N° CLXXV

IN

Juv. SAT. XV. VER. 140.

N one of my last week's papers I treated of good-nature, as it is the effect of constitution; I fhall now fpeak of it as it is a moral virtue. The first may make a man eafy in himself and agreeable to others, but implies no merit in him that is pofleffed of it. A man is no more to be praised upon this account, than because he has a regular pulfe or a good digeftion. This goodnature however in the constitution, which Mr. Dryden fomewhere calls a 'Milkinefs of blood,' is an admirable groundwork for the other. In order therefore to try our good-nature, whether it arifes from the body or the mind, whether it be founded in the animal or rational part of our nature; in a word, whether it be fuch as is intitled to any other reward, befides that fecret fatisfaction and contentment of mind which is effential to it, and the kind reception it procures us in the world, we must examine it by the following rules.

First, whether it acts with steadiness and uniformity in fickness and in health, in profperity and in adverfity; if otherwife, it is to be looked upon as nothing elfe but an irradiation of the mind from fome new fupply of fpirits, or a more kindly circulation of the blood. Sir Francis Bacon mentions a cunning folicitor, who would never afk a favour of a great man before dinner; but took care to prefer his petition at a time when the party petitioned had his mind free from care, and his appetites in good humour. Such a tranfient temporary good-nature as this, is not that philanthropy, that love of mankind, which deferves the title of a moral virtue.

The next way of a man's bringing his good-nature to the teft, is, to confider whether it operates according to the rules of reafon and duty: for if, notwithstanding it's general benevolence to

TATE.

mankind, it makes no diftinction between its objects, if it exerts itself promifcuoufly towards the deferving and undeferving, if it relieves alike the idle and the indigent, if it gives itself up to the firft petitioner, and lights upon any ore rather by accident than choice, it may pafs for an amiable inftinƐf, but muit not affume the name of a moral virtue.

The third trial of good-nature will be, the examining ourselves, whether or no we are able to exert it to our own difadvantage, and employ it on proper objects, notwithstanding any little pain, want, or inconvenience which may arife to ourselves from it: in a word, whether we are willing to risk any part of. our fortune, our reputation, or health, or eafe, for the benefit of mankind. Among all thefe expreffions of goodnature, I fhall fingle out that which goes under the general name of charity, as it confifts in relieving the indigent; that being a trial of this kind which offers itself to us almost at all times and in every place.

I thould propofe it as a rule to every one who is provided with any competency of fortune more than fufficient for the neceflaries of life, to lay afide a certain proportion of his income for the use of the poor. This I would look upon as an offering to him who has a right to the whole, for the use of those whom, in the paffage hereafter mentioned, he has defcribed as his own representatives upon earth. At the fame time we fhould manage our charity with fuch prudence and caution, that we may not hurt our own friends or relations, whilft we are doing good to those who are ftrangers to us.

This may poflibly be explained better by an example than by a rule.

Eugenius is a man of an univerfal good-nature, and generous beyond the

extent

extent of his fortune; but withal fo prudent, in the œconomy of his affairs, that what goes out in charity is made up by good management. Eugenius has what the world calls two hundred pounds a year; but never values himself above ninefcore, as not thinking he has a right to the tenth part, which he always ap propriates to charitable ufes. To this fum he frequently makes other voluntary additions, infomuch that in a good year, for fuch he accounts thofe in which he has been able to make greater bounties than ordinary, he has given above twice that fum to the fickly and indigent. Eugenius prefcribes to himfelf many particular days of fafting and abftinence, in order to increase his private bank of charity, and fets afide what would be the current expences of thofe times for the ufe of the poor. He often goes afoot where his bufinefs calls him, and at the end of his walk has given a hilling, which in his ordinary methods of expence would have gone for coach-hire, to the first neceffitous perfon that has fallen in his way. I have known him, when he has been going to a play or an opera, divert the money which was defigned for that purpofe, upon an object of charity whom he has met with in the ftreet; and afterwards pafs his evening in a coffee-houfe, or at a friend's fire-fide, with much greater fatisfaction to himself than he could have received from the most exquifite entertainments of the theatre. By thefe means he is generous, without impoverishing himself, and enjoys his eftate by making it the property of others. There are few men fo cramped in their, private affairs, who may not be charitable after this manner, without any disadvantage to themfelves, or prejudice to their families. It is but fometimes facrificing a diverfion or convenience to the poor, and turning the ufual courfe of our expences into a better channel. This is, I think, not only the most prudent and convenient, but the moft meritorious piece of charity, which we can put in practice. By this method we in fome measure fhare the neceffities of the poor at the fame time that we relieve them, and make ourselves not only their patrons, but their fellow-fufferers.

Sir Thomas Brown, in the last part of his Religio Medici, in which he defcribes his charity in feveral heroic inAinces, and with a noble heat of senti

ments, mentions that verfe in the proverbs of Solomon-' He that giveth to the poor, lendeth to the Lord. There

is more rhetoric in that one fentence,' fays he, than in à library of fermons; and indeed if those fentences were un 'derstood by the reader, with the fame emphafis as they are delivered by the author, we needed not thofe volumes of inftructions, but might be honest by an epitome.'

This paffage in Scripture is indeed wonderfully perfuafive; but I think the fame thought is carried much farther in the New Testament, where our Saviour tells us in the most pathetic manner, that he shall hereafter regard the cloathing of the naked, the feeding of the hungry, and the vifiting of the imprisoned, as offices done to himself, and reward them accordingly. Pursuant to thofe paffages in Holy Scripture, I have somewhere met with the epitaph of a charitable man, which has very much pleased me. I cannot recollect the words, but the fenfe of it is to this purpose: What I

fpent I loft; what I poffeffed is left to 'others; what I gave away remains with 'me.'

Since I am thus infenfibly engaged in facred writ, I cannot forbear making an extract of feveral paffages which I have always read with great delight in the book of Job. It is the account which that holy man gives of his beha viour in the days of his profperity, and if confidered only as a human compofition, is a finer picture of a charitable and good-natured man than is to be met with in any other author.

Oh that I were as in months past, as in the days when God preferved me: when his candle fhined upon my head, and when by his light I walked 'through darkness: when the Almighty was yet with me; when my children were about me: when I washed my steps with butter, and the rock poured out rivers of oil.

When the ear heard me, then it bleffed me; and when the eye faw me, it gave witness to me. Because I delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherlefs, and him that had none to help him. The bleffing of him that was ready to perish came upon me, and I caufed the widow's heart to fing for joy. I was eyes to the blind, and 'feet was I to the lame; I was a father 2 X 2

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to the poor, and the cause which I knew not I fearched out. Did not I weep for him that was in trouble? Was not my foul grieved for the poor? Let me be weighed in an even balance, that God may know mine integrity. If I did despite the cause of my manfervant or of my maid-fervant when they contended with me; what then fhall I do when God rifeth up? and when he vifiteth, what shall I answer him? Did not he that made me in the womb, make him? and did not one fashion us in the womb? If I have withheld the poor from their desire, or have caufed the eyes of the widow to • fail, or have eaten my morfel myself alone, and the fatherlefs have not eaten thereof; if I have seen any perish for want of cloathing, or any poor without covering: if his loins have not bleffed

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'me, and if he were not warmed with the fleece of my fheep: if I have lift up my hand againft the fatherless, when I faw my help in the gate; then let mine arm fall from my fhoulderblade, and my arm be broken from the bone. If I have rejoiced at the • deftruction of him that hated me, or lift up myself when evil found him: neither have I fuffered my mouth to fin, by wifhing a curfe to his foul. The ftranger did not lodge in the 'ftreet; but I opened my doors to the traveller. If my land cry against me, or that the furrows likewife thereof complain : if I have eaten the fruits thereof without money, or have caufed the owners thereof to lofe their life; let thistles grow instead of wheat, and cockle instead of barley.

COMIS IN UXOREM

CIVIL TO HIS WIFE.

Cannot defer taking notice of this letter.

MR. SPECTATOR,

Am but too good a judge of your paper of the 15th inftant, which is a mafter-piece; I mean that of jealousy: but I think it unworthy of you to speak of that torture in the breaft of a man, and not to mention alfo the pangs of it in the heart of a woman. You have very judiciously, and with the greatest penetration imaginable, confidered it as woman is the creature of whom the diffidence is raised: but not a word of a man, who is fo unmerciful as to move jealoufy in his wife, and not care whether the is fo or not. It is poffible you may not believe there are fuch tyrants in the world; but alas, I can tell you of a man who is ever out of humour in his wife's company, and the pleasantest man in the world every where elfe; the greateft Aoven at home when he appears to none but his family, and most exactly welldreffed in all other places. Alas, Sir, is it of course, that to deliver one's felf wholly into a nan's power without poffibility of appeal to any other jurifdiction

but his own reflections, is fo little an obligation to a Gentleman, that he can be offended and fall into a rage, because my heart swells tears into my eyes when I fee him in a cloudy mood? I pretend to no fuccour, and hope for no relief but from himself; and yet he that has fenfe and justice in every thing elfe, never reflects, that to come home only to fleep off an intemperance, and spend all the time he is there as if it were a punishment, cannot but give the anguish of a jealous mind. He always leaves his home as if he were going to court, and returns as if he were entering gaol. I could add to this, that from his company and his ufual difcourfe, he does not fcruple being thought an abandoned man, as to his morals. Your own imagination will fay enough to you concerning the condition of me his wife; and I with you would be fo good as to reprefent to him, for he is not ill-natured, and reads you much, that the moment I hear the door fhut after him, I throw myself upon my bed, and drown the child he is fo fond of with my tears, and often frighten it with my cries; that I curfe my being; that I run to my glafs all over bathed in

forrows,

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forrows, and help the utterance of my inward anguifh by beholding the gufh of my own calamities as my tears fall from my eyes. This looks like an imagined picture to tell you, but indeed this is one of my pastimes. Hitherto I have only told you the general temper of my mind, but how fhall I give you an account of the diftraction of it? Could you but conceive how cruel I am one moment in my refentment, and at the enfuing minute, when place him in the condition my anger would bring him to, how compaffionate; it would give you fome notion how miferable I am, and how little I deferve it. When I remonftrate with the greatest gentleness that is poffible against unhandsome appearances, and that married perfons are under particular rules; when he is in the bett humour to receive this, I am anfwered only, that I expofe my own reputation and fenfe if I appear jealous. I with, good Sir, you would take this into ferious confideration, and admonish husbands and wives what terms they ought to keep towards each other. Your thoughts on this important fubject will have the greateft reward, that which defcends on fuch as feel the forrows of the afflicted. Give me leave to fubfcribe myself, your unfortunate, humble fer vant, CELINDA.

I had it in my thoughts, before I received the letter of this lady, to confider this dreadful paffion in the mind of a woman; and the fmart fhe feems to feel does not abate the inclination I had to recommend to husbands a more regular behaviour, than to give the most exquifite of torments to those who love them, nay whofe torment would be abated if they did not love them.

It is wonderful to obferve how little

is made of this inexpreffible injury, and how easily men get into an habit of be ing least agreeable where they are most obliged to be fo. But this fubject deferves a diftinct fpeculation, and I shall obferve for a day or two the behaviour of two or three happy pairs I am acquainted with, before I pretend to make a fyftem of conjugal morality. I defign in the first place to go a few miles out of town, and there I know where to meet one who practises all the parts of a fine gentleman in the duty of an husband. When he was a bachelor much business made him particularly negligent in his habit; but now there is no young lover living fo exact in the care of his perfon. One who asked why he was fo long washing his mouth, and fo delicate in the choice and wearing of his linen, was anfwered, because there is a woman of merit obliged to receive me kindly, and I think it incumbent upon me to make her inclination go along with her duty.

If a man would give himself leave to think, he would not be fo unreasonable as to expect debauchery and innocence could live in commerce together; or hope that flesh and blood is capable of so strict an allegiance, as that a fine woman muft go on to improve herself until the is as good and impaffive as an angel, only to preferve a fidelity to a brute and a fatyr. The lady who defires me for her fake to end one of my papers with the following letter, I am perfuaded, thinks fuch a perfeverance very impracticable.

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May caft my readers under two general divifions, the Mercurial and the Saturnine. The firft are the gay part of my difciples, who require fpeculations of wit and humour; the others are those of a more folemn and fober turn, who find no pleafure but in papers of morality and sound sense. The former call every thing that is ferious, ftupid; the latter look upon every thing as impertinent that is ludicrous. Were I always grave, one half of my readers would fall off from me: were I always merry, I fhould lofe the other. I make it therefore my endeavour to find out entertainments of both kinds, and by that means perhaps confult the good of both, more than I fhould do, did I always write to the particular tafte of either. As they neither of them know what I proceed upon, the fprightly reader, who takes up my paper in order to be diverted, very often finds himfelf engaged unawares in a ferious and profitable course of thinking; as on the contrary, the thoughtful man, who perhaps may hope to find fomething folid, and full of deep reflection, is very often infenfibly betrayed into a fit of mirth. In a word, the reader fits down to my entertainment without knowing his bill of fare, and has therefore at leaft the pleasure of hoping there may be a difh to his palate.

I must confefs, were I left to myself, I fhould rather aim at inftructing than diverting; but if we will be ufeful to the world, we must take it was we find it. Authors of profeffed feverity difcourage the loofer part of mankind from haying any thing to do with their writings. A man must have virtue in him, before he will enter upon the reading of a Seneca or Epictetus. The very title of a moral treatife has fomething in it

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auftere and fhocking to the careless and inconfiderate.

For this reafon several unthinking perfons fall in my way, who would give no attention to lectures delivered with a religious ferioufnefs or a philofophic gravity. They are infnared into fentiments of wifdom and virtue when they do not think of it; and if by that means they arrive only at fuch a degree of confideration as may difpofe them to liften to more ftudied and elaborate difcourfes, I fhall not think my fpeculations ufelefs. I might likewise observe, that the gloominefs in which fometimes the minds of the beft men are involved, very often stands in need of such little incite ments to mirth and laughter, as are apt to difperfe melancholy, and put our faculties in good humour. To which fome will add, that the British climate, more than any other, makes entertainments of this nature in a manner neceffary.

If what I have here faid does not reamend, it will at least excuse the va

of my fpeculations. I would not willingly laugh but in order to inftruct, or if I fometimes fail in this point, when my mirth ceafes to be instructive, it fhall never ceafe to be innocent. A fcrupulous conduct in this particular, has, perhaps, more merit in it than the generality of readers imagine; did they know how many thoughts occur in a point of humour, which a discreet author in modefty fuppreffes; how many ftrokes of raillery present themselves, which could not fail to pleafe the ordinary taste of mankind, but are stiffed in their birth by reafon of fome remote tendency which they carry in them to corrupt the minds of those who read them; did they know how many glances of ill-nature are induftriously avoided

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