All her possessing a good address, and believed to be possessed of good nature, it was the fate of Aurelia to be joined to him for life. Those habits of thoughtlessness and extravagance, however, which Cleanthes had acquired before marriage, never forsook him; he even became indifferent and negligent of Aurelia, and a family of fine children which she brought him. Intemperate in his pleasures, and inordinate in his expense, he plunged headlong into every fashionable folly, into every species of dissipation. Aurelia felt much anguish at this conduct of her husband; she endeavoured by every gentle method in her power to reclaim him, and to gain his mind to virtue and domestic enjoyment. efforts proved ineffectual. Cleanthes was not yet, however, so lost as not to feel at times the reproaches of his conscience; but, instead of endeavouring to remove, he tried to avoid them. In this situation, Aurelia was like another conscience; the reflection on her quiet and gentle virtues was like a mirror that did but show him his own ugliness, and frightened at the sight, he only thought how to escape it. Thus abandoned by himself, thus having forsaken Aurelia, and every better feeling, he has gone more and more headlong into vice; intemperance has become his companion, and expense much beyond his income has attended it. What a situation for Aurelia! With a mind fitted for every domestic enjoyment, she sees her husband a prey to folly and extravagance, ruining his fortune, and dead to every proper sentiment. One only comfort remains the pleasure she receives from her children. Her only son, who promises to be all a parent could wish, has been placed at a distant academy; and a rich uncle, who has no children of his own, has adopted him as his son. Her three daughters live with herself, and her great object is to educate and instruct them; and in this she is well rewarded, by the appearance of their promising virtues, and the display of their opening tal ents. With all these amiable parts of Aurelia's conduct, justice is not done her in the opinion of the world. Her virtues are unknown, or pass unnoticed. It is frequently said, "That Cleanthes is a good fellow; pity he had not a wife of a less grave disposition, more suited to his taste. If he had, he might have been less expensive, and his pleasures been more fixed at home." It was but the other evening that in making a course of visits, or to use an expression more consonant to my character, in lounging from one place to another, I called at a house, where I found Cleora engaged in deep play, and her eldest daughter sitting by her, attending to the game. At that moment Lothario happened to come into the room. He drew a chair near some ladies at another table, and gave a nod of indifference to his daughter. "La! Sir," said Miss, we did not look for you; we thought you were at Sir John's." Her mother gave one look behind; asked her partner if she had not held the king; and then desired her to set up two by honours and the odd trick. 66 The same evening I called at the house of Cleanthes. Him I found abroad, but Aurelia was at home. I was shown into the room where she was, where I found her seated with her three girls around her. On the table lay several books, among which were The Spectator, The Man of Feeling, and The Theatre of Education. She herself was busy with her needle; and her two youngest girls were occupied in the same manner, under her direction. The eldest was employed in reading. When I entered the room, one of the girls took me by the hand, and kindly welcomed me. "I thought, however," said she, with a most expressive look, "it had been papa ; my mamma expected him." A tear started into Aurelia's eye. She soon, however, resumed her cheerfulness; and I remained for a considerable time in this domestic party, receiving a pleasure which I cannot describe, in the conversation of Aurelia, the amiableness and propriety of her conduct, her behaviour to her children, and theirs to her. When I came home, I could not help reflecting on the different characters of Aurelia and Cleora, placed in situations not dissimilar; one drawing from her very want of feeling and of duty, the suffrage of the world! the other, from the very exercise of the most disinterested virtue, suffering its neglect, and incurring its censure! Yet with all her afflictions and all her sorrows, who would not rather wish to be the suffering and virtuous Aurelia, than the gay and thoughtless Cleora! The one may enjoy the dissipation of the world, and the good-liking of its votaries; but the other must possess that approbation from her own mind which infinitely surpasses all the external enjoyment which the world is able to bestow. P No. 19. SATURDAY, JUNE 11, 1785. Hi sunt Invidiæ, nimirum, Regule, mores, MART. V. 10. 3. "TO THE AUTHOR OF THE Lounger. 66 SIR, "THERE are a set of cynical old men, who are perpetually dinning our ears with the praises of times past; who are fond of drawing comparisons between the ancients and moderns, much to the disparagement of the latter, and who take a misanthropical delight in representing mankind as degenerating from age to age, both in mental and corporeal endowments. With these people, all science is held to be upon the decline; arts are retrograde; the greater virtues absolutely annihilated; and morality itself tending fast to utter extinction. Even the human figure is dwindling away in stature, and diminishing in strength; the climates are altered, the seasons become yearly more inclement; the earth is losing its fertility, and the sun its heat. Now, Sir, although I am disposed to admit that there is some foundation for these complaints in a very few particulars, and will, for instance, readily allow, that the music of the moderns is not quite so powerful in its effects as that of Orpheus; that Augustus, King of Poland, though he could bend a horseshoe, could not have pitched a bar with Hercules; that swans have lost the faculty of singing; and that, even in the period of my own remembrance, there is a great decay in the art of making plum-cakes and penny pies; yet I think it might be easily proved, that in other respects the picture is a very false one; and I am thoroughly convinced, that upon an impartial estimate of the merits of the ancient and modern world, the scale of the latter would very greatly preponderate. "I do not intend at present to enter into a complete discussion of this important subject, but shall content myself with advancing a very few arguments in refutation of the opinion of those old grumblers I have mentioned; and I think it will be no difficult matter to show, that the fault lies entirely in their own splenetic and peevish humours; and that the world, so far from growing worse, is in reality much better now than in ancient times. You will excuse my neglect of methodical arrangement; for as this is a picture consisting of many detached groups, it does not signify at which end we begin. "I have been often much amazed at hearing it seriously maintained, that mankind are more vicious and abandoned in modern times, than they were in the days of antiquity. The moderns, no doubt, have made many notable discoveries in the arts and sciences; but I do not find that murder, robbery, perjury, adultery, &c., are among the number. It is true, that as there is a fashion in all human affairs, which alters with the times, its influence may be observed in crimes, as well as in every thing else; but here the advantage, I will be bold to say, lies entirely on the side of the moderns. Long ago, in committing crimes, they had a barbarous and brutal method of going directly to the point. If a man had an ill-will at his neighbour, he knocked him on the head the first time he met him, or perhaps set |