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'MR. BICKERSTAFF,

Since you have so often declared yourself a patron of the distressed, I must acquaint you, that I am daughter to a country gentleman of good sense, and may expect three or four thousand pounds for my fortune. I love and am beloved by Philander, a young gentleman who has an estate of five hundred pounds per annum, and is our next neighbour in the country every summer. My father, though he has been a long time acquainted with it, constantly refuses to comply with our mutual inclinations: but what most of all torments me is, that if ever I speak in commendation of my lover, he is much louder in his praises than myself; and professes, that it is out of pure love and esteem for Philander, as well as his daughter, that he can never consent we should marry each other; when, as he terms it, we may both do so much better. It inust indeed be confessed, that two gentlemen of considerable fortunes made their addresses to me last winter, and Philander, as I have since learned, was offered a young heiress with fifteen thousand pounds; but it seems we could neither of us think, that accepting those matches would be doing better than remaining constant to our first passion. Your thoughts, upon the whole, may perhaps have some weight with my father, who is one of your admirers, as is your humble servant,

'SYLVIA.

P. S. You are desired to be speedy, since my father daily presses me to accept of, what he calls, an advantageous offer.'

There is no calamity in life that falls heavier upon human nature than a disappointment in love; especially when it happens between two persons whose hearts are mutually engaged to each other. It is this distress which has given occasion to some of the finest tragedies that were ever written, and daily fills the world with melancholy, discontent, frenzy, sickness, despair, and death. I have often admired at

the barbarity of parents, who so frequently interpose their authority in this grand article of life. I would fain ask Sylvia's father, whether he thinks he can bestow a greater favour on his daughter, than to put her in a way to live happily? Whether a man of Philander's character, with five hundred pounds per annum, is not more likely to contribute to that end, than many a young fellow whom he may have in his thoughts with so many thousands? Whether he can make amends to his daughter by any increase of riches, for the loss of that happiness she proposes to herself in her Philander? Or, whether a father should compound with his daughter to be miserable, though she were to get twenty thousand pounds by the bargain? I suppose he would have her reflect with esteem on his memory after his death: and does be think this a proper method to make her do so, when, as often as she thinks on the loss of her Philander, she must at the same time remember him as the cruel cause of it? Any transient ill-humour is soon forgotten; but the reflection of such a cruelty must continue to raise resentments as long as life itself; and, by this one

piece of barbarity, an indulgent father loses

impossible but she may deceive herself in the the merit of all his past kindnesses. It is not happiness which she proposes from Philander; but, as in such a case she can have no one to blame but herself, she will bear the disappointment with greater patience; but if she never makes the experiment, however happier she may be with another, she will still think she might have been happier with Philander. There is a kind of sympathy in souls, that fits them for each other; and we may be assured, when we see two persons engaged in the certain qualities in both their minds which warmths of a mutual affection, that there are bear a resemblance to one another. A generous and constant passion in an agreeable lover, where there is not too great a disparity in other circumstances, is the greatest blessing that can befall the person beloved; and, if overlooked in one, may perhaps never be found in another. I shall conclude this with a celebrated instance

of a father's indulgence in this particular; which, though carried to an extravagance, has something in it so tender and amiable, as may justly reproach the harshness of temper that is to be met with in many a British father.

Antiochus, a prince of great hopes, fell pas sionately in love with the young queen Strato nice, who was his mother-in-law, and had bore a son to the old king, Seleucus, his father. The prince, finding it impossible to extinguish his passion, fell sick; and refused all manner of nourishment, being determined to put an end to that life which was become insupportable.

Erasistratus, the physician, soon found that love was his distemper; and observing the alteration in his pulse and countenance, when

soever Stratonice made him a visit, was soon satisfied that he was dying for his young mother-in-law. Knowing the old king's tenderness for his son, when he one morning enquired of his health, he told him, that the prince's distemper was love; but that it was incurable, because it was impossible for him to possess the person whom he loved. The king, surprised at his account, desired to know how his son's passion could be incurable? Why, sir,' replied Erasistratus, because he is in love with the person I am married to.'

The old king immediately conjured him by all his past favours, to save the life of his son and successor. 'Sir,' said Erasistratus, 'would your majesty but fancy yourself in my place, you would see the unreasonableness of what you desire?' Heaven is my witness,' said Seleucus, I could resign even my Stratonice to save my Antiochus.' At this, the tears ran down his cheeks; which when the physician saw, taking him by the hand, Sir,' says he, if these are your real sentiments, the prince's life is out of danger; it is Stratonice for whom he dies.' Seleucus immediately gave orders for solemnizing the marriage; and the young queen, to show her obedience, very generously exchanged the father for the son

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No. 186.] Saturday, June, 17, 1710.

Emitur solà virtute potestas.

Claud.

Virtue alone ennobles human kind,
And power should on her glorious foot-steps wai..
R. Wynne.

possessors of the requisites for esteem, the acceptance they otherwise unfortunately aim at would be as inseparable from them, as approbation is from truth itself. By this means they would have some rule to walk by; and they may ever be assured, that a good cause of action will certainly receive a suitable effect. It may be a useful hint in such cases for a man to ask of himself, whether he really is what he has a mind to be thought? If he is, he nee not give himself much further anxiety. What will the world say? is the common question in matters of difficulty; as if the terror lay wholly in the sense which others, and not we ourselves, shall have of your actions. From this one source arise all the impostors in every art and profession, in all places, among all persons, in conversation, as well as in business. Hence it is, that a vain fellow takes twice as much pains to be ridiculous, as would make him sincerely agreeable.

Can any one be better fashioned, better bred, or has any one more good-nature, than Damasippus? But the whole scope of his looks and actious tends so immediately to gain the good opinion of all he converses with, that he loses it for that only reason. As it is the nature of vanity to impose false shows for truth, so does it also turn real possessions into imaginary ones. Damasippus, by assuming to himself what he has not, robs himself of what he has.

There is nothing more necessary to establish reputation, than to suspend the enjoyment of it. He that cannot bear the sense of merit with silence, must of necessity destroy it; for fame being the general mistress of mankind, Sheer lane, June 16. whoever gives it to himself insults all to whom As it has been the endeavour of these our he relates any circumstances to his own advanlabours to extirpate from among the polite or tage. He is considered as an open ravisher of busy part of mankind, all such as are either that beauty, for whom all others pine in silence. prejudicial or insignificant to society: so it But some minds are so incapable of any temought to be no less our study to supply the perance in this particular, that on every second havock we have made, by an exact care of the in their discourse, you may observe an earnestgrowing generation. But when we begin to ness in their eyes, which shows they wait for inculcate proper precepts to the children of your approbation; and perhaps the next instant this island, except we could take them out of cast an eye on a glass, to see how they like their nurses' arms, we see an amendment is themselves. Walking the other day in a almost impracticable; for we find the whole neighbouring inn of court, I saw a more happy species of our youth, and grown men, is incor- and more graceful orator than I ever before had rigibly prepossessed with vanity, pride, or am- heard or read of. A youth, of about nineteen bition, according to the respective pursuits to years of age, was, in an Indian night-gown and which they turn themselves; by which means laced cap, pleading a cause before a glass. The the world is infatuated with the love of appear-young fellow had a very good air, and seemed ances instead of things. Thus the vain man to hold his brief in his hand rather to help his takes praise for honour; the proud man, cere-action, than that he wanted notes for his further mony for respect, the ambitious man, power for glory. These three characters are indeed of very near resemblance, but differently received by mankind. Vanity makes men ridiculous; pride odious; and ambition terrible. The foundation of all which is, that they are grounded upon falsehood for if men, instead of studying to appear considerable, were in their own hearts

information. When I first began to observe him, I feared he would soon be alarmed; but he was so zealous for his client, and so favour ably received by the court, that he went on with great fluency to inform the bench, that be humbly hoped they would not let the merit of the cause suffer by the youth and inexperience of the pleader; that in all things he submitted

to their candour; and modestly desired they would not conclude, but that strength of argument, and force of reason may be consistent with grace of action and comeliness of person. To me (who see people every day in the midst of crowds, whomsoever they seem to address to, talk only to themselves, and of themselves) this orator was not so extravagant a man as perhaps another would have thought him; but I took part in his success, and was very glad to find he had, in his favour, judgment and costs, without any manner of opposition.

The effects of pride and vanity are of consequence only to the proud and vain; and tend to no further ill than what is personal to themselves, in preventing their progress in any thing that is worthy and laudable, and creating envy instead of emulation of superior virtue. These ill qualities are to be found only in such as have so little minds, as to circumscribe their thoughts and designs within what properly relates to the value, which they think due to their dear and amiable selves; but ambition, which is the third great impediment to honour and virtue, is a fault of such as think themselves born for moving in a higher orb, and prefer being powerful and mischievous to being virtuous and obscure. The parent of this mischief in life, so far as to regulate it into schemes, and make it possess a man's whole heart without his believing himself a dæmon, was Machiavel. He first taught, that a man must necessarily appear weak, to be honest. Hence it gains upon the imagination, that a great is not so despicable as a little villain; and men are insensibly led to a belief, that the aggravation of crimes is the diminution of them. Hence the impiety of thinking one thing, and speaking another. In pursuance of this empty and unsatisfying dream, to betray, to undermine, to kill in themselves all natural sentiments of love to friends or country, is the willing practice of such as are thirsty of power for any other reason, than that of being useful and acceptable to mankind.

ADVERTISEMENT.

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From my own Apartment, June 19. Pasquin of Rome to Isaac Bickerstaff of London.

His holiness is gone to Castel Gandolpho, much discomposed at some late accounts from the missionaries in your island; for a committee of cardinals, which lately sat for the reviving the force of some obsolete doctrines, and drawing up amendments to certain points of faith, have represented the church of Rome to be in great danger, from a treatise written by a learned Englishman; which carries spiritual power much higher than we could have dared to have attempted even here. His book is called, An Epistolary Discourse, proving from the Scriptures, and the first Fathers, that the soul is a principle naturally mortal. Wherein is proved, that none have the power of giving this divine immortalizing spirit, since the apostles but the bishops. By Henry Dodwell, M. A.' The assertion appeared to our literati so short and effectual a method of subjecting the laity, that it is feared auricular confession and absolution will not be capable of keeping the clergy of Rome in any degree of greatness, in competition with such teachers, whose flocks shall receive this opinion. What gives the greater jealousy here is, that in the catalogue of treatises which have been lately burnt within the British territories, there is no mention made of this learned work; which circumstance is a sort of implication, that the tenet is not held erroneous, but that the doctrine is received among you as orthodox. The youth of this place are very much divided in opinion, whether a very memorable quotation which the author repeats out of Tertullian, be not rather of the style and manner of Meursius? In illo ipso voluptatis ultimæ æstu, quo genitale virus expellitur, nonne aliquid de animâ quoque sentimus exire, atque adeo marcescimus et divigescimus cum lucis detrimento? This piece of Latin goes no farther than to tell us how our fathers begot us; so that we are still at a loss how we afterwards commence eternal; for creando infunditer, et infundendo creatur, which is mentioned soon after, may allude only to flesh and blood, as well as the former. Your readers in this city, some of whom have very much approved the warmth with which you have attacked free-thinkers, atheists, and other ene

Whereas Mr. Bickerstaff has lately received a letter out of Ireland, dated June the ninth, importing, that he is grown very dull, for the postage of which Mr. Morphew charges one shilling; and another without date of place or time, for which he, the said Morphew, charges two-pence: it is desired, that for the future, his courteous and uncourteous readers will go a little further in expressing their good and ill-mies to religion and virtue, are very much will and pay for the carriage of their letters; otherwise the intended pleasure or pain, which is designed for Mr. Bickerstaff, will be wholly disappointer..

No. 187.] Tuesday, June 20, 1710.

-Pudet hæc approbria nobis,

disturbed, that you have given them no account of this remarkable dissertation. I am employed by them to desire you would, with all possible expedition, send me over the ceremony of the creation of souls, as well as a list of all the mortal and immortal men within the dominions of Great Britain. When you have done me

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Et dici potuisse, et non potuisse refelli. Ovid. Met. ii. 759. this favour, I must trouble "ou for other tokens

of your kindness; and particularly I desire you would let me have the religious handkerchief, which is of late so much worn in England, for I have promised to make a present of it to a courtezan of a French minister.

'Letters from the frontiers of France inform us, that a young gentleman,+ who was to have been created a cardinal on the next promotion, has put off his design of coming to Rome so soon as was intended; having, as it is said, received letters from Great Britain, wherein several virtuosi of that island have desired him to suspend his resolutions towards a monastic life, until the British grammarians shall publish their explication of the words indefeasable and revolution. According as these two hard terms are made to fit the mouths of the people, this

gentleman takes his measures for his journey

hither.

Your New Bedlam has been read and considered by some of your countrymen among us; and one gentleman, who is now here as a traveller, says your design is impracticable; for that there can be no place large enough to contain the number of your lunatics. He advises you therefore to name the ambient sea for the boundary of your hospital. If what he says be true, I do not see how you can think of any other inclosure: for, according to his discourse, the whole people are taken with a vertigo; great and proper actions are received with coldness and discontent; ill-news hoped for with impatience; heroes in your service are treated with calumny, while criminals pass through your towns with acclamations.

'This Englishman went on to say, you seemed at present to flag under a satiety of success, as if you wanted misfortune as a necessary vicissitude. Yet, alas! though men have but a cold relish of prosperity, quick is the anguish of the contrary fortune. He proceeded to make comparisons of times, seasons, and great incidents. After which he grew too learned for my understanding, and talked of Hanno the Carthaginian, and his irreconcileable hatred to the glorious commander Hannibal, Hannibal, said he, was able to march to Rome

itself, and brought that ambitious people, who designed no less than the empire of the world, to sue for peace in the most abject and servile manner; when faction at home detracted from the glory of his actions, and, after many artifices, at last prevailed with the senate to recall him from the midst of his victories, in the very instant when he was to reap the benefit of all his toils, by reducing the then common enemy

Handkerchiefs printed with representations of Dr. Sa

cheverell.

↑ The pretender.

Dr. Sacheverell, whilst under the sentence that suspen

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of all nations which had liberty to reason, When Hannibal heard the message of the Carthaginian senators, who were sent to recall him, he was moved with a generous and disdainful sorrow; and is reported to have said, Hannibal then must be conquered, not by the arms of the Romans, whom he has often put to flight, but by the envy and detraction of his countrymen. Nor shall Scipio triumph so much in his fall, as Hanno, who will smile to have purchased the ruin of Hannibal, though attended with the fall of Carthage.

'I am, Sir, &c.

'PASQUIN.

Will's Coffee-house, June 19.

There is a sensible satisfaction in observing the countenance and action of the people on some occasions. To gratify myself in this pleasure, I came hither with all speed this evening with an account of the surrender of Douay. As soon as the battle-critics heard it, they immediately drew some comfort, in that

it must have cost us a great number of men.

Others were so negligent of the glory of their

country, that they went on in their discourse on the full house which is to be at Othello on

Thursday, and the curiosity they should go with, to see Wilks play a part so very different from what he had ever before appeared in, together with the expectation that was raised in the gay part of the town on that occasion.

This universal indolence and inattention made me look back with the highest reverence among us to things that concern the public, on the glorious instances in antiquity, of a contrary behaviour in the like circumstances. Harry English, upon observing the room so little roused on the news, fell into the same How unlike,' said he, way of thinking. Mr. Bickerstaff, are we to the old Romans. There was not a subject of their state but

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thought himself as much concerned in the honour of his country, as the first officer of the commonwealth. How do I admire the messenger, who ran with a thorn in his foo: to tell the news of a victory to the senate! He

had not leisure for his private pain, until he suffer as a man, until he had triumphed as a had expressed his public joy; nor could he

Roman.'

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I WAS this morning looking over my letters, ded him from preaching, made a sort of triumphal journey, that I have lately received from my several correspondents; some of which, referring to

and was received into some towns with ringing of bells, and other demonstrations of welcome and approbation.

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would be satisfied we are not always a squab. bling. For my part, I think that where man and woman come together by their own good liking, there is so much fondling and fooling, that it hinders young people from minding their business. I must therefore desire you to change your note; and instead of advising us old folks, who perhaps have more wit than act like a dutiful daughter, and marry the yourself, to let Sylvia know, that she ought to man that she does not care for. Our great

'This letter comes to you from my orangery, which I intend to reform as much as I can, according to your ingenious model; and shall only beg of you to communicate to me your secret of preserving grass-plots in a covered room; for, in the climate where my country-grandmothers were all bid to marry first, and seat lies, they require rain and dews as well as sun and fresh air, and cannot live upon such fine food as your sifted weather. I must like wise desire you to write over your green-house the following motto:

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This oversight of a grass-plot in my friend's green house, puts me in mind of a like inconistency in a celebrated picture; where Moses is represented as striking a rock, and the children of Israel quenching their thirst at the waters that flow from it, and run through a beautiful landscape of groves and meadows, which could not flourish in a place where water was to have been found only by a miracle.

The next letter comes to me from a Kentish yeoman, who is very angry with me for my advice to parents, occasioned by the amours of Sylvia and Philander, as related in my paper,

No. 185.

'SQUIRE BICKERSTAFF,

'I do not know by what chance one of your T'atlers is got into my family, and has almost turned the brains of my eldest daughter, Winifred; who has been so undutiful as to fall in love of her own head, and tells me a foolish heathen story that she has read in your paper, Ito persuade me to give my consent. I am too wise to let children have their own wills in a business like marriage. It is a matter in which neither I myself, nor any of my kindred, were ever bumoured. My wife and I never pretended to love one another like your Sylvias and Philanders; and yet, if you saw our fire-side, vou

love would come afterwards; and I do not see why their daughters should follow their own

inventions. I am resolved Winifred shall not. 'Yours, &c.'

This letter is a natural picture of ordinary contracts, and of the sentiments of those minds that lie under a kind of intellectual rusticity. This trifling occasion made me run over in my imagination the many scenes I have observed of the married condition, wherein the quintessence of pleasure and pain are represented, as they accompany that state, and no other. It is certain, there are many thousands like the above-mentioned yeoman and his wife, who are never highly pleased or distasted in their whole lives. But when we consider the more informed part of mankind, and look upon their behaviour, it then appears that very little of their time is indifferent, but generally spent in the most anxious vexation, or the highest satisfaction. Shakspeare has admirably represented both the aspects of this state in the In the most excellent tragedy of Othello. character of Desdemona, he runs through all the sentiments of a virtuous maid, and a tender wife. She is captivated by his virtue, and faithful to him as well from that motive, as regard to her own honour. Othello is a great and noble spirit, misled by the villany of a false friend to suspect her innocence; and resents it accordingly. When, after the many instances of passion, the wife is told the hus band is jealous, her simplicity makes her incapable of believing it, and say, after such cir

cumstances as would drive another woman
into distraction,

I think the sun where he was born
Drew all such humours from him.

This opinion of him is so just, that his noble and tender heart beats itself to pieces, before he can affront her with the mention of his jealousy; and he owns, this suspicion has blotted out all the sense of glory and happiness which before it was possessed with, when he laments himself in the warm allusions of a mind ac eustomed to entertainments so very different from the pangs of jealousy and revenge. How moving is his sorrow, when he cries out as follows.

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