THACKERAY'S RESEARCHES AMONGST THE WRITINGS OF THE EARLY
ESSAYISTS--_Continued_.
Characteristic Passages from the Works of the 'Humourists,' from
Thackeray's Library; illustrated by the Author's hand with
Marginal Sketches suggested by the Text -- The 'RAMBLER,' 1749-50
-- Introduction -- Its Author, Dr. Johnson -- Paragraphs and
Pencillings.
PREFACE TO THE 'RAMBLER.'
When, says Dr. Chalmers, Dr. Johnson undertook to write this justly
celebrated paper, he had many difficulties to encounter. If lamenting
that, during the long period which had elapsed since the conclusion of
the writings of Addison, vice and folly had begun to recover from
depressing contempt, he wished again to rectify public taste and
manners--to 'give confidence to virtue and ardour to truth'--he knew
that the popularity of these writings had constituted them a precedent
which his genius was incapable of following, and from which it would
be dangerous to depart. In the character of an essayist he was,
hitherto, unknown to the public. He had written nothing by which a
favourable judgment could be formed of his success in a species of
composition which seemed to require the ease, the vivacity, and humour
of polished life; and he had probably often heard it repeated that
Addison and his colleagues had anticipated all the subjects fit for
popular essays; that he might, indeed, aim at varying or improving
what had been said before, but could stand no chance of being esteemed
an original writer, or of striking the imagination by new and
unexpected reflections and incidents. He was likewise, perhaps, aware
that he might be reckoned what he about this time calls himself--'a
retired and uncourtly scholar,' unfit to describe, because precluded
from the observation of, refined society and manners.
But they who pride themselves on long and accurate knowledge of the
world are not aware how little of that knowledge is necessary in order
to expose vice or detect absurdity; nor can they believe that evidence
far short of ocular demonstration is amply sufficient for the purposes
of the wit and the novelist. Dr. Johnson appeared in the character of
a moral teacher, with powers of mind beyond the common lot of man, and
with a knowledge of the inmost recesses of the human heart such as
never was displayed with more elegance or stronger conviction. Though
in some respects a recluse, he had not been an inattentive observer of
human life; and he was now of an age at which probably as much is
known as can be known, and at which the full vigour of his faculties
enabled him to divulge his experience and his observations with a
certainty that they were neither immature nor fallacious. He had
studied, and he had noted on the varieties of human character; and it
is evident that the lesser improprieties of conduct and errors of
domestic life had often been the subjects of his secret ridicule.
Previously to the commencement of the 'Rambler' he had drawn the
outlines of many essays, of which specimens may be seen in the
biographies of Sir John Hawkins and Boswell; and it is probable that
the sentiments of all these papers had been long floating in his mind.
With such preparation he began the 'Rambler,' without any
communication with his friends or desire of assistance. Whether he
proposed the scheme himself does not appear; but he was fortunate in
forming an engagement with Mr. John Payne, a bookseller in Paternoster
Row (and afterwards the chief accountant of the Bank of England), a
man with whom he lived many years in habits of friendship, and who, on
the present occasion, treated his author with liberality. He engaged
to pay two guineas for each paper, or four guineas per week, which, at
that time, must have been to Johnson a very considerable sum; and he
admitted him to a share of the future profits of the work when it
should be collected into volumes, which share Johnson afterwards sold.
It has been observed that objections have been offered to the name
'Rambler.' Johnson's account to Sir Joshua Reynolds forms, probably,
as good an excuse as so trifling a circumstance demands. 'What _must_
be done, sir, _will_ be done. When I was to begin publishing that
paper, I was at a loss how to name it. I sat down at night upon my
bedside, and resolved that I would not go to sleep till I had fixed
its title. The "Rambler" seemed the best that occurred, and I took
it.' The Italians have literally translated this name '_Il
Vagabondo_.'
The first paper was published on Tuesday, March 20, 1749-50, and the
work continued without the least interruption every Tuesday and
Saturday until Saturday, March 14, 1752, on which day it closed. Each
number was handsomely printed on a sheet and a half of fine paper, at
the price of twopence, and with great typographical accuracy, not
above a dozen errors occurring in the whole work--a circumstance the
more remarkable, because the copy was written in haste, as the time
urged, and sent to the press without being revised by the author. When
we consider that, in the whole progress of the work, the sum of
assistance he received scarcely amounted to five papers, we must
wonder at the fertility of a mind engaged during the same period on
that stupendous labour, the English Dictionary, and frequently
distracted by disease and anguish. Other essayists have had the choice
of their days, and their happy hours, for composition; but Johnson
knew no remission, although he very probably would have been glad of
it, and yet continued to write with unabated vigour, although even
this disappointment might be supposed to have often rendered him
uneasy; and his natural indolence--not the indolence of will, but of
constitution--would, in other men, have palsied every effort. Towards
the conclusion there is so little of that 'falling off' visible in
some works of the same kind, that it might probably have been extended
much further, had the encouragement of the public borne any proportion
to its merits.
The assistance Johnson received was very trifling: Richardson, the
novelist, wrote No. 97. The four letters in No. 10 were written by
Miss Mulso, afterwards Mrs. Chapone, who also contributed the story of
'Fidelia' to the 'Adventurer,' a paper conducted by Doctors
Hawkesworth, Johnson, Thornton, and Warton, which succeeded the
'Rambler.' No. 30 was written by Miss Catharine Talbot, and Nos. 44
and 100 were written by Mrs. Elizabeth Carter.
The 'Rambler' made its way very slowly into the world. All scholars,
all men of taste, saw its excellence at once, and crowded round the
author to solicit his friendship and relieve his anxieties. It
procured him a multitude of friends and admirers among men
distinguished for rank as well as genius, and it constituted a
perpetual apology for that rugged and uncourtly manner which sometimes
rendered his conversation formidable, and, to those who looked from
the book to the man, presented a contrast that would no doubt
frequently excite amazement.
Still, it must be confessed, there were at first many prejudices
against the 'Rambler' to be overcome. The style was new; it appeared
harsh, involved, and perplexed; it required more than a transitory
inspection to be understood; it did not suit those who run as they
read, and who seldom return to a book if the hour it helped to
dissipate can be passed away in more active pleasures. When reprinted
in volumes, however, the sale gradually increased; it was recommended
by the friends of religion and literature as a book by which a man
might learn to think; and the author lived to see ten large editions
printed in England, besides those which were clandestinely printed in
other parts of the kingdom and in America. Since Johnson's death the
number of editions has been multiplied.
Sir John Hawkins informs us that these essays hardly ever underwent a
Revision before they were sent to the press, and adds: 'The original
manuscripts of the "Rambler" have passed through my hands, and by the
perusal of them I am warranted to say, as was said of Shakespeare by
the players of that time, that he _never blotted out a line_, and I
believe without the retort which Ben Jonson made to them: "Would he
had blotted out a thousand!"'
However, Dr. Johnson's desire to carry his essays, which he regarded
in some degree as his monument to posterity, as near perfection as his
labours could achieve, induced him to devote such attention to the
preparation of the 'Ramblers' for the collected series that the
alterations in the second and third editions far exceed six
thousand--a number which may perhaps justify the use of the expression
're-wrote,' although it must not be taken in its literal acceptation.
With respect to the plan of the 'Rambler,' Dr. Johnson may surely be
said to have executed what he intended: he has successfully attempted
the propagation of truth, and boldly maintained the dignity of
virtue. He has accumulated in this work a treasury of moral science
which will not be soon exhausted. He has laboured to refine our
language to grammatical purity, and to clear it from colloquial
barbarisms, licentious idioms, and irregular combinations. Something
he has certainly added to the elegance of its construction, and
something to the harmony of its cadence.
Comparisons have been formed between the 'Rambler' and its
predecessors, or rather between the genius of Johnson and Addison, but
have generally ended in discovering a total want of resemblance. As
they were both original writers, they must be tried, if tried at all,
by laws applicable to their respective attributes. But neither had a
predecessor. We find no humour like Addison's, no energy and dignity
like Johnson's. They had nothing in common but moral excellence of
character; they could not have exchanged styles for an hour. Yet there
is one respect in which we must give Addison the preference--more
general utility. His writings would have been understood at any
period; Johnson's are more calculated for an improved and liberal
education. In both, however, what was peculiar was natural. The
earliest of Dr. Johnson's works confirm this; from the moment he could
write at all he wrote in stately periods, and his conversation from
first to last abounded in the peculiarities of his composition.
Addison principally excelled in the observation of manners, and in
that exquisite ridicule he threw on the minute improprieties of life.
Johnson, although not ignorant of life or manners, could not descend
to familiarities with tuckers and commodes, with furs and
hoop-petticoats. A scholarly professor and a writer from necessity, he
loved to bring forward subjects so near and dear as the
disappointments of authors--the dangers and miseries of literary
eminence--anxieties of literature--contrariety of criticism--miseries
of patronage--value of fame--causes of the contempt of the
learned--prejudices and caprices of criticism--vanity of an author's
expectations--meanness of dedications--necessity of literary courage,
and all those other subjects which relate to authors and their
connection with the public. Sometimes whole papers are devoted to what
may be termed the personal concerns of men of literature, and
incidental reflections are everywhere interspersed for the instruction
or caution of the same class.
When he treats of common life and manners it has been observed he
gives to the lowest of his correspondents the same style and lofty
periods; and it may also be noticed that the ridicule he attempts is
in some cases considerably heightened by the very want of
accommodation of character. Yet it must be allowed that the levity and
giddiness of coquettes and fine ladies are expressed with great
difficulty in the Johnsonian language. It has been objected also that
even the names of his ladies have very little of the air of either
court or city, as Zosima, Properantia, &c. Every age seems to have its
peculiar names of fiction. In the 'Spectators,' 'Tatlers,' &c., the
Damons and Phillises, the Amintors and Claras, &c., were the
representatives of every virtue and folly.
These were succeeded by the Philamonts, Tenderillas, Timoleons,
Seomanthes, Pantheas, Adrastas, and Bellimantes, names to which Mrs.
Heywood gave currency in her 'Female Spectator,' and from which at no
great distance of time Dr. Johnson appears to have taken his
Zephyrettas, Trypheruses, Nitellas, Misotheas, Vagarios, and
Flirtillas.
[Illustration]
THE 'RAMBLER.'
BY DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.
VOL. I., 1750.
'_To the "Rambler."_
'Sir,--As you seem to have devoted your labours to virtue, I cannot
forbear to inform you of one species of cruelty with which the life of
a man of letters perhaps does not often make him acquainted, and
which, as it seems to produce no other advantage to those that
practise it than a short gratification of thoughtless vanity, may
become less common when it has been once exposed in its various forms,
and in full magnitude.
[Illustration]
'I am the daughter of a country gentleman, whose family is numerous,
and whose state, not at first sufficient to supply us with affluence,
has been lately so impaired by an unsuccessful lawsuit, that all the
younger children are obliged to try such means as their education
affords them for procuring the necessaries of life. Distress and
curiosity concurred to bring me to London, where I was received by a
relation with the coldness which misfortune generally finds. A week--a
long week--I lived with my cousin before the most vigilant inquiry
could procure us the least hopes of a place, in which time I was much
better qualified to bear all the vexations of servitude. The first two
days she was content to pity me, and only wished I had not been quite
so well bred; but people must comply with their circumstances. This
lenity, however, was soon at an end, and for the remaining part of
the week I heard every hour of the pride of the family, the obstinacy
of my father, and of people better born than myself that were common
servants.
'At last, on Saturday noon, she told me, with very visible
satisfaction, that Mrs. Bombasine, the great silk-mercer's lady,
wanted a maid, and a fine place it would be, for there would be
nothing to do but to clean my mistress's room, get up her linen, dress
the young ladies, wait at tea in the morning, taking care of a little
miss just come from nurse, and then sit down to my needle. But madam
was a woman of great spirit, and would not be contradicted, and
therefore I should take care, for good places are not easily to be
got.
[Illustration]
'With these cautions I waited on Madame Bombasine, of whom the first
sight gave me no ravishing ideas. She was two yards round the waist,
her voice was at once loud and squeaking, and her face brought to my
mind the picture of the full moon. "Are you the young woman," says
she, "that are come to offer yourself? It is strange when people of
substance want a servant how soon it is the town talk. But they know
they shall have a bellyful that live with me. Not like people that
live at the other end of the town, we dine at one o'clock. But I never
take anybody without a character; what friends do you come of?" I then
told her that my father was a gentleman, and that we had been
unfortunate. "A great misfortune indeed to come to me and have three
meals a day! So your father was a gentleman, and you are a
gentlewoman, I suppose--such gentlewomen!" "Madam, I did not mean to
claim any exemptions; I only answered your inquiry." "Such
gentlewomen! people should set up their children to good trades, and
keep them off the parish. Pray go to the other end of the town; there
are gentlewomen, if they would pay their debts; I am sure we have lost
enough by gentlewomen." Upon this her broad face grew broader with
triumph, and I was afraid she would have taken me for the pleasure of
continuing her insult; but happily the next word was, "Pray, Mrs.
Gentlewoman, troop downstairs." You may believe I obeyed her.
'After numerous misadventures of the same description, it was of no
purpose that the refusal was declared by me never to be on my side; I
was reasoning against interest and against stupidity; and therefore I
comforted myself with the hope of succeeding better in my next
attempt, and went to Mrs. Courtly, a very fine lady, who had routs at
her house, and saw the best company in town.
[Illustration]
'I had not waited two hours before I was called up, and found Mr.
Courtly and his lady at piquet in the height of good humour. This I
looked on as a favourable sign, and stood at the lower end of the
room, in expectation of the common questions. At last Mr. Courtly
called out, after a whisper, "Stand facing the light, that one may see
you." I changed my place, and blushed. They frequently turned their
eyes upon me, and seemed to discover many subjects of merriment, for
at every look they whispered, and laughed with the most violent
agitations of delight. At last Mr. Courtly cried out, "Is that colour
your own, child?" "Yes," said the lady, "if she has not robbed the
kitchen hearth." It was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm
of laughter, and they threw down their cards in hopes of better sport.
The lady then called me to her, and began with affected gravity to
inquire what I could do. "But first turn about, and let us see your
fine shape; well, what are you fit for, Mrs. Mum? You would find your
tongue, I suppose, in the kitchen." "No, no," says Mrs. Courtly, "the
girl's a good girl yet, but I am afraid a brisk young fellow, with
fine tags on his shoulder----" "Come, child, hold up your head; what?
you have stole nothing." "Not yet," said the lady; "but she hopes to
steal your heart quickly." Here was a laugh of happiness and triumph,
prolonged by the confusion which I could no longer repress. At last
the lady recollected herself: "Stole? no--but if I had her I should
watch her; for that downcast eye----Why cannot you look people in the
face?" "Steal!" says her husband, "she would steal nothing but,
perhaps, a few ribbons before they were left off by my lady." "Sir,"
answered I, "why should you, by supposing me a thief, insult one from
whom you have received no injury?" "Insult!" says the lady; "are you
come here to be a servant, you saucy baggage, and talk of insulting?
What will this world come to if a gentleman may not jest with a
servant? Well, such servants! pray be gone, and see when you will have
the honour to be so insulted again. Servants insulted--a fine time!
Insulted! Get downstairs, you slut, or the footman shall insult you."'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. I. No. 18.
'There is no observation more frequently made by such as employ
themselves in surveying the conduct of mankind than that marriage,
though the dictate of nature, and the institute of Providence, is yet
very often the cause of misery, and that those who enter into that
state can seldom forbear to express their repentance, and their envy
of those whom either chance or caution hath withheld from it.
[Illustration]
'One of the first of my acquaintances that resolved to quit the
unsettled, thoughtless condition of a bachelor was Prudentius, a man
of slow parts, but not without knowledge or judgment in things which
he had leisure to consider gradually before he determined them. This
grave considerer found by deep meditation that a man was no loser by
marrying early, even though he contented himself with a less fortune,
for, estimating the exact worth of annuities, he found that
considering the constant diminution of the value of life, with the
probable fall of the interest of money, it was not worse to have ten
thousand pounds at the age of two-and-twenty years than a much larger
fortune at thirty; for many opportunities, says he, occur of improving
money which, if a man misses, he may not afterwards recover.
'Full of these reflections, he threw his eyes about him, not in search
of beauty or elegance, dignity or understanding, but of a woman with
ten thousand pounds. Such a woman, in a wealthy part of the kingdom,
it was not difficult to find; and by artful management with her
father--whose ambition was to make his daughter a gentlewoman--my
friend got her, as he boasted to us in confidence two days after his
marriage, for a settlement of seventy-three pounds a year less than
her fortune might have claimed, and less than himself would have given
if the fools had been but wise enough to delay the bargain.
'Thus at once delighted with the superiority of his parts and the
augmentation of his fortune, he carried Furia to his own house, in
which he never afterwards enjoyed one hour of happiness. For Furia was
a wretch of mean intellects, violent passions, a strong voice, and low
education, without any sense of happiness but that which consisted in
eating, and counting money. Furia was a scold. They agreed in the
desire of wealth, but with this difference: that Prudentius was for
growing rich by gain, Furia by parsimony. Prudentius would venture his
money with chances very much in his favour; but Furia, very wisely
observing that what they had was, while they had it, _their own_,
thought all traffic too great a hazard, and was for putting it out at
low interest upon good security. Prudentius ventured, however, to
insure a ship at a very unreasonable price; but, happening to lose his
money, was so tormented with the clamours of his wife that he never
durst try a second experiment. He has now grovelled seven-and-forty
years under Furia's direction, who never once mentioned him, since his
bad luck, by any other name than that of the "usurer."'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol, I. No. 24.
Nemo in sese tentat descendere.--_Persius._
None, none descends into himself.--_Dryden._
'Among the precepts or aphorisms admitted by general consent and
inculcated by repetition, there is none more famous, among the masters
of ancient wisdom, than that compendious lesson, Γνωθι σεαυτον--_Be
acquainted with thyself_--ascribed by some to an oracle,
and others to Chilo of Lacedæmon.
[Illustration]
'We might have had more satisfaction concerning the original import of
this celebrated sentence, if history had informed us whether it was
uttered as a general instruction to mankind, or as a particular
caution to some private inquirer; whether it was applied to some
single occasion, or laid down as the universal rule of life.
'The great praise of Socrates is that he drew the wits of Greece, by
his instruction and example, from the vain pursuit of natural
philosophy to moral inquiries, and turned their thoughts from stars
and tides, and matter and motion, upon the various modes of virtue and
relations of life.
'The great fault of men of learning is still that they offend against
this rule, and appear willing to study anything rather than
themselves; for which reason they are often despised by those with
whom they imagine themselves above comparison.
'Eupheues,[30] with great parts of extensive knowledge, has a clouded
aspect and ungracious form, yet it has been his ambition, from his
first entrance into life, to distinguish himself by particularities in
his dress--to outvie beaus in embroidery, to import new trimming, and
to be foremost in the fashion. Eupheues has turned on his exterior
appearance that attention which would have always produced esteem had
it been fixed upon his mind; and, though his virtues and abilities
have preserved him from the contempt which he has so diligently
solicited, he has at least raised one impediment to his reputation,
since all can judge of his dress, but few of his understanding, and
many who discern that he is a fop are unwilling to believe that he can
be wise.
'There is one instance in which the ladies are particularly unwilling
to observe the rule of Chilo. They are desirous to hide from
themselves the advance of age, and endeavour too frequently to supply
the sprightliness and bloom of youth by artificial beauty and forced
vivacity.
[Illustration]
'They hope to inflame the heart by glances which have lost their fire,
or melt it by laughter which is no longer delicate; they play over
airs which pleased at a time when they were expected only to please,
and forget that airs in time ought to give place to virtues. They
continue to trifle, because they could once trifle agreeably, till
those who shared their early pleasures are withdrawn to more serious
engagements, and are scarcely awakened from their dream of perpetual
youth by the scorn of those whom they endeavour to rival.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. I. No. 34.
Non sine vano
Aurarum et silvæ metu.--_Hor._
Alarm'd with every rising gale,
In every wood, in every vale.--_Elphinston._
The 'Rambler' inserts a letter describing how the end of those ladies
whose chief ambition is to please is often missed by absurd and
injudicious endeavours to obtain distinction, and who mistake
cowardice for elegance, and imagine all delicacy consists in refusing
to be pleased. A country gentleman relates the circumstances of his
visit to _Anthea_, a heiress, whose birth and beauty render her a
desirable match:--
'Dinner was now over, and the company proposed that we should pursue
our original design of visiting the gardens. Anthea declared that she
could not imagine what pleasure we expected from the sight of a few
green trees and a little gravel, and two or three pits of clear water;
that, for her part, she hated walking till the cool of the evening,
and thought it very likely to rain, and again wished she had stayed at
home. We then reconciled ourselves to our disappointment, and began to
talk on common subjects, when Anthea told us since we came to see the
gardens she would not hinder our satisfaction. We all rose, and walked
through the enclosures for some time with no other trouble than the
necessity of watching lest a frog should hop across the way, which,
Anthea told us, would certainly kill her if she should happen to see
him.
[Illustration]
'Frogs, as it fell out, there were none; but when we were within a
furlong of the gardens Anthea saw some sheep, and heard the wether
clink his bell, which she was certain was not hung upon him for
nothing, and therefore no assurances nor entreaties should prevail
upon her to go a step further: she was sorry to disappoint the
company, but her life was dearer to her than ceremony.
'We came back to the inn, and Anthea now discovered that there was no
time to be lost in returning, for the night would come upon us and a
thousand misfortunes might happen in the dark. The horses were
immediately harnessed, and Anthea, having wondered what could seduce
her to stay so long, was eager to set out. But we had now a new scene
of terror; every man we saw was a robber, and we were ordered
sometimes to drive hard--lest a traveller, whom we saw behind, should
overtake us--and sometimes to stop, lest we should come up to him who
was passing before us. She alarmed many an honest man by begging him
to spare her life as he passed by the coach, and drew me into fifteen
quarrels with persons who increased her fright by kindly stopping to
inquire whether they could assist us. At last we came home, and she
told her company next day what a pleasant ride she had been taking.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. I. No. 37.
Piping on their reeds the shepherds go,
Nor fear an ambush, nor suspect a foe.--_Pope._
Canto quæ solitus, si quando armenta vocabat,
Amphion Dircæus.--_Virg._
Such strains I sing as once Amphion play'd,
When listening flocks the powerful call obey'd.--_Elphinston._
[Illustration]
'The satisfaction received from pastoral writing not only begins
early, but lasts long; we do not, as we advance into the intellectual
world, throw it away among other childish amusements and pastimes, but
willingly return to it at any hour of indolence and relaxation. The
images of true pastoral have always the power of exciting delight,
because the works of nature, from which they are drawn, have always
the same order and beauty, and continue to force themselves upon our
thoughts, being at once obvious to the most careless regard and more
than adequate to the strongest reason and severest contemplation. Our
inclination to stillness and tranquillity is seldom much lessened by
long knowledge of the busy and tumultuous part of the world. In
childhood we turn our thoughts to the country as to the origin of
pleasure; we recur to it in old age as a part of rest, and, perhaps,
with that secondary and adventitious gladness which every man feels on
reviewing those places, or recollecting those occurrences, that
contribute to his youthful enjoyments, and bring him back to the prime
of life, when the world was gay with the bloom of novelty, when mirth
wantoned at his side, and hope sparkled before him.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. I. No. 55.
Now near to death that comes but slow,
Now thou art stepping down below;
Sport not among the blooming maids,
But think on ghosts and empty shades:
What suits with _Phœbe_ in her bloom,
Grey _Chloris_, will not thee become;
A bed is different from a tomb.--_Creech._
Parthenia addresses a letter to the 'Rambler' on the subject of the
troubles she suffers from the frivolous desire which her mother, a
widow, has contracted to practise the follies of youth, the pursuit of
which she finds fettered by the presence of Parthenia, whom she is
inclined to regard not as her daughter, but as a rival dangerous to
the admiration which the elder lady would confine to herself.
After a year of decent mourning had been devoted to deploring the loss
of Parthenia's father--'All the officiousness of kindness and folly
was busied to change the conduct of the widow. She was at one time
alarmed with censure, and at another fired with praise. She was told
of balls where others shone only because she was absent, of new
comedies to which all the town was crowding, and of many ingenious
ironies by which domestic diligence was made contemptible.
'It is difficult for virtue to stand alone against fear on one side
and pleasure on the other, especially when no actual crime is
proposed, and prudence itself can suggest many reasons for relaxation
and indulgence. My mamma was at last persuaded to accompany Mrs. Giddy
to a play. She was received with a boundless profusion of compliments,
and attended home by a very fine gentleman. Next day she was, with
less difficulty, prevailed on to play at Mrs. Gravely's, and came home
gay and lively, for the distinctions that had been paid her awakened
her vanity, and good luck had kept her principles of frugality from
giving her disturbance. She now made her second entrance into the
world, and her friends were sufficiently industrious to prevent any
return to her former life; every morning brought messages of
invitation, and every evening was passed in places of diversion, from
which she for some time complained that she had rather be absent. In a
short time she began to feel the happiness of acting without control,
of being unaccountable for her hours, her expenses, and her company,
and learned by degrees to drop an expression of contempt or pity at
the mention of ladies whose husbands were suspected of restraining
their pleasures or their play, and confessed that she loved to go and
come as she pleased.
[Illustration]
'My mamma now began to discover that it was impossible to educate
children properly at home. Parents could not have them always in their
sight; the society of servants was contagious; company produced
boldness and spirit; emulation excited industry; and a large school
was naturally the first step into the open world. A thousand other
reasons she alleged, some of little force in themselves, but so well
seconded by pleasure, vanity, and idleness, that they soon overcame
all the remaining principles of kindness and piety, and both I and my
brother were despatched to boarding-schools.
[Illustration]
'When I came home again, after sundry vacations, and, with the usual
childish alacrity, was running to my mother's embrace, she stopped me
with exclamations at the suddenness and enormity of my growth,
having, she said, never seen anybody shoot up so much at my age.
'She was sure no other girls spread at that rate, and she hated to
have children look like women before their time. I was disconcerted,
and retired without hearing anything more than "Nay, if you are angry,
Madam Steeple, you may walk off."
'She had yet the pleasure of dressing me like a child, and I know not
when I should have been thought fit to change my habit, had I not been
rescued by a maiden aunt of my father, who could not bear to see women
in hanging-sleeves, and therefore presented me with brocade for a
gown, for which I should have thought myself under great obligations,
had she not accompanied her favour with some hints that my mamma might
now consider her age, and give me her earrings, which she had shown
long enough in public places.
'Thus I live in a state of continual persecution only because I was
born ten years too soon, and cannot stop the course of nature or of
time, but am unhappily a woman before my mother can willingly cease to
be a girl. I believe you would contribute to the happiness of many
families if by any arguments, or persuasions, you could make mothers
ashamed of rivalling their children; if you could show them that
though they may refuse to grow wise they must inevitably grow old, and
that the proper solaces of age are not music and compliments, but
wisdom and devotion; that those who are so unwilling to quit the world
will soon be driven from it; and that it is, therefore, their interest
to retire while there yet remain a few hours for nobler
employments.--I am, &c.,
'PARTHENIA.'
The 'Rambler.'--Vol. I. No. 56.
Valeat res ludicra, si me
Palma negata macrum, donata reducit opimum.--_Hor._
Farewell the stage; for humbly I disclaim
Such fond pursuits of pleasure or of fame,
If I must sink in shame, or swell with pride,
As the gay psalm is granted or denied.--_Francis._
'I am afraid that I may be taxed with insensibility by many of my
correspondents, who believe their contributions neglected. And,
indeed, when I sit before a pile of papers, of which each is the
production of laborious study, and the offspring of a fond parent, I,
who know the passions of an author, cannot remember how long they have
been in my boxes unregarded without imagining to myself the various
changes of sorrow, impatience, and resentment which the writers must
have felt in this tedious interval.
[Illustration]
'These reflections are still more awakened when, upon perusal, I find
some of them calling for a place in the next paper, a place which they
have never yet obtained; others writing in a style of superiority and
haughtiness as secure of deference and above fear of criticism; others
humbly offering their weak assistance with softness and submission,
which they believe impossible to be resisted; some introducing their
compositions with a menace of the contempt he that refuses them will
incur; others applying privately to the booksellers for their interest
and solicitation; every one by different ways endeavouring to secure
the bliss of publication. I cannot but consider myself placed in a
very incommodious situation, where I am forced to repress confidence
which it is pleasing to indulge, to repay civilities with appearances
of neglect, and so frequently to offend those by whom I was never
offended.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. I. No. 59.
Strangulat inclusus dolor, atque exæstuat intus,
Cogitur et vires multiplicare suas.--_Ovid._
In vain by secrecy we would assuage
Our cares; conceal'd they gather tenfold rage.--_Lewis._
[Illustration]
'It is common to distinguish men by the names of animals which they
are supposed to resemble. Thus a hero is frequently termed a lion, and
a statesman a fox; an extortioner gains the appellation of vulture,
and a fop the title of monkey. There is also among the various
anomalies of character which a survey of the world exhibits, a species
of beings in human form which may be properly marked out as the
screech-owls of mankind.
'These screech-owls seem to be settled in an opinion that the great
business of life is to complain, and that they were born for no other
purpose than to disturb the happiness of others, to lessen the little
comforts and shorten the short pleasures of our condition, by painful
remembrances of the past, or melancholy prognostics of the future;
their only care is to crush the rising hope, to damp the kindling
transport, and alloy the golden hours of gaiety with the hateful dross
of grief and suspicion.
'I have known Suspirius, the screech-owl, fifty-eight years and four
months, and have never passed an hour with him in which he has not
made some attack upon my quiet. When we were first acquainted, his
great topic was the misery of youth without riches; and whenever we
walked out together, he solaced me with a long enumeration of
pleasures, which, as they were beyond the reach of my fortune, were
without the verge of my desires, and which I should never have
considered as the objects of a wish, had not his unreasonable
representations placed them in my sight.
'Suspirius has, in his time, intercepted fifteen authors on their way
to the stage; persuaded nine-and-thirty merchants to retire from a
prosperous trade for fear of bankruptcy; broke off a hundred and
thirty matches by prognostications of unhappiness; and enabled the
small-pox to kill nineteen ladies by perpetual alarms of the loss of
beauty.
'Whenever my evil star brings us together he never fails to represent
to me the folly of my pursuits, and informs me we are much older than
when we began our acquaintance; that the infirmities of decrepitude
are coming fast upon me; that whatever I now get I shall enjoy but a
little time; that fame is to a man tottering on the edge of the grave
of very little importance; and that the time is at hand when I ought
to look for no other pleasures than a good dinner and an easy chair.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. I. No. 61.
Falsus honor juvat, et mendax infamia terret,
Quem, nisi mendosum et mendacem?--_Hor._
False praise can charm, unreal shame control
Whom but a vicious or a sickly soul?--_Francis._
Ruricola, who dwells in the country, is writing upon the airs which
those, whose pursuits take them to London, assume on their return to
their more homely associates; and he relates in particular the
pretensions of one _Frolic_, who has endowed himself with importance
upon the mysterious and self-conferred reputation of _knowing town_.
[Illustration]
'My curiosity,' declares Ruricola, 'has been most engaged by the
recital of his own adventures and achievements. I have heard of the
union of various characters in single persons, but never met with such
a constellation of great qualities as this man's narrative affords.
Whatever has distinguished the hero, whatever has elevated the wit,
whatever has endeared the lover, are all concentrated in Mr. Frolic,
whose life has, for seven years, been a regular interchange of
intrigues, dangers, and waggeries, and who has distinguished himself
in every character that can be feared, envied, or admired.
'I question whether all the officers in the royal navy can bring
together, from all their journals, a collection of so many wonderful
escapes as this man has known upon the Thames, on which he has been a
thousand times on the point of perishing, sometimes by the terrors of
foolish women in the same boat, sometimes by his own acknowledged
imprudence in passing the river in the dark, and sometimes by
shooting the bridge, under which he has encountered mountainous waves
and dreadful cataracts.
'Not less has been his temerity by land, nor fewer his hazards. He has
reeled with giddiness on the top of the Monument; he has crossed the
street amidst the rush of coaches; he has been surrounded by robbers
without number; he has headed parties at the play-house; he has scaled
the windows of every toast of whatever condition; he has been hunted
for whole winters by his rivals; he has slept upon bulks; he has cut
chairs; he has bilked coachmen; he has rescued his friends from
bailiffs, and has knocked down the constable, has bullied the justice,
and performed many other exploits that have filled the town with
wonder and merriment.
[Illustration]
'But yet greater is the fame of his understanding than his bravery,
for he informs us that he is, in London, the established arbitrator on
all points of honour, and the decisive judge of all performances of
genius; that no musical performer is in reputation till the opinion of
Frolic has ratified his pretensions; that the theatres suspend their
sentence till he begins to clap or hiss, in which all are proud to
concur; that no public entertainment has failed or succeeded but
because he opposed or favoured it; that all controversies at the
gaming-table are referred to his determination; that he adjusts the
ceremonial at every assembly, and prescribes every fashion of pleasure
or of dress.
'With every man whose name occurs in the papers of the day he is
intimately acquainted, and there are very few points either on the
state or army of which he has not more or less influenced the
disposal, while he has been very frequently consulted both upon peace
and war.'
Ruricola concludes by inquiring whether Mr. Frolic is really so well
known in London as he pretends, or if he shall denounce him as an
impostor.
[Illustration]
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. II. No. 89.
Dulce est desipere in loco.
[Illustration]
'There is nothing more fatal to a man whose business is to think than
to have learned the art of regaling his mind with those airy
gratifications. Other vices or follies are restrained by fear,
reformed by admonition, or rejected by conviction, which the
comparison of our conduct with that of others may in time produce. But
this invisible riot of the mind, this secret prodigality of being, is
secure from detection and fearless from reproach. The dreamer retires
to his apartments, shuts out the cares and interruptions of mankind,
and abandons himself to his own fancy; new worlds rise up before him,
one image is followed by another, and a long succession of delights
dances around him. He is at last called back to life by nature or by
custom, and enters peevish into society because he cannot model it to
his own will. He returns from his idle excursions with the asperity,
though not with the knowledge, of a student, and hastens again to the
same felicity with the eagerness of a man bent upon the advancement of
some favourite science. The infatuation strengthens by degrees, and,
like the poison of opiates, weakens his powers without any external
symptom of malignity.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. II. No. 100.
'It is hard upon poor creatures, be they ever so mean, to deny them
those enjoyments and liberties which are equally open for all. Yet, if
servants were taught to go to church on Sunday, spend some part of it
in reading, or receiving instruction in a _family way_, and the rest
in mere friendly conversation, the poor wretches would infallibly take
it into their heads that they were obliged to be sober, modest,
diligent, and faithful to their masters and mistresses.'
[Illustration]
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. II. No. 114.
When man's life is in debate,
The judge can ne'er too long deliberate.--_Dryden._
'The gibbet, indeed, certainly disables those who die upon it from
infesting the community; but their death seems not to contribute more
to the reformation of their associates than any other method of
separation. A thief seldom passes much of his time in recollection or
anticipation, but from robbery hastens to riot, and from riot to
robbery; nor, when the grave closes upon his companion, has any other
care than to find another.
[Illustration]
'The frequency of capital punishments, therefore, rarely hinders the
commission of a crime, but naturally and commonly prevents its
detection, and is, if we proceed upon prudential principles, chiefly
for that reason to be avoided. Whatever may be urged by casuists or
politicians, the greater part of mankind, as they can never think that
to pick the pocket and to pierce the heart is equally criminal, will
scarcely believe that two malefactors so different in guilt can be
justly doomed to the same punishment; nor is the necessity of
submitting the conscience to human laws so plainly evinced, so clearly
stated, or so generally allowed, but that the pious, the tender, the
just, will always scruple to concur with the community in an act which
their private judgment cannot approve.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. II. No. 117.
'Tis sweet thy lab'ring steps to guide
To virtue's heights with wisdom well supplied,
From all the magazines of learning fortified
From thence to look below on human kind,
Bewilder'd in the maze of life, and blind.--_Dryden._
'The conveniences described in these lines may perhaps all be found in
a well-chosen garret; but surely they cannot be supposed sufficiently
important to have operated invariably upon different climates, distant
ages, and separate nations.
[Illustration]
'Another cause of the gaiety and sprightliness of the dwellers in
garrets is probably the increase of that vertiginous motion with which
we are carried round by the diurnal revolution of the earth. The power
of agitation upon the spirits is well known; every man has his heart
lightened in a rapid vehicle, or on a galloping horse, and nothing is
plainer than that he who towers to the fifth story is whirled through
more space by every circumrotation than another that grovels upon the
ground-floor.
'If you imagine that I ascribe to air and motion effects which they
cannot produce, I desire you to consult your own memory, and consider
whether you have never known a man acquire reputation in his garret,
which, when fortune or a patron had placed him upon the first floor,
he was unable to maintain; and who never recovered his former vigour
of understanding till he was restored to his original situation.
'That a garret will make every man a wit I am very far from supposing.
I know there are some who would continue blockheads even on the summit
of the Andes and on the peak of Teneriffe. But let not any man be
considered as unimprovable till this potent remedy has been tried; for
perhaps he was formed to be great only in a garret, as the joiner of
Aretæus was rational in no other place but his own shop.'
[Illustration]
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. II. No. 124.
To range in silence through each healthful wood,
And muse what's worthy of the wise and good.
[Illustration]
'To those who leave the public places of resort in the full bloom of
reputation, and withdraw from admiration, courtship, submission, and
applause, a rural triumph can give nothing equivalent. The praise of
ignorance and the subjection of weakness are little regarded by
beauties who have been accustomed to more important conquests and
more valuable panegyrics. Nor, indeed, should the powers which have
made havoc in the theatres or borne down rivalry in courts be degraded
to a mean attack upon the untravelled heir, or ignoble contest with
the ruddy milkmaid.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 142.
[Illustration]
'Squire Bluster is descended from an ancient family. The estate which
his ancestors immemoriably possessed was much augmented by Captain
Bluster, who served under Drake in the reign of Elizabeth; and the
Blusters, who were before only petty gentlemen, have from that time
frequently represented the shire in parliament, being chosen to
present addresses and give laws at hunting-matches and races. They
were eminently hospitable and popular till the father of this
gentleman died of an election. His lady went to the grave soon after
him, and left their heir, then only ten years old, to the care of his
grandmother, who would not suffer him to be controlled, because she
could not bear to hear him cry; and never sent him to school, because
she was not able to live without his company. She taught him, however,
very early to inspect the steward's accounts, to dog the butler from
the cellar, and catch the servants at a junket; so that he was at the
age of eighteen a complete master of all the lower arts of domestic
policy, and had often on the road detected combinations between the
coachman and the ostler.
'Money, in whatever hands, will confer power. Distress will fly to
immediate refuge, without much consideration of remote consequences.
Bluster had, therefore, on coming of age, a despotic authority in many
families, whom he had assisted, on pressing occasions, with larger
sums than they can easily repay. The only visits that he makes are to
those houses of misfortune, where he enters with the insolence of
absolute command, enjoys the terrors of the family, exacts their
obedience, riots at their charge, and in the height of his joys
insults the father with menaces and the daughters with scurrilities.
'Such is the life of Squire Bluster; a man in whose power Fortune has
liberally placed the means of happiness, but who has defeated all her
gifts of their end by the depravity of his mind. He is wealthy without
followers; he is magnificent without witnesses; he hath birth without
alliance, and influence without dignity. His neighbours scorn him as a
brute; his dependants dread him as an oppressor; and he has only the
gloomy comfort of reflecting that if he is hated he is likewise
feared.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 153.
Turba Remi sequitur fortunam, ut semper, et odit
Damnatos.--_Juv._
The fickle crowd with fortune comes and goes;
Wealth still finds followers, and misfortune foes.
The writer, who had been adopted by a rich nabob lately returned from
the Indies, suddenly found himself deprived of the fortune which it
was anticipated would have fallen to his share; his patron having died
without making a will in his protégé's favour, and thus a fine estate
had gone to another branch of the family.
'It was now my part,' writes the victim of this unexpected adversity,
'to consider how I should repair the disappointment. I could not but
triumph in my long list of friends, which composed almost every name
that power or knowledge entitled to eminence, and in the prospect of
the innumerable roads to honour and preferment which I had laid open
to myself by the wise use of temporary riches. I believed nothing
necessary but that I should continue that acquaintance to which I had
been so readily admitted, and which had hitherto been cultivated on
both sides with equal ardour.
'Full of these expectations, I one morning ordered a chair, with an
intention to make my usual circle of morning visits. Where I first
stopped I saw two footmen lolling at the door, who told me, without
any change of posture or collection of countenance, that their master
was at home; and suffered me to open the inner door without
assistance. I found my friend standing, and as I was tattling with my
former freedom was formally entreated to sit down, but did not stay to
be favoured with any further condescensions.
[Illustration]
'My next experiment was made at the levée of a statesman, who received
me with an embrace of tenderness, that he might with more decency
publish my change of fortune to the sycophants about. After he had
enjoyed the triumph of condolence he turned to a wealthy stockjobber,
and left me exposed to the scorn of those who had lately courted my
notice and solicited my interest.
'I was then set down at the door of another, who upon my entrance
advised me with great solemnity to think of some settled provision for
life. I left him and hurried away to an old friend, who professed
himself unsusceptible of any impressions from prosperity or
misfortune, and begged that he might see me when he was more at
leisure.
'Of sixty-seven doors at which I knocked in the first week after my
appearance in a mourning dress I was denied admission at forty-six;
was suffered at fourteen to wait in the outer room till business was
despatched; at four was entertained with a few questions about the
weather; at one heard the footman rated for bringing my name; and at
two was informed, in the flow of casual conversation, how much a man
of rank degrades himself by mean company.
'Such, Mr. Rambler, is the power of wealth, that it commands the ear
of greatness and the eye of beauty; gives spirit to the dull and
authority to the timorous, and leaves him from whom it departs without
virtue and without understanding, the sport of caprice, the scoff of
insolence, the slave of meanness, and the pupil of ignorance.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 170.
Misella sends her history to the 'Rambler' as a caution to others who
may chance to rely on the fidelity of distant relatives. Her father
becoming burdened with a family larger than his means could decently
provide for, a wealthy relative had offered to take the charge of one
member, the writer, upon himself.
'Without knowing for what purpose I was called to my great cousin,'
says the unhappy Misella, 'I endeavoured to recommend myself by my
best courtesy, sang him my prettiest song, told the last story that I
had read, and so much endeared myself by my innocence that he declared
his resolution to adopt me, and to educate me with his own daughters.
[Illustration]
'My parents felt the common struggle at the thought of parting, and
_some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon_. They
considered, not without that false estimation of the value of wealth
which poverty long continued always produces, that I was raised to
higher rank than they could give me, and to hopes of more ample
fortune than they could bequeath. My mother sold some of her ornaments
to dress me in such a manner as might secure me from contempt at my
first arrival, and when she dismissed me pressed me to her bosom with
an embrace which I still feel.
'My sister carried my finery, and seemed not much to regret our
separation; my father conducted me to the stage-coach with a sort of
cheerful tenderness; and in a very short time I was transported to
splendid apartments and a luxurious table, and grew familiar to show,
noise, and gaiety.
'In three years my mother died, having implored a blessing on her
family with her last breath.
'I had little opportunity to indulge a sorrow which there was none to
partake with me, and therefore soon ceased to reflect much upon my
loss. My father turned all his care upon his other children, whom some
fortunate adventures and unexpected legacies enabled him, when he died
four years after my mother, to leave in a condition above their
expectations.
'I should have shared the increase of his fortunes and had once a
portion assigned me in his will, but my cousin assuring him that all
care for me was needless, since he had resolved to place me happily in
the world, directed him to divide my part amongst my sisters.
'Thus I was thrown upon dependence without resource. Being now at an
age in which young women are initiated into company, I was no longer
to be supported in my former character, but at considerable expense;
so that partly lest appearance might draw too many compliments and
assiduities I was insensibly degraded from my equality, and enjoyed
few privileges above the head servant but that of receiving no wages.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 181.
Neu fluitem dubiæ spe pendulus horæ.--_Hor._
Nor let me float in fortune's power,
Dependent on the future hour.--_Francis._
'Sir,--As I have passed much of life in disgust and suspense, and lost
many opportunities of advantage by a passion which I have reason to
believe prevalent in different degrees over a great part of mankind, I
cannot but think myself well qualified to warn those who are yet
uncaptivated of the dangers which they incur by placing themselves
within its influence.
'In the course of even prosperity I was one day persuaded to buy a
ticket in the lottery. At last the day came, my ticket appeared, and
rewarded all my care and sagacity with a despicable prize of fifty
pounds.
'My friends, who honestly rejoiced upon my success, were very coldly
received; I hid myself a fortnight in the country that my chagrin
might fume away without observation, and then, returning to my shop,
began to listen after another lottery.
'With the news of a lottery I was soon gratified, and, having now
found the vanity of conjecture and inefficacy of computation, I
resolved to take the prize by violence, and therefore bought forty
tickets, not omitting, however, to divide them between the even and
the odd, that I might not miss the lucky class. Many conclusions did I
form, and many experiments did I try, to determine from which of those
tickets I might most reasonably expect riches. At last, being unable
to satisfy myself by any modes of reasoning, I wrote the numbers upon
dice, and allotted five hours every day to the amusement of throwing
them in a garret; and examining the event by an exact register, found,
on the evening before the lottery was drawn, that one of my numbers
had turned up five times more than any of the rest in three hundred
and thirty thousand throws.
[Illustration]
'This experiment was fallacious; the first day presented the ticket a
detestable blank. The rest came out with different fortune, and in
conclusion I lost thirty pounds by this great adventure.
'The prize which had been suffered to slip from me filled me with
anguish, and, knowing that complaint would only expose me to ridicule,
I gave myself up silently to grief, and lost by degrees my appetite
and my rest.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 187.
Love alters not for us his hard decrees,
Not though beneath the Thracian clime we freeze,
Or the mild bliss of temperate skies forego,
And in mid-winter tread Sithonian snow:--
Love conquers all.--_Dryden._
'ANNINGAIT AND AJUT, A GREENLAND HISTORY.
'In one of the large caves to which the families of Greenland retire
together to pass the cold months, and which may be termed their
villages or cities, a youth and maid, who came from different parts
of the country, were so much distinguished for their beauty that they
were called by the rest of the inhabitants Anningait and Ajut, from
their supposed resemblance to their ancestors of the same names who
had been transformed of old into the sun and moon.
'The elegance of Ajut's dress, and the judicious disposition of her
ornaments of coral and shells, had such an effect upon Anningait that
he could no longer be restrained from a declaration of his love. He,
therefore, composed a poem in her praise, in which, among other heroic
and tender sentiments, he protested that, "She was beautiful as the
vernal willow, and fragrant as thyme upon the mountains; that her
fingers were white as the teeth of the morse, and her smile grateful
as the dissolution of the ice; that he would pursue her though she
should pass the snows of the midland cliffs, or seek shelter in the
caves of the eastern cannibals; that he would tear her from the
embrace of the genius of the rocks, snatch her from the paws of
Amaroc, and rescue her from the ravine of Hafgufa."
'This ode being universally applauded, it was expected that Ajut would
soon yield to such fervour and accomplishments; but Ajut, with the
natural haughtiness of beauty, expected all the forms of courtship;
and before she would confess herself conquered the sun returned, the
ice broke, and the season of labour called all to their employments.
[Illustration]
'It happened that a tempest drove the fish to a distant part of the
coast before Anningait had completed his store; he therefore entreated
Ajut that she would at last grant him her hand and accompany him to
that part of the country whither he was now summoned of necessity.
Ajut thought him not yet entitled to such condescension, but proposed,
as a trial of constancy, that he should return at the end of summer to
the cavern where their acquaintance commenced, and there expect the
reward of his assiduities. But Anningait tried to soften this
resolution: he feelingly represented the uncertainty of existence and
the dangers of the passage, and his loneliness when distant from the
object of his love. "Consider, Ajut," urged he, "a few summer days, a
few winter nights, and the life of man is at an end. Night is the time
of ease and festivity, of revels and gaiety; but what will be the
flaming lamp, the delicious seal, or the soft oil without the smile of
Ajut?"
'The eloquence of Anningait was vain; the maid continued inexorable,
and they parted with ardent promises to meet again before the night of
winter. Anningait, however discomposed by the dilatory coyness of
Ajut, was resolved to omit no tokens of amorous respect, and therefore
presented her at his departure with the skins of seven white fawns, of
five swans, and eleven seals, with three marble lamps, ten vessels of
seal-oil, and a large kettle of brass which he had purchased from a
ship at the price of half a whale and two horns of sea-unicorns.
'Ajut was so much affected by the fondness of her lover, or so much
overpowered by his munificence, that she followed him to the seaside;
and, when she saw him enter the boat, wished aloud that he might
return with plenty of skins and oil, that neither the mermaids might
snatch him into the deeps, nor the spirits of the rocks confine him in
their caverns.
'Parted from each other, the lovers devoted themselves to the
remembrances of their affection; Anningait devoted himself to fishing
and the chase with redoubled energy, that his stores for the future
might exceed the expectations of his bride; and Ajut mourned the
absence of her betrothed with ceaseless fidelity. She neglected the
ornaments of her person, and, to avoid the solicitations of her
lover's rivals, withdrew herself into complete seclusion. Thus passed
the months of separation. At last Ajut saw the great boat in which
Anningait departed stealing slow and heavy laden along the coast. She
ran with all the impatience of affection to catch her lover in her
arms, and relate her constancy and sufferings. When the company
reached the land they informed her that Anningait, after the fishery
was ended, being unable to support the slow passage of the vessel of
carriage, had set out before them in his fishing-boat, and they
expected at their arrival to have found him on shore.
'Ajut, distracted at this intelligence, was about to fly into the
hills without knowing why, though she was now in the hands of her
parents, who forced her back to her own hut and endeavoured to
comfort her; but when at last they retired to rest, Ajut went down to
the beach, where, finding a fishing-boat, she entered it without
hesitation, and, telling those who wondered at her rashness that she
was going in search of Anningait, rowed away with great swiftness and
was seen no more.
[Illustration]
'The fate of these lovers gave occasion to various fictions and
conjectures. Some are of opinion that they were changed into stars;
others imagine that Anningait was seized in his passage by the genius
of the rocks, and that Ajut was transformed into a mermaid, and still
continues to seek her lover in the deserts of the sea. But the general
persuasion is that they are both in that part of the land of souls
where the sun never sets, where oil is always fresh, and provisions
always warm. The virgins sometimes throw a thimble and a needle into
the bay from which the hapless maid departed, and when a Greenlander
would praise any couple for virtuous affection he declares that they
love like Anningait and Ajut.'
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 191.
Cereus in vitium flecti, monitoribus asper.--_Hor._
The youth----
Yielding like wax, th' impressive folly bears;
Rough to reproof, and slow to future cares.--_Francis._
'Dear Mr. Rambler,--I have been four days confined to my chamber by a
cold, which has already kept me from three plays, nine sales, five
shows, and six card-tables, and put me seventeen visits behind; and
the doctor tells my mamma that, if I fret and cry, it will settle in
my head, and I shall not be fit to be seen these six weeks. But, dear
Mr. Rambler, how can I help it? At this very time Melissa is dancing
with the prettiest gentleman; she will breakfast with him to-morrow,
and then run to two auctions, and hear compliments, and have presents;
then she will be dressed and visit, and get a ticket to the play, then
go to cards, and win, and come home with two flambeaus before her
chair. Dear Mr. Rambler, who can bear it?
* * * * *
'I am at a loss to guess for what purpose they relate such tragic
stories of the cruelty, perfidy, and artifices of men, who, if they
ever were so malicious and destructive, have certainly now reformed
their manners. I have not, since my entrance into the world, found one
who does not profess himself devoted to my service, and ready to live
or die as I shall command him. They are so far from intending to hurt
me that their only contention is, who shall be allowed most closely to
attend and most frequently to treat me; when different places of
entertainment or schemes of pleasure are mentioned, I can see the eyes
sparkle and the cheeks glow of him whose proposals obtain my
approbation; he then leads me off in triumph, adores my condescension,
and congratulates himself that he has lived to the hour of felicity.
Are these, Mr. Rambler, creatures to be feared? and is it likely that
any injury will be done me by those who can enjoy life only while I
favour them with my presence?
'As little reason can I yet find to suspect them of stratagems and
fraud. When I play at cards they never take advantage of any mistakes,
nor exact from me a rigorous observation of the game. Even Mr.
Shuffle, a grave gentleman, who has daughters older than myself, plays
with me so negligently that I am sometimes inclined to believe he
loses his money by design; and yet he is so fond of play that he says
he will one day take me to his house in the country, that we may try
by ourselves who can conquer. I have not yet promised him; but when
the town grows a little empty I shall think upon it, for I want some
trinkets, like Letitia's, to my watch. I do not doubt my luck, but I
must study some means of amusing my relations.
'For all these distinctions I find myself indebted to that beauty
which I was never suffered to hear praised, and of which, therefore,
I did not before know the full value. This concealment was certainly
an intentional fraud, for my aunts have eyes like other people, and I
am every day told that nothing but blindness can escape the influence
of my charms. Their whole account of that world which they pretend to
know so well has been only one fiction entangled with another; and
though the modes of life oblige me to continue some appearances of
respect, I cannot think that they who have been so clearly detected in
ignorance or imposture have any right to the esteem, veneration, or
obedience of,
'Sir, yours,
'Bellaria.'
[Illustration]
THE 'RAMBLER.'--Vol. III. No. 199.
Obscure, unprized, and dark the magnet lies,
Nor lures the search of avaricious eyes,
Nor binds the neck, nor sparkles in the hair,
Nor dignifies the great, nor decks the fair.
But search the wonders of the dusky stone,
And own all glories of the mine outdone,
Each grace of form, each ornament of state,
That decks the fair or dignifies the great!
'_To the "Rambler._"
'Sir,--The curiosity of the present race of philosophers having been
long exercised upon electricity has been lately transferred to
magnetism; the qualities of the loadstone have been investigated, if
not with much advantage, yet with great applause; and, as the highest
praise of art is to imitate nature, I hope no man will think the
makers of artificial magnets celebrated or reverenced above their
deserts.
[Illustration]
'I have for some time employed myself in the same practice, but with
deeper knowledge and more extensive views. While my contemporaries
were touching needles and raising weights, or busying themselves with
inclination and variation, I have been examining those qualities of
magnetism which may be applied to the accommodation and happiness of
common life. I have left to inferior understandings the care of
conducting the sailor through the hazards of the ocean, and reserved
to myself the more difficult and illustrious province of preserving
the connubial compact from violation, and setting mankind free for
ever from the torments of fruitless vigilance and anxious suspicion.
'To defraud any man of his due praise is unworthy of a philosopher. I
shall therefore openly confess that I owe the first hint of this
inestimable secret to the Rabbi Abraham Ben Hannase, who, in his
treatise of precious stones, has left this account of the magnet: "The
calamita, or loadstone, that attracts iron, produces many bad
fantasies in man. Women fly from this stone. If, therefore, any
husband be disturbed with jealousy, and fear lest his wife converses
with other men, let him lay this stone upon her while she is asleep.
If she be pure she will, when she wakes, clasp her husband fondly in
her arms; but if she be guilty she will fall out of bed, and run
away."
'With these hopes I shall, in a short time, offer for sale magnets
armed with a particular metallic composition, which concentrates their
virtue and determines their agency.
[Illustration]
'I shall sell them of different sizes, and various degrees of
strength. I have some of a bulk proper to be hung at the bed's head,
as scarecrows, and some so small that they may be easily concealed.
Some I have ground into oval forms, to be hung at watches; and some,
for the curious, I have set in wedding rings, that ladies may never
want an attestation of their innocence. Some I can produce so sluggish
and inert that they will not act before the third failure, and others
so vigorous and animated that they exert their influence against
unlawful wishes, if they have been willingly and deliberately
indulged. As it is my practice honestly to tell my customers the
properties of my magnets I can judge by the choice of the delicacy of
their sentiments. Many have been contented to spare cost by purchasing
only the lowest degree of efficacy, and all have started with terror
from those which operate upon the thoughts. One young lady only fitted
on a ring of the strongest energy, and declared that she scorned to
separate her wishes from her acts, or allow herself to think what she
was forbidden to practise.
'I am, &c.,
'HERMETICUS.'
FOOTNOTE:
[30] Dr. Johnson seems here to point his homily from the instance of
his friend Goldsmith. This circumstance gives an individual interest
to a slightly ponderous sketch.