of an acquaintance of ours to your imitation; he is the most negligent and fashionable wife in the world; fhe is hardly ever seen in the fame place with her hufband, and if they happened to meet, you would think them perfect ftrangers: fhe never was heard to name him in his abfence, and takes care he fhall never be the fubject of any discourse she has a fhare in. I hope you will propofe this lady as a pattern, though I am very much afraid you will be fo filly to think Portia, &c. Sabine and Roman wives much brighter examples. I wish it may never come into your head to initate thofe antiquated creatures fo far, as to come into public in the habit as well as air of a Roman matron, You make already the entertainment at Mrs. Modifh's tea-table; fhe fays, fhe always thought you a difcreet perfon, and qualified to manage a family with admirable prudence: fhe dies to fee what demure and ferious airs wedlock has given you, but she says she shall never forgive your choice of fo gallant a man as Bella" mour to transform him to a mere fober husband; it was unpardonable: you fee, my dear, we all envy your happiness, and no perfon more than Your humble servant, ' LYDIA.' 'BE not in pain, good madamn, for my appearance ' in town; I shall frequent no public places, or make any vifits where the character of a modeft wife is ridiculous As for your wild raillery on matrimony, it is all hypocrify; you, and all the handfome young women of your acquaintance, fhew yourselves to no other purpose than to gain a conqueft over fome man of worth, in order to bestow your charms and fortune on him. There is no indecency in the confeffion, the defign is modeft and honourable, and all your affectation cannot difguife it. I am married, and have no other concern but to pleafe the man I love; he is the end of every care I have; if I drefs it is for him; if I read a poem or a play, it is to qualify myfelf for a converfation agreeable to his tafte: he is almoft the end of my devotions; • half my prayers are for his happiness-I love to talk of him, and never hear him named but with pleasure ⚫ and emotion. I am your friend and wifh you happiness, but am forry to fee by the air of your letter that there are a fet of women who are got into the commonplace raillery of every thing that is fober, decent, and proper matrimony and the clergy are the topics of people of little wit and no underftanding. I own to you, I have learned of the vicar's wife all you tax me with: fhe is a difcreet, ingenious, pleafant, pious woman; I wish she had the handling of you and Mrs. Modish; you would find, if you were too free with her, she would foon make you as charming as ever you were, fhe would make you blush as much as if you " never had been fine ladies. The vicar, madam, is fo 'kind as to visit my husband, and his agreeable conver'fation has brought him to enjoy many fober happy ' hours when even I am shut out, and my dear mafter ' is entertained only with his own thoughts. Thefe 'things, dear madam, will be lafting fatisfactions, when the fine ladies, and the coxcombs by whom they form themfelves, are irreparably ridiculous, ridiculous in ' old age. I am, Madam, • Your most humble fervant, 'Dear Mr. SPECTATOR, YOU have no goodness in the world, and are not in earnest in any thing you say that is ferious, if you 'do not fend me a plain anfwer to this: I happened fome days paft to be at the play, where during the time of performance, I could not keep my eyes off 'from a beautiful young creature who fat just before me, ' and who I have been fince informed has no fortune. It 'would utterly ruin my reputation for discretion to marry 'fuch a one, and by what I can learn the has a character ' of great modefty, so that there is nothing to be thought < on any other way. My mind has ever fince been fo wholly bent on her, that I am much in danger of doing fomething very extravagant without your speedy advice ་ < to, Sir, Your most humble fervant.' I am forry I cannot answer this inpatient gentleman, but by another question. Dear Correfpondent, WOULD you marry to please other people, or yourself?' N° 255. Saturday, December 22. Laudis amore tumes? funt certa piacula, quæ te HOR. Ep. 1. lib. 1. ver. 36. IMITATED. Know, there are rhymes, which (fresh and fresh apply'd) Will cure the arrantit puppy of his pride. POPE. THE foul, confidered abftractedly from its paffions, is, of a remifs and fedentary nature, flow in its refolves, and languishing in its executions. The ufe therefore of the paffions is to ftir it up, and to put it upon action, to awaken the understanding, to enforce the will, and to make the whole man more vigorous and attentive in the profecution of his defigns. As this is the end of the paffions in general, fo it is particularly of ambition, which pushes the foul to fuch actions as are apt to procure honour and reputation to the actor. But if we carry our reflections higher, we may difcover farther ends of providence in implanting this paffion in mankind. It was neceffary for the world, that arts fhould be invented and improved, books written and tranfmitted to pofterity, nations conquered and civilized: now fince the proper and genuine motives to thefe and the like great actions, would only influence virtuous minds; there would be but fmall improvements in the world, were there not fome common principle of action working equally with all men. And fuch a principle is ambition or a defire of fame, by which great endowments are not fuffered to lie idle and useless to the public, and many vicious men, over-reached, as it were, and engaged contrary to their natural inclinations in a glorious and laudable courfe of action. For we may farther ob ferve, that men of the greatest abilities are most fired with ambition and that on the contrary, mean and narrow minds are the least actuated by it; whether it be that a man's fenfe of his own incapacities makes him defpair of coning at fame, or that he has not enough range of thought to look out for any good which does not more immediately relate to his intereft or convenience, or that providence, in the very frame of his foul, would not fubject him to fuch a paffion as would be ufelefs to the world, and a torment to himself. Were not this defire of fame very ftrong, the difficulty of obtaining it, and the danger of lofing it when obtained, would be fufficient to deter a man from fo vain a pursuit. How few are there who are furnished with abilities fufficient to recommend their actions to the admiration of the world, and to distinguish themselves from the reft of mankind? Providence for the most part fets us upon a level, and obferves a kind of proportion in its difpenfations towards us. If it renders us perfect in one acconiplishment, it generally leaves us defective in another, and feems careful rather of preferving every perfon from being mean and deficient in his qualifications, than of making any fingle one eminent or extraordinary. And among those who are the most richly endowed by nature, and accomplished by their own industry, how few are there whofe virtues are not obfcured by the ignorance, prejudice or envy of their beholders? Some en cannot difcern between a noble and a mean action: others are apt to attribute them to fome falfe end or intention; and others purposely mifreprefent, or put a wrong interpretation on them. But the more to enforce this confideration, we may observe that thofe are generally most unfuccessful in their purfuit after fame, who are moft defirous of obtaining it. It is Salluft's remark upon. Cato, that the lefs he coveted glory the more he acquired it. Men take an ill-natured pleasure in croffing our inclinations, and difappointing us in what our hearts are moft fet upon. When therefore they have difcovered the paffionate defire of fame in the ambitious man, as no temper of mind is more apt to fhew itself, they be come fparing and referved in their commendations, they envy him the fatisfaction of an applaufe, and look on their praites rather as a kindnefs done to his perfon, than as a tribute paid to his merit. Others who are free from this natural perverfenefs of temper grow wary in their praises of one, who fets too great a value on them, left they fhould raise him too high in his own imagination, and by confequence remove him to a greater diftance from themselves. But farther, this defire of fame naturally betrays the ambitious man into fuch indecencies, as are a leffening to his reputation. He is ftill afraid left any of his actions fhould be thrown away in private, left his deferts fhould be concealed from the notice of the world, or receive any difadvantage from the reports which others make of them. This often fets him on empty boasts and oftentations of himself, and betrays him into vain fantastical recitals of his own performances: his difcourfe generally leans one way, and, whatever is the fubject of it, tends obliquely either to the detracting from others, or to the extolling of himself. Vanity is the natural weakness of an ambitious man, which expofes him to the fecret fcorn and derision of those he converfes with, and ruins the character he is fo induftrious to advance by it. For though his actions are never fo glorious, they 1 fe their luftre when they are drawn at large, and fet to fhow by his own hand; and as the world is more apt to find fault than to commend, the boaft will probably be cenfured when the great action that occafioned it is forgotten. Befides, this very defire of fame is looked on as a meannefs and imperfection in the greatest character. A folid and fubftantial greatnefs of foul looks down with a generous neglect on the cenfures and applauses of the multitude, and places a man beyond the little noise and ftrife of tongues. Accordingly we find in ourfelves a fecret awe and veneration for the character of one who moves above us in a regular and illustrious courfe of virtue, without any regard to our good or ill opinions of him, to our reproaches or commendations. As on the contrary it is ufual for us, when we would take off from the fame and reputation of an action, to afcribe it to |