་ lofophical a manner, I think every man fhould And here I cannot but mention an observation · which I have often made, upon reading the lives of the philofophers, and comparing them with any feries of kings or great men of the fame number. If we confider thefe ancient fages, a great part of whofe philofophy confifted in a temperate and abftemious courfe of life, one would think the life of a philofopher and the life of a man were of two different dates. For we find that the generality of thefe wife men were nearer an hundred than fixtyyears of age at the time of their refpective deaths. But the moft remarkable inftance of the efficacy of temperance towards the procuring of long life, is what we meet with in a little book published by Lewis Cornaro the Venetian; which I the rather mention, because it is of undoubed credit, as the late Venetian ambaffador, who was of the fame family, attefted more than once in converfation, when he he refided in England. Cornaro, who was the author of the little treatife I am mentioning, was of an infirm constitution, until about forty, when by obftinately perfifting in an exact course of temperance, he recovered a perfect ftate of health; infomuch that at fourfcore he publifhed his book, which has been tranflated into English under the title of Sure and certain methods of attaining a long and healthy life. He lived to give a third or fourth edition of it, and after having paffed his hundredth year, died without pain or agony, and like one who falls afleep. The treatife I mention has been taken notice of by feveral eminent authors, and is written with fuch a spirit of cheerfulnefs, religion, and good fenfe, as are the natural concomitants of temperance and fobriety. The mixture of the old man in it is rather a recommendation than a difcredit to it. Having defigned this paper as the fequel to that upon exercife, I have not here confidered temper ance as it is a moral virtue, which I fhall make the fubject of a future fpeculation, but only as it is the means of health. No 196. MONDAY, OCTOBER 15. Eft ulubris, animus fi te non deficit æquus. ..L HOR. Ep. xi. 1. 1. ver. 30. True happiness is to no place confin'd,. Mr. SPECTATOR, TH HERE is a particular fault which I have obferved in the most of the moralifts in all ages, and that is, that they are always profeffing "themselves and teaching others to be happy. This ftate is not to be arrived at in this life, therefore • I would recommend to you to talk in an humbler « · strain 'ftrain than your predeceffors have done, and inftead of prefuming to be happy, inftruct us only to be eafy. The thoughts of him who would be difcreet, and aim at practicable things, fhould turn upon allaying our pain rather than promoting our joy. Great inquietude is to be avoided, 'but great felicity is not to be attained. The great leffon is equanimity, a regularity of fpirit, which is a little above cheerfulnefs and below mirth. Cheerfulness is always to be fupported if a man is out of pain, but mirth to a prudent man should always be accidental: It should naturally arise out of the occafion, and the occafion feldom be laid for it; for those tempers who want mirth to be pleased, are like the conftitutions which flag without the ufe of brandy. Therefore, I fay, let your precepts be, Be cafy. That mind is diffolute and ungoverned, which must be hurried out of itself by loud laughter or fenfual pleasure, or elfe be wholly unactive. There are a couple of old fellows of my ac quaintance who meet every day and smoke a pipe, and by their natural love to each other, though they have been men of business and buftle in the world, enjoy a greater tranquility than either could have worked himself into by any chapter of Seneca. Indolence of body and mind, when we aim at no more, is very frequently enjoyed; but the very inquiry after happiness has fomething restless in it, which a man who lives in a series of temperate meals, friendly converfations, ⚫ and easy flumbers, gives himself no trouble about. While men of refinement are talking of tranquility, he poffeffes it. ་ "What I would by thefe broken expreffions re"commend to you, Mr. SPECTATOR, is, that you would fpeak of the way of life, which plain men may pursue, to fill up the fpaces of time with fatisfaction. It is a lamentable circumftance, that wifdom wisdom, or, as you call it, philofophy, fhould 'furnish ideas only for the learned; and that a man must be a philofopher to know how to pass away his time agreeably. It would therefore be 'worth your pains to place in an handsome light the relations and affinities among men, which ren⚫der their converfation with each other fo grateful, that the highest talents give but an impotent pleafure in comparifon with them. You may find defcriptions and difcourfes which will render the fire-fide of an honeft artificer as entertaining as your own club is to you. Good-nature has an endless fource of pleasures in it; and the re⚫ presentation of domestick life filled with its natural gratifications, (instead of the neceffary vexations which are generally infifted upon in the writings of the witty) will be a very good office to fociety. 'The viciffitudes of labour and reft in the lower part of mankind, make their being pass away with that fort of relish which we exprefs by the word comfort; and should be treated of by you, who are a SPECTATOR, as well as fuch fubjects which appear indeed more fpeculative, but are lefs inftructive. In a word, Sir, I would have you turn your thoughts to the advantage of fuch as want you moft; and fhew that fimplicity, innocence, industry and temperance, are arts which lead to tranquility, as much as learning, wifdom, 'nowledge, and contemplation, • I am, Mr. SPECTATOR, SIR, Your most humble fervant, 'T. B. Hackney, Odober 12. Am the young woman whom you did so much juftice to fome time ago, in acknowledging that I am perfect mistress of the fan, and use it with the utmost knowledge and dexterity. In 'deed deed the world, às malicious 'as it is, will allow, that from an hurry of laughter I recollect myself the most fuddenly, make a courtefy, and let fall my hands before me, clofing my fan at the fame inftant, the best of any woman in England. I ⚫ am not a little delighted that I have had your notice and approbation; and however other young women may rally me out of envy, I triumph in it, and demand a place in your friendship. You must therefore permit me to lay before you the prefent ftate of my mind. I was reading your Spectator of the ninth inftant, and thought the • circumstance of the afs divided between two bundles of hay which equally affected his fenfes, was a lively reprefentation of my prefent condition: For you are to know that I am extremely 'enamoured with two young Gentlemen who at this time pretend to me. One muft hide nothing when one is afking advice, therefore I will own to you, that I am very amorous and very covetous. My lover Will is very rich, and my lover Tom very handfome. I can have either of them when I pleafe: But when I debate the question in my own mind, I cannot take Tom for fear of lofing Will's cftate, nor enter upon Will's eftate, and bid adieu to Tom's perfon. I am very young, and yet no one in the world, dear Sir, has the 'main cliance more in her head than myself. Tom is the gayeft, the blitheft creature! He dances well, is very civil, and diverting at all hours and feafons. Oh he is the joy of my eyes! But then again Will is fo very rich and careful of the main. How many pretty dreffes does Tom appear in to charm me! But then it immediately occurs to me, that a man of his circumftances is fo much the poorer, Upon the whole, I have at laft examined both thefe defires of love and avarice, and upon ftrictly weighing the matter I begin to think I fhall be covetous longer than fond; thereVOL. III, Ꮮ • fore |