No More Learning

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 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. The 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.



No. 192. SATURDAY, JANUARY 18, 1752.

[Greek:
Genos ouden eis Erota;
Sophiae, tropos pateitai;
Monon arguron blepousin.
Apoloito protos autos
Ho ton arguron philaesas.
Dia touton ou tokaees,
Dai touton ou tokaees;
Polemoi, phonoi di auton.
To de cheiron, ollymestha
Dia touton oi philountes. ] ANACREON. [Greek: ODLI Ms. ] 5.

Vain the noblest birth would prove,
Nor worth or wit avail in love;
'Tis gold alone succeeds--by gold
The venal sex is bought and sold.
Accurs'd be he who first of yore
Discover'd the pernicious ore!
This sets a brother's heart on fire,
And arms the son against the sire;
And what, alas! is worse than all,
To this the lover owes his fall. F. LEWIS.

TO THE RAMBLER.

SIR,

I am the son of a gentleman, whose ancestors, for many ages, held the
first rank in the country; till at last one of them, too desirous of
popularity, set his house open, kept a table covered with continual
profusion, and distributed his beef and ale to such as chose rather to
live upon the folly of others, than their own labour, with such
thoughtless liberality, that he left a third part of his estate
mortgaged. His successor, a man of spirit, scorned to impair his dignity
by parsimonious retrenchments, or to admit, by a sale of his lands, any
participation of the rights of his manour; he therefore made another
mortgage to pay the interest of the former, and pleased himself with the
reflection, that his son would have the hereditary estate without the
diminution of an acre.

Nearly resembling this was the practice of my wise progenitors for many
ages. Every man boasted the antiquity of her family, resolved to support
the dignity of his birth, and lived in splendour and plenty at the
expense of his heir, who, sometimes by a wealthy marriage, and sometimes
by lucky legacies, discharged part of the incumbrances, and thought
himself entitled to contract new debts, and to leave to his children the
same inheritance of embarrassment and distress.

Thus the estate perpetually decayed; the woods were felled by one, the
park ploughed by another, the fishery let to farmers by a third; at last
the old hall was pulled down to spare the cost of reparation, and part
of the materials sold to build a small house with the rest. We were now
openly degraded from our original rank, and my father's brother was
allowed with less reluctance to serve an apprenticeship, though we never
reconciled ourselves heartily to the sound of haberdasher, but always
talked of warehouses and a merchant, and when the wind happened to blow
loud, affected to pity the hazards of commerce, and to sympathize with
the solicitude of my poor uncle, who had the true retailer's terrour of
adventure, and never exposed himself or his property to any wider water
than the Thames.

In time, however, by continual profit and small expenses, he grew rich,
and began to turn his thoughts towards rank. He hung the arms of the
family over his parlour-chimney; pointed at a chariot decorated only
with a cypher; became of opinion that money could not make a gentleman;
resented the petulance of upstarts; told stories of alderman Puff's
grandfather the porter; wondered that there was no better method for
regulating precedence; wished for some dress peculiar to men of fashion;
and when his servant presented a letter, always inquired whether it came
from his brother the esquire.

My father was careful to send him game by every carrier, which, though
the conveyance often cost more than the value, was well received,
because it gave him an opportunity of calling his friends together,
describing the beauty of his brother's seat, and lamenting his own
folly, whom no remonstrances could withhold from polluting his fingers
with a shop-book.

The little presents which we sent were always returned with great
munificence. He was desirous of being the second founder of his family,
and could not bear that we should be any longer outshone by those whom
we considered as climbers upon our ruins, and usurpers of our fortune.
He furnished our house with all the elegance of fashionable expense, and
was careful to conceal his bounties, lest the poverty of his family
should be suspected.

At length it happened that, by misconduct like our own, a large estate,
which had been purchased from us, was again exposed to the best bidder.
My uncle, delighted with an opportunity of reinstating the family in
their possessions, came down with treasures scarcely to be imagined in a
place where commerce has not made large sums familiar, and at once drove
all the competitors away, expedited the writings, and took possession.
He now considered himself as superior to trade, disposed of his stock,
and as soon as he had settled his economy, began to shew his rural
sovereignty, by breaking the hedges of his tenants in hunting, and
seizing the guns or nets of those whose fortunes did not qualify them
for sportsmen. He soon afterwards solicited the office of sheriff, from
which all his neighbours were glad to be reprieved, but which he
regarded as a resumption of ancestral claims, and a kind of restoration
to blood after the attainder of a trade.

My uncle, whose mind was so filled with this change of his condition,
that he found no want of domestick entertainment, declared himself too
old to marry, and resolved to let the newly-purchased estate fall into
the regular channel of inheritance. I was therefore considered as heir
apparent, and courted with officiousness and caresses, by the gentlemen
who had hitherto coldly allowed me that rank which they could not
refuse, depressed me with studied neglect, and irritated me with
ambiguous insults.

I felt not much pleasure from the civilities for which I knew myself
indebted to my uncle's industry, till, by one of the invitations which
every day now brought me, I was induced to spend a week with Lucius,
whose daughter Flavilla I had often seen and admired like others,
without any thought of nearer approaches. The inequality which had
hitherto kept me at a distance being now levelled, I was received with
every evidence of respect: Lucius told me the fortune which he intended
for his favourite daughter; many odd accidents obliged us to be often
together without company, and I soon began to find that they were
spreading for me the nets of matrimony.

Flavilla was all softness and complaisance. I, who had been excluded by
a narrow fortune from much acquaintance with the world, and never been
honoured before with the notice of so fine a lady, was easily enamoured.
Lucius either perceived my passion, or Flavilla betrayed it; care was
taken, that our private meetings should be less frequent, and my charmer
confessed by her eyes how much pain she suffered from our restraint. I
renewed my visit upon every pretence, but was not allowed one interview
without witness; at last I declared my passion to Lucius, who received
me as a lover worthy of his daughter, and told me that nothing was
wanting to his consent, but that my uncle should settle his estate upon
me. I objected the indecency of encroaching on his life, and the danger
of provoking him by such an unseasonable demand. Lucius seemed not to
think decency of much importance, but admitted the danger of
displeasing, and concluded that as he was now old and sickly, we might,
without any inconvenience, wait for his death.

With this resolution I was better contented, as it procured me the
company of Flavilla, in which the days passed away amidst continual
rapture; but in time I began to be ashamed of sitting idle, in
expectation of growing rich by the death of my benefactor, and proposed
to Lucius many schemes of raising my own fortune by such assistance as I
knew my uncle willing to give me. Lucius, afraid lest I should change my
affection in absence, diverted me from my design by dissuasives to which
my passion easily listened. At last my uncle died, and considering
himself as neglected by me, from the time that Flavilla took possession
of my heart, left his estate to my younger brother, who was always
hovering about his bed, and relating stories of my pranks and
extravagance, my contempt of the commercial dialect, and my impatience
to be selling stock.

My condition was soon known, and I was no longer admitted by the father
of Flavilla. I repeated the protestations of regard, which had been
formerly returned with so much ardour, in a letter which she received
privately, but returned by her father's footman. Contempt has driven out
my love, and I am content to have purchased, by the loss of fortune, an
escape from a harpy, who has joined the artifices of age to the
allurements of youth. I am now going to pursue my former projects with a
legacy which my uncle bequeathed me, and if I succeed, shall expect to
hear of the repentance of Flavilla.

I am, Sir, Yours, &c.

CONSTANTIUS.



No. 193. TUESDAY, JANUARY 21, 1752.

_Laudis amore tumes? sunt certa piacula, quoe te
Ter pure lecto poterunt recreare libello_. HOR. Lib. i. Ep. i. 36.

Or art thou vain? books yield a certain spell
To stop thy tumour; you shall cease to swell
When you have read them thrice, and studied well. CREECH.

Whatever is universally desired, will be sought by industry and
artifice, by merit and crimes, by means good and bad, rational and
absurd, according to the prevalence of virtue or vice, of wisdom or
folly. Some will always mistake the degree of their own desert, and some
will desire that others may mistake it. The cunning will have recourse
to stratagem, and the powerful to violence, for the attainment of their
wishes; some will stoop to theft, and others venture upon plunder.

Praise is so pleasing to the mind of man, that it is the original motive
of almost all our actions. The desire of commendation, as of every thing
else, is varied indeed by innumerable differences of temper, capacity,
and knowledge; some have no higher wish than for the applause of a club;
some expect the acclamations of a county; and some have hoped to fill
the mouths of all ages and nations with their names. Every man pants for
the highest eminence within his view; none, however mean, ever sinks
below the hope of being distinguished by his fellow-beings, and very few
have by magnanimity or piety been so raised above it, as to act wholly
without regard to censure or opinion.

To be praised, therefore, every man resolves; but resolutions will not
execute themselves. That which all think too parsimoniously distributed
to their own claims, they will not gratuitously squander upon others,
and some expedient must be tried, by which praise may be gained before
it can be enjoyed.

Among the innumerable bidders for praise, some are willing to purchase
at the highest rate, and offer ease and health, fortune and life. Yet
even of these only a small part have gained what they so earnestly
desired; the student wastes away in meditation, and the soldier perishes
on the ramparts, but unless some accidental advantage cooperates with
merit, neither perseverance nor adventure attracts attention, and
learning and bravery sink into the grave, without honour or remembrance.

But ambition and vanity generally expect to be gratified on easier
terms. It has been long observed, that what is procured by skill or
labour to the first possessor, may be afterwards transferred for money;
and that the man of wealth may partake all the acquisitions of courage
without hazard, and all the products of industry without fatigue. It was
easily discovered, that riches would obtain praise among other
conveniencies, and that he whose pride was unluckily associated with
laziness, ignorance, or cowardice, needed only to pay the hire of a
panegyrist, and he might be regaled with periodical eulogies; might
determine, at leisure, what virtue or science he would be pleased to
appropriate, and be lulled in the evening with soothing serenades, or
waked in the morning by sprightly gratulations.

The happiness which mortals receive from the celebration of beneficence
which never relieved, eloquence which never persuaded, or elegance which
never pleased, ought not to be envied or disturbed, when they are known
honestly to pay for their entertainment. But there are unmerciful
exactors of adulation, who withhold the wages of venality; retain their
encomiast from year to year by general promises and ambiguous
blandishments; and when he has run through the whole compass of
flattery, dismiss him with contempt, because his vein of fiction is
exhausted.

A continual feast of commendation is only to be obtained by merit or by
wealth; many are therefore obliged to content themselves with single
morsels, and recompense the infrequency of their enjoyment by excess and
riot, whenever fortune sets the banquet before them. Hunger is never
delicate; they who are seldom gorged to the full with praise, may be
safely fed with gross compliments; for the appetite must be satisfied
before it is disgusted.

It is easy to find the moment at which vanity is eager for sustenance,
and all that impudence or servility can offer will be well received.
When any one complains of the want of what he is known to possess in an
uncommon degree, he certainly waits with impatience to be contradicted.
When the trader pretends anxiety about the payment of his bills, or the
beauty remarks how frightfully she looks, then is the lucky moment to
talk of riches or of charms, of the death of lovers, or the honour of a
merchant.

Others there are yet more open and artless, who, instead of suborning a
flatterer, are content to supply his place, and, as some animals
impregnate themselves, swell with the praises which they hear from their
own tongues. _Recte is dicitur laudare sese, cui nemo alius contigit
laudator_. "It is right," says Erasmus, "that he, whom no one else will
commend, should bestow commendations on himself. " Of all the sons of
vanity, these are surely the happiest and greatest; for what is
greatness or happiness but independence on external influences,
exemption from hope or fear, and the power of supplying every want from
the common stores of nature, which can neither be exhausted nor
prohibited? Such is the wise man of the stoicks; such is the divinity of
the epicureans; and such is the flatterer of himself. Every other
enjoyment malice may destroy; every other panegyrick envy may withhold;
but no human power can deprive the boaster of his own encomiums. Infamy
may hiss, or contempt may growl, the hirelings of the great may follow
fortune, and the votaries of truth may attend on virtue; but his
pleasures still remain the same; he can always listen with rapture to
himself, and leave those who dare not repose upon their own attestation,
to be elated or depressed by chance, and toil on in the hopeless task of
fixing caprice, and propitiating malice.

This art of happiness has been long practised by periodical writers,
with little apparent violation of decency. When we think our
excellencies overlooked by the world, or desire to recall the attention
of the publick to some particular performance, we sit down with great
composure and write a letter to ourselves. The correspondent, whose
character we assume, always addresses us with the deference due to a
superior intelligence; proposes his doubts with a proper sense of his
own inability; offers an objection with trembling diffidence; and at
last has no other pretensions to our notice than his profundity of
respect, and sincerity of admiration, his submission to our dictates,
and zeal for our success. To such a reader, it is impossible to refuse
regard, nor can it easily be imagined with how much alacrity we snatch
up the pen which indignation or despair had condemned to inactivity,
when we find such candour and judgment yet remaining in the world.

A letter of this kind I had lately the honour of perusing, in which,
though some of the periods were negligently closed, and some expressions
of familiarity were used, which I thought might teach others to address
me with too little reverence, I was so much delighted with the passages
in which mention was made of universal learning--unbounded genius--soul
of Homer, Pythagoras, and Plato--solidity of thought--accuracy of
distinction--elegance of combination--vigour of fancy--strength of
reason--and regularity of composition--that I had once determined to lay
it before the publick. Three times I sent it to the printer, and three
times I fetched it back. My modesty was on the point of yielding, when
reflecting that I was about to waste panegyricks on myself, which might
be more profitably reserved for my patron, I locked it up for a better
hour, in compliance with the farmer's principle, who never eats at home
what he can carry to the market.



No. 194. SATURDAY, JANUARY 25, 1752.

_Si damnosa senem juvat alea, ludit et heres
Bullatus, parvoque eadem movet arma fritillo_. JUV. Sat. xiv. 4.

If gaming does an aged sire entice,
Then my young master swiftly learns the vice,
And shakes in hanging sleeves the little box and dice. J. DRYDEN, jun.

TO THE RAMBLER.

SIR,

That vanity which keeps every man important in his own eyes, inclines me
to believe that neither you nor your readers have yet forgotten the name
of Eumathes, who sent you a few months ago an account of his arrival at
London, with a young nobleman his pupil. I shall therefore continue my
narrative without preface or recapitulation.

My pupil, in a very short time, by his mother's countenance and
direction, accomplished himself with all those qualifications which
constitute puerile politeness. He became in a few days a perfect master
of his hat, which with a careless nicety he could put off or on, without
any need to adjust it by a second motion. This was not attained but by
frequent consultations with his dancing-master, and constant practice
before the glass, for he had some rustick habits to overcome; but, what
will not time and industry perform? A fortnight more furnished him with
all the airs and forms of familiar and respectful salutation, from the
clap on the shoulder to the humble bow; he practises the stare of
strangeness, and the smile of condescension, the solemnity of promise,
and the graciousness of encouragement, as if he had been nursed at a
levee; and pronounces, with no less propriety than his father, the
monosyllables of coldness, and sonorous periods of respectful
profession.

He immediately lost the reserve and timidity which solitude and study
are apt to impress upon the most courtly genius; was able to enter a
crowded room with airy civility; to meet the glances of a hundred eyes
without perturbation; and address those whom he never saw before with
ease and confidence. In less than a month his mother declared her
satisfaction at his proficiency by a triumphant observation, that she
believed _nothing would make him blush_.

The silence with which I was contented to hear my pupil's praises, gave
the lady reason to suspect me not much delighted with his acquisitions;
but she attributed my discontent to the diminution of my influence, and
my fears of losing the patronage of the family; and though she thinks
favourably of my learning and morals, she considers me as wholly
unacquainted with the customs of the polite part of mankind; and
therefore not qualified to form the manners of a young nobleman, or
communicate the knowledge of the world. This knowledge she comprises in
the rules of visiting, the history of the present hour, an early
intelligence of the change of fashions, an extensive acquaintance with
the names and faces of persons of rank, and a frequent appearance in
places of resort.

All this my pupil pursues with great application. He is twice a day in
the Mall, where he studies the dress of every man splendid enough to
attract his notice, and never comes home without some observation upon
sleeves, button-holes, and embroidery. At his return from the theatre,
he can give an account of the gallantries, glances, whispers, smiles,
sighs, flirts, and blushes of every box, so much to his mother's
satisfaction, that when I attempted to resume my character, by inquiring
his opinion of the sentiments and diction of the tragedy, she at once
repressed my criticism, by telling me, "that she hoped he did not go to
lose his time in attending to the creatures on the stage. "

But his acuteness was most eminently signalized at the masquerade, where
he discovered his acquaintance through their disguises, with such
wonderful facility, as has afforded the family an inexhaustible topick
of conversation. Every new visitor is informed how one was detected by
his gait, and another by the swinging of his arms, a third by the toss
of his head, and another by his favourite phrase; nor can you doubt but
these performances receive their just applause, and a genius thus
hastening to maturity is promoted by every art of cultivation.

Such have been his endeavours, and such his assistances, that every
trace of literature was soon obliterated. He has changed his language
with his dress, and instead of endeavouring at purity or propriety, has
no other care than to catch the reigning phrase and current exclamation,
till, by copying whatever is peculiar in the talk of all those whose
birth or fortune entitles them to imitation, he has collected every
fashionable barbarism of the present winter, and speaks a dialect not to
be understood among those who form their style by poring upon authors.

To this copiousness of ideas, and felicity of language, he has joined
such eagerness to lead the conversation, that he is celebrated among the
ladies as the prettiest gentleman that the age can boast of, except that
some who love to talk themselves, think him too forward, and others
lament that, with so much wit and knowledge, he is not taller.

His mother listens to his observations with her eyes sparkling and her
heart beating, and can scarcely contain, in the most numerous
assemblies, the expectations which she has formed for his future
eminence. Women, by whatever fate, always judge absurdly of the
intellects of boys. The vivacity and confidence which attract female
admiration, are seldom produced in the early part of life, but by
ignorance at least, if not by stupidity; for they proceed not from
confidence of right, but fearlessness of wrong. Whoever has a clear
apprehension, must have quick sensibility, and where he has no
sufficient reason to trust his own judgment, will proceed with doubt and
caution, because he perpetually dreads the disgrace of errour. The pain
of miscarriage is naturally proportionate to the desire of excellence;
and, therefore, till men are hardened by long familiarity with reproach,
or have attained, by frequent struggles, the art of suppressing their
emotions, diffidence is found the inseparable associate of
understanding.

But so little distrust has my pupil of his own abilities, that he has
for some time professed himself a wit, and tortures his imagination on
all occasions for burlesque and jocularity. How he supports a character
which, perhaps, no man ever assumed without repentance, may be easily
conjectured. Wit, you know, is the unexpected copulation of ideas, the
discovery of some occult relation between images in appearance remote
from each other; an effusion of wit, therefore, presupposes an
accumulation of knowledge; a memory stored with notions, which the
imagination may cull out to compose, new assemblages. Whatever may be
the native vigour of the mind, she can never form many combinations from
few ideas, as many changes can never be rung upon a few bells. Accident
may indeed sometimes produce a lucky parallel or a striking contrast;
but these gifts of chance are not frequent, and he that has nothing of
his own, and yet condemns himself to needless expenses, must live upon
loans or theft.

The indulgence which his youth has hitherto obtained, and the respect
which his rank secures, have hitherto supplied the want of intellectual
qualifications; and he imagines that all admire who applaud, and that
all who laugh are pleased. He therefore returns every day to the charge
with increase of courage, though not of strength, and practises all the
tricks by which wit is counterfeited. He lays trains for a quibble; he
contrives blunders for his footman; he adapts old stories to present
characters; he mistakes the question, that he may return a smart answer;
he anticipates the argument, that he may plausibly object; when he has
nothing to reply, he repeats the last words of his antagonist, then
says, "your humble servant," and concludes with a laugh of triumph.

These mistakes I have honestly attempted to correct; but what can be
expected from reason unsupported by fashion, splendour, or authority? He
hears me, indeed, or appears to hear me, but is soon rescued from the
lecture by more pleasing avocations; and shows, diversions, and
caresses, drive my precepts from his remembrance.

He at last imagines himself qualified to enter the world, and has met
with adventures in his first sally, which I shall, by your paper,
communicate to the publick.

I am, &c.

EUMATHES.



No. 195. TUESDAY, JANUARY 28, 1752.

--_Nescit equo rudis
Haerere ingenuus puer,
Venarique timet; ludere doctior,
Seu Graeco jubeas trocho,
Seu malis vetitâ legibus aleâ_. HOR. Lib. iii. Ode xxiv. 54.

Nor knows our youth, of noblest race,
To mount the manag'd steed, or urge the chace;
More skill'd in the mean arts of vice,
The whirling troque, or law-forbidden dice. FRANCIS.

TO THE RAMBLER.

SIR,

Favours of every kind are doubled when they are speedily conferred. This
is particularly true of the gratification of curiosity. He that long
delays a story, and suffers his auditor to torment himself with
expectation, will seldom be able to recompense the uneasiness, or equal
the hope which he suffers to be raised.

For this reason, I have already sent you the continuation of my pupil's
history, which, though it contains no events very uncommon, may be of
use to young men who are in too much haste to trust their own prudence,
and quit the wing of protection before they are able to shift for
themselves.

When he first settled in London, he was so much bewildered in the
enormous extent of the town, so confounded by incessant noise, and
crowds, and hurry, and so terrified by rural narratives of the arts of
sharpers, the rudeness of the populace, malignity of porters, and
treachery of coachmen, that he was afraid to go beyond the door without
an attendant, and imagined his life in danger if he was obliged to pass
the streets at night in any vehicle but his mother's chair.

He was therefore contented, for a time, that I should accompany him in
all his excursions. But his fear abated as he grew more familiar with
its objects; and the contempt to which his rusticity exposed him from
such of his companions as had accidentally known the town longer,
obliged him to dissemble his remaining terrours.

His desire of liberty made him now willing to spare me the trouble of
observing his motions; but knowing how much his ignorance exposed him to
mischief, I thought it cruel to abandon him to the fortune of the town.
We went together every day to a coffee-house, where he met wits, heirs,
and fops, airy, ignorant, and thoughtless as himself, with whom he had
become acquainted at card-tables, and whom he considered as the only
beings to be envied or admired. What were their topicks of conversation,
I could never discover; for, so much was their vivacity repressed by my
intrusive seriousness, that they seldom proceeded beyond the exchange of
nods and shrugs, an arch grin, or a broken hint, except when they could
retire, while I was looking on the papers, to a corner of the room,
where they seemed to disburden their imaginations, and commonly vented
the superfluity of their sprightliness in a peal of laughter. When they
had tittered themselves into negligence, I could sometimes overhear a
few syllables, such as--solemn rascal--academical airs--smoke the tutor--
company for gentlemen! --and other broken phrases, by which I did not
suffer my quiet to be disturbed, for they never proceeded to avowed
indignities, but contented themselves to murmur in secret, and, whenever
I turned my eye upon them, shrunk into stillness.

He was, however, desirous of withdrawing from the subjection which he
could not venture to break, and made a secret appointment to assist his
companions in the persecution of a play. His footman privately procured
him a catcall, on which he practised in a back-garret for two hours in
the afternoon. At the proper time a chair was called; he pretended an
engagement at lady Flutter's, and hastened to the place where his
critical associates had assembled. They hurried away to the theatre,
full of malignity and denunciations against a man whose name they had
never heard, and a performance which they could not understand; for they
were resolved to judge for themselves, and would not suffer the town to
be imposed upon by scribblers. In the pit, they exerted themselves with
great spirit and vivacity; called out for the tunes of obscene songs,
talked loudly at intervals of Shakespeare and Jonson, played on their
catcalls a short prelude of terrour, clamoured vehemently for a
prologue, and clapped with great dexterity at the first entrance of the
players.

Two scenes they heard without attempting interruption; but, being no
longer able to restrain their impatience, they then began to exert
themselves in groans and hisses, and plied their catcalls with incessant
diligence; so that they were soon considered by the audience as
disturbers of the house; and some who sat near them, either provoked at
the obstruction of their entertainment, or desirous to preserve the
author from the mortification of seeing his hopes destroyed by children,
snatched away their instruments of criticism, and, by the seasonable
vibration of a stick, subdued them instantaneously to decency and
silence.

To exhilarate themselves after this vexatious defeat, they posted to a
tavern, where they recovered their alacrity, and, after two hours of
obstreperous jollity, burst out big with enterprize, and panting for
some occasion to signalize their prowess. They proceeded vigorously
through two streets, and with very little opposition dispersed a rabble
of drunkards less daring than themselves, then rolled two watchmen in
the kennel, and broke the windows of a tavern in which the fugitives
took shelter. At last it was determined to march up to a row of chairs,
and demolish them for standing on the pavement; the chairmen formed a
line of battle, and blows were exchanged for a time with equal courage
on both sides. At last the assailants were overpowered, and the
chairmen, when they knew then-captives, brought them home by force.

The young gentleman, next morning, hung his head, and was so much
ashamed of his outrages and defeat, that perhaps he might have been
checked in his first follies, had not his mother, partly in pity of his
dejection, and partly in approbation of his spirit, relieved him from
his perplexity by paying the damages privately, and discouraging all
animadversion and reproof.

This indulgence could not wholly preserve him from the remembrance of
his disgrace, nor at once restore his confidence and elation. He was for
three days silent, modest, and compliant, and thought himself neither
too wise for instruction, nor too manly for restraint. But his levity
overcame this salutary sorrow; he began to talk with his former raptures
of masquerades, taverns, and frolicks; blustered when his wig was not
combed with exactness; and threatened destruction to a tailor who had
mistaken his directions about the pocket.

I knew that he was now rising again above control, and that his
inflation of spirits would burst out into some mischievous absurdity. I
therefore watched him with great attention; but one evening, having
attended his mother at a visit, he withdrew himself, unsuspected, while
the company was engaged at cards. His vivacity and officiousness were
soon missed, and his return impatiently expected; supper was delayed,
and conversation suspended; every coach that rattled through the street
was expected to bring him, and every servant that entered the room was
examined concerning his departure. At last the lady returned home, and
was with great difficulty preserved from fits by spirits and cordials.
The family was despatched a thousand ways without success, and the house
was filled with distraction, till, as we were deliberating what further
measures to take, he returned from a petty gaming-table, with his coat
torn and his head broken; without his sword, snuff-box, sleeve-buttons,
and watch.

Of this loss or robbery, he gave little account; but, instead of sinking
into his former shame, endeavoured to support himself by surliness and
asperity. "He was not the first that had played away a few trifles, and
of what use were birth and fortune if they would not admit some sallies
and expenses?
" His mamma was so much provoked by the cost of this prank,
that she would neither palliate nor conceal it; and his father, after
some threats of rustication which his fondness would not suffer him to
execute, reduced the allowance of his pocket, that he might not be
tempted by plenty to profusion. This method would have succeeded in a
place where there are no panders to folly and extravagance, but was now
likely to have produced pernicious consequences; for we have discovered
a treaty with a broker, whose daughter he seems disposed to marry, on
condition that he shall be supplied with present money, for which he is
to repay thrice the value at the death of his father.

There was now no time to be lost. A domestick consultation was
immediately held, and he was doomed to pass two years in the country;
but his mother, touched with his tears, declared, that she thought him
too much of a man to be any longer confined to his book, and he
therefore begins his travels to-morrow under a French governour.

I am, &c.

EUMATHES.



No. 196. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 1752.

_Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum,
Multa recedentes adimunt. --_ HOR. De Ar. Poet. 175.

The blessings flowing in with life's full tide,
Down with our ebb of life decreasing glide. FRANCIS.

Baxter, in the narrative of his own life, has enumerated several
opinions, which, though he thought them evident and incontestable at his
first entrance into the world, time and experience disposed him to
change.

Whoever reviews the state of his own mind from the dawn of manhood to
its decline, and considers what he pursued or dreaded, slighted or
esteemed, at different periods of his age, will have no reason to
imagine such changes of sentiment peculiar to any station or character.
Every man, however careless and inattentive, has conviction forced upon
him; the lectures of time obtrude themselves upon the most unwilling or
dissipated auditor; and, by comparing our past with our present
thoughts, we perceive that we have changed our minds, though perhaps we
cannot discover when the alteration happened, or by what causes it was
produced.

This revolution of sentiments occasions a perpetual contest between the
old and young. They who imagine themselves entitled to veneration by the
prerogative of longer life, are inclined to treat the notions of those
whose conduct they superintend with superciliousness and contempt, for
want of considering that the future and the past have different
appearances; that the disproportion will always be great between
expectation and enjoyment, between new possession and satiety; that the
truth of many maxims of age gives too little pleasure to be allowed till
it is felt; and that the miseries of life would be increased beyond all
human power of endurance, if we were to enter the world with the same
opinions as we carry from it.

We naturally indulge those ideas that please us. Hope will predominate
in every mind, till it has been suppressed by frequent disappointments.
The youth has not yet discovered how many evils are continually hovering
about us, and when he is set free from the shackles of discipline, looks
abroad into the world with rapture; he sees an elysian region open
before him, so variegated with beauty, and so stored with pleasure, that
his care is rather to accumulate good, than to shun evil; he stands
distracted by different forms of delight, and has no other doubt, than
which path to follow of those which all lead equally to the bowers of
happiness.

He who has seen only the superficies of life believes every thing to be
what it appears, and rarely suspects that external splendour conceals
any latent sorrow or vexation. He never imagines that there may be
greatness without safety, affluence without content, jollity without
friendship, and solitude without peace. He fancies himself permitted to
cull the blessings of every condition, and to leave its inconveniencies
to the idle and the ignorant. He is inclined to believe no man miserable
but by his own fault, and seldom looks with much pity upon failings or
miscarriages, because he thinks them willingly admitted, or negligently
incurred.

It is impossible, without pity and contempt, to hear a youth of generous
sentiments and warm imagination, declaring, in the moment of openness
and confidence, his designs and expectations; because long life is
possible, he considers it as certain, and therefore promises himself all
the changes of happiness, and provides gratifications for every desire.
He is, for a time, to give himself wholly to frolick and diversion, to
range the world in search of pleasure, to delight every eye, to gain
every heart, and to be celebrated equally for his pleasing levities and
solid attainments, his deep reflections and his sparkling repartees. He
then elevates his views to nobler enjoyments, and finds all the
scattered excellencies of the female world united in a woman, who
prefers his addresses to wealth and titles; he is afterwards to engage
in business, to dissipate difficulty, and overpower opposition: to
climb, by the mere force of merit, to fame and greatness; and reward all
those who countenanced his rise, or paid due regard to his early
excellence. At last he will retire in peace and honour; contract his
views to domestick pleasures; form the manners of children like himself;
observe how every year expands the beauty of his daughters, and how his
sons catch ardour from their father's history; he will give laws to the
neighbourhood; dictate axioms to posterity; and leave the world an
example of wisdom and of happiness.

With hopes like these, he sallies jocund into life; to little purpose is
he told, that the condition of humanity admits no pure and unmingled
happiness; that the exuberant gaiety of youth ends in poverty or
disease; that uncommon qualifications and contrarieties of excellence,
produce envy equally with applause; that whatever admiration and
fondness may promise him, he must marry a wife like the wives of others,
with some virtues and some faults, and be as often disgusted by her
vices, as delighted by her elegance; that if he adventures into the
circle of action, he must expect to encounter men as artful, as daring,
as resolute as himself; that of his children, some may be deformed, and
others vicious; some may disgrace him by their follies, some offend him
by their insolence, and some exhaust him by their profusion. He hears
all this with obstinate incredulity, and wonders by what malignity old
age is influenced, that it cannot forbear to fill his ears with
predictions of misery.

Among other pleasing errours of young minds, is the opinion of their own
importance. He that has not yet remarked, how little attention his
contemporaries can spare from their own affairs, conceives all eyes
turned upon himself, and imagines every one that approaches him to be an
enemy or a follower, an admirer or a spy. He therefore considers his
fame as involved in the event of every action. Many of the virtues and
vices of youth proceed from this quick sense of reputation. This it is
that gives firmness and constancy, fidelity, and disinterestedness, and
it is this that kindles resentment for slight injuries, and dictates all
the principles of sanguinary honour.

But as time brings him forward into the world, he soon discovers that he
only shares fame or reproach with innumerable partners; that he is left
unmarked in the obscurity of the crowd; and that what he does, whether
good or bad, soon gives way to new objects of regard. He then easily
sets himself free from the anxieties of reputation, and considers praise
or censure as a transient breath, which, while he hears it, is passing
away, without any lasting mischief or advantage.

In youth, it is common to measure right and wrong by the opinion of the
world, and, in age, to act without any measure but interest, and to lose
shame without substituting virtue.

Such is the condition of life, that something is always wanting to
happiness. In youth, we have warm hopes, which are soon blasted by
rashness and negligence, and great designs, which are defeated by
inexperience. In age, we have knowledge and prudence without spirit to
exert, or motives to prompt them; we are able to plan schemes and
regulate measures, but have not time remaining to bring them to
completion.



No. 197. TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 1752.

_Cujus vulturis hoc erit cadaver_? MART. Lib. vi. Ep. lxii. 4.

Say, to what vulture's share this carcase falls? F. LEWIS

TO THE RAMBLER.

SIR,

I belong to an order of mankind, considerable at least for their number,
to which your notice has never been formally extended, though equally
entitled to regard with those triflers, who have hitherto supplied you
with topicks of amusement or instruction. I am, Mr. Rambler, a
legacy-hunter; and, as every man is willing to think well of the tribe
in which his name is registered, you will forgive my vanity, if I remind
you that the legacy-hunter, however degraded by an ill-compounded
appellation in our barbarous language, was known, as I am told, in
ancient Rome, by the sonorous titles of Captator and Hæredipeta.

My father was an attorney in the country, who married his master's
daughter in hopes of a fortune which he did not obtain, having been, as
he afterwards discovered, chosen by her only because she had no better
offer, and was afraid of service. I was the first offspring of a
marriage, thus reciprocally fraudulent, and therefore could not be
expected to inherit much dignity or generosity, and if I had them not
from nature, was not likely ever to attain them; for, in the years which
I spent at home, I never heard any reason for action or forbearance, but
that we should gain money or lose it; nor was taught any other style of
commendation, than that Mr. Sneaker is a warm man, Mr. Gripe has done
his business, and needs care for nobody.

My parents, though otherwise not great philosophers, knew the force of
early education, and took care that the blank of my understanding should
be filled with impressions of the value of money. My mother used, upon
all occasions, to inculcate some salutary axioms, such as might incite
me _to keep what I had, and get what I could_; she informed me that we
were in a world, where _all must catch that catch can_; and as I grew
up, stored my memory with deeper observations; restrained me from the
usual puerile expenses, by remarking that _many a little made a mickle_;
and, when I envied the finery of my neighbours, told me that _brag was a
good dog, but hold-fast was a better_.

I was soon sagacious enough to discover that I was not born to great
wealth; and having heard no other name for happiness, was sometimes
inclined to repine at my condition. But my mother always relieved me, by
saying, that there was money enough in the family, that _it was good to
be of kin to means_, that I had nothing to do but to please my friends,
and I might come to hold up my head with the best squire in the country.

These splendid expectations arose from our alliance to three persons of
considerable fortune. My mother's aunt had attended on a lady, who, when
she died, rewarded her officiousness and fidelity with a large legacy.
My father had two relations, of whom one had broken his indentures and
run to sea, from whence, after an absence of thirty years, he returned
with ten thousand pounds; and the other had lured an heiress out of a
window, who, dying of her first child, had left him her estate, on which
he lived, without any other care than to collect his rents, and preserve
from poachers that game which he could not kill himself.

These hoarders of money were visited and courted by all who had any
pretence to approach them, and received presents and compliments from
cousins who could scarcely tell the degree of their relation. But we had
peculiar advantages, which encouraged us to hope, that we should by
degrees supplant our competitors. My father, by his profession, made
himself necessary in their affairs; for the sailor and the chambermaid,
he inquired out mortgages and securities, and wrote bonds and contracts;
and had endeared himself to the old woman, who once rashly lent an
hundred pounds without consulting him, by informing her, that her
debtor, was on the point of bankruptcy, and posting so expeditiously
with an execution, that all the other creditors were defrauded.

To the squire he was a kind of steward, and had distinguished himself in
his office by his address in raising the rents, his inflexibility in
distressing the tardy tenants, and his acuteness in setting the parish
free from burdensome inhabitants, by shifting them off to some other
settlement.

Business made frequent attendance necessary; trust soon produced
intimacy; and success gave a claim to kindness; so that we had
opportunity to practise all the arts of flattery and endearment. My
mother, who could not support the thoughts of losing any thing,
determined, that all their fortunes should centre in me; and, in the
prosecution of her schemes, took care to inform me that _nothing cost
less than good words_, and that it is comfortable to leap into an estate
which another has got.

She trained me by these precepts to the utmost ductility of obedience,
and the closest attention to profit. At an age when other boys are
sporting in the fields or murmuring in the school, I was contriving some
new method of paying my court; inquiring the age of my future
benefactors; or considering how I should employ their legacies.

If our eagerness of money could have been satisfied with the possessions
of any one of my relations, they might perhaps have been obtained; but
as it was impossible to be always present with all three, our
competitors were busy to efface any trace of affection which we might
have left behind; and since there was not, on any part, such superiority
of merit as could enforce a constant and unshaken preference, whoever
was the last that flattered or obliged, had, for a time, the ascendant.

My relations maintained a regular exchange of courtesy, took care to
miss no occasion of condolence or congratulation, and sent presents at
stated times, but had in their hearts not much esteem for one another.
The seaman looked with contempt upon the squire as a milksop and a
landman, who had lived without knowing the points of the compass, or
seeing any part of the world beyond the county-town; and whenever they
met, would talk of longitude and latitude, and circles and tropicks,
would scarcely tell him the hour without some mention of the horizon and
meridian, nor shew him the news without detecting his ignorance of the
situation of other countries.

The squire considered the sailor as a rude uncultivated savage, with
little more of human than his form, and diverted himself with his
ignorance of all common objects and affairs; when he could persuade him
to go into the field, he always exposed him to the sportsmen, by sending
him to look for game in improper places; and once prevailed upon him to
be present at the races, only that he might shew the gentlemen how a
sailor sat upon a horse.

The old gentlewoman thought herself wiser than both, for she lived with
no servant but a maid, and saved her money. The others were indeed
sufficiently frugal; but the squire could not live without dogs and
horses, and the sailor never suffered the day to pass but over a bowl of
punch, to which, as he was not critical in the choice of his company,
every man was welcome that could roar out a catch, or tell a story.

All these, however, I was to please; an arduous task; but what will not
youth and avarice undertake? I had an unresisting suppleness of temper,
and an insatiable wish for riches; I was perpetually instigated by the
ambition of my parents, and assisted occasionally by their instructions.
What these advantages enabled me to perform, shall be told in the next
letter of,

Yours, &c.

CAPTATOR.



No. 198. SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 1752.

_Nil mihi das vivus: dicis, post fata daturum.
Si non es stultus, scis, Maro, quid cupiam_. MART. Lib. xi. 67.

You've told me, Maro, whilst you live,
You'd not a single penny give,
But that whene'er you chance to die,
You'd leave a handsome legacy:
You must be mad beyond redress,
If my next wish you cannot guess. F. LEWIS.

MR. RAMBLER.

SIR,

You, who must have observed the inclination which almost every man,
however unactive or insignificant, discovers of representing his life as
distinguished by extraordinary events, will not wonder that Captator
thinks his narrative important enough to be continued. Nothing is more
common than for those to tease their companions with their history, who
have neither done nor suffered any thing that can excite curiosity, or
afford instruction.

As I was taught to flatter with the first essays of speech, and had very
early lost every other passion in the desire of money, I began my
pursuit with omens of success; for I divided my officiousness so
judiciously among my relations, that I was equally the favourite of all.
When any of them entered the door, I went to welcome him with raptures;
when he went away, I hung down my head, and sometimes entreated to go
with him with so much importunity, that I very narrowly escaped a
consent which I dreaded in my heart. When at an annual entertainment
they were altogether, I had a harder task; but plied them so impartially
with caresses, that none could charge me with neglect; and when they
were wearied with my fondness and civilities, I was always dismissed
with money to buy playthings.

Life cannot be kept at a stand: the years of innocence and prattle were
soon at an end, and other qualifications were necessary to recommend me
to continuance of kindness. It luckily happened that none of my friends
had high notions of book-learning. The sailor hated to see tall boys
shut up in a school, when they might more properly be seeing the world,
and making their fortunes; and was of opinion, that when the first rules
of arithmetick were known, all that was necessary to make a man complete
might be learned on ship-board. The squire only insisted, that so much
scholarship was indispensably necessary, as might confer ability to draw
a lease and read the court hands; and the old chambermaid declared
loudly her contempt of books, and her opinion that they only took the
head off the main chance.

To unite, as well as we could, all their systems, I was bred at home.
Each was taught to believe, that I followed his directions, and I gained
likewise, as my mother observed, this advantage, that I was always in
the way; for she had known many favourite children sent to schools or
academies, and forgotten.

As I grew fitter to be trusted to my own discretion, I was often
despatched upon various pretences to visit my relations, with directions
from my parents how to ingratiate myself, and drive away competitors.

I was, from my infancy, considered by the sailor as a promising genius,
because I liked punch better than wine; and I took care to improve this
prepossession by continual inquiries about the art of navigation, the
degree of heat and cold in different climates, the profits of trade, and
the dangers of shipwreck. I admired the courage of the seamen, and
gained his heart by importuning him for a recital of his adventures, and
a sight of his foreign curiosities. I listened with an appearance of
close attention to stories which I could already repeat, and at the
close never failed to express my resolution to visit distant countries,
and my contempt of the cowards and drones that spend all their lives in
their native parish; though I had in reality no desire of any thing but
money, nor ever felt the stimulations of curiosity or ardour of
adventure, but would contentedly have passed the years of Nestor in
receiving rents, and lending upon mortgages.

The squire I was able to please with less hypocrisy, for I really
thought it pleasant enough to kill the game and eat it. Some arts of
falsehood, however, the hunger of gold persuaded me to practise, by
which, though no other mischief was produced, the purity of my thoughts
was vitiated, and the reverence for truth gradually destroyed. I
sometimes purchased fish, and pretended to have caught them; I hired the
countrymen to shew me partridges, and then gave my uncle intelligence of
their haunt; I learned the seats of hares at night, and discovered them
in the morning with a sagacity that raised the wonder and envy of old
sportsmen. One only obstruction to the advancement of my reputation I
could never fully surmount; I was naturally a coward, and was therefore
always left shamefully behind, when there was a necessity to leap a
hedge, to swim a river, or force the horses to the utmost speed; but as
these exigencies did not frequently happen, I maintained my honour with
sufficient success, and was never left out of a hunting party.

The old chambermaid was not so certainly, nor so easily pleased, for she
had no predominant passion but avarice, and was therefore cold and
inaccessible. She had no conception of any virtue in a young man but
that of saving his money. When she heard of my exploits in the field,
she would shake her head, inquire how much I should be the richer for
all my performances, and lament that such sums should be spent upon dogs
and horses. If the sailor told her of my inclination to travel, she was
sure there was no place like England, and could not imagine why any man
that can live in his own country should leave it. This sullen and frigid
being I found means, however, to propitiate by frequent commendations of
frugality, and perpetual care to avoid expense.

From the sailor was our first and most considerable expectation; for he
was richer than the chambermaid, and older than the squire. He was so
awkward and bashful among women, that we concluded him secure from
matrimony; and the noisy fondness with which he used to welcome me to
his house, made us imagine that he would look out for no other heir, and
that we had nothing to do but wait patiently for his death. But in the
midst of our triumph, my uncle saluted us one morning with a cry of
transport, and, clapping his hand hard on my shoulder, told me, I was a
happy fellow to have a friend like him in the world, for he came to fit
me out for a voyage with one of his old acquaintances. I turned pale,
and trembled; my father told him, that he believed my constitution not
fitted to the sea; and my mother, bursting into tears, cried out, that
her heart would break if she lost me. All this had no effect; the sailor
was wholly insusceptive of the softer passions, and, without regard to
tears or arguments, persisted in his resolution to make me a man. We
were obliged to comply in appearance, and preparations were accordingly
made. I took leave of my friends with great alacrity, proclaimed the
beneficence of my uncle with the highest strains of gratitude, and
rejoiced at the opportunity now put into my hands of gratifying my
thirst of knowledge. But, a week before the day appointed for my
departure, I fell sick by my mother's direction, and refused all food
but what she privately brought me; whenever my uncle visited me I was
lethargick or delirious, but took care in my raving fits to talk
incessantly of travel and merchandize. The room was kept dark; the table
was filled with vials and gallipots; my mother was with difficulty
persuaded not to endanger her life with nocturnal attendance; my father
lamented the loss of the profits of the voyage; and such superfluity of
artifices was employed, as perhaps might have discovered the cheat to a
man of penetration. But the sailor, unacquainted with subtilties and
stratagems, was easily deluded; and as the ship could not stay for my
recovery, sold the cargo, and left me to re-establish my health at
leisure.

I was sent to regain my flesh in a purer air, lest it should appear
never to have been wasted, and in two months returned to deplore my
disappointment. My uncle pitied my dejection, and bid me prepare myself
against next year, for no land-lubber should touch his money.

A reprieve however was obtained, and perhaps some new stratagem might
have succeeded another spring; but my uncle unhappily made amorous
advances to my mother's maid, who, to promote so advantageous a match,
discovered the secret with which only she had been entrusted. He
stormed, and raved, and declaring that he would have heirs of his own,
and not give his substance to cheats and cowards, married the girl in
two days, and has now four children.

Cowardice is always scorned, and deceit universally detested. I found my
friends, if not wholly alienated, at least cooled in their affection;
the squire, though he did not wholly discard me, was less fond, and
often inquired when I would go to sea. I was obliged to bear his
insults, and endeavoured to rekindle his kindness by assiduity and
respect; but all my care was vain; he died without a will, and the
estate devolved to the legal heir.

Thus has the folly of my parents condemned me to spend in flattery and
attendance those years in which I might have been qualified to place
myself above hope or fear. I am arrived at manhood without any useful
art, or generous sentiment; and, if the old woman should likewise at
last deceive me, am in danger at once of beggary and ignorance.

I am, &c.

CAPTATOR.



No. 199. TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 1752.

_Decolor, obscurus, cilis. Non ille repexam
Cæsariem Regum, nec Candida virginis ornat
Colla, nec insigni splendet per cingula morsu:
Sed nova si nigri videas miracula suai,
Tum pulcros superat cultus, et quldquid Evis
Indus litoribus rubra scrutatur in alga_. CLAUDIANUS, xlviii. 10.

Obscure, unpris'd, 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,

Though you have seldom digressed from moral subjects, I suppose you are
not so rigorous or cynical as to deny the value or usefulness of natural
philosophy; or to have lived in this age of inquiry and experiment,
without any attention to the wonders every day produced by the pokers of
magnetism and the wheels of electricity. At least, I may be allowed to
hope that, since nothing is more contrary to moral excellence than envy,
you will not refuse to promote the happiness of others, merely because
you cannot partake of their enjoyments.

In confidence, therefore, that your ignorance has not made you an enemy
to knowledge, I offer you the honour of introducing to the notice of the
publick, an adept, who, having long laboured for the benefit of mankind,
is not willing, like too many of his predecessors, to conceal his
secrets in the grave.

Many have signalized themselves by melting their estates in crucibles. I
was born to no fortune, and therefore had only my mind and body to
devote to knowledge, and the gratitude of posterity will attest, that
neither mind nor body have been spared. I have sat whole weeks without
sleep by the side of an athanor, to watch the moment of projection; I
have made the first experiment in nineteen diving engines of new
construction; I have fallen eleven times speechless under the shock of
electricity; I have twice dislocated my limbs, and once fractured my
skull, in essaying to fly[l]; and four times endangered my life by
submitting to the transfusion of blood.

In the first period of my studies, I exerted the powers of my body more
than those of my mind, and was not without hopes that fame might be
purchased by a few broken bones without the toil of thinking; but having
been shattered by some violent experiments, and constrained to confine
myself to my books, I passed six-and-thirty years in searching the
treasures of ancient wisdom, but am at last amply recompensed for all my
perseverance.

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 danger of supposititious children, and 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:
[Hebrew: chkalamta],&c. "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. "

When I first read this wonderful passage, I could not easily conceive
why it had remained hitherto unregarded in such a zealous competition
for magnetical fame. It would surely be unjust to suspect that any of
the candidates are strangers to the name or works of rabbi Abraham, or
to conclude, from a late edict of the Royal Society in favour of the
English language, that philosophy and literature are no longer to act in
concert. Yet, how should a quality so useful escape promulgation, but by
the obscurity of the language in which it was delivered? Why are footmen
and chambermaids paid on every side for keeping secrets, which no
caution nor expense could secure from the all-penetrating magnet? Or,
why are so many witnesses summoned, and so many artifices practised, to
discover what so easy an experiment would infallibly reveal?

Full of this perplexity, I read the lines of Abraham to a friend, who
advised me not to expose my life by a mad indulgence of the love of
fame: he warned me by the fate of Orpheus, that knowledge or genius
could give no protection to the invader of female prerogatives; assured
me that neither the armour of Achilles, nor the antidote of Mithridates,
would be able to preserve me; and counselled me, if I could not live
without renown, to attempt the acquisition of universal empire, in which
the honour would perhaps be equal, and the danger certainly be less.

I, a solitary student, pretend not to much knowledge of the world, but
am unwilling to think it so generally corrupt, as that a scheme for the
detection of incontinence should bring any danger upon its inventor. My
friend has indeed told me that all the women will be my enemies, and
that, however I flatter myself with hopes of defence from the men, I
shall certainly find myself deserted in the hour of danger. Of the young
men, said he, some will be afraid of sharing the disgrace of their
mothers, and some the danger of their mistresses; of those who are
married, part are already convinced of the falsehood of their wives, and
part shut their eyes to avoid conviction; few ever sought for virtue in
marriage, and therefore few will try whether they have found it. Almost
every man is careless or timorous, and to trust is easier and safer than
to examine.

These observations discouraged me, till I began to consider what
reception I was likely to find among the ladies, whom I have reviewed
under the three classes of maids, wives, and widows, and cannot but hope
that I may obtain some countenance among them. The single ladies I
suppose universally ready to patronise my method, by which connubial
wickedness may be detected, since no woman marries with a previous
design to be unfaithful to her husband. And to keep them steady in my
cause, I promise never to sell one of my magnets to a man who steals a
girl from school; marries a woman of forty years younger than himself;
or employs the authority of parents to obtain a wife without her own
consent.

Among the married ladies, notwithstanding the insinuations of slander,
yet I resolve to believe, that the greater part are my friends, and am
at least convinced, that they who demand the test, and appear on my
side, will supply, by their spirit, the deficiency of their numbers, and
that their enemies will shrink and quake at the sight of a magnet, as
the slaves of Scythia fled from the scourge.

The widows will be confederated in my favour by their curiosity, if not
by their virtue; for it may be observed, that women who have outlived
their husbands, always think themselves entitled to superintend the
conduct of young wives; and as they are themselves in no danger from
this magnetick trial, I shall expect them to be eminently and
unanimously zealous in recommending it.

With these hopes I shall, in a short time, offer to sale magnets armed
with a particular metallick composition, which concentrates their
virtue, and determines their agency. It is known that the efficacy of
the magnet, in common operations, depends much upon its armature, and it
cannot be imagined, that a stone, naked, or cased only in a common
manner, will discover the virtues ascribed to it by Rabbi Abraham. The
secret of this metal I shall carefully conceal, and, therefore, am not
afraid of imitators, nor shall trouble the offices with solicitations
for a patent.

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 scare-crows,
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 their
choice, of the delicacy of their sentiments. Many have been content to
spare cost by purchasing only the lowest degree of efficacy, and all
have started with terrour 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.