studied less than he has, and writ only in his mothertongue, had been known only in Great Britain for a pedant. * Mr. Bickerstaff thanks Dorinda, and will both answer her letter, and take her advice. No. 198. SATURDAY, JULY 15, 1710. Quale sit id, quod amas, celeri circumspice mente, OVID. REM. AMOR. 89. Your choice deliberate, nor rashly yield A willing neck to Hymen's galling yoke. FROM MY OWN APARTMENT, JULY 14. THE HISTORY OF CELIA. It is not necessary to look back into the first years of this young lady, whose story is of consequence only as her life has lately met with passages very uncommon. She is now in the twentieth year of her age, and owes a strict but cheerful education, to the care of an aunt, to whom she was recommended by her dying father, whose decease was hastened by an inconsolable affliction for the loss of her mother. As Cælia is the offspring of the most generous passion that has been known in our age, she is adorned with as much beauty and grace as the most celebrated of her sex possess; but her domestic life, mode rate fortune, and religious education, gave her but little opportunity, and less inclination, to be admired in public assemblies. Her abode has been for some years a convenient distance from the cathedral of St. Paul's, where her aunt and she chose to reside for the advantage of that rapturous way of devotion, which gives ecstacy to the pleasures of innocence, and, in some measure, is the immediate possession of those heavenly enjoyments for which they are addressed. Ås you may trace the usual thoughts of men in their countenances, there appeared in the face of Cælia a cheerfulness, the constant companion of unaffected virtue, and a gladness, which is as inseparable from true piety. Her every look and motion spoke the peaceful, mild, resigning, humble inhabitant, that animated her beauteous body. Her air discovered her body a mere machine of her mind, and not that her thoughts were employed in studying graces and attractions for her person. Such was Calia, when she was first seen by Palamede at her usual place of worship. Palamede is a young man of two-and-twenty, well-fashioned, learned, genteel, and discreet; the son and heir of a gentleman of a very great estate, and himself possessed of a plentiful one by the gift of an uncle. He became enamoured with Cælia; and after having learned her habitation, had address enough to communicate his passion and circumstances with such an air of good sense and integrity, as soon obtained permission to visit and profess his inclinations towards her. Palamede's present fortune and future expectations were no way prejudicial to his addresses; but after the lovers had passed some time in the agreeable entertainments of a successful courtship, Cælia one day took occasion to interrupt Palamede, in the midst of a very pleasing discourse of the happiness he promised himself in so accomplished a companion; and, assuming a serious air, told him, there was another heart to be won before he gained hers, which was that of his father. Palamede seemed much disturbed at the overture; and lamented to her, that his father was one of those too provident parents, who only place their thoughts upon bringing riches into their families by marriages, and are wholly insensible of all other considerations. But the strictness of Cælia's rules of life made her insist upon this demand; and the son, at a proper hour, communicated to his father the circumstances of his love, and the merit of the object. The next day the father made her a visit. The beauty of her person, the fame of her virtue, and a certain irresistible charm in her whole behaviour, on so tender and delicate an occasion, wrought so much upon him, in spite of all prepossessions, that he hastened the marriage with an impatience equal to that of his son. Their nuptials were celebrated with a privacy suitable to the character and modesty of Cælia; and from that day, till a fatal one last week, they lived together with all the joy and happiness which attend minds entirely united. It should have been intimated, that Palamede is a student of the Temple, and usually retired thither early in a morning, Cælia still sleeping. It happened, a few days since, that she followed him thither to communicate to him something she had omitted, in her redundant fondness, to speak of the evening before. When she came to his apartment, the servant there told her, she was coming with a letter to her. While Cælia, in an inner room was reading an apology from her husband, That he had been suddenly taken by some of his acquaintance to dine at Brentford, but that he should return in the evening,' a country girl, decently clad, asked, if those were not the chambers of Mr. Palamede? She was answered, they were, but that he was not in town. The stranger asked, when he was expected at home? The servant replied, she would go in and ask his wife. The young woman repeated the word wife, and fainted. This accident raised no less curiosity than amazement in Cælia, who caused her to be removed into the inner room. Upon proper applications to revive her, the unhappy young creature returned to herself, and said to Cælia, with an earnest and beseeching tone, • Are you really Mr. Palamede's wife?' Cælia replies, 'I hope I do not look as if I were any other in the condition you see me.' The stranger answered, No, Madam, he is my husband.' At the same instant, she threw a bundle of letters into Cælia's lap, which confirmed the truth of what she asserted. Their mutual innocence and sorrow made them look at each other as partners in distress, rather than rivals in love. The superiority of Cælia's understanding and genius gave her an authority to examine into this adventure, as if she had been offended against, and the other the delinquent. The stranger spoke in the following manner: 6 MADAM, 6 'If it shall please you, Mr. Palamede, having an uncle of a good estate near Winchester, was bred at the school there, to gain the more his good-will by being in his sight. His uncle died, and left him. the estate which my husband now has. When he was a mere youth, he set his affections on me; but when he could not gain his ends, he married me; making me and my mother, who is a farmer's widow, swear we would never tell it upon any account whatsoever, for that it would not look well for him to marry such a one as me; besides, that his father would cut him off of the estate. I was glad to have him in an honest way; and he now and then came and stayed a night and away at our house. But very lately, he came down to see us, with a fine young gentleman, his friend, who stayed behind there with us, pretending to like the place for the summer: but ever since master Palamede went, he has attempted to abuse me; and I ran hither to acquaint him with it, and avoid the wicked intentions of his false friend.' Cælia had no more room for doubt; but left her rival in the same agonies she felt herself. Palamede returns in the evening, and finding his wife at his chambers, learned all that had passed, and hastened to Cælia's lodgings. It is much easier to imagine, than express, the sentiments of either the criminal, or the injured, at this encounter. As soon as Palamede had found way for speech, he confessed his marriage, and his placing his companion on purpose to vitiate his wife, that he might break through a marriage made in his non-age, and devote his riper and knowing years to Cælia. She made him no answer, but retired to her closet. He returned to the Temple, where he soon after received from her the following letter : 66 SIR, “You, who this morning were the best, are now the worst of men who breathe vital air. I am at once overwhelmed with love, hatred, rage, and disdain. Can infamy and innocence live together? I feel the weight of the one too strong for the comfort of the other. How bitter, heaven! how bitter is my portion! How much have I to say! but the infant which I bear about me stirs with my agitation. I am, Palamede, to live in shame, and this creature be heir to it. Farewell for ever!" |