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disagreeable to him at first; but use and application will certainly render it not only less painful, but pleasing and satisfactory. In the second place, I would recommend to every one that admirable precept which Pythagoras is said to have given to his disciples, and which that philosopher must have drawn from the observation I have enlarged upon, Optimum vitæ genus eligito, nam consuetudo faciet jucondissimum: Pitch upon that course of life which is the most excellent, and custom will render it the most delightful.' Men, whose circumstances will permit them to choose their own way of life, are inexcusable if they do not pursue that which their judgment tells them is the most laudable. The voice of reason is more to be regarded than the bent of any present inclination, since, by the rule above-mentioned, inclination will at length come over to reason, though we can never force reason to comply with inclination.

In the third place, this observation may teach the most sensual and irreligious man to overlook those hardships and difficulties which are apt to discourage him from the prosecution of a virtuous life. The gods,' said Hesiod, have placed labour before virtue: the way to her is at first rough and difficult, but grows more smooth and easy the farther you advance in it.' The man who proceeds in it with steadiness and resolution, will in a little time find that her ways are ways of pleasantness, and that all her paths are peace.'

To enforce this consideration, we may farther observe, that the practice of religion will not only be attended with that pleasure which naturally accompanies those actions to which we are habituated, but with those supernumerary joys of heart that rise from the consciousness of such a pleasure, from the satisfaction of acting up to the dictates of reason, and from the prospect of a happy immortality.

are to make us happy in the next. The seeds of those spiritual joys and raptures, which are to rise up and flourish in the soul to all eternity, must be planted in her during this her present state of probation. In short, heaven is not to be looked upon only as the reward, but as the natural effect of a religious life.

On the other hand, those evil spirits, who, by long custom, have contracted in the body habits of lust and sensuality, malice and revenge, and aversion to every thing that is good, just, or laudable, are naturally seasoned and prepared for pain and misery. Their torments have already taken root in them; they cannot be happy when divested of the body, unless we may suppose, that Providence will in a manner create them anew, and work a miracle in the rectification of their faculties. They may, indeed, taste a kind of malignant pleasure in those actions to which they are accustomed, whilst in this life; but when they are removed from all those objects which are here apt to gratify them, they will naturally become their own tormentors, and cherish in themselves those painful habits of mind which are called, in scripture phrase, the worm which never dies.' This notion of heaven and hell is so very conformable to the light of nature, that it was discovered by several of the most exalted heathens. It has been finely improved by many eminent divines of the last age, as in particular by archbishop Tillotson and Dr. Sherlock: but there is none who has raised such noble speculations upon it as Dr. Scot, in the first book of his Christian Life, which is one of the finest and most rational schemes of divinity that is written in our tongue, or in any other. That excellent author has shown how every particular custom and habit of virtue will, in its own nature, produce the heaven, or a state of happiness, in him who shall hereafter practise it: as on the contrary, how every custom or habit of vice will be the natural hell of him in whom it subsists. C.

In the fourth place, we may learn from this observation, which we have made on the mind of man, to take particular care, when we are once settled in a regular course of life, how we too frequently indulge ourselves in any the most innocent diversions No. 448.] Monday, August 4, 1712. and entertainments; since the mind may insensibly fall off from the relish of virtuous actions, and, by degrees, exchange that pleasure which it takes in the performance of its duty, for delights of a much more inferior and unprofitable nature.

The last use which I shall make of this remarkable property in human nature, of being delighted with those actions to which it is accustomed, is to show how absolutely necessary it is for us to gain habits of virtue in this life, if we would enjoy the pleasures of the next. The state of bliss we call heaven will not be capable of affecting those minds which are not thus qualified for it; we must, in this world, gain a relish of truth and virtue, if we would be able to taste that knowledge and perfection, which

Fædius hoc aliquid quandoque audebis.

Juv. Sat. ii. 82.

In time to greater baseness you'll proceed. THE first steps towards ill are very carefully to be avoided, for men insensibly go on when they are once entered, and do not keep up a lively abhorrence of the least unworthiness. There is a certain frivolous falsehood that people indulge themselves in, which ought to be had in greater detestation than it commonly meets with. What I mean is a neglect of promises made on small and indifferent occasions, such as parties of pleasure, entertainments, and sometimes meetings out of curiosity, in men of like faculties, to be in each other's company. There are many causes to which one

I am the more severe upon this vice, because I have been so unfortunate as to be a very great criminal myself. Sir Andrew Freeport, and all my other friends who are scrupulous to promises of the meanest consideration imaginable, from a habit of virtue that way, have often upbraided me with it. I take shame upon myself for this crime, and more particularly for the greatest I ever committed of the sort, that when as agreeable a company of gentlemen and ladies as ever were got together, and I forsooth, Mr. Spectator, to be of the party with women of merit, like a booby as I was, mistook the time of meeting, and came the night following. I wish every fool who is negligent in this kind, may have as great a loss as I had in this; for the same company will never meet more, but are dispersed into various parts of the world, and I am left under the compunction that I deserve, in so many different places to be called a trifler.

may assign this light infidelity. Jack Sippet | great, that they subsist by still promising never keeps the hour he has appointed to on. I have heretofore discoursed of the income to a friend's to dinner; but he is an significant liar, the boaster, and the castleinsignificant fellow, who does it out of builder, and treated them as no ill-designvanity. He could never, he knows, make ing men (though they are to be placed any figure in company, but by giving a little among the frivolous false ones,) but persons disturbance at his entry, and therefore takes who fall into that way purely to recommend care to drop in when he thinks you are just themselves by their vivacities; but indeed I seated. He takes his place after having cannot let heedless promisers, though in discomposed every body, and desires there the most minute circumstances, pass with may be no ceremony; then does he begin to so slight a censure. If a man should take call himself the saddest fellow, in disap- a resolution to pay only sums above a hunpointing so many places as he was invited dred pounds, and yet contract with difto elsewhere. It is the fop's vanity to name ferent people debts of five and ten, how houses of better cheer, and to acquaint you long can we suppose he will keep his credit? that he chose yours out of ten dinners which This man will as long support his good he was obliged to be at that day. The last name in business, as he will in conversation, time I had the fortune to eat with him, he who without difficulty makes assignations was imagining how very fat he should have which he is indifferent whether he keeps been had he eaten all he had ever been in- or not. vited to. But it is impertinent to dwell upon the manners of such a wretch as obliges all whom he disappoints, though his circumstances constrain them to be civil to him. But there are those that every one would be glad to see, who fall into the same detestable habit. It is a merciless thing that any one can be at ease, and suppose a set of people who have a kindness for him, at that moment waiting out of respect to him, and refusing to taste their food or conversation, with the utmost impatience. One of these promisers sometimes shall make his excuses for not coming at all, so late that half the company have only to lament, that they have neglected matters of moment to meet him whom they find a trifler. They immediately repent of the value they had for him; and such treatment repeated, makes company never depend upon his promises any more; so that he often comes at the middle of a meal, where he is secretly slighted by the persons with whom he eats, and cursed by the servants, whose dinner is delayed by his prolonging their master's entertainment. It is wonderful that men guilty this way could never have observed, that the whiling time, and gathering together, and waiting a little before dinner, is the most awkwardly passed away of any part in the four-and-twenty hours. If they did think at all, they would reflect upon their guilt, in lengthening such a suspension of agreeable life. The constant offending this way has, in a degree, an effect upon the honesty of his mind who is guilty of it, as common swearing is a kind of habitual perjury: it makes the soul unattentive to what an oath is, even while it utters it at the lips. Phocion beholding a wordy orator, while he was making a magnificent speech to the people, full of vain promises; Methinks,' said he, I am now fixing my eyes upon a cypress tree; it has all the pomp and beauty imaginable in its branches, leaves, and height: but alas! it bears no fruit.'

Though the expectation which is raised by impertinent promises is thus barren, their confidence, even after failures, is so

This fault is sometimes to be accounted for, when desirable people are fearful of appearing precise and reserved by denials; but they will find the apprehension of that imputation will betray them into a childish impotence of mind, and make them promise all who are so kind to ask it of them. This leads such soft creatures into the misfortune of seeming to return overtures of good-will with ingratitude. The first steps in the breach of a man's integrity are much more important than men are aware of. The man who scruples not breaking his word in little things, would not suffer in his own conscience so great pain for failures of consequence, as he who thinks every little offence against truth and justice a disparagement. We should not make any thing we ourselves disapprove habitual to us, if we would be sure of our integrity.

I remember a falsehood of the trivial sort, though not in relation to assignations, that exposed a man to a very uneasy adventure. Will Trap and Jack Stint were chamber-fellows in the Inner-Temple about twenty-five years ago. They one night sat

in the pit together at a comedy, where they |ings many descriptions given of ill persons, both observed and liked the same young and not any direct encomium made of those woman in the boxes. Their kindness for who are good. When I was convinced of her entered both hearts deeper than they this error, I could not but immediately call imagined. Stint had a good faculty in writ- to mind several of the fair sex of my acing letters of love, and made his address quaintance, whose characters deserve to be privately that way; while Trap proceeded transmitted to posterity in writings which in the ordinary course, by money and her will long outlive mine. But I do not think waiting-maid. The lady gave them both that a reason why I should not give them encouragement, received Trap into the ut- their place in my diurnal as long as it will most favour, answering at the same time last. For the service thereof of my female Stint's letters, and giving him appointments readers, I shall single out some characters at third places. Trap began to suspect the of maids, wives, and widows which deserve epistolary correspondence of his friend, and the imitation of the sex. She who shall discovered also that Stint opened all his let-lead this small illustrious number of heters which came to their common lodgings, roines shall be the amiable Fidelia. in order to form his own assignations. After much anxiety and restlessness, Trap came to a resolution, which he thought would break off their commerce with one another without any hazardous explanation. He therefore writ a letter in a feigned hand to Mr. Trap at his chambers in the Temple. Stint, according to custom, seized and opened it, and was not a little surprised to find the inside directed to himself, when, with great perturbation of spirit, he read as follows:

MR. STINT,-You have gained a slight satisfaction at the expense of doing a very heinous crime. At the price of a faithful friend you have obtained an inconstant mistress. I rejoice in this expedient I have thought of to break my mind to you, and tell you, you are a base fellow, by a means which does not expose you to the affront except you deserve it. I know, sir, as criminal as you are, you have still shame enough to avenge yourself against the hardiness of any one that should publicly tell you of it. I therefore, who have received so many secret hurts from you, shall take satisfaction with safety to myself. I call you base, and you must bear it, or acknowledge it; I triumph over you that you cannot come at me; nor do I think it dishonourable to come in armour to assault him, who was in ambuscade when he wounded

Before I enter upon the particular parts of her character, it is necessary to preface, that she is the only child of a decrepid father, whose life is bound up in hers. This gentleman has used Fidelia from her cradle with all the tenderness imaginable, and has viewed her growing perfections with the partiality of a parent, that soon thought her accomplished above the children of all other men, but never thought she was come to the utmost improvement of which she herself was capable. This fondness has had very happy effects upon his own happiness; for she reads, she dances, she sings, uses her spinet and lute to the utmost perfection; and the lady's use of all these excellences is to divert the old man in his easy chair, when he is out of the pangs of a chronical distemper. Fidelia is now in the twentythird year of her age; but the application

of

many lovers, her vigorous time of life, her quick sense of all that is truly gallant and elegant in the enjoyment of a plentiful fortune, are not able to draw her from the side of her good old father. Certain it is, that there is no kind of affection so pure and angelic as that of a father to a daughter. He beholds her both with and without regard to her sex. In love to our wives there is desire, to our sons there is ambition; but in that to our daughters, there is something which there are no words to express. Her life is designed wholly domestic, and she is 'What need more be said to convince so ready a friend and companion, that every you of being guilty of the basest practice thing that passes about a man is accomimaginable, than that it is such as has made panied with the idea of her presence. Her you liable to be treated after this manner, sex also is naturally so much exposed to while you yourself cannot in your own con-hazard, both as to fortune and innocence, science but allow the justice of the upbraidings of your injured friend, T.

me.

'RALPH TRAP.'

No. 449.] Tuesday, August 5, 1712.

-Tibi scriptus, matrona, libellus.

Mart. iii. 68.

A book the chastest matron may peruse.

that there is perhaps a new cause of fondness arising from that consideration also. None but fathers can have a true sense of these sort of pleasures and sensations; but my familiarity with the father of Fidelia, makes me let drop the words which I have heard him speak, and observe upon his tenderness towards her.

Fidelia, on her part, as I was going to say, as accomplished as she is, with her beauty, WHEN I reflect upon my labours for the wit, air, and mien, employs her whole public, I cannot but observe, that part of time in care and attendance upon her fathe species, of which I profess myself a ther. How have I been charmed to see one friend and guardian, is sometimes treated of the most beautiful women the age has with severity; that is, there are in my writ-produced, on her knees, helping on an old

astonished to hear that, in those intervals when the old gentleman is at ease, and can bear company, there are at his house, in the most regular order, assemblies of peoconversation without mention of the faults of the absent, benevolence between men and women without passion, and the highest subjects of morality treated of as natural and accidental discourse; all which is owing to the genius of Fidelia; who at once makes her father's way to another world easy, and herself capable of being an honour to his name in this.

man's slipper! Her filial regard to him is what she makes her diversion, her business, and her glory. When she was asked by a friend of her deceased mother to admit of the courtship of her son, she answer-ple of the highest merit; where there is ed that she had a great respect and gratitude to her for the overture in behalf of one so dear to her, but that during her father's life she would admit into her heart no value for any thing that should interfere with her endeavour to make his remains of life as happy and easy as could be expected in his circumstances. The lady admonished her of the prime of life with a smile; which Fidelia answered with a frankness that always attends unfeigned virtue: 'It is true, madam, there are to be sure very great satisfactions to be expected in the commerce of a man of honour whom one tenderly loves; but I find so much satisfaction, in the reflection, how much I mitigate a good man's pains, whose welfare depends upon my assiduity about him, that I willingly exclude the loose gratifications of passion for the solid reflections of duty. I know not whether any man's wife would be allowed, and (what I still more fear) I know not whether I, a wife, should be willing to be so officious as I am at present about my parent.' The happy father has her declaration that she will not marry during his life, and the pleasure of seeing that resolution not uneasy to her. Were one to paint filial affection in its utmost beauty, he could not have a more lively idea of it than in beholding Fidelia serving her father at his hours of rising, meals, and rest.

When the general crowd of female youth are consulting their glasses, preparing for balls, assemblies, or plays; for a young

'MR. SPECTATOR,-I was the other day at the Bear-garden, in hopes to have seen your short face: but not being so fortunate, I must tell you, by way of letter, that there is a mystery among the gladiators which has escaped your spectatorial penetration. For, being in a box at an ale-house near that renowned seat of honour above-mentioned, I overheard two masters of the science agreeing to quarrel on the next opportunity. This was to happen in a company of a set of the fraternity of baskethilts, who were to meet that evening. When this was settled, one asked the other, "Will you give cuts or receive?" The other answered, "Receive." It was replied, "Are you a passionate man?" "No, provided you cut no more nor no deeper than we agree. I thought it my duty to acquaint you with this, that the people may not pay their money for fighting, and be cheated. Your humble serSCABBARD RUSTY.'

vant,

Τ.

lady, who could be regarded among the No. 450.] Wednesday, August 6, 1712.

foremost in those places, either for her person, wit, fortune, or conversation, and yet contemn all these entertainments, to sweeten the heavy hours of a decrepid parent, is a resignation truly heroic. Fidelia performs the duty of a nurse with all the beauty of a bride; nor does she neglect her person, because of her attendance on him, when he is too ill to receive company, to whom she may make an appearance.

Fidelia, who gives him up her youth, does not think it any great sacrifice to add to it the spoiling of her dress. Her care and exactness in her habit convince her father of the alacrity of her mind; and she has of all women the best foundation for affecting the praise of a seeming negligence. What adds to the entertainment of the good old man is, that Fidelia, where merit and fortune cannot be overlooked by epistolary lovers, reads over the accounts of her conquests, plays on her spinet the gayest airs (and while she is doing so you would think her formed only for gallantry) to intimate to him the pleasures she despises for his sake.

Those who think themselves the pattern of good-breeding and gallantry would be

-Quærenda pecunia primum,
Virtus post nummos.

Hor. Ep. i. Lib. 1. 53.
-Get money, money still;
And then let virtue follow, if she will.-Pope.
'MR. SPECTATOR,-All men through
different paths, make at the same common
thing, money: and it is to her we owe the
politician, the merchant, and the lawyer;
nay, to be free with you, I believe to that
also we are beholden for our Spectator. I
am apt to think, that could we look into
our own hearts, we should see money en-
graved in them in more lively and moving
characters than self-preservation; for who
can reflect upon the merchant hoisting sail
in a doubtful pursuit of her, and all man-
kind sacrificing their quiet to her, but must
perceive that the characters of self-preser
vation (which were doubtless originally the
brightest) are sullied, if not wholly defaced;
and that those of money (which at first
was only valuable as a mean to security)
are of late so brightened, that the charac-
ters of self-preservation, like a less light
set by a greater, are become almost imper-
ceptible? Thus has money got the upper-
hand of what all mankind formerly thought
most dear, viz. security: and I wish I could

say she had here put a stop to her victo- | men do their wives and children, and thereries; but, alas! common honesty fell a sa- fore could not resist the first impulses of crifice to her. This is the way scholastic nature on so wounding a loss; but I quickly men talk of the greatest good in the world: roused myself, and found means to allebut I, a tradesman, shall give you another viate, and at last conquer, my affliction, by account of this matter in the plain narra- reflecting how that she and her children tive of my own life. I think it proper, in having been no great expense to me, the the first place, to acquaint my readers, best part of her fortune was still left; that that since my setting out in the world, my charge being reduced to myself, a jourwhich was in the year 1660, I never wanted neyman, and a maid, I might live far money, having begun with an indifferent cheaper than before; and that being now a good stock in the tobacco-trade, to which I childless widower, I might perhaps marry was bred; and by the continual successes it a no less deserving woman, and with a has pleased Providence to bless my endea- much better fortune than she brought, vours with, I am at last arrived at what which was but 800/. And, to convince my they call a plum. To uphold my discourse readers that such considerations as these in the manner of your wits or philosophers, were proper and apt to produce such an by speaking fine things, or drawing infer- affect, I remember it was the constant obences, as they pretend, from the nature of servation at that deplorable time, when so the subject, I account it vain; having never many hundreds were swept away daily, found any thing in the writings of such men, that the rich ever bore the loss of their fathat did not savour more of the invention milies and relations far better than the poor; of the brain, or what is styled speculation, the latter having little or nothing beforethan of sound judgment or profitable ob- hand, and living from hand to mouth, servation. I will readily grant indeed, that placed the whole comfort and satisfaction there is what the wits call natural in their of their lives in their wives and children, talk; which is the utmost those curious au- and were therefore inconsolable. thors can assume to themselves, and is indeed all they endeavour at, for they are but lamentable teachers. And what, I pray, is natural? That which is pleasing and easy. -And what are pleasing and easy? Forsooth, a new thought, or conceit dressed up in smooth quaint language, to make you smile and wag your head, as being what you never imagined before, and yet wonder why you had not; mere frothy amusements, fit only for boys or silly women to be caught with.

"The following year happened the fire: at which time, by good providence, it was my fortune to have converted the greatest part of my effects into ready money, on the prospect of an extraordinary advantage which I was preparing to lay hold on. This calamity was very terrible and astonishing, the fury of the flames being such, that whole streets, at several distant places, were destroyed at one and the same time, so that (as it is well known) almost all our citizens were burnt out of what they had. 'It is not my present intention to instruct But what did I then do? I did not stand my readers in the method of acquiring gazing on the ruins of our noble metropolis; riches; that may be the work of another I did not shake my head, wring my hands, essay; but to exhibit the real and solid ad- sigh and shed tears; I considered with myvantages I have found by them in my long self what could this avail; I fell a plodding and manifold experience; nor yet all the ad- what advantages might be made of the vantages of so worthy and valuable a bless-ready cash I had; and immediately being, (for who does not know or imagine the thought myself that wonderful pennyworths comforts of being warm or living at ease, and might be bought of the goods that were that power and pre-eminence are their in- saved out of the fire. In short, with about separable attendants?) but only to instance 2000l. and a little credit, I bought as much the great supports they afford us under the tobacco as raised my estate to the value of severest calamities and misfortune; to show 10,000l. I then "looked on the ashes of our that the love of them is a special antidote city, and the misery of its late inhabitants, against immorality and vice; and that the as an effect of the just wrath and indignasame does likewise naturally dispose mention of heaven towards a sinful and perverse to actions of piety and devotion. All which people." I can make out by my own experience, who think myself no ways particular from the rest of mankind, nor better nor worse by nature than generally other men are.

After this I married again; and that wife dying, I took another; but both proved to be idle baggages: the first gave me a great deal of plague and vexation by her In the year 1665, when the sickness extravagances, and I became one of the was, I lost by it my wife and two children, by-words of the city. I knew it would be to which were all my stock. Probably I might no manner of purpose to go about to curb have had more, considering I was married the fancies and inclinations of women, which between four and five years; but finding her fly out the more for being restrained; but to be a teeming woman, I was careful, as what I could I did; I watched her narhaving then little above a brace of thou- rowly, and by good luck found her in the sand pounds to carry on my trade and main-embraces (for which I had two witnesses tain a family with. I loved them as usually with me) of a wealthy spark of the court

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