CHAPTER XVI.

THACKERAY'S RESEARCHES AMONGST THE WRITINGS OF THE EARLY ESSAYISTS--_Continued_.

Characteristic Passages from the Works of the 'Humourists,' from Thackeray's Library; illustrated by the Author's hand with Marginal Sketches suggested by the Text -- The 'RAMBLER,' 1749-50 -- Introduction -- Its Author, Dr. Johnson -- Paragraphs and Pencillings.

PREFACE TO THE 'RAMBLER.'

When, says Dr. Chalmers, Dr. Johnson undertook to write this justly celebrated paper, he had many difficulties to encounter. If lamenting that, during the long period which had elapsed since the conclusion of the writings of Addison, vice and folly had begun to recover from depressing contempt, he wished again to rectify public taste and manners--to 'give confidence to virtue and ardour to truth'--he knew that the popularity of these writings had constituted them a precedent which his genius was incapable of following, and from which it would be dangerous to depart. In the character of an essayist he was, hitherto, unknown to the public. He had written nothing by which a favourable judgment could be formed of his success in a species of composition which seemed to require the ease, the vivacity, and humour of polished life; and he had probably often heard it repeated that Addison and his colleagues had anticipated all the subjects fit for popular essays; that he might, indeed, aim at varying or improving what had been said before, but could stand no chance of being esteemed an original writer, or of striking the imagination by new and unexpected reflections and incidents. He was likewise, perhaps, aware that he might be reckoned what he about this time calls himself--'a retired and uncourtly scholar,' unfit to describe, because precluded from the observation of, refined society and manners.

But they who pride themselves on long and accurate knowledge of the world are not aware how little of that knowledge is necessary in order to expose vice or detect absurdity; nor can they believe that evidence far short of ocular demonstration is amply sufficient for the purposes of the wit and the novelist. Dr. Johnson appeared in the character of a moral teacher, with powers of mind beyond the common lot of man, and with a knowledge of the inmost recesses of the human heart such as never was displayed with more elegance or stronger conviction. Though in some respects a recluse, he had not been an inattentive observer of human life; and he was now of an age at which probably as much is known as can be known, and at which the full vigour of his faculties enabled him to divulge his experience and his observations with a certainty that they were neither immature nor fallacious. He had studied, and he had noted on the varieties of human character; and it is evident that the lesser improprieties of conduct and errors of domestic life had often been the subjects of his secret ridicule.

Previously to the commencement of the 'Rambler' he had drawn the outlines of many essays, of which specimens may be seen in the biographies of Sir John Hawkins and Boswell; and it is probable that the sentiments of all these papers had been long floating in his mind. With such preparation he began the 'Rambler,' without any communication with his friends or desire of assistance. Whether he proposed the scheme himself does not appear; but he was fortunate in forming an engagement with Mr. John Payne, a bookseller in Paternoster Row (and afterwards the chief accountant of the Bank of England), a man with whom he lived many years in habits of friendship, and who, on the present occasion, treated his author with liberality. He engaged to pay two guineas for each paper, or four guineas per week, which, at that time, must have been to Johnson a very considerable sum; and he admitted him to a share of the future profits of the work when it should be collected into volumes, which share Johnson afterwards sold. It has been observed that objections have been offered to the name 'Rambler.' Johnson's account to Sir Joshua Reynolds forms, probably, as good an excuse as so trifling a circumstance demands. 'What _must_ be done, sir, _will_ be done. When I was to begin publishing that paper, I was at a loss how to name it. I sat down at night upon my bedside, and resolved that I would not go to sleep till I had fixed its title. The "Rambler" seemed the best that occurred, and I took it.' The Italians have literally translated this name '_Il Vagabondo_.'

The first paper was published on Tuesday, March 20, 1749-50, and the work continued without the least interruption every Tuesday and Saturday until Saturday, March 14, 1752, on which day it closed. Each number was handsomely printed on a sheet and a half of fine paper, at the price of twopence, and with great typographical accuracy, not above a dozen errors occurring in the whole work--a circumstance the more remarkable, because the copy was written in haste, as the time urged, and sent to the press without being revised by the author. When we consider that, in the whole progress of the work, the sum of assistance he received scarcely amounted to five papers, we must wonder at the fertility of a mind engaged during the same period on that stupendous labour, the English Dictionary, and frequently distracted by disease and anguish. Other essayists have had the choice of their days, and their happy hours, for composition; but Johnson knew no remission, although he very probably would have been glad of it, and yet continued to write with unabated vigour, although even this disappointment might be supposed to have often rendered him uneasy; and his natural indolence--not the indolence of will, but of constitution--would, in other men, have palsied every effort. Towards the conclusion there is so little of that 'falling off' visible in some works of the same kind, that it might probably have been extended much further, had the encouragement of the public borne any proportion to its merits.

The assistance Johnson received was very trifling: Richardson, the novelist, wrote No. 97. The four letters in No. 10 were written by Miss Mulso, afterwards Mrs. Chapone, who also contributed the story of 'Fidelia' to the 'Adventurer,' a paper conducted by Doctors Hawkesworth, Johnson, Thornton, and Warton, which succeeded the 'Rambler.' No. 30 was written by Miss Catharine Talbot, and Nos. 44 and 100 were written by Mrs. Elizabeth Carter.

The 'Rambler' made its way very slowly into the world. All scholars, all men of taste, saw its excellence at once, and crowded round the author to solicit his friendship and relieve his anxieties. It procured him a multitude of friends and admirers among men distinguished for rank as well as genius, and it constituted a perpetual apology for that rugged and uncourtly manner which sometimes rendered his conversation formidable, and, to those who looked from the book to the man, presented a contrast that would no doubt frequently excite amazement.

Still, it must be confessed, there were at first many prejudices against the 'Rambler' to be overcome. The style was new; it appeared harsh, involved, and perplexed; it required more than a transitory inspection to be understood; it did not suit those who run as they read, and who seldom return to a book if the hour it helped to dissipate can be passed away in more active pleasures. When reprinted in volumes, however, the sale gradually increased; it was recommended by the friends of religion and literature as a book by which a man might learn to think; and the author lived to see ten large editions printed in England, besides those which were clandestinely printed in other parts of the kingdom and in America. Since Johnson's death the number of editions has been multiplied.

Sir John Hawkins informs us that these essays hardly ever underwent a Revision before they were sent to the press, and adds: 'The original manuscripts of the "Rambler" have passed through my hands, and by the perusal of them I am warranted to say, as was said of Shakespeare by the players of that time, that he _never blotted out a line_, and I believe without the retort which Ben Jonson made to them: "Would he had blotted out a thousand!"'

However, Dr. Johnson's desire to carry his essays, which he regarded in some degree as his monument to posterity, as near perfection as his labours could achieve, induced him to devote such attention to the preparation of the 'Ramblers' for the collected series that the alterations in the second and third editions far exceed six thousand--a number which may perhaps justify the use of the expression 're-wrote,' although it must not be taken in its literal acceptation.

With respect to the plan of the 'Rambler,' Dr. Johnson may surely be said to have executed what he intended: he has successfully attempted the propagation of truth, and boldly maintained the dignity of virtue. He has accumulated in this work a treasury of moral science which will not be soon exhausted. He has laboured to refine our language to grammatical purity, and to clear it from colloquial barbarisms, licentious idioms, and irregular combinations. Something he has certainly added to the elegance of its construction, and something to the harmony of its cadence.

Comparisons have been formed between the 'Rambler' and its predecessors, or rather between the genius of Johnson and Addison, but have generally ended in discovering a total want of resemblance. As they were both original writers, they must be tried, if tried at all, by laws applicable to their respective attributes. But neither had a predecessor. We find no humour like Addison's, no energy and dignity like Johnson's. They had nothing in common but moral excellence of character; they could not have exchanged styles for an hour. Yet there is one respect in which we must give Addison the preference--more general utility. His writings would have been understood at any period; Johnson's are more calculated for an improved and liberal education. In both, however, what was peculiar was natural. The earliest of Dr. Johnson's works confirm this; from the moment he could write at all he wrote in stately periods, and his conversation from first to last abounded in the peculiarities of his composition.

Addison principally excelled in the observation of manners, and in that exquisite ridicule he threw on the minute improprieties of life. Johnson, although not ignorant of life or manners, could not descend to familiarities with tuckers and commodes, with furs and hoop-petticoats. A scholarly professor and a writer from necessity, he loved to bring forward subjects so near and dear as the disappointments of authors--the dangers and miseries of literary eminence--anxieties of literature--contrariety of criticism--miseries of patronage--value of fame--causes of the contempt of the learned--prejudices and caprices of criticism--vanity of an author's expectations--meanness of dedications--necessity of literary courage, and all those other subjects which relate to authors and their connection with the public. Sometimes whole papers are devoted to what may be termed the personal concerns of men of literature, and incidental reflections are everywhere interspersed for the instruction or caution of the same class.

When he treats of common life and manners it has been observed he gives to the lowest of his correspondents the same style and lofty periods; and it may also be noticed that the ridicule he attempts is in some cases considerably heightened by the very want of accommodation of character. Yet it must be allowed that the levity and giddiness of coquettes and fine ladies are expressed with great difficulty in the Johnsonian language. It has been objected also that even the names of his ladies have very little of the air of either court or city, as Zosima, Properantia, &c. Every age seems to have its peculiar names of fiction. In the 'Spectators,' 'Tatlers,' &c., the Damons and Phillises, the Amintors and Claras, &c., were the representatives of every virtue and folly.

These were succeeded by the Philamonts, Tenderillas, Timoleons, Seomanthes, Pantheas, Adrastas, and Bellimantes, names to which Mrs. Heywood gave currency in her 'Female Spectator,' and from which at no great distance of time Dr. Johnson appears to have taken his Zephyrettas, Trypheruses, Nitellas, Misotheas, Vagarios, and Flirtillas.

THE 'RAMBLER.'

BY DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.

VOL. I., 1750.

'_To the "Rambler."_

'Sir,--As you seem to have devoted your labours to virtue, I cannot forbear to inform you of one species of cruelty with which the life of a man of letters perhaps does not often make him acquainted, and which, as it seems to produce no other advantage to those that practise it than a short gratification of thoughtless vanity, may become less common when it has been once exposed in its various forms, and in full magnitude.

'I am the daughter of a country gentleman, whose family is numerous, and whose state, not at first sufficient to supply us with affluence, has been lately so impaired by an unsuccessful lawsuit, that all the younger children are obliged to try such means as their education affords them for procuring the necessaries of life. Distress and curiosity concurred to bring me to London, where I was received by a relation with the coldness which misfortune generally finds. A week--a long week--I lived with my cousin before the most vigilant inquiry could procure us the least hopes of a place, in which time I was much better qualified to bear all the vexations of servitude. The first two days she was content to pity me, and only wished I had not been quite so well bred; but people must comply with their circumstances. This lenity, however, was soon at an end, and for the remaining part of the week I heard every hour of the pride of the family, the obstinacy of my father, and of people better born than myself that were common servants.

'At last, on Saturday noon, she told me, with very visible satisfaction, that Mrs. Bombasine, the great silk-mercer's lady, wanted a maid, and a fine place it would be, for there would be nothing to do but to clean my mistress's room, get up her linen, dress the young ladies, wait at tea in the morning, taking care of a little miss just come from nurse, and then sit down to my needle. But madam was a woman of great spirit, and would not be contradicted, and therefore I should take care, for good places are not easily to be got.

'With these cautions I waited on Madame Bombasine, of whom the first sight gave me no ravishing ideas. She was two yards round the waist, her voice was at once loud and squeaking, and her face brought to my mind the picture of the full moon. "Are you the young woman," says she, "that are come to offer yourself? It is strange when people of substance want a servant how soon it is the town talk. But they know they shall have a bellyful that live with me. Not like people that live at the other end of the town, we dine at one o'clock. But I never take anybody without a character; what friends do you come of?" I then told her that my father was a gentleman, and that we had been unfortunate. "A great misfortune indeed to come to me and have three meals a day! So your father was a gentleman, and you are a gentlewoman, I suppose--such gentlewomen!" "Madam, I did not mean to claim any exemptions; I only answered your inquiry." "Such gentlewomen! people should set up their children to good trades, and keep them off the parish. Pray go to the other end of the town; there are gentlewomen, if they would pay their debts; I am sure we have lost enough by gentlewomen." Upon this her broad face grew broader with triumph, and I was afraid she would have taken me for the pleasure of continuing her insult; but happily the next word was, "Pray, Mrs. Gentlewoman, troop downstairs." You may believe I obeyed her.

'After numerous misadventures of the same description, it was of no purpose that the refusal was declared by me never to be on my side; I was reasoning against interest and against stupidity; and therefore I comforted myself with the hope of succeeding better in my next attempt, and went to Mrs. Courtly, a very fine lady, who had routs at her house, and saw the best company in town.

'I had not waited two hours before I was called up, and found Mr. Courtly and his lady at piquet in the height of good humour. This I looked on as a favourable sign, and stood at the lower end of the room, in expectation of the common questions. At last Mr. Courtly called out, after a whisper, "Stand facing the light, that one may see you." I changed my place, and blushed. They frequently turned their eyes upon me, and seemed to discover many subjects of merriment, for at every look they whispered, and laughed with the most violent agitations of delight. At last Mr. Courtly cried out, "Is that colour your own, child?" "Yes," said the lady, "if she has not robbed the kitchen hearth." It was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of laughter, and they threw down their cards in hopes of better sport. The lady then called me to her, and began with affected gravity to inquire what I could do. "But first turn about, and let us see your fine shape; well, what are you fit for, Mrs. Mum? You would find your tongue, I suppose, in the kitchen." "No, no," says Mrs. Courtly, "the girl's a good girl yet, but I am afraid a brisk young fellow, with fine tags on his shoulder----" "Come, child, hold up your head; what? you have stole nothing." "Not yet," said the lady; "but she hopes to steal your heart quickly." Here was a laugh of happiness and triumph, prolonged by the confusion which I could no longer repress. At last the lady recollected herself: "Stole? no--but if I had her I should watch her; for that downcast eye----Why cannot you look people in the face?" "Steal!" says her husband, "she would steal nothing but, perhaps, a few ribbons before they were left off by my lady." "Sir," answered I, "why should you, by supposing me a thief, insult one from whom you have received no injury?" "Insult!" says the lady; "are you come here to be a servant, you saucy baggage, and talk of insulting? What will this world come to if a gentleman may not jest with a servant? Well, such servants! pray be gone, and see when you will have the honour to be so insulted again. Servants insulted--a fine time! Insulted! Get downstairs, you slut, or the footman shall insult you."'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. I. No. 18.

'There is no observation more frequently made by such as employ themselves in surveying the conduct of mankind than that marriage, though the dictate of nature, and the institute of Providence, is yet very often the cause of misery, and that those who enter into that state can seldom forbear to express their repentance, and their envy of those whom either chance or caution hath withheld from it.

'One of the first of my acquaintances that resolved to quit the unsettled, thoughtless condition of a bachelor was Prudentius, a man of slow parts, but not without knowledge or judgment in things which he had leisure to consider gradually before he determined them. This grave considerer found by deep meditation that a man was no loser by marrying early, even though he contented himself with a less fortune, for, estimating the exact worth of annuities, he found that considering the constant diminution of the value of life, with the probable fall of the interest of money, it was not worse to have ten thousand pounds at the age of two-and-twenty years than a much larger fortune at thirty; for many opportunities, says he, occur of improving money which, if a man misses, he may not afterwards recover.

'Full of these reflections, he threw his eyes about him, not in search of beauty or elegance, dignity or understanding, but of a woman with ten thousand pounds. Such a woman, in a wealthy part of the kingdom, it was not difficult to find; and by artful management with her father--whose ambition was to make his daughter a gentlewoman--my friend got her, as he boasted to us in confidence two days after his marriage, for a settlement of seventy-three pounds a year less than her fortune might have claimed, and less than himself would have given if the fools had been but wise enough to delay the bargain.

'Thus at once delighted with the superiority of his parts and the augmentation of his fortune, he carried Furia to his own house, in which he never afterwards enjoyed one hour of happiness. For Furia was a wretch of mean intellects, violent passions, a strong voice, and low education, without any sense of happiness but that which consisted in eating, and counting money. Furia was a scold. They agreed in the desire of wealth, but with this difference: that Prudentius was for growing rich by gain, Furia by parsimony. Prudentius would venture his money with chances very much in his favour; but Furia, very wisely observing that what they had was, while they had it, _their own_, thought all traffic too great a hazard, and was for putting it out at low interest upon good security. Prudentius ventured, however, to insure a ship at a very unreasonable price; but, happening to lose his money, was so tormented with the clamours of his wife that he never durst try a second experiment. He has now grovelled seven-and-forty years under Furia's direction, who never once mentioned him, since his bad luck, by any other name than that of the "usurer."'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol, I. No. 24.

Nemo in sese tentat descendere.--_Persius._

None, none descends into himself.--_Dryden._

'Among the precepts or aphorisms admitted by general consent and inculcated by repetition, there is none more famous, among the masters of ancient wisdom, than that compendious lesson, Γνωθι σεαυτον--_Be acquainted with thyself_--ascribed by some to an oracle, and others to Chilo of Lacedæmon.

'We might have had more satisfaction concerning the original import of this celebrated sentence, if history had informed us whether it was uttered as a general instruction to mankind, or as a particular caution to some private inquirer; whether it was applied to some single occasion, or laid down as the universal rule of life.

'The great praise of Socrates is that he drew the wits of Greece, by his instruction and example, from the vain pursuit of natural philosophy to moral inquiries, and turned their thoughts from stars and tides, and matter and motion, upon the various modes of virtue and relations of life.

'The great fault of men of learning is still that they offend against this rule, and appear willing to study anything rather than themselves; for which reason they are often despised by those with whom they imagine themselves above comparison.

'Eupheues,[30] with great parts of extensive knowledge, has a clouded aspect and ungracious form, yet it has been his ambition, from his first entrance into life, to distinguish himself by particularities in his dress--to outvie beaus in embroidery, to import new trimming, and to be foremost in the fashion. Eupheues has turned on his exterior appearance that attention which would have always produced esteem had it been fixed upon his mind; and, though his virtues and abilities have preserved him from the contempt which he has so diligently solicited, he has at least raised one impediment to his reputation, since all can judge of his dress, but few of his understanding, and many who discern that he is a fop are unwilling to believe that he can be wise.

'There is one instance in which the ladies are particularly unwilling to observe the rule of Chilo. They are desirous to hide from themselves the advance of age, and endeavour too frequently to supply the sprightliness and bloom of youth by artificial beauty and forced vivacity.

'They hope to inflame the heart by glances which have lost their fire, or melt it by laughter which is no longer delicate; they play over airs which pleased at a time when they were expected only to please, and forget that airs in time ought to give place to virtues. They continue to trifle, because they could once trifle agreeably, till those who shared their early pleasures are withdrawn to more serious engagements, and are scarcely awakened from their dream of perpetual youth by the scorn of those whom they endeavour to rival.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. I. No. 34.

Non sine vano Aurarum et silvæ metu.--_Hor._

Alarm'd with every rising gale, In every wood, in every vale.--_Elphinston._

The 'Rambler' inserts a letter describing how the end of those ladies whose chief ambition is to please is often missed by absurd and injudicious endeavours to obtain distinction, and who mistake cowardice for elegance, and imagine all delicacy consists in refusing to be pleased. A country gentleman relates the circumstances of his visit to _Anthea_, a heiress, whose birth and beauty render her a desirable match:--

'Dinner was now over, and the company proposed that we should pursue our original design of visiting the gardens. Anthea declared that she could not imagine what pleasure we expected from the sight of a few green trees and a little gravel, and two or three pits of clear water; that, for her part, she hated walking till the cool of the evening, and thought it very likely to rain, and again wished she had stayed at home. We then reconciled ourselves to our disappointment, and began to talk on common subjects, when Anthea told us since we came to see the gardens she would not hinder our satisfaction. We all rose, and walked through the enclosures for some time with no other trouble than the necessity of watching lest a frog should hop across the way, which, Anthea told us, would certainly kill her if she should happen to see him.

'Frogs, as it fell out, there were none; but when we were within a furlong of the gardens Anthea saw some sheep, and heard the wether clink his bell, which she was certain was not hung upon him for nothing, and therefore no assurances nor entreaties should prevail upon her to go a step further: she was sorry to disappoint the company, but her life was dearer to her than ceremony.

'We came back to the inn, and Anthea now discovered that there was no time to be lost in returning, for the night would come upon us and a thousand misfortunes might happen in the dark. The horses were immediately harnessed, and Anthea, having wondered what could seduce her to stay so long, was eager to set out. But we had now a new scene of terror; every man we saw was a robber, and we were ordered sometimes to drive hard--lest a traveller, whom we saw behind, should overtake us--and sometimes to stop, lest we should come up to him who was passing before us. She alarmed many an honest man by begging him to spare her life as he passed by the coach, and drew me into fifteen quarrels with persons who increased her fright by kindly stopping to inquire whether they could assist us. At last we came home, and she told her company next day what a pleasant ride she had been taking.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. I. No. 37.

Piping on their reeds the shepherds go, Nor fear an ambush, nor suspect a foe.--_Pope._

Canto quæ solitus, si quando armenta vocabat, Amphion Dircæus.--_Virg._

Such strains I sing as once Amphion play'd, When listening flocks the powerful call obey'd.--_Elphinston._

'The satisfaction received from pastoral writing not only begins early, but lasts long; we do not, as we advance into the intellectual world, throw it away among other childish amusements and pastimes, but willingly return to it at any hour of indolence and relaxation. The images of true pastoral have always the power of exciting delight, because the works of nature, from which they are drawn, have always the same order and beauty, and continue to force themselves upon our thoughts, being at once obvious to the most careless regard and more than adequate to the strongest reason and severest contemplation. Our inclination to stillness and tranquillity is seldom much lessened by long knowledge of the busy and tumultuous part of the world. In childhood we turn our thoughts to the country as to the origin of pleasure; we recur to it in old age as a part of rest, and, perhaps, with that secondary and adventitious gladness which every man feels on reviewing those places, or recollecting those occurrences, that contribute to his youthful enjoyments, and bring him back to the prime of life, when the world was gay with the bloom of novelty, when mirth wantoned at his side, and hope sparkled before him.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. I. No. 55.

Now near to death that comes but slow, Now thou art stepping down below; Sport not among the blooming maids, But think on ghosts and empty shades: What suits with _Phœbe_ in her bloom, Grey _Chloris_, will not thee become; A bed is different from a tomb.--_Creech._

Parthenia addresses a letter to the 'Rambler' on the subject of the troubles she suffers from the frivolous desire which her mother, a widow, has contracted to practise the follies of youth, the pursuit of which she finds fettered by the presence of Parthenia, whom she is inclined to regard not as her daughter, but as a rival dangerous to the admiration which the elder lady would confine to herself.

After a year of decent mourning had been devoted to deploring the loss of Parthenia's father--'All the officiousness of kindness and folly was busied to change the conduct of the widow. She was at one time alarmed with censure, and at another fired with praise. She was told of balls where others shone only because she was absent, of new comedies to which all the town was crowding, and of many ingenious ironies by which domestic diligence was made contemptible.

'It is difficult for virtue to stand alone against fear on one side and pleasure on the other, especially when no actual crime is proposed, and prudence itself can suggest many reasons for relaxation and indulgence. My mamma was at last persuaded to accompany Mrs. Giddy to a play. She was received with a boundless profusion of compliments, and attended home by a very fine gentleman. Next day she was, with less difficulty, prevailed on to play at Mrs. Gravely's, and came home gay and lively, for the distinctions that had been paid her awakened her vanity, and good luck had kept her principles of frugality from giving her disturbance. She now made her second entrance into the world, and her friends were sufficiently industrious to prevent any return to her former life; every morning brought messages of invitation, and every evening was passed in places of diversion, from which she for some time complained that she had rather be absent. In a short time she began to feel the happiness of acting without control, of being unaccountable for her hours, her expenses, and her company, and learned by degrees to drop an expression of contempt or pity at the mention of ladies whose husbands were suspected of restraining their pleasures or their play, and confessed that she loved to go and come as she pleased.

'My mamma now began to discover that it was impossible to educate children properly at home. Parents could not have them always in their sight; the society of servants was contagious; company produced boldness and spirit; emulation excited industry; and a large school was naturally the first step into the open world. A thousand other reasons she alleged, some of little force in themselves, but so well seconded by pleasure, vanity, and idleness, that they soon overcame all the remaining principles of kindness and piety, and both I and my brother were despatched to boarding-schools.

'When I came home again, after sundry vacations, and, with the usual childish alacrity, was running to my mother's embrace, she stopped me with exclamations at the suddenness and enormity of my growth, having, she said, never seen anybody shoot up so much at my age.

'She was sure no other girls spread at that rate, and she hated to have children look like women before their time. I was disconcerted, and retired without hearing anything more than "Nay, if you are angry, Madam Steeple, you may walk off."

'She had yet the pleasure of dressing me like a child, and I know not when I should have been thought fit to change my habit, had I not been rescued by a maiden aunt of my father, who could not bear to see women in hanging-sleeves, and therefore presented me with brocade for a gown, for which I should have thought myself under great obligations, had she not accompanied her favour with some hints that my mamma might now consider her age, and give me her earrings, which she had shown long enough in public places.

'Thus I live in a state of continual persecution only because I was born ten years too soon, and cannot stop the course of nature or of time, but am unhappily a woman before my mother can willingly cease to be a girl. I believe you would contribute to the happiness of many families if by any arguments, or persuasions, you could make mothers ashamed of rivalling their children; if you could show them that though they may refuse to grow wise they must inevitably grow old, and that the proper solaces of age are not music and compliments, but wisdom and devotion; that those who are so unwilling to quit the world will soon be driven from it; and that it is, therefore, their interest to retire while there yet remain a few hours for nobler employments.--I am, &c.,

'PARTHENIA.'

The 'Rambler.'--Vol. I. No. 56.

Valeat res ludicra, si me Palma negata macrum, donata reducit opimum.--_Hor._

Farewell the stage; for humbly I disclaim Such fond pursuits of pleasure or of fame, If I must sink in shame, or swell with pride, As the gay psalm is granted or denied.--_Francis._

'I am afraid that I may be taxed with insensibility by many of my correspondents, who believe their contributions neglected. And, indeed, when I sit before a pile of papers, of which each is the production of laborious study, and the offspring of a fond parent, I, who know the passions of an author, cannot remember how long they have been in my boxes unregarded without imagining to myself the various changes of sorrow, impatience, and resentment which the writers must have felt in this tedious interval.

'These reflections are still more awakened when, upon perusal, I find some of them calling for a place in the next paper, a place which they have never yet obtained; others writing in a style of superiority and haughtiness as secure of deference and above fear of criticism; others humbly offering their weak assistance with softness and submission, which they believe impossible to be resisted; some introducing their compositions with a menace of the contempt he that refuses them will incur; others applying privately to the booksellers for their interest and solicitation; every one by different ways endeavouring to secure the bliss of publication. I cannot but consider myself placed in a very incommodious situation, where I am forced to repress confidence which it is pleasing to indulge, to repay civilities with appearances of neglect, and so frequently to offend those by whom I was never offended.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. I. No. 59.

Strangulat inclusus dolor, atque exæstuat intus, Cogitur et vires multiplicare suas.--_Ovid._

In vain by secrecy we would assuage Our cares; conceal'd they gather tenfold rage.--_Lewis._

'It is common to distinguish men by the names of animals which they are supposed to resemble. Thus a hero is frequently termed a lion, and a statesman a fox; an extortioner gains the appellation of vulture, and a fop the title of monkey. There is also among the various anomalies of character which a survey of the world exhibits, a species of beings in human form which may be properly marked out as the screech-owls of mankind.

'These screech-owls seem to be settled in an opinion that the great business of life is to complain, and that they were born for no other purpose than to disturb the happiness of others, to lessen the little comforts and shorten the short pleasures of our condition, by painful remembrances of the past, or melancholy prognostics of the future; their only care is to crush the rising hope, to damp the kindling transport, and alloy the golden hours of gaiety with the hateful dross of grief and suspicion.

'I have known Suspirius, the screech-owl, fifty-eight years and four months, and have never passed an hour with him in which he has not made some attack upon my quiet. When we were first acquainted, his great topic was the misery of youth without riches; and whenever we walked out together, he solaced me with a long enumeration of pleasures, which, as they were beyond the reach of my fortune, were without the verge of my desires, and which I should never have considered as the objects of a wish, had not his unreasonable representations placed them in my sight.

'Suspirius has, in his time, intercepted fifteen authors on their way to the stage; persuaded nine-and-thirty merchants to retire from a prosperous trade for fear of bankruptcy; broke off a hundred and thirty matches by prognostications of unhappiness; and enabled the small-pox to kill nineteen ladies by perpetual alarms of the loss of beauty.

'Whenever my evil star brings us together he never fails to represent to me the folly of my pursuits, and informs me we are much older than when we began our acquaintance; that the infirmities of decrepitude are coming fast upon me; that whatever I now get I shall enjoy but a little time; that fame is to a man tottering on the edge of the grave of very little importance; and that the time is at hand when I ought to look for no other pleasures than a good dinner and an easy chair.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. I. No. 61.

Falsus honor juvat, et mendax infamia terret, Quem, nisi mendosum et mendacem?--_Hor._

False praise can charm, unreal shame control Whom but a vicious or a sickly soul?--_Francis._

Ruricola, who dwells in the country, is writing upon the airs which those, whose pursuits take them to London, assume on their return to their more homely associates; and he relates in particular the pretensions of one _Frolic_, who has endowed himself with importance upon the mysterious and self-conferred reputation of _knowing town_.

'My curiosity,' declares Ruricola, 'has been most engaged by the recital of his own adventures and achievements. I have heard of the union of various characters in single persons, but never met with such a constellation of great qualities as this man's narrative affords. Whatever has distinguished the hero, whatever has elevated the wit, whatever has endeared the lover, are all concentrated in Mr. Frolic, whose life has, for seven years, been a regular interchange of intrigues, dangers, and waggeries, and who has distinguished himself in every character that can be feared, envied, or admired.

'I question whether all the officers in the royal navy can bring together, from all their journals, a collection of so many wonderful escapes as this man has known upon the Thames, on which he has been a thousand times on the point of perishing, sometimes by the terrors of foolish women in the same boat, sometimes by his own acknowledged imprudence in passing the river in the dark, and sometimes by shooting the bridge, under which he has encountered mountainous waves and dreadful cataracts.

'Not less has been his temerity by land, nor fewer his hazards. He has reeled with giddiness on the top of the Monument; he has crossed the street amidst the rush of coaches; he has been surrounded by robbers without number; he has headed parties at the play-house; he has scaled the windows of every toast of whatever condition; he has been hunted for whole winters by his rivals; he has slept upon bulks; he has cut chairs; he has bilked coachmen; he has rescued his friends from bailiffs, and has knocked down the constable, has bullied the justice, and performed many other exploits that have filled the town with wonder and merriment.

'But yet greater is the fame of his understanding than his bravery, for he informs us that he is, in London, the established arbitrator on all points of honour, and the decisive judge of all performances of genius; that no musical performer is in reputation till the opinion of Frolic has ratified his pretensions; that the theatres suspend their sentence till he begins to clap or hiss, in which all are proud to concur; that no public entertainment has failed or succeeded but because he opposed or favoured it; that all controversies at the gaming-table are referred to his determination; that he adjusts the ceremonial at every assembly, and prescribes every fashion of pleasure or of dress.

'With every man whose name occurs in the papers of the day he is intimately acquainted, and there are very few points either on the state or army of which he has not more or less influenced the disposal, while he has been very frequently consulted both upon peace and war.'

Ruricola concludes by inquiring whether Mr. Frolic is really so well known in London as he pretends, or if he shall denounce him as an impostor.

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. II. No. 89.

Dulce est desipere in loco.

'There is nothing more fatal to a man whose business is to think than to have learned the art of regaling his mind with those airy gratifications. Other vices or follies are restrained by fear, reformed by admonition, or rejected by conviction, which the comparison of our conduct with that of others may in time produce. But this invisible riot of the mind, this secret prodigality of being, is secure from detection and fearless from reproach. The dreamer retires to his apartments, shuts out the cares and interruptions of mankind, and abandons himself to his own fancy; new worlds rise up before him, one image is followed by another, and a long succession of delights dances around him. He is at last called back to life by nature or by custom, and enters peevish into society because he cannot model it to his own will. He returns from his idle excursions with the asperity, though not with the knowledge, of a student, and hastens again to the same felicity with the eagerness of a man bent upon the advancement of some favourite science. The infatuation strengthens by degrees, and, like the poison of opiates, weakens his powers without any external symptom of malignity.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. II. No. 100.

'It is hard upon poor creatures, be they ever so mean, to deny them those enjoyments and liberties which are equally open for all. Yet, if servants were taught to go to church on Sunday, spend some part of it in reading, or receiving instruction in a _family way_, and the rest in mere friendly conversation, the poor wretches would infallibly take it into their heads that they were obliged to be sober, modest, diligent, and faithful to their masters and mistresses.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. II. No. 114.

When man's life is in debate, The judge can ne'er too long deliberate.--_Dryden._

'The gibbet, indeed, certainly disables those who die upon it from infesting the community; but their death seems not to contribute more to the reformation of their associates than any other method of separation. A thief seldom passes much of his time in recollection or anticipation, but from robbery hastens to riot, and from riot to robbery; nor, when the grave closes upon his companion, has any other care than to find another.

'The frequency of capital punishments, therefore, rarely hinders the commission of a crime, but naturally and commonly prevents its detection, and is, if we proceed upon prudential principles, chiefly for that reason to be avoided. Whatever may be urged by casuists or politicians, the greater part of mankind, as they can never think that to pick the pocket and to pierce the heart is equally criminal, will scarcely believe that two malefactors so different in guilt can be justly doomed to the same punishment; nor is the necessity of submitting the conscience to human laws so plainly evinced, so clearly stated, or so generally allowed, but that the pious, the tender, the just, will always scruple to concur with the community in an act which their private judgment cannot approve.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. II. No. 117.

'Tis sweet thy lab'ring steps to guide To virtue's heights with wisdom well supplied, From all the magazines of learning fortified From thence to look below on human kind, Bewilder'd in the maze of life, and blind.--_Dryden._

'The conveniences described in these lines may perhaps all be found in a well-chosen garret; but surely they cannot be supposed sufficiently important to have operated invariably upon different climates, distant ages, and separate nations.

'Another cause of the gaiety and sprightliness of the dwellers in garrets is probably the increase of that vertiginous motion with which we are carried round by the diurnal revolution of the earth. The power of agitation upon the spirits is well known; every man has his heart lightened in a rapid vehicle, or on a galloping horse, and nothing is plainer than that he who towers to the fifth story is whirled through more space by every circumrotation than another that grovels upon the ground-floor.

'If you imagine that I ascribe to air and motion effects which they cannot produce, I desire you to consult your own memory, and consider whether you have never known a man acquire reputation in his garret, which, when fortune or a patron had placed him upon the first floor, he was unable to maintain; and who never recovered his former vigour of understanding till he was restored to his original situation.

'That a garret will make every man a wit I am very far from supposing. I know there are some who would continue blockheads even on the summit of the Andes and on the peak of Teneriffe. But let not any man be considered as unimprovable till this potent remedy has been tried; for perhaps he was formed to be great only in a garret, as the joiner of Aretæus was rational in no other place but his own shop.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. II. No. 124.

To range in silence through each healthful wood, And muse what's worthy of the wise and good.

'To those who leave the public places of resort in the full bloom of reputation, and withdraw from admiration, courtship, submission, and applause, a rural triumph can give nothing equivalent. The praise of ignorance and the subjection of weakness are little regarded by beauties who have been accustomed to more important conquests and more valuable panegyrics. Nor, indeed, should the powers which have made havoc in the theatres or borne down rivalry in courts be degraded to a mean attack upon the untravelled heir, or ignoble contest with the ruddy milkmaid.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 142.

'Squire Bluster is descended from an ancient family. The estate which his ancestors immemoriably possessed was much augmented by Captain Bluster, who served under Drake in the reign of Elizabeth; and the Blusters, who were before only petty gentlemen, have from that time frequently represented the shire in parliament, being chosen to present addresses and give laws at hunting-matches and races. They were eminently hospitable and popular till the father of this gentleman died of an election. His lady went to the grave soon after him, and left their heir, then only ten years old, to the care of his grandmother, who would not suffer him to be controlled, because she could not bear to hear him cry; and never sent him to school, because she was not able to live without his company. She taught him, however, very early to inspect the steward's accounts, to dog the butler from the cellar, and catch the servants at a junket; so that he was at the age of eighteen a complete master of all the lower arts of domestic policy, and had often on the road detected combinations between the coachman and the ostler.

'Money, in whatever hands, will confer power. Distress will fly to immediate refuge, without much consideration of remote consequences. Bluster had, therefore, on coming of age, a despotic authority in many families, whom he had assisted, on pressing occasions, with larger sums than they can easily repay. The only visits that he makes are to those houses of misfortune, where he enters with the insolence of absolute command, enjoys the terrors of the family, exacts their obedience, riots at their charge, and in the height of his joys insults the father with menaces and the daughters with scurrilities.

'Such is the life of Squire Bluster; a man in whose power Fortune has liberally placed the means of happiness, but who has defeated all her gifts of their end by the depravity of his mind. He is wealthy without followers; he is magnificent without witnesses; he hath birth without alliance, and influence without dignity. His neighbours scorn him as a brute; his dependants dread him as an oppressor; and he has only the gloomy comfort of reflecting that if he is hated he is likewise feared.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 153.

Turba Remi sequitur fortunam, ut semper, et odit Damnatos.--_Juv._

The fickle crowd with fortune comes and goes; Wealth still finds followers, and misfortune foes.

The writer, who had been adopted by a rich nabob lately returned from the Indies, suddenly found himself deprived of the fortune which it was anticipated would have fallen to his share; his patron having died without making a will in his protégé's favour, and thus a fine estate had gone to another branch of the family.

'It was now my part,' writes the victim of this unexpected adversity, 'to consider how I should repair the disappointment. I could not but triumph in my long list of friends, which composed almost every name that power or knowledge entitled to eminence, and in the prospect of the innumerable roads to honour and preferment which I had laid open to myself by the wise use of temporary riches. I believed nothing necessary but that I should continue that acquaintance to which I had been so readily admitted, and which had hitherto been cultivated on both sides with equal ardour.

'Full of these expectations, I one morning ordered a chair, with an intention to make my usual circle of morning visits. Where I first stopped I saw two footmen lolling at the door, who told me, without any change of posture or collection of countenance, that their master was at home; and suffered me to open the inner door without assistance. I found my friend standing, and as I was tattling with my former freedom was formally entreated to sit down, but did not stay to be favoured with any further condescensions.

'My next experiment was made at the levée of a statesman, who received me with an embrace of tenderness, that he might with more decency publish my change of fortune to the sycophants about. After he had enjoyed the triumph of condolence he turned to a wealthy stockjobber, and left me exposed to the scorn of those who had lately courted my notice and solicited my interest.

'I was then set down at the door of another, who upon my entrance advised me with great solemnity to think of some settled provision for life. I left him and hurried away to an old friend, who professed himself unsusceptible of any impressions from prosperity or misfortune, and begged that he might see me when he was more at leisure.

'Of sixty-seven doors at which I knocked in the first week after my appearance in a mourning dress I was denied admission at forty-six; was suffered at fourteen to wait in the outer room till business was despatched; at four was entertained with a few questions about the weather; at one heard the footman rated for bringing my name; and at two was informed, in the flow of casual conversation, how much a man of rank degrades himself by mean company.

'Such, Mr. Rambler, is the power of wealth, that it commands the ear of greatness and the eye of beauty; gives spirit to the dull and authority to the timorous, and leaves him from whom it departs without virtue and without understanding, the sport of caprice, the scoff of insolence, the slave of meanness, and the pupil of ignorance.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 170.

Misella sends her history to the 'Rambler' as a caution to others who may chance to rely on the fidelity of distant relatives. Her father becoming burdened with a family larger than his means could decently provide for, a wealthy relative had offered to take the charge of one member, the writer, upon himself.

'Without knowing for what purpose I was called to my great cousin,' says the unhappy Misella, 'I endeavoured to recommend myself by my best courtesy, sang him my prettiest song, told the last story that I had read, and so much endeared myself by my innocence that he declared his resolution to adopt me, and to educate me with his own daughters.

'My parents felt the common struggle at the thought of parting, and _some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon_. They considered, not without that false estimation of the value of wealth which poverty long continued always produces, that I was raised to higher rank than they could give me, and to hopes of more ample fortune than they could bequeath. My mother sold some of her ornaments to dress me in such a manner as might secure me from contempt at my first arrival, and when she dismissed me pressed me to her bosom with an embrace which I still feel.

'My sister carried my finery, and seemed not much to regret our separation; my father conducted me to the stage-coach with a sort of cheerful tenderness; and in a very short time I was transported to splendid apartments and a luxurious table, and grew familiar to show, noise, and gaiety.

'In three years my mother died, having implored a blessing on her family with her last breath.

'I had little opportunity to indulge a sorrow which there was none to partake with me, and therefore soon ceased to reflect much upon my loss. My father turned all his care upon his other children, whom some fortunate adventures and unexpected legacies enabled him, when he died four years after my mother, to leave in a condition above their expectations.

'I should have shared the increase of his fortunes and had once a portion assigned me in his will, but my cousin assuring him that all care for me was needless, since he had resolved to place me happily in the world, directed him to divide my part amongst my sisters.

'Thus I was thrown upon dependence without resource. Being now at an age in which young women are initiated into company, I was no longer to be supported in my former character, but at considerable expense; so that partly lest appearance might draw too many compliments and assiduities I was insensibly degraded from my equality, and enjoyed few privileges above the head servant but that of receiving no wages.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 181.

Neu fluitem dubiæ spe pendulus horæ.--_Hor._

Nor let me float in fortune's power, Dependent on the future hour.--_Francis._

'Sir,--As I have passed much of life in disgust and suspense, and lost many opportunities of advantage by a passion which I have reason to believe prevalent in different degrees over a great part of mankind, I cannot but think myself well qualified to warn those who are yet uncaptivated of the dangers which they incur by placing themselves within its influence.

'In the course of even prosperity I was one day persuaded to buy a ticket in the lottery. At last the day came, my ticket appeared, and rewarded all my care and sagacity with a despicable prize of fifty pounds.

'My friends, who honestly rejoiced upon my success, were very coldly received; I hid myself a fortnight in the country that my chagrin might fume away without observation, and then, returning to my shop, began to listen after another lottery.

'With the news of a lottery I was soon gratified, and, having now found the vanity of conjecture and inefficacy of computation, I resolved to take the prize by violence, and therefore bought forty tickets, not omitting, however, to divide them between the even and the odd, that I might not miss the lucky class. Many conclusions did I form, and many experiments did I try, to determine from which of those tickets I might most reasonably expect riches. At last, being unable to satisfy myself by any modes of reasoning, I wrote the numbers upon dice, and allotted five hours every day to the amusement of throwing them in a garret; and examining the event by an exact register, found, on the evening before the lottery was drawn, that one of my numbers had turned up five times more than any of the rest in three hundred and thirty thousand throws.

'This experiment was fallacious; the first day presented the ticket a detestable blank. The rest came out with different fortune, and in conclusion I lost thirty pounds by this great adventure.

'The prize which had been suffered to slip from me filled me with anguish, and, knowing that complaint would only expose me to ridicule, I gave myself up silently to grief, and lost by degrees my appetite and my rest.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 187.

Love alters not for us his hard decrees, Not though beneath the Thracian clime we freeze, Or the mild bliss of temperate skies forego, And in mid-winter tread Sithonian snow:-- Love conquers all.--_Dryden._

'ANNINGAIT AND AJUT, A GREENLAND HISTORY.

'In one of the large caves to which the families of Greenland retire together to pass the cold months, and which may be termed their villages or cities, a youth and maid, who came from different parts of the country, were so much distinguished for their beauty that they were called by the rest of the inhabitants Anningait and Ajut, from their supposed resemblance to their ancestors of the same names who had been transformed of old into the sun and moon.

'The elegance of Ajut's dress, and the judicious disposition of her ornaments of coral and shells, had such an effect upon Anningait that he could no longer be restrained from a declaration of his love. He, therefore, composed a poem in her praise, in which, among other heroic and tender sentiments, he protested that, "She was beautiful as the vernal willow, and fragrant as thyme upon the mountains; that her fingers were white as the teeth of the morse, and her smile grateful as the dissolution of the ice; that he would pursue her though she should pass the snows of the midland cliffs, or seek shelter in the caves of the eastern cannibals; that he would tear her from the embrace of the genius of the rocks, snatch her from the paws of Amaroc, and rescue her from the ravine of Hafgufa."

'This ode being universally applauded, it was expected that Ajut would soon yield to such fervour and accomplishments; but Ajut, with the natural haughtiness of beauty, expected all the forms of courtship; and before she would confess herself conquered the sun returned, the ice broke, and the season of labour called all to their employments.

'It happened that a tempest drove the fish to a distant part of the coast before Anningait had completed his store; he therefore entreated Ajut that she would at last grant him her hand and accompany him to that part of the country whither he was now summoned of necessity. Ajut thought him not yet entitled to such condescension, but proposed, as a trial of constancy, that he should return at the end of summer to the cavern where their acquaintance commenced, and there expect the reward of his assiduities. But Anningait tried to soften this resolution: he feelingly represented the uncertainty of existence and the dangers of the passage, and his loneliness when distant from the object of his love. "Consider, Ajut," urged he, "a few summer days, a few winter nights, and the life of man is at an end. Night is the time of ease and festivity, of revels and gaiety; but what will be the flaming lamp, the delicious seal, or the soft oil without the smile of Ajut?"

'The eloquence of Anningait was vain; the maid continued inexorable, and they parted with ardent promises to meet again before the night of winter. Anningait, however discomposed by the dilatory coyness of Ajut, was resolved to omit no tokens of amorous respect, and therefore presented her at his departure with the skins of seven white fawns, of five swans, and eleven seals, with three marble lamps, ten vessels of seal-oil, and a large kettle of brass which he had purchased from a ship at the price of half a whale and two horns of sea-unicorns.

'Ajut was so much affected by the fondness of her lover, or so much overpowered by his munificence, that she followed him to the seaside; and, when she saw him enter the boat, wished aloud that he might return with plenty of skins and oil, that neither the mermaids might snatch him into the deeps, nor the spirits of the rocks confine him in their caverns.

'Parted from each other, the lovers devoted themselves to the remembrances of their affection; Anningait devoted himself to fishing and the chase with redoubled energy, that his stores for the future might exceed the expectations of his bride; and Ajut mourned the absence of her betrothed with ceaseless fidelity. She neglected the ornaments of her person, and, to avoid the solicitations of her lover's rivals, withdrew herself into complete seclusion. Thus passed the months of separation. At last Ajut saw the great boat in which Anningait departed stealing slow and heavy laden along the coast. She ran with all the impatience of affection to catch her lover in her arms, and relate her constancy and sufferings. When the company reached the land they informed her that Anningait, after the fishery was ended, being unable to support the slow passage of the vessel of carriage, had set out before them in his fishing-boat, and they expected at their arrival to have found him on shore.

'Ajut, distracted at this intelligence, was about to fly into the hills without knowing why, though she was now in the hands of her parents, who forced her back to her own hut and endeavoured to comfort her; but when at last they retired to rest, Ajut went down to the beach, where, finding a fishing-boat, she entered it without hesitation, and, telling those who wondered at her rashness that she was going in search of Anningait, rowed away with great swiftness and was seen no more.

'The fate of these lovers gave occasion to various fictions and conjectures. Some are of opinion that they were changed into stars; others imagine that Anningait was seized in his passage by the genius of the rocks, and that Ajut was transformed into a mermaid, and still continues to seek her lover in the deserts of the sea. But the general persuasion is that they are both in that part of the land of souls where the sun never sets, where oil is always fresh, and provisions always warm. The virgins sometimes throw a thimble and a needle into the bay from which the hapless maid departed, and when a Greenlander would praise any couple for virtuous affection he declares that they love like Anningait and Ajut.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 191.

Cereus in vitium flecti, monitoribus asper.--_Hor._

The youth---- Yielding like wax, th' impressive folly bears; Rough to reproof, and slow to future cares.--_Francis._

'Dear Mr. Rambler,--I have been four days confined to my chamber by a cold, which has already kept me from three plays, nine sales, five shows, and six card-tables, and put me seventeen visits behind; and the doctor tells my mamma that, if I fret and cry, it will settle in my head, and I shall not be fit to be seen these six weeks. But, dear Mr. Rambler, how can I help it? At this very time Melissa is dancing with the prettiest gentleman; she will breakfast with him to-morrow, and then run to two auctions, and hear compliments, and have presents; then she will be dressed and visit, and get a ticket to the play, then go to cards, and win, and come home with two flambeaus before her chair. Dear Mr. Rambler, who can bear it?

* * * * *

'I am at a loss to guess for what purpose they relate such tragic stories of the cruelty, perfidy, and artifices of men, who, if they ever were so malicious and destructive, have certainly now reformed their manners. I have not, since my entrance into the world, found one who does not profess himself devoted to my service, and ready to live or die as I shall command him. They are so far from intending to hurt me that their only contention is, who shall be allowed most closely to attend and most frequently to treat me; when different places of entertainment or schemes of pleasure are mentioned, I can see the eyes sparkle and the cheeks glow of him whose proposals obtain my approbation; he then leads me off in triumph, adores my condescension, and congratulates himself that he has lived to the hour of felicity. Are these, Mr. Rambler, creatures to be feared? and is it likely that any injury will be done me by those who can enjoy life only while I favour them with my presence?

'As little reason can I yet find to suspect them of stratagems and fraud. When I play at cards they never take advantage of any mistakes, nor exact from me a rigorous observation of the game. Even Mr. Shuffle, a grave gentleman, who has daughters older than myself, plays with me so negligently that I am sometimes inclined to believe he loses his money by design; and yet he is so fond of play that he says he will one day take me to his house in the country, that we may try by ourselves who can conquer. I have not yet promised him; but when the town grows a little empty I shall think upon it, for I want some trinkets, like Letitia's, to my watch. I do not doubt my luck, but I must study some means of amusing my relations.

'For all these distinctions I find myself indebted to that beauty which I was never suffered to hear praised, and of which, therefore, I did not before know the full value. This concealment was certainly an intentional fraud, for my aunts have eyes like other people, and I am every day told that nothing but blindness can escape the influence of my charms. Their whole account of that world which they pretend to know so well has been only one fiction entangled with another; and though the modes of life oblige me to continue some appearances of respect, I cannot think that they who have been so clearly detected in ignorance or imposture have any right to the esteem, veneration, or obedience of,

'Sir, yours, 'Bellaria.'

THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 199.

Obscure, unprized, and dark the magnet lies, Nor lures the search of avaricious eyes, Nor binds the neck, nor sparkles in the hair, Nor dignifies the great, nor decks the fair. But search the wonders of the dusky stone, And own all glories of the mine outdone, Each grace of form, each ornament of state, That decks the fair or dignifies the great!

'_To the "Rambler._"

'Sir,--The curiosity of the present race of philosophers having been long exercised upon electricity has been lately transferred to magnetism; the qualities of the loadstone have been investigated, if not with much advantage, yet with great applause; and, as the highest praise of art is to imitate nature, I hope no man will think the makers of artificial magnets celebrated or reverenced above their deserts.

'I have for some time employed myself in the same practice, but with deeper knowledge and more extensive views. While my contemporaries were touching needles and raising weights, or busying themselves with inclination and variation, I have been examining those qualities of magnetism which may be applied to the accommodation and happiness of common life. I have left to inferior understandings the care of conducting the sailor through the hazards of the ocean, and reserved to myself the more difficult and illustrious province of preserving the connubial compact from violation, and setting mankind free for ever from the torments of fruitless vigilance and anxious suspicion.

'To defraud any man of his due praise is unworthy of a philosopher. I shall therefore openly confess that I owe the first hint of this inestimable secret to the Rabbi Abraham Ben Hannase, who, in his treatise of precious stones, has left this account of the magnet: "The calamita, or loadstone, that attracts iron, produces many bad fantasies in man. Women fly from this stone. If, therefore, any husband be disturbed with jealousy, and fear lest his wife converses with other men, let him lay this stone upon her while she is asleep. If she be pure she will, when she wakes, clasp her husband fondly in her arms; but if she be guilty she will fall out of bed, and run away."

'With these hopes I shall, in a short time, offer for sale magnets armed with a particular metallic composition, which concentrates their virtue and determines their agency.

'I shall sell them of different sizes, and various degrees of strength. I have some of a bulk proper to be hung at the bed's head, as scarecrows, and some so small that they may be easily concealed. Some I have ground into oval forms, to be hung at watches; and some, for the curious, I have set in wedding rings, that ladies may never want an attestation of their innocence. Some I can produce so sluggish and inert that they will not act before the third failure, and others so vigorous and animated that they exert their influence against unlawful wishes, if they have been willingly and deliberately indulged. As it is my practice honestly to tell my customers the properties of my magnets I can judge by the choice of the delicacy of their sentiments. Many have been contented to spare cost by purchasing only the lowest degree of efficacy, and all have started with terror from those which operate upon the thoughts. One young lady only fitted on a ring of the strongest energy, and declared that she scorned to separate her wishes from her acts, or allow herself to think what she was forbidden to practise.

'I am, &c., 'HERMETICUS.'

FOOTNOTE:

[30] Dr. Johnson seems here to point his homily from the instance of his friend Goldsmith. This circumstance gives an individual interest to a slightly ponderous sketch.