In
second place I would recommend to every one that admirable
Precept which
Pythagoras
is said to have given to his Disciples,
and which that Philosopher must have drawn from the Observation I have
enlarged upon.
Optimum vitæ genus eligito, nam consuetudo faciet
jucundissimum
, Pitch upon that Course of Life which is the most
Excellent, and Custom will render it the most Delightful. Men, whose
Circumstances will permit them to chuse their own Way of Life, are
inexcusable if they do not pursue that which their Judgment tells them
is the most laudable. The Voice of Reason is more to be regarded than
the Bent of any present Inclination, since by the Rule above mentioned,
Inclination will at length come over to Reason, though we can never
force Reason to comply with Inclination.
In the third place, this Observation may teach the most sensual and
irreligious Man, to overlook those Hardships and Difficulties which are
apt to discourage him from the Prosecution of a Virtuous Life.
The
Gods
, said
Hesiod
,
have placed Labour before Virtue, the Way to
her is at first rough and difficult, but grows more smooth and easier
the further you advance in it
. The Man who proceeds in it, with
Steadiness and Resolution, will in a little time find that
her Ways are
Ways of Pleasantness, and that all her Paths are Peace
.
To enforce this Consideration, we may further observe that the Practice
of Religion will not only be attended with that Pleasure, which
naturally accompanies those Actions to which we are habituated, but with
those Supernumerary Joys of Heart, that rise from the Consciousness of
such a Pleasure, from the Satisfaction of acting up to the Dictates of
Reason, and from the Prospect of an happy Immortality.
In the fourth place, we may learn from this Observation which we have
made on the Mind of Man, to take particular Care, when we are once
settled in a regular Course of Life, how we too frequently indulge our
selves in any of the most innocent Diversions and Entertainments, since
the Mind may insensibly fall off from the Relish of virtuous Actions,
and, by degrees, exchange that Pleasure which it takes in the
Performance of its Duty, for Delights of a much more inferior and
unprofitable Nature.
The last Use which I shall make of this remarkable Property in Human
Nature, of being delighted with those Actions to which it is accustomed,
is to shew how absolutely necessary it is for us to gain Habits of
Virtue in this Life, if we would enjoy the Pleasures of the next. The
State of Bliss we call Heaven will not be capable of affecting those
Minds, which are not thus qualified for it; we must, in this World, gain
a Relish of Truth and Virtue, if we would be able to taste that
Knowledge and Perfection, which are to make us happy in the next. The
Seeds of those spiritual Joys and Raptures, which are to rise up and
Flourish in the Soul to all Eternity, must be planted in her, during
this her present State of Probation. In short, Heaven is not to be
looked upon only as the Reward, but as the natural Effect of a religious
Life.
On the other hand, those evil Spirits, who, by long Custom, have
contracted in the Body Habits of Lust and Sensuality, Malice and
Revenge, an Aversion to every thing that is good, just or laudable, are
naturally seasoned and prepared for Pain and Misery. Their Torments have
already taken root in them, they cannot be happy when divested of the
Body, unless we may suppose, that Providence will, in a manner, create
them anew, and work a Miracle in the Rectification of their Faculties.
They may, indeed, taste a kind of malignant Pleasure in those Actions to
which they are accustomed, whilst in this Life; but when they are
removed from all those Objects which are here apt to gratifie them, they
will
become their own Tormentors, and cherish in themselves
those painful Habits of Mind, which are called,
in
Scripture
Phrase, the Worm which never dies. This Notion of Heaven and Hell is so
very conformable to the Light of Nature, that it was discovered by
several of the most exalted Heathens. It has been finely improved by
many Eminent Divines of the last Age, as in
by Arch-Bishop
Tillotson
and Dr.
Sherlock
, but there is none who has raised such
noble Speculations upon it as Dr.
Scott
in the First Book of his
Christian Life, which is one of the finest and most rational Schemes of
Divinity, that is written in our Tongue, or in any other. That Excellent
Author has shewn how every particular Custom and Habit of Virtue will,
in its own Nature, produce the Heaven, or a State of Happiness, in him
who shall hereafter practise it: As on the contrary, how every Custom or
Habit of Vice will be the natural Hell of him in whom it subsists.
C.
Natural History of Staffordshire, by Robert Plot, L.L.D.,
fol. 1686. Dr. Plot wrote also a Natural History of Oxfordshire, and was
a naturalist of mark, one of the Secretaries of the Royal Society, First
Keeper of the Ashmolean Museum, Historiographer Royal, and Archivist of
the Herald's Office. He died in 1696, aged 55.
Dr. Atterbury
Diogenes Laertius, Bk. viii.
The paths of Virtue must be reached by toil,
Arduous and long, and on a rugged soil,
Thorny the gate, but when the top you gain,
Fair is the future and the prospect plain.
Works and Days
, Bk. i. (
Cooke's Translation
).
in the
John Scott, a young tradesman of Chippenham, Wilts.,
prevailed on his friends to send him to Oxford, and became D. D. in
1685. He was minister of St. Thomas's, Southwark, Rector of St. Giles in
the Fields, Prebendary of St. Paul's, Canon of Windsor, and refused a
Bishopric. He was a strong opponent of the Catholics, and his
Christian
Life,
in folio, and 5 vols. 8vo, became very popular. He died in 1694.
Contents
|
Monday, August 4, 1712 |
Steele |
The first Steps towards Ill are very carefully to be avoided, for Men
insensibly go on when they are once entered, and do not keep up a lively
Abhorrence of the least Unworthiness. There is a certain frivolous
Falshood that People indulge themselves in, which ought to be had in
greater Detestation than it commonly meets with: What I mean is a
Neglect of Promises made on small and indifferent Occasions, such as
Parties of Pleasure, Entertainments, and sometimes Meetings out of
Curiosity in Men of like Faculties to be in each other's Company. There
are many Causes to which one may assign this light Infidelity.
Jack
Sippet
never keeps the Hour he has appointed to come to a Friend's to
Dinner; but he is an insignificant Fellow who does it out of Vanity. He
could never, he knows, make any Figure in Company, but by giving a
little Disturbance at his Entry, and therefore takes Care to drop in
when he thinks you are just seated. He takes his Place after having
discomposed every Body, and de
Sir
es there may be no Ceremony; then does
he begin to call himself the saddest Fellow, in disappointing so many
Places as he was invited to elsewhere. It is the Fop's Vanity to name
Houses of better Chear, and to acquaint you that he chose yours out of
ten Dinners which he was obliged to be at that Day. The last Time I had
the Fortune to eat with him, he was imagining how very fat he should
have been had he eaten all he had ever been invited to. But it is
impertinent to dwell upon the Manners of such a Wretch as obliges all
whom he disappoints, though his Circumstances constrain them to be civil
to him. But there are those that every one would be glad to see, who
fall into the same detestable Habit. It is a merciless thing that any
one can be at Ease, and suppose a Set of People who have a Kindness for
him, at that Moment waiting out of Respect to him, and refusing to taste
their Food or Conversation with the utmost Impatience. One of these
Promisers sometimes shall make his Excuses for not coming at all, so
late that half the Company have only to lament, that they have neglected
Matters of Moment to meet him whom they find a Trifler. They immediately
repent of the Value they had for him; and such Treatment repeated, makes
Company never depend upon his Promise any more; so that he often comes
at the Middle of a Meal, where he is secretly slighted by the Persons
with whom he eats, and cursed by the Servants, whose Dinner is delayed
by his prolonging their Master's Entertainment. It is wonderful, that
Men guilty this Way, could never have observed, that the whiling Time,
the gathering together, and waiting a little before Dinner, is the most
awkwardly passed away of any Part in the four and twenty Hours. If they
did think at all, they would reflect upon their Guilt, in lengthning
such a Suspension of agreeable Life. The constant offending this Way,
has, in a Degree, an Effect upon the Honesty of his Mind who is guilty
of it, as common Swearing is a kind of habitual Perjury: It makes the
Soul unattentive to what an Oath is, even while it utters it at the
Lips.
Phocion
beholding a wordy Orator while he was making a
magnificent Speech to the People full of vain Promises,
Methinks
, said
he,
I am now fixing my Eyes upon a Cypress Tree, it has all the Pomp
and Beauty imaginable in its Branches, Leaves, and Height, but alas it
bears no Fruit.
Though the Expectation which is raised by impertinent Promisers is thus
barren, their Confidence, even after Failures, is so great, that they
subsist by still promising on. I have heretofore discoursed of the
insignificant Liar, the Boaster, and the Castle-Builder, and treated
them as no ill-designing Men, (tho' they are to be placed among the
frivolously false ones) but Persons who fall into that Way purely to
recommend themselves by their Vivacities; but indeed I cannot let
heedless Promisers, though in the most minute Circumstances, pass with
so slight a Censure. If a Man should take a Resolution to pay only Sums
above an hundred Pounds, and yet contract with different People Debts of
five and ten, how long can we suppose he will keep his Credit? This Man
will as long support his good Name in Business, as he will in
Conversation, who without Difficulty makes Assignations which he is
indifferent whether he keeps or not.
I am the more severe upon this Vice, because I have been so unfortunate
as to be a very great Criminal my self.
Sir
Andrew Freeport
, and all
other my Friends who are scrupulous to Promises of the meanest
Consideration imaginable from an Habit of Virtue that way, have often
upbraided me with it. I take Shame upon my self for this Crime, and more
particularly for the greatest I ever committed of the Sort, that when as
agreeable a Company of Gentlemen and Ladies as ever were got together,
and I forsooth, Mr. SPECTATOR, to be of the Party with Women of Merit,
like a Booby as I was, mistook the time of Meeting, and came the Night
following. I wish every Fool who is negligent in this Kind, may have as
great a Loss as I had in this; for the same Company will never meet
more, but are dispersed into various Parts of the World, and I am left
under the Compunction that I deserve, in so many different Places to be
called a Trifler.
This Fault is sometimes to be accounted for, when de
Sir
able People are
fearful of appearing precious and reserved by Denials; but they will
find the Apprehension of that Imputation will betray them into a
childish Impotence of Mind, and make them promise all who are so kind to
ask it of them. This leads such soft Creatures into the Misfortune of
seeming to return Overtures of Good-will with Ingratitude. The first
Steps in the Breach of a Man's Integrity are much more important than
Men are aware of. The Man who scruples breaking his Word in little
Things would not suffer in his own Conscience so great Pain for Failures
of Consequence, as he who thinks every little Offence against Truth and
Justice a Disparagement. We should not make any thing we our selves
disapprove habitual to us, if we would be sure of our Integrity.
I remember a Falshood of the trivial Sort, tho' not in relation to
Assignations, that exposed a Man to a very uneasie Adventure.
Will.
Trap
and
Jack Stint
were Chamber-fellows in the
Inner-Temple
about
25 Years ago. They one Night sate in the Pit together at a Comedy, where
they both observed and liked the same young Woman in the Boxes. Their
Kindness for her entered both Hearts deeper than they imagined.
Stint
had a good Faculty at writing Letters of Love, and made his Address
privately that way; while
Trap
proceeded in the ordinary Course, by
Money and her Waiting-Maid. The Lady gave them both Encouragement,
receiving
Trap
into the utmost Favour, and answering at the same time
Stint's
Letters, and giving him appointments at third Places.
Trap
began to suspect the Epistolary Correspondence of his Friend, and
discovered also that
Stint
opened all his Letters which came to their
common Lodgings, in order to form his own Assignations. After much
Anxiety and Restlessness,
Trap
came to a Resolution, which he thought
would break off their Commerce with one another without any hazardous
Explanation. He therefore writ a Letter in a feigned Hand to Mr.
Trap
at his Chambers in the
Temple
.
Stint
, according to Custom, seized
and opened it, and was not a little surpriz'd to find the Inside
directed to himself, when, with great Perturbation of Spirit, he read as
follows.
Mr. Stint,
You have gained a slight Satisfaction at the Expence of doing a very
heinous Crime. At the Price of a faithful Friend you have obtained an
inconstant Mistress. I rejoice in this Expedient I have thought of to
break my Mind to you, and tell you, You are a base Fellow, by a Means
which does not expose you to the Affront except you deserve it. I
know, Sir , as criminal as you are, you have still Shame enough to
avenge yourself against the Hardiness of any one that should publickly
tell you of it. I therefore, who have received so many secret Hurts
from you, shall take Satisfaction with Safety to my self. I call you
Base, and you must bear it, or acknowledge it; I triumph over you that
you cannot come at me; nor do I think it dishonourable to come in
Armour to assault him, who was in Ambuscade when he wounded me.
What need more be said to convince you of being guilty of the basest
Practice imaginable, than that it is such as has made you liable to be
treated after this Manner, while you your self cannot in your own
Conscience but allow the Justice of the Upbraidings of Your Injured
Friend,
Ralph Trap.
T.
Contents
|
Tuesday, August 5, 1712 |
Addison |
When I reflect upon my Labours for the Publick, I cannot but observe,
that Part of the Species, of which I profess my self a Friend and
Guardian, is sometimes treated with Severity; that is, there are in my
Writings many Descriptions given of ill Persons, and not yet any direct
Encomium made of those who are good. When I was convinced of this Error,
I could not but immediately call to Mind several of the Fair Sex of my
Acquaintance, whose Characters deserve to be transmitted to Posterity in
Writings which will long outlive mine. But I do not think that a Reason
why I should not give them their Place in my Diurnal as long as it will
last. For the Service therefore of my Female Readers, I shall single out
some Characters of Maids, Wives and Widows, which deserve the Imitation
of the Sex. She who shall lead this small illustrious Number of Heroines
shall be the amiable
Fidelia
.
Before I enter upon the particular Parts of her Character, it is
necessary to Preface, that she is the only Child of a decrepid Father,
whose Life is bound up in hers. This Gentleman has used
Fidelia
from
her Cradle with all the Tenderness imaginable, and has view'd her
growing Perfections with the Partiality of a Parent, that soon thought
her accomplished above the Children of all other Men, but never thought
she was come to the utmost Improvement of which she her self was
capable. This Fondness has had very happy Effects upon his own
Happiness, for she reads, she dances, she sings, uses her Spinet and
Lute to the utmost Perfection: And the Lady's Use of all these
Excellencies, is to divert the old Man in his easie Chair, when he is
out of the Pangs of a Chronical Distemper.
Fidelia
is now in the
twenty third Year of her Age; but the Application of many Lovers, her
vigorous time of Life, her quick Sense of all that is truly gallant and
elegant in the Enjoyment of a plentiful Fortune, are not able to draw
her from the Side of her good old Father. Certain it is, that there is
no kind of Affection so pure and angelick as that of a Father to a
Daughter. He beholds her both with, and without Regard to her Sex. In
Love to our Wives there is De
Sir
e, to our Sons there is Ambition; but in
that to our Daughters, there is something which there are no Words to
express. Her Life is designed wholly Domestick, and she is so ready a
Friend and Companion, that every thing that passes about a Man, is
accompanied with the Idea of her Presence. Her Sex also is naturally so
much exposed to Hazard, both as to Fortune and Innocence, that there is,
perhaps, a new Cause of Fondness arising from that Consideration also.
None but Fathers can have a true Sense of these sort of Pleasures and
Sensations; but my Familiarity with the Father of
Fidelia
, makes me
let drop the Words which I have heard him speak, and observe upon his
Tenderness towards her.
Fidelia
on her Part, as I was going to say, as accomplished as she is,
with all her Beauty, Wit, Air, and Mien, employs her whole Time in Care
and Attendance upon her Father. How have I been charmed to see one of
the most beauteous Women the Age has produced on her Knees helping on an
old Man's Slipper! Her filial Regard to him is what she makes her
Diversion, her Business, and her Glory. When she was asked by a Friend
of her deceased Mother to admit of the Courtship of her Son, she
answer'd, That she had a great Respect and Gratitude to her for the
Overture in Behalf of one so near to her, but that during her Father's
Life, she would admit into her Heart no Value for any thing that should
interfere with her Endeavour to make his Remains of Life as happy and
easie as could be expected in his Circumstances. The Lady admonished her
of the Prime of Life with a Smile; which
Fidelia
answered with a
Frankness that always attends unfeigned Virtue.
It is true, Madam,
there is to be sure very great Satisfactions to be expected in the
Commerce of a Man of Honour, whom one tenderly loves; but I find so much
Satisfaction in the Reflection, how much I mitigate a good Man's Pains,
whose Welfare depends upon my Assiduity about him, that I wittingly
exclude the loose Gratifications of Passion for the solid Reflections of
Duty. I know not whether any Man's Wife would be allow'd, and (what I
still more fear) I know not whether I, a Wife, should be willing to be
as officious as I am at present about my Parent
. The happy Father has
her Declaration that she will not marry during his Life, and the
Pleasure of seeing that Resolution not uneasie to her. Were one to paint
filial Affection in its utmost Beauty, he could not have a more lively
Idea of it than in beholding
Fidelia
serving her Father at his Hours
of Rising, Meals, and Rest.
When the general Crowd of Female Youth are consulting their Glasses,
preparing for Balls, Assemblies, or Plays; for a young Lady, who could
be regarded among the foremost in those Places, either for her Person,
Wit, Fortune, or Conversation, and yet contemn all these Entertainments,
to sweeten the heavy Hours of a decrepid Parent, is a Resignation truly
heroick.
Fidelia
performs the Duty of a Nurse with all the Beauty of a
Bride; nor does she neglect her Person, because of her Attendance on
him, when he is too ill to receive Company, to whom she may make an
Appearance.
Fidelia
, who gives him up her Youth, does not think it any great
Sacrifice to add to it the Spoiling of her Dress. Her Care and Exactness
in her Habit, convince her Father of the Alacrity of her Mind; and she
has of all Women the best Foundation for affecting the Praise of a
seeming Negligence. What adds to the Entertainment of the good old Man
is, that
Fidelia
, where Merit and Fortune cannot be overlook'd by
Epistolary Lovers, reads over the Accounts of her Conquests, plays on
her Spinet the gayest Airs, (and while she is doing so, you would think
her formed only for Gallantry) to intimate to him the Pleasures she
despises for his Sake.
Those who think themselves the Patterns of good Breeding and Gallantry,
would be astonished to hear that in those Intervals when the old
Gentleman is at Ease, and can bear Company, there are at his House in
the most regular Order, Assemblies of People of the highest Merit; where
there is Conversation without Mention of the Faults of the Absent,
Benevolence between Men and Women without Passion, and the highest
Subjects of Morality treated of as natural and accidental Discourse; All
which is owing to the Genius of
Fidelia
, who at once makes her
Father's Way to another World easie, and her self capable of being an
Honour to his Name in this.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'I was the other Day at the Bear-Garden, in hopes to have seen your
short Face; but not being so fortunate, I must tell you by way of
Letter, That there is a Mystery among the Gladiators which has escaped
your Spectatorial Penetration. For being in a Box at an Ale-house,
near that renowned Seat of Honour above-mentioned, I over-heard two
Masters of the Science agreeing to quarrel on the next Opportunity.
This was to happen in the Company of a Set of the Fraternity of
Basket-Hilts, who were to meet that Evening. When this was settled,
one asked the other, Will you give Cuts or receive? the other
answered, Receive. It was replied, Are you a passionate Man? No,
provided you cut no more nor no deeper than we agree. I thought it my
Duty to acquaint you with this, that the People may not pay their
Money for Fighting, and be cheated.
Your Humble Servant,
Scabbard Rusty.
T.
Contents
|
Wednesday, August 6, 1712 |
Steele |
—Quærenda pecunia primum
Virtus post nummos.translation
Mr. SPECTATOR,
All Men, through different Paths, make at the same common thing,
Money; and it is to her we owe the Politician, the Merchant, and the
Lawyer; nay, to be free with you, I believe to that also we are
beholden for our
Spectator. I am apt to think, that could we look
into our own Hearts, we should see Money ingraved in them in more
lively and moving Characters than Self-Preservation; for who can
reflect upon the Merchant hoisting Sail in a doubtful Pursuit of her,
and all Mankind sacrificing their Quiet to her, but must perceive that
the Characters of Self-Preservation (which were doubtless originally
the brightest) are sullied, if not wholly defaced; and that those of
Money (which at first was only valuable as a Mean to Security) are of
late so brightened, that the Characters of Self-Preservation, like a
less Light set by a greater, are become almost imperceptible? Thus has
Money got the upper Hand of what all Mankind formerly thought most
dear,
viz. Security; and I wish I could say she had here put a Stop
to her Victories; but, alas! common Honesty fell a Sacrifice to her.
This is the Way Scholastick Men talk of the greatest Good in the
World; but I, a Tradesman, shall give you another Account of this
Matter in the plain Narrative of my own Life. I think it proper, in
the first Place, to acquaint my Readers, that since my setting out in
the World, which was in the Year 1660, I never wanted Money; having
begun with an indifferent good Stock in the Tobacco-Trade, to which I
was bred; and by the continual Successes, it
has pleased Providence to
bless my Endeavours with, am at last arrived at what they call a
Plumb1. To uphold my Discourse in the Manner of your Wits or
Philosophers, by speaking fine things, or drawing Inferences, as they
pretend, from the Nature of the Subject, I account it vain; having
never found any thing in the Writings of such Men, that did not favour
more of the Invention of the Brain, or what is styled Speculation,
than of sound Judgment or profitable Observation. I will readily grant
indeed, that there is what the Wits call Natural in their Talk; which
is the utmost those curious Authors can assume to themselves, and is
indeed all they endeavour at, for they are but lamentable Teachers.
And, what, I pray, is Natural? That which is pleasing and easie: And
what are Pleasing and Easie? Forsooth, a new Thought or Conceit
dressed up in smooth quaint Language, to make you smile and wag your
Head, as being what you never imagined before, and yet wonder why you
had not; meer frothy Amusements! fit only for Boys or silly Women to
be caught with.
'It is not my present Intention to instruct my Readers in the Methods
of acquiring Riches; that may be the Work of another Essay; but to
exhibit the real and solid Advantages I have found by them in my long
and manifold Experience; nor yet all the Advantages of so worthy and
valuable a Blessing, (for who does not know or imagine the Comforts of
being warm or living at Ease? And that Power and Preheminence are
their inseperable Attendants?) But only to instance the great Supports
they afford us under the severest Calamities and Misfortunes; to shew
that the Love of them is a special Antidote against Immorality and
Vice, and that the same does likewise naturally dispose Men to Actions
of Piety and Devotion: All which I can make out by my own Experience,
who think my self no ways particular from the rest of Mankind, nor
better nor worse by Nature than generally other Men are.
'In the Year 1665, when the Sickness was, I lost by it my Wife and two
Children, which were all my Stock. Probably I might have had more,
considering I was married between 4 and 5 Years; but finding her to be
a teeming Woman, I was careful, as having then little above a Brace of
thousand Pounds, to carry on my Trade and maintain a Family with. I
loved them as usually Men do their Wives and Children, and therefore
could not resist the first Impulses of Nature on so wounding a Loss;
but I quickly roused my self, and found Means to alleviate, and at
last conquer my Affliction, by reflecting how that she and her
Children having been no great Expence to me, the best Part of her
Fortune was still left; that my Charge being reduced to my self, a
Journeyman, and a Maid, I might live far cheaper than before; and that
being now a childless Widower, I might perhaps marry a no less
deserving Woman, and with a much better Fortune than she brought,
which was but £800. And to convince my Readers that such
Considerations as these were proper and apt to produce such an Effect,
I remember it was the constant Observation at that deplorable Time,
when so many Hundreds were swept away daily, that the Rich ever bore
the Loss of their Families and Relations far better than the Poor; the
latter having little or nothing before-hand, and living from Hand to
Mouth, placed the whole Comfort and Satisfaction of their Lives in
their Wives and Children, and were therefore inconsolable.
'The following Year happened the Fire; at which Time, by good
Providence, it was my Fortune to have converted the greatest Part of
my Effects into ready Money, on the Prospect of an extraordinary
Advantage which I was preparing to lay Hold on. This Calamity was very
terrible and astonishing, the Fury of the Flames being such, that
whole Streets, at several distant Places, were destroyed at one and
the same Time, so that (as it is well known) almost all our Citizens
were burnt out of what they had. But what did I then do? I did not
stand gazing on the Ruins of our noble Metropolis; I did not shake my
Head, wring my Hands, sigh, and shed Tears; I consider'd with my self
what could this avail; I fell a plodding what Advantages might be made
of the ready Cash I had, and immediately bethought my self what
wonderful Pennyworths might be bought of the Goods, that were saved
out of the Fire. In short, with about £2000 and a little Credit, I
bought as much Tobacco as rais'd my Estate to the Value of £10000 I
then
looked on the Ashes of our City, and, the Misery of its late
Inhabitants, as an Effect of the just Wrath and Indignation of Heaven
towards a sinful and perverse People.
'After this I married again, and that Wife dying, I took another; but
both proved to be idle Baggages: the first gave me a great deal of
Plague and Vexation by her Extravagancies, and I became one of the
Bywords of the City. I knew it would be to no manner of Purpose to go
about to curb the Fancies and Inclinations of Women, which fly out the
more for being restrained; but what I could I did. I watched her
narrowly, and by good Luck found her in the Embraces (for which I had
two Witnesses with me) of a wealthy Spark of the Court-end of the
Town; of whom I recovered 15000 Pounds, which made me Amends for what
she had idly squanderd, and put a Silence to all my Neighbours, taking
off my Reproach by the Gain they saw I had by it. The last died about
two Years after I married her, in Labour of three Children. I
conjecture they were begotten by a Country Kinsman of hers, whom, at
her Recommendation, I took into my Family, and gave Wages to as a
Journeyman. What this Creature expended in Delicacies and high Diet
with her Kinsman (as well as I could compute by the Poulterers,
Fishmongers, and Grocers Bills) amounted in the said two Years to one
hundred eighty six Pounds, four Shillings, and five Pence Half-penny.
The fine Apparel, Bracelets, Lockets, and Treats, &c. of the other,
according to the best Calculation, came in three Years and about three
Quarters to Seven hundred forty four Pounds, seven Shillings and nine
Pence. After this I resolv'd never to marry more, and found I had been
a Gainer by my Marriages, and the Damages granted me for the Abuses of
my Bed, (all Charges deducted) eight thousand three hundred Pounds
within a Trifle.
'I come now to shew the good Effects of the Love of Money on the Lives
of Men towards rendring them honest, sober, and religious. When I was
a young Man, I had a Mind to make the best of my Wits, and
over-reached a Country Chap in a Parcel of unsound Goods; to whom,
upon his upbraiding, and threatning to expose me for it, I returned
the Equivalent of his Loss; and upon his good Advice, wherein he
clearly demonstrated the Folly of such Artifices, which can never end
but in Shame, and the Ruin of all Correspondence, I never after
transgressed. Can your Courtiers, who take Bribes, or your Lawyers or
Physicians in their Practice, or even the Divines who intermeddle in
worldly Affairs, boast of making but one Slip in their Lives, and of
such a thorough and lasting Reformation? Since my coming into the
World I do not remember I was ever overtaken in Drink, save nine
times, one at the Christening of my first Child, thrice at our City
Feasts, and five times at driving of Bargains. My Reformation I can
attribute to nothing so much as the Love and Esteem of Money, for I
found my self to be extravagant in my Drink, and apt to turn
Projector, and make rash Bargains. As for Women, I never knew any,
except my Wives: For my Reader must know, and it is what he may
confide in as an excellent Recipe, That the Love of Business and Money
is the greatest Mortifier of inordinate De
Sir es imaginable, as
employing the Mind continually in the careful Oversight of what one
has, in the eager Quest after more, in looking after the Negligences
and Deceits of Servants, in the due Entring and Stating of Accounts,
in hunting after Chaps, and in the exact Knowledge of the State of
Markets; which Things whoever thoroughly attends, will find enough and
enough to employ his Thoughts on every Moment of the Day; So that I
cannot call to Mind, that in all the Time I was a Husband, which, off
and on, was about twelve Years, I ever once thought of my Wives but in
Bed. And, lastly, for Religion, I have ever been a constant Churchman,
both Forenoons and Afternoons on Sundays, never forgetting to be
thankful for any Gain or Advantage I had had that Day; and on
Saturday Nights, upon casting up my Accounts, I always was grateful
for the Sum of my Week's Profits, and at
Christmas for that of the
whole Year. It is true, perhaps, that my Devotion has not been the
most fervent; which, I think, ought to be imputed to the Evenness and
Sedateness of my Temper, which never would admit of any Impetuosities
of any Sort: And I can remember that in my Youth and Prime of Manhood,
when my Blood ran brisker, I took greater Pleasure in Religious
Exercises than at present, or many Years past, and that my Devotion
sensibly declined as Age, which is dull and unwieldly, came upon me.
'I have, I hope, here proved, that the Love of Money prevents all
Immorality and Vice; which if you will not allow, you must, that the
Pursuit of it obliges Men to the same Kind of Life as they would
follow if they were really virtuous: Which is all I have to say at
present, only recommending to you, that you would think of it, and
turn ready Wit into ready Money as fast as you can. I conclude,
Your Servant,
Ephraim Weed.'