'^ row. The younger part of his scholars will have
c
N62. LOOKER-ON. 127
" their head* filled with scraps from Sterne, and his
" imitators ; and such books as the ' Feelings of the
" Heart,'' and the ' Tears of Sensibility,' will be con-
" sidered as classics of the highest authority. The
" boys will be taught to ask for their bread and
" butter in a recitative, and return thanks for a
*' holiday in the most plaintive and desponding
" tones. Thus much at present for the notice of his
" scheme. A fuller explanation of his plan will be
" given with the proposals, which he has it in con-
*' templation to publish in a few weeks. However,
" in the mean time, to prevent any suspicion that li is
" methods of discipline are harsh and painful, and
" require an excruciating process to produce their
" ends, the advertiser assures his friends and the
" public, that nothing beyond a common rod will be
" used on the most indocile disciples, and that gentle
" means will always be preferred, such as onions,
" mustard, and the like, where these are sufficient to
" exercise the scholars, and there is a reasonable ir-
' ritability of organs. Any hints or communications
" will be received with the warmest effusions of
" gratitude, and the most exquisite feelings of the
" soul, by
" Paul Pensive, Heart-street."
I have been always delighted with an anecdote of
Louis the Fourteenth, which exhibits a delicacy of
feeling in that monarch, not common among the
great and powerful. As he was one day sitting in
the midst of some of his courtiers, he undertook to
tell them a story which should make them all die
with laughing. Notwithstanding his promise, how-
ever, the conclusion was very insipid, and produced
only a forced smile on the countenances of his
hearers. As soon as he had finished speaking, the
128 LOOKER-ON. N 62.
prince d'Armagnac happened to leave the room:
whereupon Louis resumed his story, with informing
those who were present, that he had recollected in
the middle of it, that, in the humour on which it
tnrned, there was something which might give pain
to the nobleman that had just left the company ; but
that, now he was absent, he would try again. His
story, which was exceedingly diverting, had its full
effect upon his auditors.
Sensibility branches out into as many relations as
the scriptural sense of charity, and touches as many
points of human character and conduct. Where I
discern only a partial exercise of it, I cannot think
that it can have any real existence in the mind ; and
such as can weep at a tragedy, without solicitude or
sorrow for the actual distresses of life, or those who,
while they are founding an alms-house, can feel
pleasure in mortifying honest pride, or exciting a
blush on the cheek of modesty, may be well enough
as active citizens, but, in my mind, are among the
lowest order of hypocrites, considered as moral
agents, and as members of social life.
I hold it necessary to offer no apology to my
readers for the introduction of the two following
little poems. The one, by discountenancing the
false, the other, by exhibiting the true sensibility,
are both of them promotive of the purposes of to-
day's essay, and have in themselves the richest
claims possible to the patronage of every feeling
heart. Why need I mention that the author is a fe-
male, since she stands neither in need of courtesy
from the critic, nor of partiality from the public ?
TO SENSIBILITY.
OIF, sacred source of joy below,
Thou friend of life, thou nurse of woe ;
* 62. LOOKER-ON. 129
Rich essence of the high-wrought soul *
Blest spark that animat'st the whole !
That bid'st th' enlighten'd thought aspire,
That lend'st to genius all its fire
Thy gifts ennoble and refine ;
Aye ! all the Life of Life is thine !
Shall then conspicuous Sorrow pour
From willing eyes her ready show'r,
At mimic woes by fashion drtss'd,
Because distress becomes her best,
And the soft heroine appears
Most amiable when dress'd in tears !
Within so cold, so vain a heart,
Thy angel form can share no part ;
Nor dwell'st thou in th' eternal quote
Of hackney'd phrases conn'd by rote ;
Or winning sentimental chat,
How Sterne said this, Eliza that.
Yorick ! indignant I behold
Such spendthrifts of thy genuine gold 1
To see Le Fevre's hallowed tear
To vulgar eyes expos'd and bare !
And every rhyming school-girl's verse
Thy poor Maria's woes rehearse ;
And, panting for a fond renown,
Call thy " recording angel " down !
Sick is my wearied soul to see
Such proofs of sensibility.
Ye spirits, who delight to show,
And deeper dye, the dress of woe !
Go, range through pallid Mis'ry's cell ;
Go, where Disease and Anguish dwell ?
Where Want extends her eager hands,
Where unrepining Patience stands,
And palsied Age, by Grief subdu'd,
In faltering accents craves for food
There fix thine eyes there ask thy heart,
If in these sorrows thou hast part ?
These scenes full surely will reveal,
If thou hast learn'd what wretches feel !
If then escape the stealing sigh,
If the kind tear then dim thine eye ;
If, more than all, thou weep'st to know
So scant thy lot of wealth below,
130 LOOKER-ON. tf 65-
As barely leaves thee for thy share
Kut little more than tears to spare ;
Yet, unresisting, still you give
That little more that bids them live;
Denys't thyself one joy, to shed
A comfort on thy brother's head,
And all the while unheard thy sigh,
Unseen the tear that dims thine eye ;
If thy benevolence be known
To misery and thy God alone ;
Then answer'd is thy just appeal ;
Yes, hou hast learn'd what wretches feel !
Yes ! yes ! will voices from on high,
Of sainted sufferers seem to cry
Yes ! when my mortal flesh was weak,
When tears bedew'd my pallid cheek,
And when my naked limbs were cold,
When I was hungry, poor, and old,
You rais'd me from the bed of woe,
You bade my tears no longer flow ;
You did my naked body hide,
Gave me what great ones had deny'd,
The needful long-untasted meal
Yes ! thou hast learn'd what wretches feel !
Written at the Bed-side of a sick Infant-
AH, dear one ! while thy suffering form I see
So pale, extended on thy bed of pain,
What a sad tale, thy dumb grief tells my heart!
Yet sure 'twere kind to let thee thus depart,
Nor call thee to this cheating life again.
For should'st thou live, sweet cherub ! who can tell
What woes, what vice, may future years impart?
And what could I, to soothe thy misery,
But cling around thy neck, and weep with thee,
And, weeping, load afresh thy breaking heart 1
See cold neglect repress each rising thought,
Or see thy youth's first hopes meet swift decay ;
The roses on thy mind-illumin'd face
Wither'd, and every soul-enchanting grace
Thrown, like a weed, a worthless weed, away!
2 63. LOOKER-ON. IS I
Or crush'd by Poverty's indurate hand,
Or Labour's ruder grasp, thy rising powers ;
Or worse, some sworn seducer stain thy mind,
Whilst thou to thine own killing thoughts resign'd,
Weep'st out the remnant of thy wretched hours *
Oh, better, better far to see thee dead !
Nay, better could I bear to see thee die ;
Could sooner take thee in these trembling arms,.
And offer up to heav'n thy infant charms,
Than see thee scom'd by each insulting eye t
Thou God of mercy, justice, truth, and love,
To whom, at Mis'ry's midnight hour, I pray,"
Who seest that quiv'ring cheek, who seest these tears
These restless thoughts, these agonizing fears,
" Whate'er Thou will'st, unargu'd I obey."
N 63. SATURDAY, JULY 27.
Tuas res tibi hale, Amor : mihi amicus nefuas unquam.
Plaut. Trin.
Love, I have nothing to do with you you were never a
friend to me.
My readers may well wonder how the subject of
love finds its way into the thoughts of such a poor
little piece of anatomy as myself. It is a certain,
though singular truth, that our family, as far back as
we can trace our lineage, notwithstanding our here-
ditary composure, have had locked up in their veins
a portion of this subtle poison, which has never failed
to manifest itself with more or less strength in every
132 LOOKER-ON. i\63.
generation, and still inhabits the weak little frame
with which I am endowed. In me, however, age, and
the natural coldness of my constitution, have over-
come its ordinary effects ; and I am only put in mind
of its existence by a certain involuntary interest
which I feel in all that concerns this noble passion,
in every tale of tender sufferings, and every instance
wherein true hearts are united. This hereditary
particle in the constitution of the Olive-Branches
has sometimes lain quiet for a generation, and then
again it has broken out with redoubled effect : but I
gather from our family records, that it has shown
itself under very different aspects, according to the
different complexions on which it has operated.
What remains of my great-grandfather's opinions
on this subject are eminently sober and sentimental ;
and in consonance with his love of general rules, and
his spirit of legislation, he has left us a very ample
code of amorous institutes, adapted to all ages and all
conditions. I remember, when I was full five and
thirty (before which age, by the laws of our family,
we are not allowed to assume the toga virilis), my
mother put into my hands this mysterious manual,
saying, " There, Sim, this will make a man of you :
depart not, while you live, from the wisdom it con-
tains and when you shall, at a discreet age, bethink
yourself of matrimony, lay it by, as a sacred gift to
be handed down to your children's children."
In the person of Mr. Isaac Olive-Bra>:cii, who is
considered as the wittiest of our patriarchs, this he-
reditary sentiment discovered itself in the drollest
conceits imaginable. It was one of his whims to
contrive what he called his amorous pudding, into
which he threw such a collection of ingredients, as,
by a proper fermentation in the stomach, might send
up those melancholic fumes into the brain, which
N 63. LOOKER-ON. 133
engender soft ideas and images, and dispose the
whole system to love. My comical progenitor, hav-
ing a pretty turn to poetry, put his receipt for this
dish into verse, a part of which (for the whole is very
long, and contains a list of ingredients lhat would
require a long life to collect) I shall here insert.
Round about the pudding move
You that wish to live and love ;
And the magic fuel throw,
All that to love does sacred grow :
First a lock of Lydia's hair,
But not that one that floats in air,
That which in her bosom lies ;
Ruthless seize the wanton prize,
Seize it, ere it yet has seen
Summers more than bare fifteen.
Trouble, trouble, tender trouble,
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
The tear from night's blue arch that drops
Till in the blossom's bell it stops ;
Tip of Philomela's tongue,
Chaunting o'er her callow young ;
Plume pluck'd from a sparrow's side,
As it quiver'd by his bride ;
Farina from a passion-flow'r,
That hath not felt the zephyr's pow'r
Pend'lous drops, in morning grey,
The baknly quintessence of day ;
Then a tear from Chloe's eye,
That with Indian pearl doth vie ;
Finger of the gadding vine,
That with liquid love doth shine j
Snow-drop nurs'd in April's lap,
Throw into the potent pap ;
Flower of Nigella great,
Stooping to his dwarfish mate ;
Sprig of woodbine, ivy shoot ;
Mimosa's leaf throw in to boot ;
Nodding cups of cowslip sweet,
Cast into the charmed treat.
Trouble, trouble, tender trouble,
.Fire burn, and cauldron bubble*
VOL, XLIII. -N
154- LOOKER-ON. It* 63.
Ii> those days of witchcraft and credulity, an in-
vention of this sort gained an easy belief, which was
moreover assisted by the spirit of amour which the
genius of chivalry inspired. Mr. Isaac, who was
somewhat of a beau, a knight, and a conjuror, and
who had almost a faith in the magical potency of
herbs, persuaded himself and half the court into a
high conceit of the merits of such a pudding.
If our records are to be believed, queen Elizabeth
invited lord Essex to breakfast upon one of these
puddings, of my ancestor's making ; the first effects
of which so much resembled the colic, that it was
always a nice point to distinguish between love and
simple indigestion. As this was the first refinement
upon the ancient plum-pudding, and gave the first
stimulus to our inquiries into those innumerable mo-
difications of which this standing dish is susceptible,
I conceive that the world is more substantially in-
debted to my family than it imagines. The ancient
mystical pudding is represented at present by the
wedding-cake ; and the property ascribed to it,
when cold, of settling love, is a discovery that has-
since branched out from the great original invention
of my wise progenitor.
This constitutional bias towards love did not fail of
manifesting itself in my mother's father, together
with a strong analogous propensity towards pudding ;
and as a disorder in the viscera carried him off at the
age of ninety-seven, my mother and the faculty are
still at issue about the cause of his death the one
attributing it to disappointment in love, the other to
a constipation of the bowels. The family-mark is
not yet worn out of my mother : I found her, the
other day, in the middle of Solomon's Song ; and a
variety of old ballads, which have fastened upon her
memory, and from time to time break involuntarily
from her lips, betray symptoms of a yet unsubdued
JV63. LOOKER-ON. 135
relish of these amiable fancies. She called me tor
her, about a week ago, as she was reading in our
little arbour the Memoirs of Lord Herbert of Cher-
bury ; and assured me very gravely that she had
thoroughly resolved against a second marriage and
that not so much from any aversion to the state, as
from her dislike to the manner in which our young
cavaliers conducted the business of love in the present
day, when she compared it with the disinterested
ardour and generous enthusiasm of our gallant fore-
fathers.
I assure my readers I am not behind the rest of
my family in this warmth of sentiment, though I
confess that my turn is rather to speculate upon the
passion of love, and watch its effects on the bosoms
of my fair countrywomen, than to take an active in-
terest in its proceedings. As a fountain plays the
stronger, the more confined its aperture, so the senti-
ment of which I have been speaking, having nothing
to play it off in ray exterior, no grace of carriage,
and but little animation of feature, no magic of per-
suasion or secrets of utterance, no seductions of
manner or brilliancy of tongue, acts in my bosom
with a collected force, and inspires it with an energy
of feeling, that extends to every concern of my fel-
low-creatures where love has a place. Thus my
soul is kept continually awake by an unwearied so-
licitude for the sorrows and sufferings of this noblest
of the passions ; and I am ever lamenting that there
is so much in the world to cross its tendency, and
abuse its blessings.
There is surely nothing more to be deplored in the
system of life, than its counteraction to the natural
movements of this exalted passion ; and it is, me-
thinks, the greatest of all satires upon our schemes
n 2
136 LOOKER-ON. N 63.
and contrivance for happiness, to reflect, that it is
their tendency to traverse and exclude those boons
of nature from which our greatest enjoyments arise.
That unnatural disposition of things which has raised
money to so undue a pre-eminence, has placed love
under those circumstances of slavery and depression
which effectually disappoint all its grandest purposes,
and leave it little more than a name to decorate a
fiction, or to cover a design. In contemplating the
gradual extinction of this sentiment, to which, in its
true nature, is attached whatever is great and honour-
able in man, we cannot rogard without shame the
system under which it is trampled, and repine at the
triumphs of those treacherous passions which engage
us to conspire against our own felicity. Instead of
that delight to which it naturally leads, we see no-
thing in the present operations of love but a perpe-
tual warfare, an incessant struggle after that freedom
for which heaven designed it. And instead of form-
ing a part of the system of life, so widely has the
present scheme departed from its principle, that
wherever it appears, it beggars the hopes of rising
fortunes, and diverts from the road of industry and
advancement.
In former days it was the effect of love to prompt
the spirits to activity, and to challenge all the vigour
of the mind ; to inspire felicity into all our under-
takings, and to animate the business of life. The ar-
rangements of society were not then in hostility with
this generous passion : to ensure success, we had
only to prove ourselves worthy and personal supe-
riority, the distinctions of manhood and the gifts of
heaven, were the only claims that beauty would
acknowledge. But how is the complexion of things
altered ! In vain has nature distinguished her fa-
N63. LOOKER-ON. 137
vourites by her costliest endowments ; in vain has
she bestowed her orders of merit, her titles of nobi-
lity : she gives nothing that is negotiable on the
Exchange, where the commerce of love is at present
transacted ; her funds supply no interest that is
marketable, no dividend that can be transferred.
Shame on the pedlar system of life ! her hand-writing
has less credit than that of a jobbing Jew ; and her
promissory notes, whatever their amount, are of less
value than a Liverpool penny.
In former days, a true and virtuous love was the
source of dignity and confidence, and prowess and
magnanimity ; it lent intelligence to the simple, and
grace to the rustic ; it was the ornament of youth,
and the attribute of a gentleman ; no man feared
to avow it, or dared to despise it ; the eyes that con-
fessed it were the brighter for it, and it bloomed on
the lips and on the cheeks ; but that was when the
dispositions of life made it paramount over the sordid
passions, and placed it in its just elevation.
Alas ! what a reverse has succeeded ! Is Pamphi-
lus in love, and is he fortuneless ? Adieu the confi-
dence of his carriage, and comeliness of his looks i
Adieu the manliness of his mind, and vigour of his
understanding ! Lost is his activity, and lost are his
hopes ; defoliated is his mind, in the very spring of
its advancement ; and the promises of his intellect are
cankered in the blossom. A gradual dereliction of
his powers sinks him lower and lower in the scale of
society ; every one remarks the change, and Envy is
gratified with contemplating his fall ; till at length
even Envy loses sight of him, and Pamphilus is heard
of no more. This is the fate of the genuine passion
without portion. I have nothing to do with that
mockery of it which subsists at present it is a sub-
ject for bargainers and for calculators.
u 3
138 LOOKER-Otf. N63.
What woes arous'd
Rage in each thought, by restless musing fed,
Chill the warm cheek, and blast the bloom of life!
Neglected Fortune flies ; and sliding swift,
Prone into ruin fall his scorn'd affairs.
'Tis nought but gloom around : the darken'd sun
Loses his light ; the rosy-bosom'd Spring
To weeping Fancy pines ; and yon bright arch,
Contracted, bends into a dusky vault.
I am an ancient man, grey-headed, and fettered
to principle ; not illuminated by the lights of the
new philosophy in morality or metaphysics; and
tenacious of the maxims of my forefathers ; and yet
I freely declare myself to regard with more favour-
able eyes a clandestine amour, nay the grossest pros-
titution by which the temple of the Holy Ghost
can be denied, than the basis on which modern mar-
riages are founded in which some of my country-
women sell themselves, not for a transitory bliss, not
for the fleeting raptures of the moment, but for the
whole of human life, for the whole of that life on
which heaven depends ; and in a manner stipulate
to pollute that life with one lengthened series of per-
jury and legal prostitution, one continued course of
sanctified abomination, for the sake of a paltry emi-
nence and a spurious grandeur. I look upon it as
one of the unhappiest consequences that flow from
ill-sorted matches, or those in which the true passion
has no place, that they induce a constant habit of
feigning, where any sense of decency prevails, and
perpetuate a lie through a course of years. The best
feelings and the strongest principles are not able to
contend against such a stress of circumstances ; ne-
cessarily then, such feelings and such principles as
those women must have, who can marry without love,
must be without much contest overborne. ,
Clarina was married to the most affectionate of
No 63. LOOKER-ON. 139
husbands ; and, as it appeared to the world, the love
which she felt in return had never been equalled in
any tale or romance. Four months had not elapsed
since their marriage, before the husband fell dange-
rously ill ; yet the poor Clarina was the object of
the greatest compassion. It was judged impossible
for her to survive him ; and so unbounded was her
affliction, that no one thought she could live to close
even the eyes of her dying husband. " O Death !
Death ! " she cried, as she leaned weaping over his
emaciated body, " O Death ! if you are not alto-
gether a stranger to pity, make me your prey, in-
stead of my dear husband." Death heard, and pre-
senting himself at the door, demanded, Who called ?
" The gentleman who lies in that bed," replied
Clarina.
I shall conclude this paper with something on the
other side, that the ladies may not quarrel with my
severity, or suppose that it is a pleasure to me to
heap censures on that sex to which life is indebted
for its sincerest delights.
In the year 1594<, a young Norman gentleman en-
tered at the university of Angers, to study the civil
law. Renee Corbeau was the daughter of a trades-
man in the same town. She was young, prudent
and handsome, and possessed an extraordinary share
of understanding and wit. But these brilliant quali-
ties were tarnished by a fault, of which philosophers
make but little account, but which, in the eyes of
the world, was deemed unpardonable Hence Cor-
beau was poor. The young student no sooner be-
held this amiable lady, than he became enamoured,
and had the good fortune to inspire her with an
equal passion. So rapid was the progress of their
mutual flame, that in a few weeks he made her an
Qft& of marriage, and, in the transports of his affec<
140 LOOKER-ON. W 63,
tion, gave her a promise in his hand-writing. It was
too in one of these transporting intervals that the
poor young lady forgot her prudence ; so mighty
and sudden is the success of love in overthrowing
that structure of modesty, which whole years of ad-
monition and discipline have been spent in erecting.
The effect of this amour could not long be con-
cealed ; and the unhappy girl was obliged to tell
the sad tale to her mother, who disclosed it to her
father. It was now past the season for reproaches :
all that was left them, was to lay their heads toge-
ther to discover the best remedy which the case ad-
mitted. After a reasonable consultation, it was
agreed that the parents should feign a design of
going into the country that same evening, while the
daughter, in the mean time, was to give an interview
to her lover at their own house, so that thus they
might be surprised together. The contrivance suc-
ceeded entirely ; the lover was surprised, and, in the
first emotions of his fear, confessed himself ready to
enter into any engagement that would be deem-
ed most satisfactory. Not to lose this oppor-
tunity, they pressed him upon his word, and forced
him to sign a contract of marriage. This business
was scarcely transacted in a regular form by a no-
tary, before the young gentleman felt his passion
unaccountably chilled, and a sense of compulsion
gave the engagement into which he had entered the
colour of an odious obligation. He quitted his mis-
tress in two or three days after this transaction with
very little ceremony, and repaired to his father, to
whom he related his story from beginning to end.
This father was, as fathers often are, a stranger to
the true interests of his child, and determined against
any match for his son that was not brilliant in point
of forttine and connection. In this difficulty, the
3
> T * 63. LOOKER-ON. 14-1
only means of escaping was by entering immedi-
ately into holy orders ; a proposition to which the