plored the heavens, and to the heavens when he | the spirit and acuteness which nature had very addressed the earth. liberally bestowed upon both in hourly disputes, and incessant contrivances to detect each other in the wrong; so that from the first exertions of reason I was bred a disputant, trained up in all the arts of domestic sophistry, initiated in a thousand low stratagems, nimble shifts, and sly concealments; versed in all the terms of altercation, and acquainted with the whole discipline of fending and proving. Those who are determined to find in Milton an assemb.age of all the excellences which have ennobled all other poets, will perhaps be offended that I do not celebrate his versification in higher terms; for there are readers who discover that in this passage, So stretch'd out huge in length the arch fiend lay, a long form is described in a long line; but the Then from the mountains hewing timber tall, Measured by cubit, length and breadth, and height. In these lines the poet apparently designs to fix the attention upon bulk; but this is effected by the enumeration, not by the measure; for what analogy can there be between modulations of sound, and corporeal dimensions? I It was necessarily my care to preserve the kindness of both the controvertists, and therefore had very early formed the habit of suspending my judgment, of hearing arguments with indif ference, inclining as occasion required to either side, and of holding myself undetermined between them till I knew for what opinion I might conveniently declare. Thus, Sir, I acquired very early the skill of disputation; and as we naturally love the arts in which we believe ourselves to excel, I did not let my abilities lie useless, nor suffer my dexterity to be lost for want of practice. I engaged in perpetual wrangles with my schoolfellows, and was never to be convinced or repressed by any other arguments than blows, by which my antagonists Milton, indeed, seems only to have regarded commonly determined the controversy, as I was, this species of embellishment so far as not to re-like the Roman orator, much more eminent for ject it when it came unsought; which would eloquence than courage. often happen to a mind so vigorous, employed upon a subject so various and extensive. He had, indeed, a greater and a nobler work to perform; a single sentiment of moral or religious truth, a single image of life or nature, would have been cheaply lost for a thousand echoes of the cadence to the sense; and he who had undertaken to vindicate the ways of God to man, might have been accused of neglecting his cause, had he lavished much of his attention upon syllables At the university I found my predominant am bition completely gratified by the study of logic. I impressed upon my memory a thousand axioms, and ten thousand distinctions, practised every form of syllogism, passed all my days in the schools of disputation, and slept every night with Smiglecius* on my pillow. You will not doubt but such a genius was soon raised to eminence by such application: I was celebrated in my third year for the most artful opponent that the university could boast, and became the terror and envy of all the candidates for philosophical reputation. My renown, indeed, was not purchased but at the price of all my time and all my studies. I never spoke but to contradict, nor declaimed but in defence of a position universally acknowledged to be false, and therefore worthy, in my opinion, to be adorned with all the colours of false representation, and strengthened with all the arts of fallacious subtilty. My father, who had no other wish than to see his son richer than himself, easily concluded that I should distinguish myself among the professors of the law; and, therefore, when I had taken my first degree, despatched me to the Temple with a paternal admonition, that I should never suffer myself to feel shame, for nothing but modesty could retard my fortune. SIR, Vitiated, ignorant, and heady, as I was, I had THERE are many diseases both of the body and not yet lost my reverence for virtue, and theremind, which it is far easier to prevent than to fore could not receive such dictates without horcure, and therefore I hope you will think me em-ror; but however, was pleased with his determiployed in an office not useless either to learning nation of my course of life, because he placed me or virtue, if I describe the symptoms of an intel-in the way that leads soonest from the prescribed lectual malady, which, though at first it seizes walks of discipline and education, to the open only the passions, will, if not speedily remedied, fields of liberty and choice. infect the reason, and, from blasting the blossoms of knowledge, proceed in time to canker the root. I was born in the house of discord. My parents were of unsuitable ages, contrary tempers, and different religions, and therefore employed I was now in the place where every one catches the contagion of vanity, and soon began to A Polish writer, whose "Logic" was formerly held in great estimation in this country as well as on the cou tinent distinguish myself by sophisras and paradoxes | conscience, without principles of reason, or moI declared war against all received opinions and tives of action, established rules, and levelled my batteries particularly against those universal principles which had stood unshaken in all the vicissitudes of literature, and are considered as the inviolable temples of truth, or the impregnable bulwarks of science. I applied myself chiefly to those parts of learning which have filled the world with doubt and perplexity, and could readily produce all the arguments relating to matter and motion, time and space, identity and infinity. I was equally able and equally willing to maintain the system of Newton or Descartes, and favoured occasionally the hypothesis of Ptolemy, or that of Copernicus. I sometimes exalted vegetables to sense, and sometimes degraded animals to mechanism. Nor was I less inclined to weaken the credit of history, or perplex the doctrines of polity. I was always of the party which I heard the company condemn. Among the zealots of liberty I could harangue with great copiousness upon the advantages of absolute monarchy, the secrecy of its counsels, and the expedition of its measures; and often celebrated the blessings produced by the extinction of parties, and preclusion of debates. Among the assertors of regal authority, I never failed to declaim with republican warmth upon the original charter of universal liberty, the corruption of courts, and the folly of voluntary submission to those whom nature has levelled with ourselves. I knew the defects of every scheme of government, and the inconveniences of every law. I sometimes showed how much the condition of mankind would be improved, by breaking the world into petty sovereignties, and sometimes displayed the felicity and peace which universal monarchy would diffuse over the earth. Such is the hazard of repressing the first perceptions of truth, of spreading for diversion the snares of sophistry, and engaging reason against its own determination. The disproportions of absurdity grow less and less visible, as we are reconciled by degrees to the deformity of a mistress; and falsehood by long use is assimilated to the mind, as poison to the body. I had soon the mortification of seeing my conversation courted only by the ignorant or wicked, by either boys who were enchanted by novelty, or wretches, who, having long disobeyed virtue and reason, were now desirous of my assistance to dethrone them. Thus alarmed, I shuddered at my own corruption, and that pride by which I had been seduced, contributed to reclaim me. I was weary of continual irresolution, and a perpetual equipoise of the mind; and ashamed of being the favourite of those who were scorned and shunned by the rest of mankind. I therefore retired from all temptation to dispute, prescribed a new regimen to my understanding, and resolved, instead of rejecting all established opinions which I could not prove, to tolerate though not adopt all which I could not confute. I forbore to heat my imagination with needless controversies, to discuss questions confessedly uncertain, and refrained steadily from gratifying my vanity by the support of falsehood. By this method I am at length recovered from my argumental delirium, and find myself in the state of one awakened from the confusion and tumult of a feverish dream. I rejoice in the new possession of evidence and reality, and step on from truth to truth with confidence and quiet. I am, Sir, &c. here PERTINAX. SATURDAY, FEB. 16, 1751. Quod si Platonis musa personat verum, To every acknowledged fact I found innumerable objections; for it was my rule, to judge of history only by abstracted probability, and there- No. 96.] fore I made no scruple of bidding defiance to testimony. I have more than once questioned the existence of Alexander the Great; and having demonstrated the folly of erecting edifices like the pyramids of Egypt, I frequently hinted my suspicion that the world had been long deceived, and that they were to be found only in the narratives of travellers. It had been happy for me could I have confined my scepticism to historical controversies, and philosophical disquisitions; but having now violated my reason, and accustomed myself to inquire not after proofs but objections, I had perpiexed truth with falsehood, till my ideas were confused, my judgment embarrassed, and my intellects distorted. The habit of considering every proposition as alike uncertain, left me no test by which any tenet could be tried; every opinion presented both sides with equal evidence, and my fallacies began to operate upon my own mind in more important inquiries. It was at last the sport of my vanity to weaken the obligations of moral duty, and efface the distinctions of good and evil, till I had deadened the sense of conviction, and abandoned my heart to the fluctuations of uncertainty, without anchor and without compass, without satisfaction of curiosity, or peace of] Truth in Platonic ornaments bedeck'd BOETHIN'S Ir is reported of the Persians, by an ancient writer, that the sum of their education consisted in teaching youth to ride, to shoot with the bow, and to speak truth. The bow and the horse were easily mastered, but it would have been happy if we had been informed by what arts veracity was cultivated, and by what preservatives a Persian mind was secured against the temptations to falsehood. There are, indeed, in the present corruption of mankind, many incitements to forsake truth, the need of palliating our own faults, and the convenience of imposing on the ignorance or credulity of others, so frequently occur; so many immediate evils are to be avoided, and so many present gratifications obtained, by craft and delusion, that very few of those who are much entangled in life, have spirit and constancy suffisient to support them in the steady practice of open veracity.. In order that all men may be taught to speak truth, it is necessary that all likewise should | perpetually shifted her ground, and let fly her learn to hear it; for no species of falsehood is arrows in different directions; for she certainly more frequent than flattery, to which the cow-found that her strength failed, whenever the eye ard is betrayed by fear, the dependant by inte- of Truth darted full upon her. rest, and the friend by tenderness. Those who are neither servile nor timorous, are yet desirous to bestow pleasure; and while unjust demands of praise continue to be made, there will always be some whom hope, fear, or kindness, will dispose to pay them. The guilt of falsehood is very widely extended, and many whom their conscience can scarcely charge with stooping to a lie, have vitiated the morals of others by their vanity, and patronised the vice which they believe themselves to abhor. Truth is, indeed, not often welcome for its own sake; it is generally unpleasing because contrary to our wishes and opposite to our practice: and as our attention naturally follows our interests, we hear unwillingly what we are afraid to know, and soon forget what we have no inclination to impress upon our memories. For this reason many arts of instruction have been invented, by which the reluctance against truth may be overcome; and as physic is given to children in confections, precepts have been hidden under a thousand appearances, that mankind may be bribed by pleasure to escape de struction. Truth had the awful aspect though not the thunder of her father, and when the long continuance of the contest brought them near to one another, Falsehood let the arms of Sophistry fall from her grasp, and holding up the shield of Impudence with both her hands, sheltered herself amongst the passions. Truth, though she was often wounded, always recovered in a short time; but it was common for the slightest hurt, received by Falsehood, to spread its malignity to the neighbouring parts, and to burst open again when it seemed to have been cured. Falsehood, in a short time, found by experience that her superiority consisted only in the celerity of her course, and the changes of her posture. She therefore ordered Suspicion to beat the ground before her, and avoided with great care to cross the way of Truth, who as she never varied her point, but moved constantly upon the same line, was easily escaped by the oblique and desultory movements, the quick retreats, and active doubles which Falsehood always practised, when the enemy began to raise terror by her ap proach. While the world was yet in its infancy, Truth By this procedure Falsehood every hour en came among mortals from above, and Falsehood croached upon the world and extended her emfrom below. Truth was the daughter of Jupi-pire through all climes and regions. Wherever ter and wisdom; Falsehood was the progeny of Folly impregnated by the wind. They advanced with equal confidence to seize the dominion of the new creation: and, as their enmity and their force were well known to the celestials, all the eyes of heaven were turned upon the contest. Truth seemed conscious of superior power and juster claim, and therefore came on towering and majestic, unassisted and alone; Reason indeed always attended her, but appeared her follower, rather than companion. Her march was slow and stately, but her motion was perpetually progressive, and when once she had grounded her foot, neither gods nor men could force her to retire. she carried her victories she left the passions in full authority behind her; who were so well pleased with command, that they held out with great obstinacy when Truth came to seize their posts, and never failed to retard her progress, though they could not always stop it; they yield ed at last with great reluctance, frequent rallies, and sullen submission; and always inclined to revolt when Truth ceased to awe them by her immediate presence. Truth, who, when she first descended from the heavenly palaces, expected to have been received by universal acclamation, cherished with kindness, heard with obedience and invited to spread her influence from province to province, now found, that, wherever she came, she must force her passage. Every intellect was preclud Passion. She indeed advanced, but she advanced slowly; and often lost the conquests which she left behind her, by sudden insurrections of the appetites, that shook off their allegiance, and ranged themselves again under the banner of her enemy. Falsehood always endeavoured to copy the mien and attitudes of Truth, and was very successful in the arts of mimicry. She was sured by Prejudice, and every heart preoccupied by rounded, animated, and supported, by innumerable legions of appetites and passions; but, like other feeble commanders, was obliged often to receive law from her allies. Her motions were sudden, irregular, and violent; for she had no steadiness nor constancy. She often gained conquests by hasty incursions, which she never hoped to keep by her own strength, but maintained by the help of the passions, whom she generally found resolute and faithful. It sometimes happened that the antagonists inet in full opposition. In these encounters, Falsehood always invested her head with clouds, and commanded Fraud to place ambushes about her. In her left hand she bore the shield of Impudence, and the quiver of Sophistry rattled on her shoulder. All the passions attended at her call; Vanity clapped her wings before, and Obstinacy supported her behind. Thus guarded and assisted, she sometimes advanced against Truth, and sometimes waited the attack; but always endeavoured to skirmish at a distance, U Truth, however, did not grow weaker by the struggle, for her vigour was unconquerable; yet she was provoked to see herself thus baffled and impeded by an enemy, whom she looked on with contempt, and who had no advantage but such as she owed to inconstancy, weakness and artifice. She, therefore, in the anger of disappointment, called upon her father Jupiter to restablish her in the skies, and leave mankind to the disor der and misery which they deserved, by submit. ting willingly to the usurpation of Falsehood. Jupiter compassionated the world too much to grant her request, yet was willing to ease her labours and mitigate her vexation. He com. manded her to consult the Muses by what methods she might obtain an easier reception, and reign without the toil of incessant war. It was then discovered that shę obstructed her own progress by the severity of her aspect, and the soTemnity of her dictates; and that men would never willingly admit her, till they ceased to fear her, since, by giving themselves up to Falsehood, they seldom made any sacrifice of their ease or pleasure, because she took the shape that was most engaging, and always suffered herself to be dressed and painted by Desire. The Muses wove, in the loom of Pallas, a loose and changeable robe, like that in which Falsehood captivated her admirers; with this they invested Truth, and named her Fiction. She now went out again to conquer with more success; for when she demanded entrance of the Passions, they often mistook her for Falsehood, and delivered up their charge: but when she had once taken possession, she was soon disrobed by Reason, and shone out, in her original form, with native effulgence and resistless dignity. In the time of the "Spectator," excepting sometimes in appearance in the ring, sometimes at a good and chosen play, sometimes on a visit at the house of a grave relation, the young ladies contented themselves to be found employed in domestic duties; for then routs, drums, balls, assemblies, and such-like markets for women, were not known. Modesty and diffidence, gentleness and meekness, were looked upon as the appropriate virtues and characteristic graces of the sex. And if a forward spirit pushed itself into notice, it was exposed in print as it deserved. The churches were almost the only places where single women were to be seen by strangers. Men went thither expecting to see them, and perhaps too much for that only purpose. But some good often resulted, however improper might be their motives. Both sexes were in the way of their duty. The man must be abandoned, indeed, who loves not goodness in another; nor were the young fellows of that age so wholly lost to a sense of right, as pride and conceit have since made them affect to be. When therefore they saw a fair-one, whose decent behaviour and cheerful piety showed her earnest in her first duties, they had the less doubt, judging politically only, that she would have a conscientious regard to her second. With what ardour have I seen watched for, the rising of a kneeling beauty; and what additional charms has devotion given to her recommunicated features! THE reader is indebted for this day's entertain- The men were often the better for what they ment to an author from whom the age has re-heard. Even a Saul was once found prophesying ceived greater favours, who has enlarged the among the prophets whom he had sent out to deknowledge of human nature, and taught the pas-stroy. To a man thus put into good humour by sions to move at the command of virtue. SIR, TO THE RAMBLER. WHEN the "Spectator" was first published in single papers, it gave me so much pleasure, that it is one of the favourite amusements of my age to recollect it; and when I reflect on the foibles of those times, as described in that useful work, and compare them with the vices now reigning among us, I cannot but wish that you would oftener take cognizance of the manners of the better half of the human species, that if your precepts and observations be carried down to posterity, the Spectators may show to the rising generation what were the fashionable follies of their grandmothers, the "Rambler" of their mothers, and that from both they may draw instruction and warning. When I read those Spectators which took notice of the misbehaviour of young women at church, by which they vainly hope to attract admirers, I used to pronounce such forward young women Seekers, in order to distinguish them by a inark of infamy from those who had patience and decency to stay till they were sought. But I have lived to see such a change in the manners of women, that I would now be willing to compound with them for that name, although I then thought it disgraceful enough, if they would deserve no worse; since now they are too generally given up to negligence of domestic business, to idle amusements, and to wicked rackets, without any settled view at all but of squander'ng time. a pleasing object, religion itself looked more amiable. The Men Seekers of the Spectator's time loved the holy place for the object's sake, and loved the object for her suitable behaviour in it. Reverence mingled with their love, and they thought that a young lady of such good principles must be addressed only by the man who at least made a show of good principles, whether his heart was yet quite right or not. Nor did the young lady's behaviour, at any time of the service, lessen this reverence. Her eyes were her own, her ears the preacher's. Women are always most observed when they seem themselves least to observe, or to lay out for observation. The eye of a respectful lover loves rather to receive confidence from the withdrawn eye of the fair-one, than to find itself obliged to retreat. When a young gentleman's affection was thus laudably engaged, he pursued its natural dictates; keeping then was a rare, at least a secret and scandalous vice, and a wife was the summit of his wishes. Rejection was now dreaded, and pre-engagement apprehended. A woman whom he loved, he was ready to think must be admired by all the world. His fears, his uncertainties, increased his love. Every inquiry he made into the lady's domes tic excellence, which, when a wife is to be chosen, will surely not be neglected, confirmed him in his choice. He opens his heart to a common friend, and honestly discovers the state of his fortune. His friend applies to those of the young lady, whose parents, if they approve of his proposals, disclose them to their daughter. She perhaps is not an absolute stranger to the | passion of the young gentleman. His eyes, his assiduities, his constant attendance at a church, whither, till of late, he used seldom to come, and a thousand little observances that he paid her, had very probably first forced her to regard, and then inclined her to favour him. That a young lady should be in love, and the love of the young gentleman undeclared, is a heterodoxy which prudence, and even policy, must not allow. But, thus applied to, she is all resignation to her parents. Charming resignation, which inclination opposes not. Her relations applaud her for her duty; friends meet; points are adjusted; delightful perturbations, and hopes, and a few lover's fears, fill up the tedious space till an interview is granted; for the young lady had not made herself cheap at public places. page is required to qualify the frequenters for such emulous appearance. By the natural infection of example, the lowest people have places of sixpenny resort, and gaming-tables for pence. Thus servants are now in duced to fraud and dishonesty, to support extravagance, and supply their losses. As to the ladies who frequent those public places, they are not ashamed to show their faces wherever men dare go, nor blush to try who shall stare most impudently, or who shall laugh loudest on the public walks. The men who would make good husbands, if they visit those places, are frighted at wedlock, and resolved to live single, except they are bought at a very high price. They can be spectators of all that passes, and if they please, more than spectators, at the expense of others. The companion of an evening, and the companion for life, require very different qualifications. The time of interview arrives. She is modestly reserved; he is not confident. He declares Two thousand pounds in the last age, with a his passion; the consciousness of her own worth, domestic wife, would go farther than ten thou and his application to her parents, take from her sand in this. Yet settlements are expected, that any doubt of his sincerity; and she owns herself often, to a mercantile man especially, sink a forobliged to him for his good opinion. The in- tune into uselessness: and pin-money is stipuquiries of her friends into his character, have lated for, which makes a wife independent, and taught her that his good opinion deserves to be destroys love, by putting it out of a man's power valued. to lay any obligation upon her, that might enShe tacitly allows of his future visits; he re-gage gratitude, and kindle affection. When to news them; the regard of each for the other is all this the card-tables are added, how can a pru confirmed; and when he presses for the favour dent man think of marrying? of her hand, he receives a declaration of an entire acquiescence with her duty, and a modest acknowledgement of esteem for him. He applies to her parents therefore for a near day; and thinks himself under obligation to them for the cheerful and affectionate manner with which they receive his agreeable application. With this prospect of future happiness, the marriage is celebrated. Gratulations pour in from every quarter. Parents and relations on both sides, brought acquainted in the course of the courtship, can receive the happy couple with countenances illumined, and joyful hearts. The brothers, the sisters, the friends of one family, are the brothers, the sisters, the friends of the other. The two families, thus made one, are the world to the young couple. And when the worthy men know not where to find wives, must not the sex be left to the foplings, the coxcombs, the libertines of the age, whom they help to make such? And need even these wretches marry to enjoy the conversation of those who render their company so cheap? And what, after all, is the benefit which the gay coquette obtains by her flutters? As she is approachable by every man without requiring, I will not say incense or adoration, but even common complaisance, every fop treats her as upon the level, looks upon her light airs as invitations, and is on the watch to take the advantage: she has companions, indeed, but no lovers; for love is respectful and timorous; and where among all her followers will she find a husband? Set, dear Sir, before the youthful, the gay, the Their home is the place of their principal de-inconsiderate, the contempt as well as the danger light, nor do they ever occasionally quit it but to which they are exposed. At one time or other, they find the pleasure of returning to it aug- women not utterly thoughtless, will be convinced mented in proportion to the time of their absence of the justice of your censure, and the charity of from it. your instruction. Oh, Mr. Rambler. forgive the talkativeness, But should your expostulations and reproofs of an old man! When I courted and married my have no effect upon those who are far gone in Lætitia, then a blooming beauty, every thing fashionable folly, they may be retailed from their passed just so! But how is the case now? The mouths to their nieces, (marriage will not often ladies, maidens, wives, and widows, are engross- have entitled these to daughters.) when they, ed by places of open resort and general entertain- the meteors of a day, find themselves elbowed ment, which fill every quarter of the metropolis, off the stage of vanity by other flutterers; for and being constantly frequented, make home irk- the most admired women cannot have many some Breakfasting-places, dining-places, routs, Tunbridge, many Bath seasons to blaze in; drums, concerts, balls, plays, operas, masque- since even fine faces, often seen, are less regardrade for the evening, and even for all night; anded than new faces, the proper punishment of lately, public sales of the goods of broken house- showy girls, for rendering themselves so impolikeepers, which the general dissoluteness of man- ticly cheap. am, Sir, ners has contributed to make very frequent, come in as another seasonable relief to these modern time-killers. In the summer there are in every country-neyed in style and sentiment, was the only par er which town assemblies; Tunbridge, Bath, Cheltenham, had a great sale during the publication of the ambler," Scarborough! What expense of dress and equi- in its original form. Your sincere admirer, &c.* *This paper was written by Richardson, the author of "Clarissa," "Pamela," &c. and although mean and hack |