we can call our own; and of which, if we neglect the duties to make provision against visionary attacks, we shall certainly counteract our own purpose; for he, doubtless, mistakes his true interest,, who thinks that he can increase his safety when he impairs his virtue. No. XXX. SATURDAY, JUNE 30, 1750. Vultus ubi tuus Affulsit populo, gratior et dies, Whene'er thy countenance divine Th' attendant people cheers, The genial suns more radiant shine, Mr. Rambler, HOR. ELPHINSTON. THERE are few tasks more ungrateful than for persons of modesty, to speak their own praises. In some cases, however, this must be done for the gene. ral good; and a generous spirit will on such occasions assert its merit, and vindicate itself with becoming warmth. My circumstances, Sir, are very hard and peculiar. Could the world be brought to treat me as I deserve, it would be a public benefit. This makes me apply to you, that my case being fairly stated in a paper so generally esteemed, I may suffer no longer from ignorant and childish prejudices. My elder brother was a Jew. A very respectable person, but somewhat austere in his manner; highly and deservedly valued by his near relations and intimates, but utterly unfit for mixing in a larger society, or gaining a general acquaintance among mankind. In a venerable old age he retired from the world, and I in the bloom of youth came into it, succeeding him in all his dignities; and formed, as I might reasonably flatter myself, to be the object of universal love and esteem. Joy and gladness were born with me; cheerfulness, good humour, and benevolence, always attended and endeared my infancy. That time is long past. So long, that idle imaginations are apt to fancy me wrinkled, old and disagreeable: but unless my looking-glass deceives me, I have not yet lost one charm, one beauty of my earliest years. However, thus far is too certain, I am to every body just what they choose to think me, so that to very few I appear in my right shape; and, though naturally I am the friend of human kind, to few, very few comparatively, am I useful or agreeable. This is the more grievous, as it is utterly impossible for me to avoid being in all sorts of places and companies; and I am therefore liable to meet with perpetual affronts and injuries. Though I have as natural an antipathy to cards and dice as some people have to a cat, many and many an assembly am I forced to endure; and, though rest and composure are my peculiar joy, am worn out and harassed to death with journies by men and women of quality, who never can take one but when I am of the party. Some, on a contrary extreme, will never receive me but in bed, where they spend at least half of the time I have to stay with them; and others are so monstrously ill-bred as to take physic on purpose when they have reason to expect me. Those who keep upon terms of more politeness with me, are generally so cold and constrained in their behaviour, that I cannot but perceive myself an unwelcome guest; and even among persons deserving of esteem, and who certainly have a value for me, it is too evident that, generally, whenever I come, I throw a dulness over the whole company, that I am entertained with a formal stiff civility, and that they are glad when I am fairly gone. How bitter must this kind of reception be to one formed t inspire delight, admiration, and love! to one capable of answering and rewarding the greatest warmth and delicacy of sentiments ! I was bred up among a set of excellent people, who affectionately loved me, and treated me with the utmost honour and respect. It would be tedious to relate the variety of my adventures, and strange vicissitudes of my fortune in many different countries. Here in England there was a time when I lived according to my heart's desire. Whenever I appeared, public assemblies appointed for my former reception were crowded with persons of quality and fashion, early drest as for a court, to pay me their devoirs. Cheerful hospitality every where crowned my board, and I was looked upon in every country parish as a kind of social bond between the 'squire, the parson, and the tenants. The laborious poor every where blest my appearance: they do so still, and keep their best clothes to do me honour; though as much as I delight in the honest country-folks, they do now and then throw a pot of ale at my head; and sometimes an unlucky boy will drive his cricket-ball full in my face. Even in these my best days, there were persons who thought me too demure and grave. I must, forsooth, by all means, be instructed by foreign masters, and taught to dance and play. This method of education was so contrary to my genius, formed for much nobler entertainments, that it did not succeed at all. I fell next into the hands of a very different set.... They were so excessively scandalized at the gaiety of my appearance, as not only to despoil me of the foreign fopperies, the paint and the patches, that I had been tricked out with by my last misjudging tutors, but they robbed me of every innocent ornament I had from my infancy been used to gather in the fields and gardens; nay, they blacked my face, and covered me all over with a habit of mourning, and that too very coarse and awkward. I was now obliged to spend my whole life in hearing sermons; nor permitted so much as to smile upon any occasion. In this melancholy disguise I became a perfect bugbear to all children and young folks. Wherever I came, there was a general hush and immediate stop to all pleasantness of look or discourse; and not be ing permitted to talk with them, in my own language, at that time, they took such a disgust to me, in those tedious hours of yawning, that, having transmitted it to their children, I cannot now be heard, though it is long since I have recovered my natural form and pleasing tone of voice. Would they but receive my visits kindly, and listen to what I could tell them....let me say it without vanity....how charming a companion should I be to every one, could I talk on the subjects most interesting and most pleasing. With the great and ambitious I would discourse of honours and advancements, of distinctions to which the whole world should be witness, of unenvied dignities and durable preferments. To the rich, I would tell of inexhaustible treasures, and the sure method to attain them.... I would teach them to put out their money on the best interest; and instruct the lovers of pleasure how to secure and improve it to the highest degree. The beauty should learn of me how to preserve an everlasting bloom. To the afflicted I would administer comfort, and relaxation to the busy. As I dare promise myself you will attest the truth of all I have advanced, there is no doubt but many will be desirous of improving their acquaintance with me; and that I may not be thought too difficult, I will tell you, in short, how I wish to be received. You must know, I equally hate lazy idleness and hurry. I would every where be welcomed at a tolerable early hour, with decent good-humour and gratitude. I must be attended in the great halls, peculi arly appropriated to me with respect: but I do not insist upon finery; propriety of appearance, and perfect neatness is all. I must, at dinner, be treated with a temperate, but cheerful, social meal; but the neighbours and the poor should be the better for me. Some time I must have tete-a-tete with my kind entertainers; and the rest of my visit shall be spent in pleasant walks and airings, among sets of agreeable people, in such discourse as I shall naturally dictate; or in reading some few, selected out of those numberless books, that are dedicated to me, and go by my name. A name that, alas! as the world stands at present, makes them oftener thrown aside than taken up. As those conversations and books should be both well chosen, to give some advice on that head may possibly furnish you with a future paper: and any thing you shall offer on my behalf will be of great service to, good Mr. Rambler, your faithful friend and servant, SUNDAY. No. XXXI. TUESDAY, JULY 3, 1750. Non ego mendosos ausim defendere mores, Corrupted manners I shall ne'er'defend; OVID. ELPHINSTON. THOUGH the fallibility of man's reason and the narrowness of his knowledge, are very liberally confessed, yet the conduct of those who so willingly admit the weakness of human nature, seems to discern that this acknowledgment is not altogether sincere; at least, that most make it with a tacit reserve in favour of themselves, and that with whatever ease |