefore, by the help of goodbreeding, enjoy the kindness of mankind, though he should have no claim to higher distinctions. The universal axiom in which all complai sance is included, and from which flow all the formalities which custom has established in civilized nations is, That no man shall give any preference to himself. A rule so comprehensive and certain, that, perhaps, it is not easy for the mind to imagine an incivility, without supposing it to be broken. There are, indeed, in every place, some parti cular modes of the ceremonial part of goodbreeding, which being arbitrary and accidental, can be learned only by habitude and conversation; such are the forms of salutation, the different gradations of reverence, and all the adjustments of place and precedence. These, however, may be often violated without offence, if it be sufficiently evident, that neither malice nor pride contributed to the failure; but will not atone, however rigidly observed, for the tumour of in solence, or petulance of contempt. I have, indeed, not found among any part of mankind, less real and rational complaisance, than among those who have passed their time in paying and receiving visits, in frequenting public entertainments, in studying the exact measures of ceremony, and in watching all the variations of fashionable courtesy. They know, indeed, at what hour they may beat the door of an acquaintance, how many steps they must attend him towards the gate, and what interval should pass before his visit is returned; but seldom extend their care beyond the exterior and unessential parts of civility, nor refuse their own vanity any gratification, however expensive to the quiet of another. Trypherus is a man remarkable for splendour and expense; a man, that having been originally placed by his fortune and rank in the first class of the community, has acquired that air of dig nity, and that readiness in the exchange of com. pliments, which courts, balls, and levees, easily confer. But Trypherus, without of malignity, partly by his ignorance of human any settled purposes nature, and partly by the habit of contemplating with great satisfaction his own grandeur and riches, is hourly giving disgust to those whom chance or expectation subject to his vanity. To a man whose fortune confines him to a small house, he declaims upon the pleasure of spacious apartments, and the convenience of changing his lodging-room in different parts of the year; tells him that he hates confinement; and concludes, that if his chamber was less, he should never wake without thinking of a prison To Eucretas, a man of birth equal to himself. but of much less estate he showed his services of plate, and remarked that such things were, indeed, nothing better than costly trifles, but that no man must pretend to the rank of a gentleman without them; and that for his part, if his estate was smaller, he should not think of enjoying but increasing it, and would inquire out a trade for his eldest son. He has, in imitation of some more acute observer than himself, collected a great many shifts and artifices by which poverty is concealed; and among the ladies of small fortune, never fails to talk of frippery and slight silks, and the convenience of a general mourning. I have been insulted a thousand times with a catalogue of his pictures, his jewels, and his rarities, which, though he knows the humble neatness of my habitation, he seldom fails to conclude by a declaration, that wherever he sees a house meanly furnished, he despises the owner's taste, or pities his poverty. This, Mr. Rambler, is the practice of Trypherus, by which he has become the terror of all who are less wealthy than himself, and has raised innumerable enemies without rivalry, and without malevolence. Yet though all are not equally culpable with Trypherus, it is scarcely possible to find any man who does not frequently, like him, indulge his own pride by forcing others into a comparison with himself when he knows the advantage is on his side, without considering that unnecessarily to obtrude unpleasing ideas, is a species of oppression; and that it is little more criminal to deprive another of some real advantage, than to interrupt that forgetfulness of its absence which is the next happiness to actual possession. am, &c. EUTROPIUS. IT has been ordained by Providence, for the conservation of order in the immense variety of nature, and for the regular propagation of the several classes of life with which the elements are peopled, that every creature should be drawn by some secret attraction to those of his own kind; and that not only the gentle and domestic animals which naturally unite into companies, or cohabit by pairs, should continue faithful to their species; but even those ravenous and ferocious savages which Aristotle observes never to be gregarious, should range mountains and deserts in search of one another, rather than pollute the world with a monstrous birth. As the perpetuity and distinction of the lower tribes of the creation require that they should be determined to proper mates by some uniform motive of choice, or some cogent principle of instinct; it is necessary, likewise, that man, whose wider capacity demands more gratifications, and who feels in himself innumerable wants, which a life of solitude cannot supply, and innumerable powers to which it cannot give employment, should be led to suitable companions by particular influence; and, among many beings of the same nature with himself, he may select some for intimacy and tenderness, and improve the condition of his existence, by superadding friendship to humanity, and the love of individuals to that of the species. Other animals are so formed that they seem to contribute very little to the happiness of each other, and know neither joy, nor grief, nor love, nor hatred, but as they are urged by some desire immediately subservient either to the support of their own lives, or to the continuation of their race; they therefore seldom appear to regard any of the minuter discriminations which distin. guish creatures of the same kind from one another. But if man were to feel no incentives to kindness, more than his general tendency to conge nial nature, Babylon or London, with all their multitudes, would have to him the desolation of a wilderness, his affections, not compressed into a narrower compass, would vanish, like elemental fire in boundless evaporation; he would languish in perpetual insensibility; and though he might, perhaps, in the first vigour of youth, amuse himself with the fresh enjoyments of life, yet, when curiosity should cease, and alacrity subside, he would abandon himself to the fluctuations of chance, without expecting help against any calamity, or feeling any wish for the happiness of others. To love all men is our duty, so far as it in cludes a general habit of benevolence, and readi ness of occasional kindness; but to love all equally is impossible; at least impossible without the extinction of those passions which now produce all our pains and all our pleasures; without the disuse, if not the abolition, of some of our faculties, and the suppression of all our hopes and fears in apathy and indifference. The necessities of our condition require a thousand offices of tenderness, which mere regard for the species will never dictate. Every man has frequent grievances which only the solicitude of friendship will discover and remedy, and which would remain for ever unheeded in the mighty heap of human calamity, were it only surveyed by the eye of general benevolence, equally attentive to every misery. The great community of mankind is, therefore necessarily broken into smaller independent societies; these form distinct interests, which are too frequently opposed to each other, and which they who have entered into the league of particular governments falsely think it virtue to promote, however destructive to the happiness of the rest of the world. Such unions are again separated into subordinate classes and combinations, and social life is perpetually branched out into minuter subdivisions, till it terminates in the last ramifications of private friendship. That friendship may at once be fond and lasting, it has been already observed in these papers, that a conformity of inclinations is necessary. No man can have much kindness for him by whom he does not believe himself esteemed, and nothing so evidently proves esteem as imitation. That benevolence is always strongest which arises from participation of the same pleasures, since we are naturally most willing to revive in |