into artificial grottoes covered with woodbines and jeffamines. The woods are cut into fhady walks, twisted into bowers, and filled with cages of turtles. The fprings are made to run among pebbles, and by that means taught to murmur very agreeably. They are likewife collected into a beautiful lake, that is inhabited by a couple of fwans, and empties itself by a little rivulet which runs through a green meadow, and is known in the family by the name of The Purling Stream. The Knight likewife tells me, that this Lady preferves her game better than any of the Gentlemen in the country, not (fays Sir ROGER) that the fets fo great a value upon her partridges and pheasants, as upon her larks and nightingales. For the fays that every bird which is killed in her ground, will fpoil a confort, and that fhe fhall certainly mifs him the next year. When I think how oddly this Lady is improved by learning, I look upon her with a mixture of admiration and pity. Amidst these innocent entertainments which fhe has formed to herself, how much more valuable does The appear than those of her fex, who employ themfelves in diverfions that are lefs reasonable, though more in fashion? What improvements would a woman have made, who is fo fufceptible of impreffions from what he reads, had the been guided to fuch books as have a tendency to enlighten the understanding and rectify the paffions, as well as to those which are of little more use than to divert the imagination? But the manner of a Lady's employing herself usefully in reading fhall be the fubject of another paper, in which I defign to recommend fuch particular books as may be proper for the improvement of the fex. And as this is a fubject of a very nice nature, I shall defire my correfpondents to give me their thoughts upon it. Friday, N° 38 Friday, April 13. Mart. Cupias non placuiffe nimis. One would not please too much. A Late converfation which I fell into, gave me an opportunity of observing a great deal of beauty in a very handsome woman, and as much wit in an ingenious man, turned into deformity in the one, and abfurdity in the other, by the mere force of affectation. The Fair One had fomething in her perfon upon which her thoughts were fixed, that the attempted to fhew to advantage in every look, word, and gefture. The Gentleman was as diligent to do juftice to his fine parts, as the Lady to her beauteous form: You might fee his imagination on the stretch to find out fomething uncommon, and what they call bright, to entertain her; while the writhed herself into as many different postures to engage him. When he laughed, her lips were to fever: at a greater difance than ordinary to fhew her teeth; her fan was to point to fomewhat at a diftance, that in the reach fhe may difcover the roundnefs of her arm; then fhe is utterly mistaken in what she faw, falls back, fmiles at her own folly, and is fo wholly difcompofed, that her tucker is to be adjusted, her bosom expofed, and the whole woman put into new airs and graces. While fhe was doing all this, the Gallant had time to think of fomething very pleasant to fay next to her, or make fome unkind obfervation on fome other Lady to feed her vanity. These unhappy effects of affectation, naturally led me tox look into that ftrange ftate of mind which fo generally difcolours the behaviour of moft people we meet with. The learned Dr. Burnet, in his Theory of the Earth, takes occafion to obferve, That every thought is. attended with consciousness and reprefentativeness; the mind has nothing prefented to it but what is immediately followed by a reflection or confcience, which tells you whether G 5 whether that which was fo prefented is graceful or unbecoming. This act of the mind difcovers itself in the gefture, by a proper behaviour in thofe whofe concioufnefs goes no further than to direct them in the just progrefs of their prefent ftate or action; but betrays an interruption in every fecond thought, when the confcioufnefs is employed in too fondly approving a man's own conceptions; which fort of confcioufnefs is what we call affectation. As the love of praife is implanted in our bofoms as a ftrong incentive to worthy actions, it is a very difficult talk to get above a defire of it for things that fhould be wholly indifferent. Women, whofe hearts are fixed upon the pleasure they have in the confcioufnefs that they are the objects of love and admiration, are ever changing the air of their countenances, and altering the attirude of their bodies, to ftrike the hearts of their beholders with new fenfe of their beauty. The dreffing part of our fex, whofe minds are the fame with the fillier part of the other, are exactly in the like uneafy condition to be regarded for a well-tied cravat, an hat cocked with an uncommon brifkness, a very well-chofen coat, or other inftances of merit, which they are impatient to fee unobserved. But this apparent affectation, arifing from an illgoverned confcioufnefs, is not fo much to be wondered at in fuch loofe and trival minds as thefe: But when you fee it reign in characters of worth and distinction, it is what you cannot but lament, not without fome indignation. It creeps into the heart of the wife man as well as that of the coxcomb. When you fee a man of fenfe look about for applaufe, and difcover an itching inclination to be commended; lay traps for a little incenfe, even from thofe whofe opinion he values in nothing but his own favour; Who is fafe against this weakness? or who knows whether he is guilty of it or not? The best way to get clear of fuch a light fondness for applaufe, is to take all poffible care to throw off the love of it upon occafions that are not in themselves laudable, but as it appears, we hope for no praise from: them. Of this nature are all graces in mens perfons, drefs and bodily deportment; which will naturally be winning 155 winning and attractive if we think not of them, but lofe their force in proportion to our endeavour to make them fuch. When our confcioufnefs turns upon the main defign of life, and our thoughts are employed upon the chief purpose either in bufinefs or pleasure, we fhall never betray an affectation, for we cannot be guilty of it: But when we give the paffion for praise an unbridled liberty, our pleasure in little perfections, robs us of what is duet to us for great virtues and worthy qualities. How many excellent speeches and honest actions are loft, for want of being indifferent where we ought? Men are oppreffed with regard to their way of speaking and acting, instead of having their thoughts bent upon what they fhould do or fay; and by that means bury a capacity for great things, by their fear of failing in indifferent things.. This, perhaps, cannot be called affectation; but it has fome tincture of it, at least fo far, as that their fear of erring in a thing of no confequence, argues they would be too much pleased in performing it. It is only from a thorough difregard to himself in fuch particulars, that a man can act with a laudable fufficiency: His heart is fixed upon one point in view; and he commits no errors, because he thinks nothing an error but what deviates from that intention. The wild havock affectation makes in that part of the world which should be most polite, is visible wherever we turn our eyes: It pushes men not only into impertinencies in converfation,, but alfo in their premeditated fpeeches. At the bar it torments the bench, whose bufinefs it is to cut off all fuperfluities in what is spoken before it by the practitioner; as well as feveral little pieces of injuftice which arife from the law itself. I have: feen it make a man run from the purpose before a judge,, who was, when at the bar himself, fo clofe and logical a pleader, that with all the pomp of eloquence in his power, he never spoke a word too much. It might be borne even here, but it often afcends the pulpit itfelf; and the declaimer, in that facred place, is frequently fo impertinenly witty, fpeaks of the last day ittelf with fo many quaint phrafes, that there is no mani who understands raillery, but muft refolve to fin no more :: G. 6 Nay Nay, you may behold him fometimes in prayer, for a proper delivery of the great truths he is to utter, humble himself with fo very well-turned phrafe, and mention his own unworthinefs in a way fo very becoming, that the air of the pretty Gentleman is preserved, under the lowlinefs of the preacher. I shall end this with a fhort letter I writ the other day to a very witty man, over-run with the fault I am fpeaking of. Dear SIR, I Spent fome time with you the other day, and muft take the liberty of a friend to tell you of the un• fufferable affectation you are guilty of in all you say ⚫ and do. When I gave you an hint of it, you afked me whether a man is to be cold to what his friends think of him? No, but praise is not to be the enter⚫tainment of every moment: He that hopes for it must be able to fufpend the poffeffion of it till proper periods of life, or death itself. If you would not rather be commended than be praife-worthy, contemn ⚫ little merits; and allow no man to be fo free with you, as to praise you to your face. Your vanity by this means will want its food. At the fame time your paffion for eftcem will be more fully gratified; men will praise you in their actions: where you now receive one compliment, you will then receive twenty ⚫ civilities. Till then you will never have of either, < further than, SIR, Your humble fervant Saturday, |