kind, and to think that the chief end of being as to this life. I had these good impressions given me • from the handsome behaviour of a learned, generous, and wealthy man towards me, when I first began the world. Some dissatisfaction between me and my parents made me enter into it with less relish of 'business than I ought; and to turn off this uneasiness, I gave myself to criminal pleasures, some excesses, and a general loose conduct. I know not what the 'excellent man above-mentioned saw in me, but he 'descended from the superiority of his wisdom and merit, to throw himself frequently into my company. This made me soon hope that I had something in me worth cultivating, and his conversation made me sensible of satisfactions in a regular way, which I had never before imagined. When he was grown familiar with me, he opened himself like a good angel, and told me, he had long laboured to ripen me into a preparation to receive his friendship and advice, both which I should daily command, and the " use of any part of his fortune, to apply the measures he should propose to me, for the improvement of " my own. I assure you, I cannot recollect the goodness and confusion of the good man when he spoke to this purpose to me, without melting into tears; but in a word, Sir, I must hasten to tell you, that heart burns with gratitude towards him, and he is so happy a man, that it can never be in my power to return him his favours in kind, but I am sure I have made him the most agreeable satisfaction I 'could possibly, in being ready to serve others to my • utmost ability, as far as is consistent with the prudence he prescribes to me. Dear Mr. Spectator, I do not owe to him only the good-will and esteem of " my own relations, who are people of distinction, the present ease and plenty of my circumstances, but also the government of my passions, and regulation of my desires. I doubt not, Sir, but in your imagination 6 my • such virtues as these of my worthy friend, bear as 'great a figure as actions which are more glittering in the common estimation. What I would ask of you, is to give us a whole Spectator upon heroic virtue in common life, which may incite men to 'the same generous inclinations, as have by this ad'mirable person been shewn to, and raised in, • Sir, Mr. Spectator, Your most humble servant.' I AM a country gentleman, of a good plentiful ♦ estate, and live as the rest of my neighbours, with great hospitality. I have ever been reckoned among the ladies the best company in the world, and have access as a sort of favourite. I never came in public but I saluted them, though in great assemblies, all around, where it was seen how genteely I ' avoided hampering my spurs in their petticoats, ' whilst I moved amongst them; and on the other side how prettily they curtsied and received me, standing in proper rows, and advancing as fast as they saw their elders, or their betters, dispatched by me. But so it is, Mr. Spectator, that all our good-breeding is of late lost by the unhappy arrival of a courtier, or town gentleman, who came • lately among us: this person wherever he came into a room made a profound bow, and fell back, then recovered with a soft air, and made a bow to the next, and so to one or two more, and then took the cross of the room, by passing by them in a continued bow until he arrived at the person he thought proper particularly to entertain. This he 'did with so good a grace and assurance, that it is taken for the present fashion and there is no C young gentlewoman within several miles of this place has been kissed ever since his first appear6 ance among us. We country gentlemen cannot • begin again and learn these fine and reserved airs; and our conversation is at a stand, until we have your judgment for or against kissing, by way of civility or salutation; which is impatiently expected by your friends of both sexes, but by none so * much as • Your humble servant, RUSTIC SPRIGHTLY.' Dec. 3, 1721. 6 Mr. Spectator, I WAS the other night at Philaster, where I expected to hear your famous trunk-maker, but was unhappily disappointed of his company, and " saw another person who had the like ambition to distinguish himself in a noisy manner, partly by • vociferation or talking loud, and partly by his bodily agility. This was a very lusty fellow, but withal a sort of beau, who getting into one of the 'side-boxes on the stage before the curtain drew, was disposed to shew the whole audience his activity by leaping over the spikes; he passed from thence to one of the entering doors, where he took snuff with a tolerable good grace, displayed his 'fine clothes, made two or three feint passes at the curtain with his cane, then faced about and ap'peared at the other door: here he affected to sur" vey the whole house, bowed and smiled at random, and then shewed his teeth, which were some of ' them indeed very white: after this he retired be'hind the curtain, and obliged us with several views of his person from every opening. During the time of acting, he appeared frequently in the prince's apartment, made one at the hunting-match, and was very forward in the rebellion. If there were no injunctions to the contrary, yet this practice must be confessed to diminish the pleasure of the audience, and for that reason pre 'sumptious and unwarrantable: but since her majes'ty's late command has made it criminal, you have authority to take notice of it. • Sir, Your humble servant, CHARLES EASY. No. CCXLI. THURSDAY, DECEMBER 6. .............Semperque relinqui Sola sibi, semper longam incomitata videtur VIRG. To wander in her sleep thro' ways unknown, Guideless and dark. • Mr. Spectator, DRYDEN. THOUGH you have considered virtuous love in • most of it's distresses, I do not remember that you have given us any dissertation upon the absence of lovers, or laid down any methods how they 'should support themselves under those long sepa'rations which they are sometimes forced to under6 go. I am at present in this unhappy circumstance, having parted with the best of husbands, who is abroad in the service of his country, and may not ' possibly return for some years. His warm and 6 generous affection, while we were together, with the tenderness which he expressed to me at parting, make his absence almost insupportable. I 'think of him every moment of the day, and meet him every night in my dreams. Every thing I see 'puts me in mind of him. I apply myself with more than ordinary diligence to the care of his fa 'mily and his estate; but this, instead of relieving 'me, gives me but so many occasions of wishing for his return. I frequent the rooms where I used to converse with him, and not meeting him there, sit down in his chair and fall a weeping. I love to read the books he delighted in, and to converse with the persons whom he esteemed. I visit his 'picture a hundred times a day, and place myself over against it whole hours together. I pass a 'great part of my time in the walks where I used to lean upon his arm, and recollect in my mind the discourses which have there passed between us: I 'look over the several prospects and points of view ' which we used to survey together, fix my eye upon the objects which he has made me take notice of, ' and call to mind a thousand agreeable remarks which he has made on these occasions. I write ' to him by every conveyance, and contrary to other 'people, am always in good humour when an east, wind blows, because it seldom fails of bringing me a letter from him. Let me entreat you, Sir, to 'give me your advice upon this occasion, and to let me know how I may relieve myself in this my widowhood. 'I am, Sir, Your very humble servant, Absence is what the poets call death in love, and has given occasion to abundance of beautiful complaints in those authors who have treated of this passion in verse. Ovid's Epistles are full of them. Otway's Monimia talks very tenderly on this subject. "To leave me like a turtle, here alone, "To droop and mourn the absence of my mate. |
