No. 191. TUESDAY, JANUARY 14, 1752
Cereus in vitium flecti, monitoribus asper.
HOR. Art. Poet. 163.
The youth —
Yielding like wax, th' impressive folly bears
Rough to reproof, and slow to future cares. FRANCIS.
TO THE RAMBLER.
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-hand; 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 drest, and visit, and get a ticket to the play;
then go to cards and win, and come home with two
flambeaux before her chair. Dear Mr. Rambler, who
can bear it?
My aunt has just brought me a bundle of your
papers for my amusement. She says you are a philosopher,
and will teach me to moderate my desires, and
look upon the world with indifference. But, dear sir,
I do not wish nor intend to moderate my desires, nor
can I think it proper to look upon the world with
indifference, till the world looks with indifference on
me. I have been forced, however, to sit this morning
a whole quarter of an hour with your paper before
my face; but just as my aunt came in, Phyllida
had brought me a letter from Mr. Trip, which I put
within the leaves and read about
absence and
inconsolableness, and
ardour, and
irresistible passion, and
eternal constancy, while my aunt imagined that I
was puzzling myself with your philosophy, and often
cried out, when she saw me look confused, "If there
is any word that you do not understand, child. I will
explain it.''
Dear soul! how old people that think themselves
wise may be imposed upon! But it is fit that they
should take their turn, for I am sure, while they can
keep poor girls close in the nursery, they tyrannize
over us in a very shameful manner, and fill our
imaginations with tales of terrour, only to make us
live in quiet subjection, and fancy that we can never
be safe but by their protection.
I have a mamma and two aunts, who have all been
formerly celebrated for wit and beauty, and are still
generally admired by those that value themselves
upon their understanding, and love to talk of vice
and virtue, nature and simplicity, and beauty and
propriety; but if there was not some hope of meeting
me, scarcely a creature would come near them
that wears a fashionable coat. These ladies, Mr.
Rambler, have had me under their government fifteen
years and a half, and have all that time been
endeavouring to deceive me by such representations
of life as I now find not to be true; but I know not
whether I ought to impute them to ignorance or
malice, as it is possible the world may be much
changed since they mingled in general conversation.
Being desirous that I should love books, they told
me, that nothing but knowledge could make me an
agreeable companion to men of sense, or qualify me
to distinguish the superficial glitter of vanity from
the solid merit of understanding; and that a habit
of reading would enable me to fill up the vacuities
of life without the help of silly or dangerous
amusements, and preserve me from the snares of idleness
and the inroads of temptation.
But their principal intention was to make me
afraid of men; in which they succeeded so well for
a time, that I durst not look in their faces, or be
left alone with them in a parlour; for they made me
fancy, that no man ever spoke but to deceive, or
looked but to allure; that the girl who suffered him
that had once squeezed her hand, to approach her a
second time, was on the brink of ruin; and that she
who answered a billet, without consulting her relations,
gave love such power over her, that she would
certainly become either poor or infamous.
From the time that my leading-strings were
taken off, I scarce heard any mention of my beauty
but from the milliner, the mantua-maker, and my
own maid; for my mamma never said more, when
she heard me commended, but "the girl is very
well,'' and then endeavoured to divert my attention
by some inquiry after my needle, or my book.
It is now three months since I have been suffered
to pay and receive visits, to dance at publick
assemblies,
to have a place kept for me in the boxes,
and to play at lady Racker's rout; and you may
easily imagine what I think of those who have so
long cheated me with false expectations, disturbed
me with fictitious terrours, and concealed from me
all that I have found to make the happiness of
woman.
I am so far from perceiving the usefulness or
necessity of books, that if I had not dropped all
pretensions to learning, I should have lost Mr.
Trip, whom I once frighted into another box, by
retailing some of Dryden's remarks upon a tragedy;
for Mr. Trip declares, that he hates nothing like hard
words, and I am sure, there is not a better partner
to be found; his very walk is a dance. I have talked
once or twice among ladies about principles and
ideas, but they put their fans before their faces, and
told me I was too wise for them, who for their part
never pretended to read any thing but the play-bill,
and then asked me the price of my best head.
Those vacancies of time which are to be filled up
with books I have never yet obtained; for, consider,
Mr. Rambler, I go to bed late, and therefore cannot
rise early; as soon as I am up, I dress for the gardens;
then walk in the park; then always go to some sale
or show, or entertainment at the little theatre; then
must be dressed for dinner; then must pay my
visits; then walk in the park; then hurry to the
play; and from thence to the card-table. This is the
general course of the day, when there happens nothing
extraordinary; but sometimes I ramble into the
country, and come back again to a ball; sometimes
I am engaged for a whole day and part of the night.
If, at any time, I can gain an hour by not being at
home, I have so many things to do, so many orders
to give to the milliner, so many alterations to make
in my clothes, so many visitants' names to read over,
so many invitations to accept or refuse, so many
cards to write, and so many fashions to consider,
that I am lost in confusion, forced at last to let in
company or step into my chair, and leave half my
affairs to the direction of my maid.
This is the round of my day; and when shall I
either stop my course, or so change it as to want a
book? I suppose it cannot be imagined, that any
of these diversions will soon be at an end. There
will always be gardens, and a park, and auctions,
and shows, and playhouses, and cards; visits will
always be paid, and clothes always be worn; and how
can I have time unemployed upon my hands?
But I am most at a loss to guess for what
purpose they related such tragick 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 eye sparkle and the cheeks
glow of him whose proposals obtain my approbation;
he then leads me of 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? Is it likely that
an 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 my 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 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. The 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.